"When you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back" - Friedrich Nietzsche.
***
December 25, 1960
Atlas D Complex, F.E. Warren Air Force Base, Wyoming
Waaahhhhhhh!!
Waaahhhhhhh!!
Waaahhhhhhh!!
The emergency alarm resonated all over the underground base.
Inside Launch Control Centre (LCC),
Waaahhhhhhh!
The constant alarm and flashing lights filled the room, but it was overshadowed by a growing sense of madness amongst those within.
Missile Officer 1: "Please, Hurry. My head… I can't hold on any longer."
He grabbed his head and writhed in agony with urgency.
Missile Officer 2: "Don't worry. It's all for the great one. The vision is so clear now."
His eyes were unfocused, pupils dilated slightly as if staring past the steel walls.
"We'll soon be there. Let's do it at once."
He was about to insert the unique key on his hand into what seemed like a keyhole.
With both keys inserted, a number pad lit up. The second officer started entering codes in a hurry as the first officer mumbled parts of the code.
Once the code was complete, a big button lit up green.
As the second officer's hands hovered over the button, he glanced at the first officer a final time. Something in the first officer's eyes caught his attention. The pupils were fractalizing at the edges and undergoing rapid mutations.
"The world shall feel your presence soon, the great one."
The second missile officer couldn't hide an unsettling smile on his face before he pressed the button.
***
A few kilometers away, 10 missile silos popped off.
Whirrrrr!
Thunderous noise filled the surroundings as the rocket motors lit up at once in all 10 missile silos and departed their silos, leaving flaming contrails against the winter dawn.
Echoes answered across the globe, the deadly chorus conducted by fractured minds. The world screamed, then fell silent.
***
1980
Golden Valley, Arizona
What used to be a growing town was replaced by a ghost town. The buildings were devastated, roads desolate, vehicles abandoned, and people's chatter silenced, replaced only by the moan of wind through shattered window frames. Even the time seemed to come to a sudden halt.
Creak! Creak!
A crowbar was lodged between the hood and the grill as a man was trying to pry it open. Close inspection revealed a young man in his mid to late twenties. As for the looks, he had a feature that leaned towards handsome beneath. However, what separated him from the other good-looking men was his ragged clothes, camo backpack, and a battered but well-maintained shotgun strapped firmly across his shoulder.
His constant efforts bore fruit as the hood bent abnormally.
"Almost there, one more time."
He lodged the crowbar again in the opposite direction and put his weight into it.
Creak!
Thwack!
"Yes. Let's see what surprises you have."
With the hood open, he started inspecting methodically. His first target was the engine compartment, specifically the spark plugs screwed to the cylinder heads.
"Let's see how many of them are functional."
He started screwing off spark plugs one by one and inspecting them, but only had 2 functional spark plugs in his hands by the end of the inspection.
He dropped the useless plugs onto the dusty engine block with a clatter, shoulders slumping.
"Why does it have to be so hard? Only 2 functional spark plugs, and this is my 5th car already. How can I ask Ethan to repair my car if I can't even find enough spark plugs?"
Dammit!
Frustration took over him as he kicked the door in response.
"Let's get this over with."
He found the battery, but the signs weren't good. The battery terminals were completely corroded, and the battery itself exuded a thick, rotten-egg smell that spoke of complete chemical death.
Ugh!
"Another dead battery. Can the day get any worse from here?"
Every failure contributed to his frustration as he had so little to show for an entire day's worth of effort. As he was about to reach into his pocket for something.
***
Bang!
A loud noise startled him, but before he could determine the direction, he heard the sounds again.
Bang! Bang!
He stashed the spark plugs in his jeans and ran to the nearby parked bicycle.
Aden! Aden! Aden!
Hearing his name called repeatedly indicated the severity.
"What is it, Tom?"
He rode off with the shotgun in his backpack.
Bang!
He heard more gunshots in the distance, but he still couldn't pinpoint Tom's location.
"Tom, where are you?"
He paddled faster as he rode toward the direction of the gunshot.
"Hurry up here, Aden."
Aden could make out a silhouette waving from the second floor of an apartment 500 meters away.
"Hurry up."
Bang!
There was a sense of worry and urgency in his voice.
Huff! Huff!
Aden was worried sick, so he was doing his best, but navigating through rubble that threatened to snag his wheels, broken vehicles, and craters that gaped like open mouths was brutally taxing.
"You better not be pranking this time, Tom. Or else I'm gonna knock your teeth out."
He gnashed his teeth and pushed beyond his limit. It felt longer, but barely two minutes later, he skidded to a halt in front of the dilapidated apartment building, fully drenched in sweat.
A wave of unexpected unease washed over him, sharp and distinct from the adrenaline or exertion. His gut tightened, an irrational instinct screamed wrong place, a feeling disconnected from the obvious decay. He hesitated for a bare second, scanning the broken windows, the dark entryway.
"Get up here, Aden. Also, bring that bicycle over here." Tom's panicked shout echoes from above.
The urgency sliced through Aden's momentary flicker of dread, and Aden entered the dilapidated apartment that looked like it could crumble at any moment.
"No time for phantom feelings." The unease still lingered, but he didn't hesitate.
He found a staircase lurking in a dark corner, several concrete steps cracked clean through.
"They must have seen better days."
He carefully maneuvered the decrepit staircase and made his way to the second floor.
He was greeted by a makeshift barricade.
***
"Tom, what's going on here?"
Tap! Tap! Tap!
A tall and lean man appeared from one of the rooms, a rifle slung over his shoulder.
"Help me move things. I'll explain later."
He started shifting through obstacles. The barricade, mostly made of chairs, tables, doors, and a sofa, only took them a minute to make enough room for Aden to pass through.
Once Aden squeezed through, they quickly reinforced the barrier from the inside. They hauled the bicycle up awkwardly, jamming it into a gap between a splintered door and an overturned sofa, adding its twisted metal frame to the barrier.
Aden had so many questions in mind, but before he could ask, Tom passed the binoculars.
"Come take a look."
He guided Aden to the window, or at least what remained of it.
"Now look about a kilometer to the southeast."
Tom roughly pointed in the direction.
Looking where Tom pointed, Aden zoomed in using binoculars but found nothing.
"I can't see anything. Are you messing with me right now, Tom?"
There was a hint of frustration in Aden's voice. He sprang up here thinking with the urgency in mind, but it seemed like one of Tom's pranks again. He wanted to give Tom a piece of his mind.
"What the hell are you talking about, Pal? Where did you even look?"
Aden's response confused Tom.
"Where else? I observed the train station. Don't you dare, Pal, to me. It better not be one of your newest pranks or else I'm gonna beat your ass. "
Aden clenched his jaw at Tom's casual tone. He wanted nothing to do with Tom's Prank.
"Calm down, Aden. Take a look again, 300 meters to the left."
So, he did. The scene left him speechless.
At least 8 animals were sprinting towards them with an unsettling, loping movement that seemed slightly too fluid for normal animals. They looked like a pack of dogs at a closer look, but their resemblance to dogs ended at that. Their body parts mutated beyond recognition; some had abnormally large heads, legs, tails, or other body parts. The only common feature amongst them was their completely melted face, which covered their eyes completely shut. It was a grotesque scene.
His anger disappeared as if doused with cold water, replaced by icy urgency.
"Holy Shit, Tom. Are those death hounds? And there are at least 8 of them? Why didn't you say it earlier?"
They shared a wide-eyed glance, the same grim understanding passing between them.
"We can't even run to the shelter. They'll catch up to us halfway. So our only option is to defend ourselves. They'll be here in 5 minutes at best. Help me, Aden. "
Tom laid down his rifle and started adding more piles to the barricade. They scrambled to reinforce the barricade with whatever they could find
"Let's gear up, Aden."
They tugged on the stiff, awkward, homemade hazmat suits, the smell of rubber and stale plastic filling their nostrils. Aden fumbled slightly, securing the tape around his wrist gloves.
"Now, let's shoot those bastards before they sniff us out."
The death hounds had an extremely sharp sense of smell to compensate for their blindness, making them extremely difficult to avoid, and their dog-like appearance caught a lot of amateur survivors off guard, earning them their nickname "Death Hound".
Tom took a position by the window and readied himself with a Winchester M70 rifle. Meanwhile, Aden acted as a spotter as he only had a shotgun, a Winchester Model 12.