Frigid mountain air bit in Dylan’s lungs with every gasping breath he took. His black parka provided almost no warmth amongst the Alaskan atmosphere and his black mop of hair clung together with sweat, frozen by the air of the mountain. It was only the rush of adrenaline that provided him warmth, but it was fear that forced it out. The cries of screaming men echoed in his ear, pushing him forward through the snowy hill. He took a glance back and saw them. They were like wolves hunting for their prey. Deformed humans with patches of flesh and hair absent dashed towards the young man on all fours. Without a second thought he turned back and continued his venture upward. The blizzard pelted him like hail but he drove his body forward. Only feet away laid the military base owned by “Nova”. The sight of the base gave him hope but the fast approaching demons involuntarily pushed him into a nightmare from which he would never recover.
The door shut fast behind him and with ease he thrust a broken pipe into the handle, locking the imps out. As he turned, he wished he was back out into the frozen world from which he came. His eyes caught sight of the horrid seen of a massacre. Under dimmed, broken lights, Dylan saw bodies with limbs torn off and heads sitting in their own laps. One poor man rested against the wall beside him, his rib cage torn apart by the wolf like demons and his organs fell between his spread legs through hands which attempted at holding them inside.
A faint groaning sound attracted his attention. At the very end of the hall was another monstrosity. This one varied immensely. It was human, but the frost on its open patches of skin and flesh told a different story; it was a zombie. Its jaw was hanging by a single vein then suddenly on the floor as the vein snapped off. Weaponless to stop this threat, Dylan took up a boxing stance. As the zombie approached he prepared for a quick retaliation.
With arms outstretched, the flesh demon attempted at seizing his neck with no success. Dylan crossed his hands then suddenly swung them outward, knocking away the zombie’s arms. In a split second he sent the living monstrosity flying through the air with a forward kick. Just as the fiend’s back touched the ground, a boot crashed down on its neck, separating its head from its body. Another zombie rounded the corner but fell onto its knees as Dylan punted the severed head into its chest. Before it could fall to its knees, the young man twisted and dealt swift side kick, sending the detached head through the zombie.
As the newly re-dead demon fell to the ground, the exhausted survivor leaned against a wall, only to sit on the ground beside the body. After trekking up the mountain to escape the imps grasp he needed a second to catch his breath. His hand reached into his shirt and grasped the necklace he wore underneath his every day attire. Fighting tears back, he attempted at relaxing, letting his head lean back against the cold concrete behind him. His jeans were torn and his black t-shirt bloody from the countless zombies launching themselves at him. After all he had been through, this was the one moment he wished he was dead; however, the necklace filled him with hope. This hope raised him back to his feet and recovered his stamina. He had to live and he had to fight. Like a trained soldier he pressed forward despite open wounds and frostbite.
After wandering through the halls for what seemed like hours to him, he found the radio room. A grin crossed his face. He dashed to the controls, flipping on the switches which gave life to the equipment. “Let’s see…” he whispered, trying not to attract the attention of unwanted visitors. In a few moments the room came to life with flashing lights and sounds of an engine running.
Dylan smiled but knew it was not the time to celebrate. The imps would be able to find him quickly now and he did not have the energy to fight them all. Promptly, he pulled the microphone to him and switched it on. “Hello? Hello, bonjour, hola, whatever ******** way you want to say it I don’t care! My name is Dylan M. Anderson, a survivor though not for long if you don’t send help! Please I need extraction. I am in a Nova Base here in the Alaskan Mountains! Hurry please!” He tossed the microphone aside and spun, back handing an imp across its furry, grotesque face. As it made its way through the air and into the wall opposite the radio machines, the brunette man ran out the door, closely followed by two more pursuers.
Looking back for just a second, he noted the one he struck had joined into the chase. He needed to get to a less crowded space, preferably the helipad where his extraction would be, if they were coming. He had no time to think about being rescued, he had to think of a way to kill the demons on his tail.
With eyes widened, Dylan tripped, winding him for a second. His head jerk back to see the nearest imp lunge for him. Catching his breath just in time, he extended his foot out, grasping the now limp bodied demon with his boot. He tossed the carcass aside and swiftly kicked with his free leg, catching the next imp in the mouth. It crashed through the window beside Dylan who brought his foot back around, smashing the last imps face into the wall.
Panting, he looked over his work. The imp he threw out the window rolled down the mountainside, picking up snow. He smirked catching a platform in the corner of his eye. He looked over for a moment and saw it. The helipad looked to be about a hallway away from him.
Dylan gasped, unable to express his pain as an imp’s teeth sunk into his shoulder. Biting his lip to keep from screaming, he threw himself into the wall, releasing the demons grasp. Enraged, he turned to face the monster and kneed it, crushing its ribs. His arm wrapped around its neck tightly and with one swift jerk, snapped its neck.
As he inspected the wound he noticed a green like substance begin to enter his blood stream. Cursing under his breath, he ripped off a portion of his shirt and tied it around the wound. “If I am going to die,” he began. “I will not die like this. I’d rather they put a bullet into my head then to be like them.” He looked at the dead imps and spat.
Icy wind tore at the open wound in his shoulder yet he still kept his mouth shut. With every step he took, he kicked aside limbs. His boots made a suction sound every time he picked his foot up. Warm blood seemed to cake the whole helipad. “Wait,” he thought aloud. He was on a helipad on the top of a mountain… in Alaska. He turned around to see the base behind him vanish before his eyes. Confused, he turned back around and before him stood a young woman. Her long black hair whipped around her face. Her face… There was no life in it. Her eyes looked as if they were drowned in pain, anger, and murder. Her hands twitched with an uncontrollable desire to strangle him.
Dylan reached to his belt where his pistol would be but found an empty holster. Before he could look up the woman lunged at him, pinning him to the ground with his arms held above his head. The wound on his shoulder began to burn as if it were ignited with fire. She noticed the wound and smiled malevolently. “Oh are you hurt?” He glared at her, unable to speak. Her smile grew wider and she drew closer to him. “Here my love… why don’t I help you?” A long slippery tongue dug into the torn flesh and the morbid scream of a man in pain echoed around the mountains. Using one hand to hold his arms above his head, she used her free hand to drag her nails along his arm, tearing open the skin. To keep him from screaming, she put her mouth against his, sliding her tongue inside his mouth. The taste of blood enveloped his mouth.
For what seemed like hours of torture, she finally hopped off the clawed and bloody man and paced around. “You have no idea how long I have been waiting for this moment mi amor. To finally get you back for what you did to me. All those years you…“ Dylan paid no attention to her. During her torture, he had caught sight of a pistol, only a few feet from him. The second she turned away from him, he began to drag himself toward it. A look of glee crossed his face as his hand touched the butt end of the pistol. However, despair replaced it as her foot crashed down on his wrist. Her face lit up with an anger that even Lucifer could not match.
“You were going to kill me weren’t you? Oh baby you're such a fool. You have known what it's like to be an idiot, now you will know the fury of a woman scorned!” As if she were the spawn of a tiger and a shark, her teeth formed into razor sharp knives from hell. With no time to scream, he felt those knives dig into his throat, ripping out his esophagus with one clean bite.