Everywhere, and anywhere at a likely separate block area in the city few people managed to aquire an equivalent time of hiding on some debri nearby, but surely those located externally chances of escspe is inevitable - time can never be safe - as snarling growl appears right above a person's head, there those 'things' hanging on a platform, creep the feet of walls sneaking distantly before their victims.
Survivors chuckle, chucking vertically or horizontally at that time, an interuding figure stares in hunger snaring an expression at them so close, the survivor's face morphe into a discomfortable enraged laughter and weeping cry, until finally the 'things' preyed on them, given; no hesitation; no mercy; no sympathy; no respect at all - and by all means no longer a human but a deadly predator for humans.
More bodies of dead people lied rest on the spot of roads and footpaths, there the damn 'things' feast a gourment of appetizers - bodies bathed in blood, meat, and flesh - counting in hundreds grouped with the absolute thirst for human flesh.
While feasting, deafeaning echos hummed throughout the weaving spacious skyscrapers. It sought the ears of the bloody 'things,' shocking a number of them which they took to the skies snaring a tone of enraged vertebrating shouts loosening from their mouths. The very mass of humming passed each group. Until long enough, those sounds became farther and farther, unable to be heard again. Or so reach the next few to listen to.
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A helicopter (respectively pins it's head left and tail to the right) flew across high rising buildings. Inside, the survivors were silent, didn't even murmur a word. The crewman handled by the situation passed by some corners of the spacious gaps, squeezing inbetween, to lean towards the rear pocket seats. He sat down on a closed seat, exchanged with another survivor. There facing him, only to him, the shotgun fellow sat parallel to him.
"HEY!" Shouted the crewman in a good way towards the silent individual, "That was a very good performance back there, where did you train - military maybe."
"....." sighed in response, man clearly was stiff, undeserving any attention.
Not able to start a prosperous conversation. The crewman's curiosity peaked. He was really intrigued by these person's timing and precision, not to mention accuracy.
'Though, unwilling to converse in actual words, a pure conversation couldn't hurt', he thought to himself.
He pushed back, resting on the seat. He then observed the shotgun fellow, with eager profound eyes.
Black short hair, black jacket followed to the neck and waist fastened - buttoned up -, a greyish trousers, and pairs of sports like shoes. His face resembled an Asian. Though the eyes calm and sometimes serious, as in a perpetual motion of regret and the skin tone peach like on point.
That was the observation the crewman had assessed. Thinking from before and after, seeing as he bent over swinging his arms on his knees.
"Many people didn't know what the world would go through in a precautionary state handled like this. Life is ever changed, and life throws whatever it has in store for us, " the crewman continued changing to a more comfortable topic tone, calming the silence.
He projected his head up and down, smiling with a poker face, " but hey, the military I've heard say is quite operational, and thats the things some of us came from. As if it was a coincidence - right, hahahaha..," right before laughing unintentionally by sheer trend of words.
Through the crewman's unseemlingly feel of engaged words, the sentences before his laughter assumed himself quite the unfamiliar person to the shotgun fellow smirking a little before he replied back.
"So that's how it is, maybe then it's over," in a low short creepy voice.
Shocked at the fellow's response - not of the reply - but the 'How' he seemed to talk with guts. Quite frankly, the creman also thought to himself maybe this guy is not the guy or was he, before releasing he's thoughts to the fellow. Of course, he didn't stop there. He kept the conversation going just to see what came his way with this guy (and as usual tried to watch his own mouth).
"Yeah, l so too?" Giving an impression of relief, and a bit puzzled too.
The gun fellow grew up his bent situation sitting up straight. He chuckled as he did.
" So what's you're story are - ," when the crewman supposedly noticed the gun man becoming a bit open, he continued, but stopped on purpose as he knew the man asian dude was likely bored, throwing his arm for a wave when suddenly the gun man's head twitchef a second. He was unsure what it was.
Directly looking like a staring competition, he the gunman's eyes landed on the right wrist of the crewman's hand, conspicuously trading an angered look or confused thought.
Maybe the crewman did something wrong that seemed to bad, offended him.
'No that's not it. But what?'
Then he saw him very evidently focused in a slight window crossing towards his right hand. And that's when realized it. He knew what was going on. Before he could say anything, the gunman's creepy voice changed into a manly tone, cutting him off the way not being able to ask him about what he knew.
"WHAT IS THAT? ON YOUR LEFT HAND WRIST."
If he were to answer that it would mean they'd stray off the relaxed tone, but surely right now the gunman's face was serious.
"Oh this, ah yeah. This here was something of a military injection just before our departure," trying to simplify the exact words into a sentence relevant and, not too exaggerating, "...and leaves a mark behind. Anyway that's all."
It felt like he had just met something very terrible or awe-ly suprised. Or did he knew something. Then out of nowhere, the gunman said again something unearthly whispering to himself. Unable to decode the language from gunman, the crewman only knew to focus clearly.
"So again. Where were? ARE yes that."
~~~~
The survivor whom which switched the seat with the crewman sat on the far right, when the crewman was now to the far left seat up top facing the shotgun fellow downwards.
Almost in a trance like dream, he momentarily contemplates about the damaging part of which he experienced through the building floors. He bent over clenching his fists together, hanging his head down towards the floor. His eyes furrowed. His lips sharp. His face drenched in worry.
'Well, there's no purpose sole minding to that-'
After a while he backs up trying to feel relaxed, rubbing the under side of his back, raking off the unfavourable position he sat giving him aches and itches.
There beyond the next seat to the top, another man likely in his 40's behaved Physiologically stressed muttering and gritting oddly, though.
Maybe he caught a cold (not even the slightest), or mostly hyperphobic about the entire event. He gasped heavily. Grunted alongside a sweaty face. He holds part of his abdomen partly phased-off, as if trying to shrug the unbearable pain consequently brought to him either mentally or physically.
'Is he alright. the way he's acting out must be very detrimental, or - wait,' thought the relaxed man.
Sooner or later, he notices something weirdly unsavoury. He backed up thinking about a particular momemt at the 76th floor. He projects his head at an angle and clipped his left solemn hand, massaging his chin.
On the other hand, while the relaxed man was thinking un noticed, beside the forty year old to the right a narrow shoulder tall guy with leather fittings became aware of the fellow strangely opening up a eerie vibe, hearing something similar to a growl.
End of chapter 1.