You'd been at work when the first meteor fell, wholly unprepared to survive the end of the world, especially considering your unsuitable choice of footwear.

It was strange though, that you didn't feel afraid. Later, you'd realise that was because the shock had helpfully numbed you to any other sensation you might have felt. Looking back on that terrible day, you'd be hard pressed to recall the exact emotion you had felt when you first saw those strange, unearthly monsters emerge from the steaming meteors and spill out into the street, chasing down any human in sight. But you could say, without a shadow of a doubt, that it was shock that saved your life. For when the rest of your colleagues screamed and hunkered beneath desks or locked themselves in the supply closets, too petrified to move, you somehow found the wit to climb out of a window and shimmy down the fire escape.

And not a moment too soon.

A thunderous BOOM! throws you from the last few rungs of the ladder and onto the hard concrete below.

Coughing and spluttering, you push yourself up onto your elbows and wince at an explosion of pain that blossoms in the back of your head.

"Ah, shit!" You crack your eyes open, blearily squinting up to see your office building engulfed in flames. Every window has been shattered and there's a gaping hole in the wall, beyond which you can hear a blood-curdling roar and then, seconds later, the haunting cacophony of screams and desperate pleas of your coworkers flow out into the alleyway. For a foolhardy moment, you're tempted to go back and try to help, somehow.

With a sickening pang, however, you realise that the meteor has warped the metal fire escape and torn it away from the wall, rendering the damn thing completely unscalable.

Gunfire and frightened wailing reach your ears from the next street over and the hair on the back of your neck raises in response. You grit your teeth, frustration and confusion fighting to be felt under the overwhelming blanket of numb bewilderment.

There's nothing you can do, so you do what you can.

You run.

—-

Again and again, you're subjected to the monotonous warble of your parents' answer phone. You must have rung home a dozen times whilst you fled, ducking behind over-turned cars and dustbins and generally having absolutely no idea where you're going.

As you go, you see….impossible things. Creatures that couldn't…shouldn'texist, crawling out of craters in the ground and scrabbling up from the sewers. Fast, canine beasts with elongated limbs and distorted spines scurry around the streets, easily hunting down your fellow humans and pouncing on them like wolves on frightened lambs. Sprinting down another alley, you catch a glimpse of an enormous, brown thing heaving a bus high above its head before it lets out a deafening roar.

With surprisingly little effort, you wrench your head away from the gruesome sight and just keep running, aimless and defenceless. Originally, you'd intended to run all the way home, distance be damned. But it doesn't take long before you realise that your only chance is to run in the quietest direction, away from the horrified screams. Though it's hard to judge, at times because every corner of the city sings its requiem.

At long last, you stumble, exhausted and gasping, out into an vast, city square. You stand at the edge of the alley, your eyes darting too and fro in search of movement. But the hundreds of fires billowing over the cityscape have begun to choke the air with smoke. When nothing immediately looms out of the murk to attack, you take a few tentative steps out into the open, pause, then dumbly, warily, you venture even further, trying not to cough on the thick, fire-smoke that stings your eyes and clogs your throat.

All of a sudden, about halfway across the square, you stop dead in your tracks, frozen by the sound of a deafening, strident roar. Slowly, painfully slowly, you inch your head towards the noise, eyes wide and stinging, but you're too afraid to blink.

Through the smog, you see it and your blood runs cold, like somebody poured ice water in your veins.

There, to your right, standing over the bodies of an old man and a little, brown and white dog, is a monstrous, humanoid creature. It must easily tower over ten feet tall, skin an ashen grey and eyes of blazing hellfire. Clutched in its meaty claws is a blood-covered battle axe that's almost twice as tall as its wielder. The gruesome thing is staring at you and what you assume is a grin pulls its black lips apart, revealing a jaw filled with yellowing fangs. It roars, vile spittle flying from the back of it's throat and then, it charges.

Like a bullet, the man-creature leaps over abandoned cars, piles of rubble and broken benches in a mad dash straight at you.

Terror, the sheer and unwelcome kind, finally begins to seep through the haze of shock. It seizes your heart and roots your feet to the ground. You stand there like a deer in headlights as the…the whatever the hell that is closes the distance between you.

All at once, a voice behind you cuts through the square and right through your dazzled stupor, snapping you back to reality.

"HERE! OVER HERE! THIS WAY!"

Throwing your head over your shoulder, you squint through the gloom in search of the new voice, aware of the pounding footsteps that only just drown out your hammering heart. Seconds later, you catch sight of a figure, standing out as a grey blur, darker than the smoke in the square. It's waving at you.

In an instant, your legs feel as though they've been released from quicksand and you're off, sprinting like a bat out of Hell towards the stranger. At your back, the beast bellows out it's defiance, though you pay it no mind because at the same moment, there's the sound of a bell tolling. It echoes through the city and sends a flock of birds squawking into the sky over head .

'The church!' you realise, pushing yourself to run ever faster as the overwhelming prospect of safety gives you a renewed sense of hope. Even with your shoes, it quickly becomes apparent that you have speed on your side, although you wouldn't boast to be any more athletic than the next person. The creature is clearly weighed down by heavy metal armour and that colossal axe, so you soon manage to gain some headway.

Wheezing like a demon, you slam full force into the graveyard gate, grabbing the top and heaving yourself over, not bothering to try and undo the latch. You tumble painfully onto the grass, pushing yourself to your feet when something silver glints in the murky light, catching your eye. Your head whips to the side and you see a man, a very dead man with his hand wrapped tightly around the barrel of a handgun, propped up against an old tombstone. In a split second decision, with the hot breath of a literal monster lighting a fire on the back of your neck, you throw yourself on top of the weapon just as it reaches the gate. It takes a hold of the top bar and wrenches it straight off the wall, tossing it to the side as though it were no heavier than a paper aeroplane. Glaring down at your back with that sinister smile, the beast lets out an ugly chortle and tromps forward, raising its axe high into the air.

On the ground, you release the cylinder, sweat pouring down your forehead and seeping out of your palms, making the whole gun slip and slide around in your quivering grasp. There are five rounds left. Your eyes meet the dead stare of the man on the ground and you feel a soft sigh leave your chest. The footsteps behind you stop, your eyes harden and you suddenly feel a glimmer of courage spark up in your chest…..Though it may just be thanks to the gun.

Whatever the beast is, it says something. Nothing you understand, but it's definitely a language of some sort and you're struck, for a moment, that this thing is intelligent. Or at least, intelligent enough to have its own dialect.

But the next thing you know, the words are replaced with a guttural growl. So, you do the only thing you can think of, hardly even daring to think of what'll happen if it doesn't work - if you miss.

Just as the beast's axe reaches its apex, you roll over onto your back and aim the handgun right between it's piggy little eyes. You just have time to see surprise flicker across it's face before you squeeze your index finger down on the trigger and-

BANG!

The monster stops dead, eyes roving up to try and see the new hole it's sporting in the middle its forehead. With a clang, it drops the axe in the dirt behind it and collapses to it's knees, jaw dropped open and tongue lolling out between blackened lips. You merely watch, gasping for breath as it finally slumps forward, falling into a heap right on top of your legs.

Screaming, you scramble and kick at it, desperate to dislodge yourself. Another screech erupts from your mouth when a hand grabs you beneath the armpits and hoists you to your feet. You try to snatch yourself free but stop upon seeing an older man with wild yet kindly eyes, dressed in long, dark brown robes.

"Come, quickly!" he urges, staggering with you towards the heavy wooden doors of his church.

He all but tosses you over the threshold before slamming it shut with a resounding thud then bending to struggle with a thick, plank of wood. Still in a daze and stinking of rancid blood, you fumblingly stuff the pistol into the side of your trousers and stoop down, picking up one end of the plank. The robed man nods his thanks as you both lift it onto a pair of hooks that keep it secured to the church doors, serving as a crude but necessary barricade. You highly doubt that it'll stop any of those monsters outside, but as of now, it's a damn sight better than nothing.

Panting, you rest your forehead on the door and try not to think about how close that had been.

"Are you alright, my child?"

The sound of a friendly voice is a blessed relief. Nodding shakily, you push yourself off the door and throw the man a grateful smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks, father." Feeling the cold metal against your hip, you grimace and gesture to the gun tucked into your trousers. "Ah, sorry about the pistol, by the way."

The man - a priest - waves his hand dismissively and places it on your shoulder, returning your grim smile. "I should think, given the circumstances, that our Heavenly father will understand."

With a detached chuckle, you brush the sweat off your forehead and turn fully to face the church.

There are at least another dozen people in there with you. Men, women and children, all tired, frightened and some covered in blood, from head to toe. Their eyes move to watch you but they seem unfocused, as if they're looking through you, not at you. You know exactly how they feel.

"Father-" Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a woman clutching two young boys close to her chest, head bowed and humming a soft but trembling tune. Clearing your throat and lowering your voice to address the priest, you urgently whisper, "Pardon my french, but what the Hell is going on?"

He stares at you for a while, unblinking. Then all at once, he laughs bitterly, entirely without humour and spreads his arms wide as he backs up the aisle towards the pulpit. All eyes are trained on him, some hopeful, as though a man of God would be enough to stop the beasts outside. But most, yourself included, are wary, afraid that he knows something that you don't. Something that you've considered, but daren't voice aloud, lest it be true and that truth drive you all mad with fear.

There's a defeated dullness in his eyes when he looks out over the people and shakes his head, picking up the black, leather bound bible and flipping through the pages, searching. "What on earth do you think is happening?" The question, though rhetorical, pries several hopeless sobs from the congregation, whilst your breath catches in your throat and you share a look with a sharply-dressed businessman who's clasping his briefcase like it's his lifeline.

"Let us reflect," the priest calls out abruptly, disturbing the horrified murmuring, "upon Revelations, six. Verse seven."

One of the men throws himself forwards and heaves onto the stone whereas a woman, his wife, you think, leaps from the pew and screeches at the priest, "You can't be serious!? We need to call the fucking police, not sit here, reading bible verses and waiting to die!"

Despite her hysteria, you hasten to agree. "She's right!" you speak up from the door, flinching when every head swivels in your direction. "We…we have to…I don't know! Barricade the windows! Find weapons and defend ourselves!"

To your dismay, the priest simply peers down at you warmly but he doesn't offer a response.

Slumping against the door, you put your hand to your head, shaking it in disbelief and muttering aloud, "I have to find mum, I have to find my mum," simply because you can't seem to think of anything else to say. The situation is like something out of a nightmare and in fact, you're hoping that at any minute, you'll wake up in bed.

As he studies your face, his brow furrows sadly and he clenches the holy book in his shaking hands, pressing it into his chest almost reverently. Inhaling softly, he holds your gaze and begins, "Before the eyes of God…..we have been judged… And we have been found guilty…"

Something in his eyes keeps your focus and you find yourself unable to look away.

"Death awaits us all," he continues, opening the book and tilting it towards the congregation, "just as Revelations claimed it would."

At that moment, another meteor screams overhead and lands nearby, shaking the church's foundations and causing decades of dust to cascade down on your heads. All of the children and a painfully young baby start to cry in earnest now and everyone screams when several loud roars bray in the distance like hunting hounds, followed by the banshee screech of a creature flying past the stain-glass window.

"And I heard the word - in a voice like thunder - say; "Come and see," and I saw, and behold a pale horse. And his name that sat on him, was Death!"

The priest looks up from the pages and his eyes light on the wooden door, just above your head. "…and Hell followed with him…."

More crashes and booms rock the church before it all falls silent again, save for the distant rattling of chains and the steady approach of several hundred footsteps.

"Oh christ!" the businessman shrieks, leaping to his feet, "They're coming! We're all gonna die in here!"

The boys clinging to their mother scream and bury their heads in her coat.

Since you're leant up against the door, you can hear them most clearly. The same grunting, snorting beasts as the one that attacked you. There's no denying the pitch of those growls, a sound you'd take to your - apparently very early - grave. To your utmost horror, it sounds as though there are a hundred of the things.

"Nobody i-is going to die!" you stammer, cringing at how unsure you sound, but you just can't bear to hear the panicked cries of the kids. Clumsily, you pull out the pistol and show it to the others. "They…they can be killed! I killed one! We still have a chance!"

For a moment, it would seem that your words meant to inspire hope would serve that effect because there are several murmurs and nods of agreement. Until the same man as before suddenly shoots to his feet, fingers clasped into his hair and the briefcase is discarded, scattering papers to and fro. "You have ONE gun!" he shrieks, prompting an older woman to grab his sleeve and try to shush him. He simply yanks his arm free, breathing hard. "They're all over the city! We can't - They're gonna….Oh God."

As if in direct defiance of his final exclamation, a low, rumbling growl creeps beneath the doors and reaches your ears. Stuffing a hand over your mouth, you scrabble to your feet and whip around to face the entrance.

The whole church freezes, not a soul dare move for fear of being heard, so they hold their breath. Everyone but the priest, who glares ferociously at the door.

You spare a glance at the others before swallowing thickly and staring back at the door. If you strain your ears, you can just make out a quiet snuffling sound, as of something big sniffing at the air.

Cold sweat trickles down the back of your neck and your lungs burn with the desperate need for oxygen but you're too afraid to inhale.

For what honestly feels like an eternity, nothing else happens.

But then, like a death knell chiming to mark your doom, the baby in its mother's arms whimpers softly, almost imperceptibly, but it may as well have screamed.

Without a second of warning the creature on the other side of the door lets out a victorious, bellowing battle cry and beyond it, you hear an answering cacophony of roars, howls and guttural barks.

"And lo!" the priest cries in kind, having somehow found the courage to continue his sermon despite the horrendous noise from outside, "there was a great earthquake! And the sun became black!"

The door abruptly bows inwards when something heavy crashes into it, forcing you a few steps backwards on wobbly legs, stumbling on a loose slab and tripping over onto your backside. Behind you, the people scream and sob and pray, but the priest's voice cuts above them all, strong resolute and defiant.

"And the great day of his wrath has come!"

You heart has never beat so hard, as though it wants to break out of your ribcage and make a desperate flee for safety and leave your body behind. "This isn't happening," you try to convince yourself, regardless of the wood splintering into your face with each thunderous pummel of the door, "this is not happening!" The hinges begin to come loose from the stone and you see beyond the gap in the doors, a hideous, snarling face, dripping wet with saliva and blood.

And in spite of your fear, in spite of every modicum of logic screaming that there's not a thing you can do, that you should just give up and roll over, in spite of this, you place your hands on the ground and with a grunt, push yourself up onto your feet again. Because you hate the idea of dying, but you hate the idea of dying on your belly even more.

At your back, the priest raises his voice to the heavens, issuing his last verse at the same time as you choke on a hopeless wail.

"AND WHO SHALL BE ABLE TO STAND!?"

"STOOOOP!" you scream with all your might, taking a brave step towards the door and holding out a hand, fingers splayed wide as though that might protect the people in the church.

And to your utter incredulity, the banging does stop.

Silence settles over the church for all of three seconds before another growl emanates from behind the door, only this one carries the distinct tone of someone who's more confused than bloodthirsty. You glance back at the priest and the other people, each looking just as befuddled as the beast outside sounded.

Suddenly, there's a different noise, one that draws your attention back to the door. It sounds like metal scraping against metal, like a sword being drawn or a knife being sharpened. Cautiously, you peer at the door, leaping back seconds later as if you'd been stung when a sharp, blood-dripping blade slices clean through the thick wood, accompanied by a grating howl of pain. The blade pulls free seconds later and leaves a rectangular break in the door, large enough to see through. Something big thumps against the door and emits a watery gurgle before it falls silent.

Petrified as you are, you can only stand there, staring, mouth agape at the place where the blade had pierced, wind whistling eerily through the gap and echoing down the church aisle. It isn't until you feel someone brush past you that you blink and snap your mouth shut, watching the priest approach the door with his bible still in hand. Without word or ceremony, he spares you a faltering glance, then he bends to put his face up to the hole and peers out.

Only the baby kicking up a fuss utters any noise while the priest continues to stare outside. In an instant, he lets out a strangled gasp and pulls away, backing up further into the church.

"What?" you hiss, snapping your gaze between him and the door, "What?!"

Dark eyes meet yours, dread evident in the way they begin to droop. Taking a quiet breath, the priest places his hands on the bible and hugs it to himself, bowing his head and murmuring softly, "May God have mercy on our souls."

The not-knowing is killing you. You have the untamable urge to see what he'd seen, so you fling yourself in front of the hole in the hopes that maybe you'll see something that provides you with an answer as to why this is happening. What you see instead, surprises you.

It's difficult to make out through the fog, but you clearly see the shape of a man. A very tall man, standing with his back to you in front of a veritable swarm of those hideous brutes. As you watch, he turns to look over his shoulder, ebony hair swaying gently in the hot breeze and you gasp aloud when your eyes meet two pinpricks of blazing orange, although you chalk it up to his eyes simply catching the reflection of a nearby car that's on fire. He - whoever he is - holds your gaze for a few seconds and then turns back to the army of chomping, snarling monsters. You squint in an attempt to make out what he's holding in each hand but another blanket of smog rolls across the square and he becomes even more obscured.

"There's someone out there," you croak.

"What?" a man asks from the back, "What's going on!?"

You aren't quite sure why you did what you did next. "There! There's someone - HEY! HEEEY!" you suddenly shout, smacking your hand on the door urgently. "Hey! OVER HERE, HURRY! Get inside!"

"The hell are you doing!?"

"Get away from that door!"

A pair of gentle but firm hands grip your shoulders and pulls you backwards. Teary eyed, you stare imploringly up at the priest. "There's a guy out there," you explain, glancing at the people cowering in the pews, "We can't just leave him! He'll die!"

The mother with the boys snaps her head up to glare at you. "If you open those doors, we all die."

Biting your lip, you finger the gun in your waistband, pinching your brow and giving the priest a determined, if not unsteady frown. "Father…I have a gun. There's a lot of them, yes. But maybe I can…I can hold them off while he gets over here-"

"That is not a person, my dear," he murmurs, squeezing your shoulders.

"What?" You quirk an eyebrow at him, confused. "What are you talking about? He just killed one of them! That must mean he's human! They wouldn't kill one of their own!"

"How would you know!?" the businessman accuses from his hiding spot behind the furthest pew.

You try to retort, but your tongue feels dry and heavy, weighed down by the bitter taste of uncertainty and fear. Sensing your indecision, the priest lets go of your shoulders and fixes you with a stern expression. "I am a man of God," he states resolutely, "and I cannot allow the evil out there to taint the inside of these walls." Then, he softly adds to you, in a whisper, "Listen, I'm just as astounded as you, believe me. However, now is not the time to stop thinking rationally." He places his hand on your shoulder again, tilting his head to keep your focus locked on him when your eyes start to wander back to the entrance. "The only thing that awaits you out there, is death."

"Look at the door, father," you whisper, "death's probably waiting for us in here too."

A river of tears streams down your face, cutting through the dirt and sweat whilst you put your hand over his and entwine your fingers with his. "I…I don't want to die trapped," you breathe, "Let me out. Shut the door behind me. Bar it - I don't care - just…" Stopping to catch your breath, you step away from the priest. "Just don't make me die in here. I have to help, I have to - to do…something! Maybe I can lead them away from here."

Your outcry bounces around in the church as people stare. The priest studies your face carefully, searching you for - what?

Courage?

God's favour?

Luck?

He'd find you tragically devoid of all those things.

Though whatever he does find seems to sway his decision. Lips pulling into a tight grimace, he lets his eyes slip shut. When they open again, he looks about twenty years older than before. "Once you leave, the door will not open again." Even he doesn't look sure of his own conviction.

"I-" you pause, thinking hard. Eventually, you take a deep breath and squeeze your eyes shut before exhaling forcefully. "I know."

Two of the men in the church grab the plank of wood and lift it from the hooks, then they each grab one of the round, metal handles on the door, bracing themselves to pull it open. You allowed the priest - Father Michael, he told you - to bless you before you left. He finishes uttering a quick prayer and steps back, away from you and the door.

"Fly fast," he tells you.

With a last look back at the faces of the strangers in the church, you pull the pistol from your trouser waistband, check the chambers and nod to the priest, mouthing 'thank you,' as the doors swing open with a loud creak.

Immediately, you're hit with the coppery stench of blood and painful sting of smoke in your eyes and throat. Blinking back tears, you venture out into the graveyard, screaming a little when the doors slam shut abruptly behind you.

Outside is chaos.

You've never seen a war zone before - at least, not outside of a cinema - but you imagine this must be what they looked like.

On the horizon, you gape as a skyscraper comes crashing down to the ground, more and more meteors fall from the sky and set ablaze everything in their wake. You make a mad dash for the low wall that surrounds the graveyard and dive behind it before you're spotted. Poking your head over the wall, you rove your eyes over the ruined square and your heart plummets into your stomach.

There are gigantic, bat-like creatures zooming through the sky on inverted wings, monumentally tall, shadowy things that tower over the distant buildings, their heads disappearing into the smoke up above but their long, spindly bodies moving slowly like great whales through the murky darkness. Your gaze drops to the battlefield again, searching, either for an gap in the fighting, through which you can make a quick getaway, or for the black-haired stranger. Although judging by the sheer volume of monsters out there, something tells you that he's as good as dead. "Come on," you whine, "where are you?"

A pack of those dog-like creatures hurtle past your hiding your spot, forcing you to duck and flatten yourself against the wall again, though not before you glimpse someone tall throwing himself at a concentrated group of the pale blue humanoids. 'There!' you think triumphantly, feeling like you'd accomplished step one in escaping this mess.

That satisfaction is short-lived, however, thanks to the crushing realisation that you'll actually need to go out there if you want to help the poor idiot. With a groan, you place your trembling hands on top of the wall and hesitantly pull yourself up, once again.

The stranger is still there and really giving it his all! You have to resist the urge to cheer for him. He's a whirlwind of movement. Leaping, twisting and ducking out of the way of blades and claws with perfect ease and timing. At this distance, you can only make out his silhouette, what with being obscured by smoke and the occasional spray of blood. Though from what you can see, the guy is built like a tank. 'Must be special forces,' you muse.

Great swathes of the assailants fall dead at his feet, cut down by twirling, shining…blades?

'Melee, huh?' you purse your lips and throw your pistol a dirty look. 'Unconventional, but at least he doesn't have to reload.'

As you observe him, a tiny ember of hope flickers to life in your gut, reminding you that hope is still possible despite the bleakest of situations. Although numerous, the monsters don't seem to be as sturdy as you'd once thought. You'd killed one of them with a single shot to the head and this guy seems to be having very little trouble putting them down. 'Maybe this won't be such a massacre after all,' you dare to imagine, 'if he can kill these things, why can't anyone else? Maybe he can help me get home! We can find my mum! And then-…."

And then… what?

Honestly, you haven't planned that far ahead. Snapping yourself out of your thoughts, you concentrate on how on Earth you're going to get the stranger's attention. After a second, from the corner of your eye, you notice something, only because it's armour is a stark contrast to the sea of pale blue. It's another monster, a variant of the others, standing at least a whole head and shoulders taller than the rest and garbed in a full suit of leather, burgundy armour. It's horns are curved in a spiral and behind it drags a a phenomenally big war hammer, rather than use an axe, like its brethren.

The behemoth stalks through the slain bodies purposeful and it doesn't take a genius to figure out that it means to get the drop on your mystery man, who's currently preoccupied with dodging attacks from about ten other monsters, all at the same time. The huge creature breaks into a slow jog, heaving its hammer into both hands, recognising that its prey's lapse in concentration will not last forever. Lowering its great, helmeted head, it picks up speed and charges towards him whilst the other simply leap out of its way. Those who don't, are simply mowed down.

'He's never gonna see that thing in time!' you realise, bile rising in your throat.

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you ignore the fact that it did absolutely nothing to help and vault over the low wall, barrelling towards your inevitable death, screaming the entire way.

The big beast is nearly on top of the man, sending a spike of panic to rocket up your spine. You open your mouth, raise the pistol and holler, "LOOK OUT, MISTER!" Even though your voice squeaks horribly, you don't have the forethought to be mortified.

Everything on the square appears to slow down as dozens of heads twist to regard the newcomer and every single pair of eyes widen upon seeing a solitary human lurching towards them, screeching out a broken battle cry that's far more amusing than intimidating. In fact, several of the monsters take a few, fatal seconds to laugh brazenly. Taking advantage of this, the man cuts them down but you're too focused on your own target to pay attention to what he's doing. The behemoth slowed a fraction to glance at you, a move that proved to be its downfall.

Upon looking to you, it inadvertently exposes the front of its face, the helm no longer proving an obstacle and although you've never, ever boasted to be a good shot, apparently, whatever that priest blessed you with worked because when the bullet explodes from your gun, it hits the monster dead centre, right between the yellow eyes and shatters its skull with a sickening crack.

The stranger had raised his head at the sound of your voice and followed your weapon's aim to the charging beast when the shot rang out, stealing his chance to satiate his own bloodlust. There's a grunt of surprise. Then, it pitches forward, drops its hammer and crumples to the hard ground, lifeless.

The other monsters all stare down at their fallen leader, you can even sense the eyes of the man boring into the side of your head, although you haven't actually looked at him yet. There's another beat before every creature raises its head to look at you.

Quivering, you see the closest of them have their lips pulled back over gnashing fangs and they're snarling at you so raggedly, you almost drop the pistol, again.

"Crap."

In a flurry of motion, the creatures all burst back to life and hurl themselves at the insolent human who killed their leader. Yelping, you start to backpedal, not that you expect it to do much good. You're far too close. There's no escaping it this time.

In a bid to spare yourself from having to see them chew your body to pieces, you squeeze your eyes shut, pushing the last tears you'll ever cry down your face. Hiccoughing softly, you exhale -

- and squawk when a thick arm snakes around your waist all of a sudden, lifting you off your feet. Your eyes fly open with a gasp and you find yourself draped over a broad, sinewy shoulder. From this new position, you have a lovely view of the monstrous horde, each clawing after you, spittle flying from their maws onto your face. They're so hot on your heels, you can even smell their rancid breath.

The man - you assume its the man - tightens his arm around the back of your legs as he darts between cars and across the square in an attempt to shake his pursuers. A shadow falls over you and you glance up, bobbing up and down whilst he runs, to see one of the flying creatures swooping down at you from high above. "Woah!" you exclaim and slap a hand on the man's solid shoulder blade, "F-Faster! Go! Go! Run!" You're so concerned about getting away that you don't even register that his skin is ice-cold, not unlike that of a corpse.

"Would you rather I drop you? So that you can run at your preferred pace?" the stranger snaps abruptly.

He may have meant it abrasively, but you could weep with relief.

Plain english. He'd spoken a human language. Father Michael was wrong. This man may be a little gruff and his voice is bursting with badly-disguised aggression…But he's definitely human.

"Nah! I'm good!" you shout, flicking your wobbly gaze above the heads of the pursuing creatures. On the horizon, you can see the old church and when you squint, you notice that there's something huge landing on the roof. Something with enormous, leathery wings and a long, barbed tail. It's screech is so loud, you can hear it over the rest of the din. The huge thing begins to bash at the church roof and you watch helplessly as the bell tower falls sideways, crashing through to the floor below. Uttering a triumphant howl, the giant pushes its way through the hole in the roof, following after the toppled bell.

"He-hey! Wait, wait!" you cry, thumping the man's back again with your fists, "Go back! The church - we have to go back! We can't leave them to that - that-" You know, even before he says anything, that it's much too late.

"Are you mad, human?"

'Human?'

"Your church is lost! Earth is lost!"

He ducks into an alley and skids to a halt.

Your face screws up defiantly. "YOU DON'T KNOW THAT!…." Several of the creatures that had managed to keep track of you slide around the corner, their eyes zeroing in on you. Realising that he isn't moving, you start to breathe heavily, wriggling about in his grip. "Why've we stopped?"

No response.

The monsters slowly stalk up the dark alley towards you, brandishing their axes and licking their chops.

"H-hey!?" you call again and twist yourself around painfully to try and see what's going on. In an attempt to keep yourself elevated, your fingers find purchase on something hard, protruding from the man's back. You gasp at the strange object and your eyes fly down to see what you'd touched, bulging out of their sockets when you realise that it's his spine you've grabbed….It's sticking out of him unnaturally and….how've you not noticed the paleness of his skin until now? Nor how eerily cold his skin feels beneath your touch.

Dimly, your ears pick up the sound of gentle but cryptic murmuring and there's a rumbling hum under your body, emanating from his chest and rolling up into his shoulders, where you lay.

The creatures are barely ten feet away from you now, leering. They know they've caught you.

Licking your lips, you inhale a shuddering breath and ask, "Why um..Why did you call me 'human' before?"

A quiet 'shing' draws your attention down to the side, where you notice his free hand - too big to be human - has long, spindly fingers, wrapped up in tight, bloodstained bandages and it's clasped tight around the hilt of a formidable scythe.

"…What the fuck are you?"

Without warning, two of the three beasts roar and surge forwards with raised axes, ready to bring them down on your head. You scream and throw your head down, burying your face in cold skin.

At the very last moment, the man clamps his hand down hard on your legs and then whirls about. With an almighty heave, he launches his scythe through the air, sending it hurtling down the narrow alley which plays to his advantage because it leaves your attackers with no room to strafe. His aim is impossibly true, taking the heads clean off the two closest before it lodges itself in the shoulder of the third.

You cover your ears when the wounded beast howls in pain and your eyes burst open wide at the sight before you. Now that you're facing the wall at the back of the alley, you can see what had him so distracted. A pulsing, swirling portal of poison-green stretches across the surface of brick, high and wide enough to fit a person or two. Disturbingly, you find you can't tear your gaze from the ominous doorway. You say 'doorway', because what else could it possibly be?

Even with your hands over them, you can't stop your ears from hearing the ugly gurgling of a sliced throat, mere seconds later, nor the telltale slump of a trio of bodies hitting the ground.

Your trembling is out of control now. It's so violent, you're afraid your head will fall off. The 'man' beneath you hums, clearly irritated as his shoulders heave up and down with his deep intakes of breath.

Reluctantly, you open your mouth to speak, but nothing more than a tiny croak comes out and he stills, tilting his head to the side as if he's listening to you. Again, you swallow drily and squeeze your hands into fists. "Please," you utter breathlessly, "please, put me down. I..I need to find my mum…" Your bottom lip trembles and you choke on a sob whilst he mulls your words over.

The sob escapes you loudly when he slowly shakes his head, hair brushing against the exposed skin on your back. "You won't find your mother," he grunts matter of factly, "I told you. Earth is lost."

Slapping a hand over your mouth, you cringe at the feeling of his sharp, alien fingers twitching against your thighs. "Just let me go…."

"Do you want to die?" he snaps, sighing when it pulls a hiccough from your throat.

You shake your head frantically and weakly reach back to push at the arm holding you down. Delirious with fright and insecurity, you babble several incoherent words before you finally manage to nail down a proper sentence. "Fuuu- I don't like this!"

With that, the man turns back to the alley wall which prompts you to begin struggling in earnest, though it does nothing to loosen his omnipotent hold.

"Oh?" he hums, tone laced with morbid amusement, "Well then. You're really not going to like what happens next."

And without ceremony, without even allowing you the chance to offer up some words of farewell to your home, the 'man' takes a few, confident steps and disappears into the green vortex, with you still dangling from one of his strong, bloodless shoulders.