From a far distance, what could be seen is all but a blurry image. Though, the outlines of the shapes and features do make out the image bluntly seen at a far. Buildings were glazed in a disastrous state as charcoal black smoke emitted out of the building floors through shattered and, now broken transparent windshield glasses. Huge skyscapers that reach massive heights no longer stood firm, neatly as they were before.
Even so, this buildings and any type of structures due in time fall to the heaviest of situations.
Near the side corners, smaller structures built entirely out of brick and concrete from previous years, in the old era, come crashing down into oblivion. The old framework such as the poles or stems of cemented pillars deteriorated over time have become weak, feeble at its core. With the chaos upstairs coming from all the fire spreading inside weakening the other pillers strains the capacity and capabilities of the lower pillers strengths, there in its last stance one crack at a time, the pillers below meet their match, then a snap occurs. The height of each pillers simultaneously combust like a watermelon exploding strain from multiple rubber bands, encircling its radius or sides, therefore the floors come lying down flat on the ground.
~~~~
At a much further distance, the horizon can be seen from both ends when the metropiltan faded away into obscurity - beyond reach.
Gliding in the air, the cool breeze in the atmosphere hits hard like a leaf blower. The sensation, if felt, gives off a sudden mild coolness. At its peak it becomes more extravagant. Not the coolness. But the beautiful sight of the blue skies, a little turquoise, but overall a resemblance of the blue pacific ocean, and beneath the surface is decorated in an expanse of marine-life.
Not to mention the fluffy clouds. Pillow clouds that have round, circular shapes with sharp narrow minded spikes, slowly as any other clouds float in an endless loop across the entire planet.
Just then out of nowhere, a beam trail of charcoal black mist like smoke invades the open, calm, and clear space in the sky.
Following the trail of smoke it leads down below.
Diving down into the surface, the presence there is met with hectors of an ever expending field of wheat grains, lengthy enough reaching the ends of the horizon. The wheat fields aligned in an array of square cubic area, hatching one form to anthor was separated into two sections. This separator was likely a road firmly stationed and maintained for the use of transportation.
It (wheat field grain) had a brownish textor bathed cleanly, which in turn was ripe, gave a heightened peak period for harvest. The rays of light it filtered through shined thoroughly vibrant, that magnetized a manner of delight accompanied with the sun rays.
Swiftly and decisively grooming through the wheat grain field. The void of the smoke trail was found.
A clear site beholded. Fiery, fierce flames blazed out in the open. The wheat field devastated at least a couple metres and was surrounded by metal pieces covering, bending, and laid waste on the land. The fire itself spit tonnes of heated energy concluded from the blazing, yellowish and sometimes reddish appearance while also emitting concentrated masses of pollutant gas into the sky, then to the atmosphere.
At a likeable moment, remnants of whatever that caused this incident was still lying around the burn area. Most of them were bodily corpses of dead people. Their bodies were either smeared in dirt or burnt by the excessive heat drawn from their close proximity at the site. What's more, the corpses were devastated, faces mutilated; disfigured; nor unrecognizable in an unconventional state along with disembodied limbs that laid rest near the corpses and some metres away from the site.
In the centre of the site, a huge torn contraption of black metal deposits itself right on the now ravaged field. Shattered window frames. Front cockpit crushed and smashed. Tail rotor split in half. And the main rotor blades clipped right off the center piece.
About a couple metres away from were the helicopter crashed into smithereens, a lone corpse laid on a cleared, plain brush field of wheats.
Thoroughly analysing the body, no scars, bruises, cuts or mangled ulterior appears on sight of the body. It usually seems free of any sort of injuries that could be attached from the crash.
The corpse wore a fine, classic black suit, a white undershirt, and a long grey gentleman underwear. It's hear was overall messy. So was the corpse's lying position as if it was just in with a crime, murder scene - upper limbs and lower limbs stretched, wiggled and lingered. In addition, the sun's ray shone brightly a spectacular streak of brilliance. This corpse faced the front, and its back laid on the ground. Slowly, and slowly the lights landed on the corpses face, then the eyes that were closed shut; unable to open in any sort of way (because it's dead, right). Suddenly, a little activity rolled just at that moment.
The eye's slightly responded with light flicks.
John laid flat in a coma like state only that he was alive, temporarily unconscious for the time being and while crept up into his thoughts - mind - he was unbeknownst to the area he was in.
Beside John, and beyond him littered countless pieces of metal frames from the helicopter scattered all over the crop field. From the looks of it, the metal frames torn off from the rupturing vehicle heavily degraded the dirt and the alignment of crops, and the fire that spread caused a stir that burnt half of the whole field.
Thankfully for John his position landed him a pretty hefty safe landing just a few meters away from the crash.
John began to wake up, his mind all a blurr and his eyes flicker apparently. He stood - a type of crookat posture hr gave. Of course, he felt slightly weak but quickly regained his strength all the more alert around his surroundings and, when he turned to look at his side, the helicopter was now transformed into somewhat a scrap metal piece. John's entire self became blank for a momemt as his stares sought to glare at the fading glimpse of fire trickling within the wreckage, yet he did not flinch as he's thoughts brought him somewhere else entirely.
_____________________
A couple of minutes earlier...
His muttering became apparently louder as so as his groan taking over. Beside him, the passenger that sat next to him noticed him. And before long, the crew and passengers came into a realization when they turned their heads to the groaning, granting person.
Out of all the people in the holding, one might say something out of the blue or take action, but instead they were watching at the person soon becoming, one out of the whole lot could only stare until he abruptly cursed.
Ah Shit.
The man now turned revealed his horrid face utterly transformed into a crooked, corrupted individual lunging before the closest victim, hell bent on devouring or taking to approach the person having at it, bitting and feasting upon the innocence.
The victim did not have the time or courage to act quickly upon his accord. Because of this, he thought, maybe this person was having the worst day of his life maybe a mental breakdown. But as it seemed it was not the case for him. Like flashes of light, the zombifized person did a number on him. With the thirst for blood, it deepen it's razor sharp like fangs into the victim's right side neck as the the innocence look on the victim's face did nothing but feel emty, and although he screamed, a huge cup-sized pool of blood poured and dispersed; Bood constantly spurred.
As panic in the holding erupted with uncertainty, a provoking feel of emotions unravelled. The crew and passengers were then separated into two groups: one trying to find safety and the other trying to handle the situation, if possible though.
Three fully functional people or so more leaped into action. Their efforts were to apprehend the uncontrollable turned person. One of the man tightened his grip and hurled out a punch at the turned as it was still hooked onto the victim's neck. The punch had little to no damage. Of course, that wasn't the case and too make matters worse, once the man punched the turned it immediately recognised it's next victim.
Without hesitation, the turned launched itself over the person that punched it straight in the face. Although the man did not react that early, it was the right moment to react; not for him, but for the other two man parallel to he's sides. And like that, the two man interlocked their arms around each one of the turned's arm pushing it back and pinned it down, while staggering they struggled at the same time, handling the suppressed individual down onto the metal wall.
It will take not a minute longer for the turned to break free from the arms that imprisoned it at the moment. Yet, the two men held their grip tighter than ever with the turned being overwhelmingly strong and hard to contol.
The crewman really punched the thing this time. Now that they were in a pickle; what are the chances to react to this matter. Absolutely nothing.
Those brave passengers who risk their lives to take hold of the gruelling, and menacing zombified, lifeless corpse - forced out of it's shell - they only found it hard to dominate in strength as the thing rapidly moved sharply trying to squeeze out of the arms that chained it.
This hope would soon come to an end which the thing took less than a few seconds before it broke free turning to the closest as it's new victim.
It feasted right on one of the brave passenger. Not only was the situation in shambles, it got even worse from then.
While the brave passengers were still holding the thing, the first victim that fell to the turning twitched. The rest of the passengers were more focused on the current situation, while the second thing's lifeless corpse set slightly motions. It's head, leg, and arms.
Only did the first thing break free, did the second jump up and raised its teeth at them, making everyone to be shocked and more afraid.
"Hey what's going on in there, we can't hold it...W-What the fuck...," the pilot to the left called only for him to get bitten on the side neck by the second turned. The turned still clinging to the side.
The second pilot freaked out unaware of the circumstances, and what will do next. In addition to his friend being attacked, the commotion that ensued in the holding deck wasn't a good sign, and it is really hard for just one man to keep on trying to stabilise the balance of the helicopter as it shook left-to-right or right-to-left from time to time. Still, the last pilot held a firm grip over the controls mastering a genuine skill for this precautions.
But when will the situation settle for at least a moment. Currently, the passengers are already in an unfortunate Status having this turned attacking them to add up for.
The pilot could also hear the screams of terror coming from behind. He hears the unrefined hollow screams - people struggling for survival. Just like the pilot he was doing the same thing, or was he.
Then suddenly helicopter seemed to unintentionally shift to the right. Something must have happened. It did.
"Ahhhhhhh!" the loud scream of one of the survivors strikingly hits until it fades away.
The pilot knew actually what had happened. That one of the survivors fell off the helicopter while in the air. For once, it is unexpected. But it just happened as the door stayed opened for unknown reasons. Maybe they wanted to flee so badly. Maybe they didn't want no more. Suicide or forced death by the leaning turned.
As the helicopter was losing it's balance, the last pilot dispatched to his helmet headphones, "Mayday, mayday, this is [unknown name] we are going down, I repeat....we..huh."
However, as the pilot blinked once, something took him by surprise. It was another turned. It lurched onto him either bitting his neck or head by sheer mouthful. The pilot lost control instantously bleeding directly from where the most severe injury sought to erupt, caused by the turned's outcome.
This had the same effect on the helicopter to go offline; none having of any pilot for the short term, due to the unfortunate turn of events. And without a greenlight, the helicopter lost control spinning and spiraling in mid air while some survivors were still on-board as it descended.
On board, those alive, held their grounds. Holding metal rods for safety. Praying to God. Saying their last words. Or hugging each others.
It is terrifying.
For chaos - more horror for this turned, it moved to close to another victim without reaction from the helicopter's descending arrival. It's position unaffected.
Like nothing happened, everything then went pitch black.
___________________
Back to present time.....
The damage that the helicopter had sustained was surreal. Metal parts from the wreckage blasted open - scattering everywhere on the field wheat of crops, where the main body of the helicopter is seen far from were John had landed safely with some minor scratches. How is this possible? John thought to himself as he was idolly standing. Still awestruck and confused.
John walked over to the wreckage, watching around his shoulders, as he slowly moved to close to the main frame.
When he reached a close proximity, he stopped suddenly, and looked around the sides of the wreckage. He also covered his mouth and nose like how someone is feeling sorry at a horrifying sight.
Near the wreckage, the remains of the survivors were either pilled up on top of each other or their limps ripped apart right of their main body, and discriminately spread away like melting butter; and the smell of burnt flesh, added the gut renching abomination of huge opened wounds, placed an intoxicated atmosphere.
As John couldn't come up to such a revelation, his foot came contact with something making him almost trip over likely to lose his balance - but that he didn't, when he caught his legs balancing it and standing firmly.
When John looked down to what almost made him trip, the scene in his mind wouldn't change at. Maybe due to all the dead he was arguably surrounded by. It was the crewman. He saw the crewman's corpse laid open on the ground. What caught John by suprise was that he's entire body wasn't damage at all. But yet he is unalive.
If the crewman was just like him - the lucky few to land - why did he die. At a close inspection, John discovered that an open wound on the side abdomen. When he got closer, another wound returned to John's field of vision. On his neck, a stab like wound inserted deep as if something or someone did it deliberately.
John wanted to examine up further. But the further he goes - the further he wastes time.
Just then, John heard some rustling noises coming from behind. Noises from the ones he and now dead survivors used to hear back at the City building, trapped to defend against them. If he were to wait any longer, he would come to find out.
Hesitate no less, John sprinted off to the field crops; fleeing away from the source that grew closer, closer, and closer. That is not until he took a glance behind him at the wreckage before he's silhouette faded through the crops.
And sooner out of danger.
Or was he?
________________________
End of Chapter 2.