I am starting to hallucinate things. I see things of my past. The figures of my dead squad.
Everyone despise me. I got nothing. Nobody is waiting for me at the surface. I'm a living ghost, an undead memory, the shell of a person just waiting for the next day. Just waiting for everything to end.
I made my mind. Jacob's not coming back.
He's dead.
And I will be too soon enough rather I like it or not. I regroup what is left of my strength. Slowly getting up.
I get out of the forklift. I hear the abominations nearby. That is not my end. Fuck those bastards.
I go to the edge.
I'm gonna see the rift one last time. I won't die of my fucking wounds and infections, hunger, thirst or by those fuckers. I rather choose my death.
The vapor has been rising. There is a loud metallic groan from deep below. This place is gonna explode any moment now.
I lean in. It looks like the floors beneath the inner ring has been eaten by the abomination, leaving only a shell of infrastructure. This explain why the lower levels fell down that easily.
My body slowly toggles toward the depths. I can barely feel the wind. I am too tired, damaged.
I could never go back to something normal. I don't even know if I would be able to live with myself. I have done so many wrongs. I didn't have the time to think about everything that I’ve done. I was too preoccupied with my own survival.
YOU ARE READING
The next day
HorrorThis is the story of a man, a scared man in a world of horror and silent death. Follow the adventure of a desperate soul trying to find it's way back to the surface, to the normal world.
