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 Abysmal Tale Number Thirteen: Against Death

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Chaos
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Posts : 259
Join date : 2009-08-07
Age : 34
Location : South Dakota

PostSubject: Abysmal Tale Number Thirteen: Against Death   Mon Nov 09, 2009 9:13 am

Welcome Back Ladies and Gentlemen.


This is one I like to Call: Against Death



Noise, that's all I ever seem to hear these days is the constant noise of incoming fire. I don't know how long it's been since I came here, The great war they call it back home, around the world even. But I have no idea how they can consider spending eighteen hours in a god damned hole in the ground with a bunch of other people you cant afford to make friends with, great. We Americans came in late to the party, and nobody seemed to want us there. Not the Allies, not the Enemy, nobody. You couldn't make friends with anybody, replacements often died on their first day, they wanted to stand up and get a good look at the fabled "No man's land" and they did, but they also made easy targets and one shot from a sniper's rifle on the other side ended their lives.

Sometimes they would be near me and blood would just fall down upon us like rain for a brief moment, it was terrible for the first three months, but like everything else you eventually got used to people being stupid, no matter how many times you told them otherwise to not stand up. We used to bury them in the trench walls, but over time those horrid rats would come in the night and dig them up and devour their flesh. Seeing dead people was bad enough, seeing half eaten corpses was so much worse, their eyes missing and other things that you can see even after you close your eyes.

It would rain sometimes. Rain for days on end and the mud would build up and make it nearly impossible to move. We would then use the dead as some kind of morbid bridge. Just lay them down in a row, it was terrible but effective. Times were desperate and emotions were just as cold as the bridge we used. In the day time, war was on our minds. We knew how this was, but back home it was being represented as some kind of glorious event where the brave were rewarded and killing the enemy was something you could be proud of. How wrong those posters are and ever were. If they could show what it was really like, this war would have been over the next day.

At night though, silence was seldom around. Even the enemy slept, but the night never seemed to give in. Sleep was fleeting. Rumors of the horrors of war floated through the trenches. Hell hounds that tracked the trenches and tearing out throats of the sleeping, killer worms that were disturbed by the cannon's vibrations and would come up to hunt for warm flesh. But those stories were mere rumors. They had to be. The one tale that got to me was the story of the derelict patrols. Once that ran out of food because they were too far on the advanced front lines and resorted to cannibalism. Hunting friend and foe alike just for their next meal, stalking in the dead of the nights, just like tonight under a full moon. Well, it looks like I wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight after all. Stupid stories anyway.

I wake up though with a headache. I must have slept wrong or something. I'm not sure what the deal is with that but the pain is normal, it's not easy to sleep in a grave with the ends knocked out. I grab my meager meal I am provided and eat it. It's terrible but it's better then human flesh I suppose. Finish in mere minutes then I pick up my rifle next to me. Out of all the friends I could make, my gun is the best one I've ever had in this slice of hell.

I look around and all of the sudden a grip of unearthly terror like I had never known before. I am alone. Damn it. My mind is racing, but not as nearly as fast as my heart is. I don't know what to think or how to act. I am alone and my only company now are the dead, and the occasional overfed rat. How could this happen, why was I not told of this? But it is at that moment I notice it, the Grey mist that is covering everything. The fog was why I was alone, but it didn't tell me anything. I listened for the sounds of the monsters I feared secretly in the stories I heard. I heard no slithering of a unseen worm, nor slavering of some hell beast. Small blessings for now.

This fog reminded me of the stillness of death, but no. I wasn't dead, just alone. I had to find out why. It seemed that I scoured the empty, yet corpse filled trench for hours and found nothing but more death. However I also found some new dead people, people I had talked to mere hours ago in the dark. They had not one mark or wound on them, but still one so used to death as I could not shake the feeling I had when I saw them, eyes open not in any kind of normal peace but eyes open in terror, six men gazing into the endless white mists of the sky. That was more then enough to scare me, to make me wonder what kind of horror did I sleep through and why their screams didn't wake me up, but then I realized what must have happened. Alas, they had no time to scream at all.

Something killed them, or inspired such a form of death so fast it was not of this world. I could not imagine what might have caused this. Being alone and face to face with wide eyed corpses I didn't dare remain here for much longer, no that was a mistake to do. I couldn't help but feel that I too was being watch by those lifeless eyes. Imagination running away with me on doubt but it told me that if I turned my back, these undead things would rise and come for me like some kind of possessed thing. Sometimes people think themselves into terror, sometimes they are thrown into it, I had the worst of both worlds.

Despite my primal instincts to give into fear, I was a battle hardened soldier. Three cursed months on this front line have taught me how to suppress fear and feelings of disgust rather well. I have killed many enemies but I did not want to keep track of them now. Perhaps the same affliction had struck the enemies as well. A part of me hoped not, I had to try something, anything to know I wasn't alone. I grabbed a helmet from the ground and a rifle and placed the helmet on top, then carefully I lifted the bait over the edge of the trench. Never anymore then this had I hoped for the sound of a bullet, the sign of life from anywhere to make me feel somewhat at ease.

I held that helmet there for minutes, and there was nothing. I realized then that I was not alone in this horror. Something had come us on both sides of this conflict and I was truly alone, but I had to know for sure. Perhaps there was somebody on the other side of this madness, just like me trying to figure out what was going on, and like me becoming filled with the strange anxiety that was threatening to overtake me. It might mean death, but I had to go. Taking both rifles with me in hand I stood up straight for the first time, carefully.

No man's land as it was called was broken and twisted. No longer did it appear this could even be earth, no piece of land was untouched with the violence of gunfire. I carefully undid the tangle of barbed wire before me and crawled out of the grave. The air smelt like smoke and fire, images of what hell smelled like came to mind with each step I took I imagined a demon coming from the ground to pull me down into the abyss, the lone soldier who was missed would not be forgotten, but it never came.

It seemed like forever, but eventually I came to the other side of the battle. It was silent until I got there. As I approached I saw one lone man fighting with another. They were wearing the same uniform so I was confused at this sight, It didn't make sense that they would fight one another until the agressive one was thrown back and I got a good look at his face, or what used to be his face. His eyes had been eaten out by the same terrible rats that afflicted us and our dead. This man was dead, there was no denying that, and I was frozen for a moment, I had no idea what was going on or why.

The other man, was still very much alive and fighting for his life. Enemy or not I had to do something. I raised my Rifle and blasted the, whatever it was, directly in the head. The bullet did it's job well as it's aim was true. The thing fell once more, missing it's head this time. It would not rise. The living man turned at once and he shouted at me, screaming something. Despite not knowing the language I understood the tone of the voice. It told me all I needed to know. He too was alone and that thing was something new and terrible.

Broken English was more then enough to convey the message that I needed to know but didn't want to hear. Apparently the other guy knew as much as I did, nothing. He too woke up to a realm of the dead. But his plight was much worse then mine. For my imagined fear turned into his reality, the dead did indeed rise here. Blood ran cold as the truth of the impossible became entirely too real.

When I gazed upon his trench, in comparison my own seemed like paradise. I often compared mine to a grave, but his was literally just a ditch dug out in a hurry by several once living men. I almost wanted him to come back with me to my own, but I then realized that the only dead body that was here, was the one I had decapitated with my weapon. The thought disturbed me greatly, where did they all go to?

In an mere hour I would know all my former enemy could tell me. Apparently the death came in the night, and he too woke up alone, but with no dead company. I tried to understand the concept of this event, but it made no sense. The dead couldn't come back to life, I had seen it and destroyed one. It's headless corpse was still there as proof, but I couldn't accept it. And in the middle of my moment of disbelief, the other guy began to scream.

I didn't see what he saw because it was behind me. I had to turn around for this one and when I did, I too almost screamed but it my blood seemed to freeze my voice with fear. Dead men were shambling down the line towards us in absolute silence. Had I been alone I would have never known they were coming until it was far too late. I turned back to my newly made partner, but he wasn't there. No, he was already over the side of the trench, gun in hand and running wildly into the mist, damn it.

Not wanting to leave the only help I might have in this sick mess I decided that the best course of action was to go after him, the creatures were closer now. I dare not call them men any longer, but something else, the word escapes me though. Doing the logical thing I get my weapons and I too take off into the mist after my terrified companion. He is easy to follow because of the screaming, but if I can follow him that meant they could too, not exactly the best kind of attention to have in a war or when being chased by monsters.

It wasn't long I was able to catch him and calm him down. He was frantic and screaming something or another in German, didn't understand a word of it but I really didn't need to. Fear is understood in all languages just the same as music is understood by anybody who can hear it. It wasn't long though before a general plan was made, to get the hell out of dodge and find help. At this point I was willing to be taken prisoner, it was a better option then staying with those things out there.

I don't know how long it was, but we found a old house. It was wrecked, but still standing somehow. By then most of the fog had burned off and all of the land was visible, It was all the same in any direction as we could see, barren devastated, but no signs of the dead things. With any luck we hoped we could go without seeing them ever again. But the sun was beginning to fall into that western sky once again and moving at night with those things out there, seemed like a massive mistake, so we decided to make the best of what we had and stayed out here in the ruined place for the night.

The dark came as it always does, wind came with it. It was cold and smelled of decaying flesh. A scent that I had grown used to by now but now it was getting to me, it seemed like the source of the decay was approaching us at a terrible rate. Sleep was for sure impossible tonight, and we didn't say anything to one another out of fear the slightest word would bring them down upon us. Our only light was that of the moon. It was a clear and cold night, but I can't remember there being any stars out that night.

It was fast, but against the wall from the outside, something slammed against the wood of the house and the silence was broken, the German's gun went off and the bullet went flying into the sky harmlessly. He was still scared to death of the situation, so was I but I wanted to live through it, then there was another slam and the wall cracked this time. It was time to act. I looked out the empty window quietly. There they were, ten of these things were behind it too. Dead faces with twisted grins, the moonlight reflecting off of their teeth. Somehow they followed us all this way, I didn't know how but I did know there would be no escape from them, and if we ran too far they might attack others. It was up to us too to put a stop to it.

the German seemed to agree and did not run this time but instead took up his gun, and prepared for battle. I took the first shot and it once again aimed true, another head exploded on contact and a monster fell. Head shots, to me are merciful. To be wounded out on the front would be a worse fate then death. Infection and suffering for who knows how long. Death seemed a fair treatment for my enemy, and it is where I aimed now. The German on the other hand seemed to be much more interested in the art of suffering, his shots landed in the legs, the arms and torso. But these shots were not enough to but the things down! I pleaded with him to stop wasting ammo, but he would not stop.

Then my gun clicked. My ammo was gone and four of them still remained, I was able to take down most of them but not all. The German was a good shot but he didn't catch on that only a blast to the head would make it count, it was not to be however. His weapon ran out too and now the advance was on. I was furious with him and his actions. What should have been a done deal was nothing more then a prolonging of this horror.

Apparently friendship doesn't last long. The old idea of "I don't need to be the fastest, I just need to be faster then you." came to mind. I turned to face him and was greeted with a fist to the face. Unexpected and powerful, the force knocked me over and into the far wall. Something in the dark sliced through my skin, cut my back and the blood came out, along with it came the pain. I refused to be bait, or a distraction for these things so the guy who betrayed me could get away.

No, I saw them smash through the boards like it had been paper, it had to be terror that drove me to such extremes because all the sudden the pain was as if it were an illusion. Pulling myself up out of the mess in something of a hurry I didn't know what I wanted more, revenge or escape. I wanted, no. I needed both. I could hear their moaning, I heard it before only once when the supply lines were late and the food was cut short. It was the moaning of hunger. It was only then I knew their intentions. I was not going to be their food.

The moon guided my path and escape was easy, they were slow but relentless in my direction, not to mention they seemed to be powerful as well because the house barriers did little to slow them down as they tore right through them. Why they didn't do that on their first attack is a mystery to me, maybe they were trying to sneak up on us? I don't know. Then the plan came to me, I became a hunter.

It was longer then I thought but eventually I found that betraying bastard. He was resting by a tree, thinking he was safe from me. I think I saw him smile at what he did. Not today. I picked up a rock that was near me, it felt good in my hands, my instrument of death was mine to command. I took my aim and all at once I threw it, I don't know if he heard it or not, but the stone went where I aimed it, and apparently that was at his leg. I was aiming for his head but whatever, take what you can get, right?

He was in pain and in shock I think, but trying to get away from his attacker. With an injured leg he was no match for me and I was easily upon him in seconds. I know I said something, I doubt it was very nice though but I really I don't remember. What I do remember is what I did next. I slammed my foot into his knee, hard. I remember it breaking and the sound of it was not too easy on the mind or the ears, I really didn't like it much but I was angry at the time. He pleaded to me to let him live. To drag him with me, like hell I would.

I took off. I didn't want to be here when those things that used to be people caught up to him, but a morbid curiosity made me want to see just exactly what they would do. I was a safe enough distance away from them, you know? So I watched as they approached the man, and then I got to see what they did first hand and believe me, it is something I could never forget. Those fingers of theirs clawed into his flesh like some kind of hooks from hell and the teeth. The monsters were eating him. Pangs of regret afflicted me for a moment, but then I realized the worst places in hell were reserved for those who betrayers, after that it wasn't so bad after all.

The screams died out eventually and I knew it was over, now it was just me. Exhausted and in pain I knew I had to get away, had to escape. For three days after that I ran. I don't think I slept at all and every time I stopped to rest I could hear faint moans of hunger. I kept running until I was lucky enough to run into your trench. When you found me, I must have seemed insane. Screaming about monsters coming after me. But I am not insane...really..I'm not. That's how it happened!

The captain sighs heavily at this story. "Sergeant, put this one in the sleeping quarters with the rest of them," The man sighed. He didn't know what what to make of all these monster stories these random soldiers were wandering in from the wasteland out there. Mysterious deaths, the dead rising and eating the living had to be nothing more then shell shock, right? This thought went interrupted then. "Sir, the radio says the weather is perfect for fog tonight, so we have to double our guard." He nodded and agreed, but then he looked out to the sky. Didn't the monster stories all have something to do with the fog?

Then, the sun began to set once more and on the wind was the smell of decaying flesh and the idea of something terrible creeping towards them on the edge on the wings of the night.
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Abysmal Tale Number Thirteen: Against Death
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