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I didn't stop running for a few hours. My shoulder was on fire, lungs heaving as sweat soaked my uniform. My head hurt and legs finally collapsed under me in the lush forest, a creek heard in the to my 11.

On my hands and knees, my gloves digging into the dark soil as the earthy smell invaded my nostrils I caught my breath, leaning down till my forehead pressed into the cool soil and slowed my breathing.

“I can't go back,” I whispered to myself as the sun grew lower in the sky, “I have to make it to the safe zone.” Getting up onto one knee and looking about, I sighed. “And figure out where the fuck I am.”

After hesitantly walking over to the stream and hoping that it was clean enough I took a few sips before washing over my face a bit. M4 slung so I could easily reach it and 2 mags extra plus the one in it I made my way headed north, hoping that I would make it out of the forest alive.

It wasn't until late night that I hit the edge of a smaller looking town, hidden within a valley. I saw a few street lights on, but the stores and few homes of the one street town seemed pretty quiet.

Didn’t stop my stomach from working itself into knots but I moved in. I wanted a place to sleep and some food and water, as I was desperately low on supplies. I moved as carefully as I could, keeping to the shadows and making sure I didn't step on the trash that seemed to be strewn about.

The town itself seemed abandoned in a hurry, cars strewn in the streets and doors of shops left open with the shelves still stocked. Moving over to a little outdoor sports shop, he carefully opened the door and peeked inside.

Shelves lay disheveled but overall the store was intact. Slowly moving in, the m4a1 set to full auto he aimed from the hip, nothing from the shoulder this close would be any good and he would rather have the ability to move around rather than bee 100 percent accurate.

After a quick search of the store he found nothing to be in there other than the few spiders who had taken new residence to the store. Firearms lay lined up, ammunition and magazines were scattered about. Taking a quick look at the firearms he came across a few he snatched up, one was a tika t3, a swedish manufactured rifle known for its accuracy and easy breakdown. It was the only rifle in there left hand bolt, which made him happy they at least had something.

Finding a darker coloured rucksack he was about to grab as many 5.56 rounds as he could when he spotted a fantastic looking find in the far case.

Moving slowly over to the open case he reached inside, grabbing the polymer grip and gently pulling it out.

“Well I will be damned,” He chuckled “I don't know how you got this but I will be mighty happy to make it disappear…” He said as he held the SCAR 17s. Chambered in 7.62 nato, he knew rounds would be easy enough to get and find. Grabbing the 5 magazines that came with it he found the ammunition isle quick enough, finding more than enough to load the magazines, as well as some of the .300 winchester magnums for the Tika.

Meandering around the store a bit more, he grabbed a few more of the civilian version of mre’s as well as a headlamp, sleeping kit, a few water purification tubes as well as a small gas stove with enough fuel to last him 2 weeks. Grabbing a waterproof hammock and a rain tarp were next on the list, as well as he changed out of his uniform, stashing it out of sight. It was more trouble than it was worth anymore.

With a pair of tactical khaki coloured pants and a lighter combat shirt of a coyote pattern he was back out onto the road, looking around the town with interest and wariness as he moved slowly through the town, his new rifle pointing around rooftops and doorways as he made his way further along.

It wasn't till he got to the edge of the town that he found out why he didn't find anyone; up against the brick wall of the post office was covered in blood, and bodies strewn at the base of it.

Catching one look of it as the smell hit him, he turned and puked what little was in his stomach onto the cracked sidewalk at his boots. The world began to swim as the smell and the wretchedness of the action hit him like a hammer.

Sitting back onto a strewn bench he closed his eyes, dry heaving once more before he looked back up.

‘TRAITORS’ was sprayed at the top, as well as a symbol he thought might be a unit patch or symbol. It was two crossed swords and the a three taloned foot crushing a human skull.

Getting up as if in a daze, he stumbled to the edge of town more in a daze than anything else. Not wanting to ever remember what happened there, the image kept flashing in his head, the word repeating over and over and the symbol circulating in his head.

Shaking his head in a feeble attempt to shake the memories he pushed on, walking along the road in utter silence.

Moving onward it seemed like hours passed and there was nothing but the rustling of trees, and the occasional bird call out into the pristine silence. Sighing as he enjoyed the peace while it lasted, moving slowly along the crumbling road before coming to an abandoned bus stop. He normally wouldn’t have given it a second glance, but on the bench was a bright orange sleeping bag half hazardously open, and paper drawing strewn about. Sighing as it had obviously been ditched he quickly moved on, pushing off the road to the wood line just in case anyone were to happen along the road.

Nothing of interest happened for the next 4 miles, just the wind blowing and nothing else other than a rusted car hidden deep in the woods, spray-paint adorning it from tags of teenagers bored and scattered bottles broken around it. Chuckling to himself as he made his way through the crisp air, the chill of autumn in the air as the leaves began to change from green to a fiery orange. Smiling as his boots crunched from the past years leaves still left to rot and turn to soil, he almost didn’t spot the wrecked pile of cars that quickly came to view.

Crouching down he aimed his rifle towards the road, before slowly lowering it and pulling out the hunting rifle to use the more powerful scope resting on top to be able to see the finer details.

The first thing he noticed was that the cars were all abandoned, and quickly at that. Items strewn on the ground, clothes tossed and doors left open, the batteries on the car had long given out and no lights seemed visible. There were untouched cars, left in the lanes, and cars and trucks that seemed to have tried to drive around the block only to find themselves stuck or had crashed into the back of other cars and then left there. Slowly lowering the rifle he sighed, shaking his head as he decided that it would be best to just skip around the vehicles rather than risk whatever lay down there, nothing to be of any real value to him.

As he moved around, he did see that strange logo sprayed on cars, as well as a few bodies among the cars. Some were still strapped in, rounds having struck them and the families had left them behind in their haste to leave. Others lay on the road, burnt or only limbs left from the individual, with bite marks too large for any normal woodland creature. Trying to skirt completely around the chaos and carnage was impossible, and the smell hit him like a hammer as it pervaded into his senses, burning flesh and the smell of burning vehicles splayed across his senses and drove everything else out. Coughing and covering his nose with his shirt, he moved further into the wood line in hopes of escaping the gruesome carnage and hair raising smell.

It wasn’t until about 3 days later, without any other hiccup or real contact other than the occasional deer that he finally made it to the next small town, this one in the same shape as the last; storefronts glass lay smashed with trash and ruble thrown about and doors left open.

"Christ, what the hell hit through these areas?" He asked to himself as he made his way to the outskirts of the town, walking over a white plastic fence which had been toppled over with scorch marks near the far end.

Once again after only a minute or two in the town he came across the same logo sprayed once again, though this one wasn’t as clean. More like it was done quickly, the paint having dripped much more than the others and it was slightly crooked. Making his way closer over to it carefully, he inspected it along the wall as he gently reached out a hand, touching the still tacky spray paint.

"That’s the 9." He heard a voice behind him, whipping around with his rifle at the ready, selector switch flicked and gloved finger resting on the trigger. Behind him was an older man, tweed cap on his head and hunched over on a dented cane. "Relax, I promise not to beat you up." He said deadpan, before giving a sly grin.

Chuckling and slowly lowering my weapon, using his trigger finger to flip the selector switch back and a soft shake of his head. "Thanks, I got worried there for a second that I wouldn't be able to but lunch." He said wryly. "But what do you mean, the 9?" He asked curiously, moving across the street and hopped up to the curb so that he didn’t have to yell in the seemingly empty town.

"There are 8 anthro's and a massive feral, all midnight black for the most part with highlights of different color. The feral is the size of a damn house." He grunted, leaning back a bit so that he could sit onto a leaning wooden street bench.

"They don’t leave many people left." He sighed, pulling off his tweed cap and wringing it in his hands. "I-I lost my wife." he whispered in a hoarse croak, "We were stopped in traffic, there was screaming, and then flames." He whispered before looking down at the ground, his chest heaving as he sobbed. "I ran, I felt someone grabbing my jacket, I thought it was her!" He cried, his voice filled with sorrow, "It wasn’t, it was someone else just trying to pull me out of the way so he could pass."

Not knowing what to do, he slowly knelt down and placed his hand on the small of the man’s back, "It wasn't your fault," He whispered to him, rubbing the man’s back gently "you can’t blame yourself."

"I should have checked damnit!" He yelled, balling his fist and slapping his knee in anger and frustration, "I could have gotten us both out!" He growled, his eyes narrowing as he looked up to the symbol and throwing his fist up at it. "You bastards couldn’t get me though, you got everyone but me and the kid!" He grunted, standing up and leaning heavily on his cane as he looked full of energy suddenly.

"Just two of you made it out of that vehicle convoy?" he asked softly to the older man, "There had to be at least 150 vehicles there!"

Sighing as he looked deflated, turning to me with a 1000 yard stare. "I told you, they don’t leave many people left. Most times, none at all."

The tone of his voice sent a shiver down his spine despite the sun still in the sky, shaking his head slowly. He opened his mouth to ask another question when he felt the ground shake slightly, and heard a loud crash at the end of the town.

"They're back!" He uttered in a harsh whisper, "You need to leave, I will slow them for only a moment!" He grumbled as he puffed up slightly, raising his shoulders and tossing his cane aside as he began to hobble in the direction of the disturbance.

"Get back here, are you nuts!?" he growled out as he reached out and grabbed the elbow of the old man, who quickly tore it out of his grasp. "Are you begging for a death wish?!" He fired back, his eyes locking onto the old mans as he saw something odd; relief.

"I get to see my wife again, and do something right this time." He said in an even keeled tone, "Let me make this right, please."

The begging look in his eye made him let go, nodding before slowly turning around and trotting off further down the street.

He hadn’t even made it 100 yards when he saw trees in the distance crashing down in the distance, and judgement quickly told him to dive into the already broken window of a hardware store, the name of it already under broken rubble in the street. Grunting as he landed on some broken glass he quickly retreated back further into the building, finding it to have a second story which would give him a better view of what was about to happen even though he knew that it would crush him a little more inside.

Once upstairs he crouched down along the partially destroyed window, it already having been hit by something large but it allowed him to hide better along the loose bricks in the hole rather than in the open window which would easily give him away. Quickly finding the old man still strutting down the street, with no fear only determination. He wished he had the gusto of the man but he stayed put, watching to see what would happen.

Out of the shadows 4 anthros seemed to materialize and made converged on the man like a pack of lions, their weapons held carelessly at their sides or rested on their shoulders as they laughed and joked between each other. He was too far away to hear what they were saying, but he had the SCAR rested on the loose bricks, the optic aimed at the dragon to the far right as the hardware shop was situated on the right side and this was his best shot. He might be able to help the old man yet even if he didn't want it.

They reached the old man, and one of them flicked its tail and struck him behind the knee, as the old man fell to the ground on his hands and knees which drove him insane, but he held fast for now. It wasn't until another drake unmercifully struck the old man to the street hard that he couldn't help it. Aiming down the sights, he flipped the selector switch and rested a finger on the trigger, taking a deep breath before he saw one of them draw a sidearm and fire.

The sharp crack retorted around the town, bouncing from wall to wall as the elder man lay still on the street, the weapon still smoking as the other 3 laughed, the one with green highlighted scales still holding the weapon and grinning wickedly. Swinging his rifle carelessly to the drake he aimed and just as he was about to pull the trigger to send the round into the chest of the drake, the brick he was resting the weapon on slipped forward and off the building. His round flew slightly to the right, and rather than being a kill shot in the chest it instead grazed his left arm.

With a shocked growl as the others quickly took cover, looking around for where the shot came from. Anger overtook him as he fired again, hitting the concrete retaining wall one of them, outlined slightly in white scales, was hiding behind. It ducked down but he heard angry yelling and he quickly ducked out of the way before the incoming hailstorm of rounds hit the spot and ceiling of where he just was crouched. Quickly running down the stairs and out of the back as he could hear heavy footsteps approaching the store, he ran down the back alley and past an overturned dumpster before hopping a smaller fence into a person’s backyard.

Stumbling at first into the grass before scrambling to get up as he heard the yelling get louder he ducked into the 2 story, leaving the door open as he charged his way up to the second floor, finding the master bedroom in shambles and doing nothing to help it as he ducked past the bed and into the bathroom. Crouching down behind the granite sink he aimed his rifle at the door in tight grip, prepared to take as many as he could before they overwhelmed him.

He stood there for another few moments before hearing a crash from the area of the hardware store, and peaked out the window carefully to see it ablaze with the drakes standing around, grinning at the fire as the white scaled drake patched the greens arm up. It was only then that he saw the sign for the drakes medical core, and kicked himself for firing at a medic. Even if they had executed the old man, it wasn’t his spot to fire ad medics, he wouldn’t stoop down to their level.

Seeing the drakes getting annoyed as no one came out of the building or screamed burning alive inside, he watched them grabbed incendiary grenades and begin to toss them into nearby buildings. The one with blue scales as his outline made his way toward the house he hid in, and pulled the pin before tossing it into the living room of the house. With a loud 'Whoosh' it ignited, burning the carpet in seconds as he stood by the house watching the fire with smug glee though his hands didn’t stray from his weapon as he was waiting to see if anyone came out. He gripped his weapon and got ready to fire down at the drake and rush out of the front when the ground shook as a shadow covered the town menacingly.

A massive feral, dark as night landed hard in the middle of the town and glared down to the 4, and he could see that he was talking with the drakes as they looked argumentative, pointing to first the green drakes room and then the surrounding buildings. Seeming aggravated the feral turned and in the blink of an eye the house beside the hardware store was gone.

Stones and rubble went flying out and cascaded the ground, smashing and knocking into anything in their path as the top floor of the house was gone and the bottom floor collapsing in on itself. Turning to the next, the feral opened his jaws wide, a jet of molten flame spitting out and hitting against the smaller wooden cabin. The foundation burst into flames as windows simply melted as it collapsed inward. A knot formed in my throat as he turned to the house I was hiding in next.

It must have been some miracle or some guardian angel looking out for me, because when he swung his tail he swung low. It hit the bottom floor, pretty much sweeping it and the fire raging blow out from under him as the top portion of the house collapsed downward. He tumbled down as the floor crashed beneath him, shards of the bathroom cutting at his exposed face but were just minor scratches. He ended up in the tub somehow, the tub staying intact as the roof plummeted downward on top of him and sealed him in the tub, his head hitting hard onto the tub as he blacked out.