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His heart is on the verge of tearing through his chest and shirt. It wants to rip out and run. Run until it explodes from the pressure and exhaustion.

The pistol is tight to his chest. Hot. Empty.

Hyperventilation.

Cold sweat.

Gunshots explode from every direction. His back vibrates each time a bullet hits the brick wall he’s against.

Derrick was separated from his group in the middle of a supply run. The stricken force them to split up.

Trying to get back he came across these pure bloods eager to steal what he’s scavenged and do who knows what to him. It’s never good. And he needs to deliver the loot. Crucial medicines are in his bag. Medicines someone back at camp needs immediately.

Many times the monsters of this world aren’t the stricken but rather the pure bloods. The people who’ve managed to escape the plague of the stricken have only done so through aggressive brutality. The stricken are small potatoes to the thinking pure bloods. People who torture for what they want. Without a moral compass. They kill indiscriminately. They rape and steal whatever, whoever, whenever.

After the fall of the government the law dissolved. Survival of the fittest began but was overtaken by survival of the monstrous.

Derrick is cornered. Wedged into the gap in a brick wall. There’s nowhere left for him to run. His pistol is dry. Panicked, he whispers, “I don’t know why you’ve abandoned us God. I don’t know if you’re still out there or why this is happening. But I’ve tried. I’m sorry.” His hands shake viciously. He knows what comes next, and what has to be done.

He reaches in his pocket for a single silver round. Loads it into the empty revolver he had pinned against his waist. And he presses tighter against the brick wall.

There’s too many to take them all out and survive. And if they don’t kill him themselves, unimaginable horrors await him. These people aren’t human anymore. Madness has consumed them. Although the stricken are ill, the pure bloods are evil.

Derrick’s ready for them. He puts the barrel of the gun between his teeth.

The second a pure blood walks into view he pulls the trigger and fades to black.