The last Ikea tea-candle was burning down its final precious seconds of wick. Then, there would be no more fire to roast the rats with. The Crimmons family had been trapped for weeks now, feasting on butcher-knife carved rats roasted over the tiny candle flames. They had rationed the flames efficiently, but even so, it took several candles to roast enough rats to stave off the hunger for any amount of time. Holed up in this dank, dark, storage unit had bought them some time, but not much else. They had been completely unprepared for Hilroy Allicard. But Hillroy himself had been unprepared for what he had become.
It is a curious fact of life that no matter the size nor scope of any given tragedy, someone will be poised to capitalize in all the right ways at all the right times. It would be very hard to argue that Hilroy wasn't that man during this particular Apocalypse. However, given that it was the Apocalypse and all, there were surely many Hilroy's around the world, and perhaps... nay, almost certainly, much bigger benefactors of the swelling chaos that was humanity. An unlikely candidate, Hilroy was just a guy with an idea five years beforehand. He blabbered his idea on a blog one late, stoned night, and three people read it. His mom, his ex-wife, and his mom again. His own brother looked at the link on his facebook wall and rolled his eyes. The blog would go unnoticed for another 4.5 years. And then, all of it would start to become true. Everything he predicted, happened like clockwork. A post on reddit.com read:
"Holy shit, this guy nailed it 4.5 years ago." - and the blog went viral. Hilroy became an instant sensation, with his old thoughts being passed around the consciousness of mankind like the first batch of alcohol ever made. The effects were hypnotic, and a sort of Messiah syndrome quickly erupted. Hilroy became a cult leader, he could have never said a word and it would have happened just the same. His followers took his blog words and twisted them perversely to meet their own philosophies and a completely corrupted set of rituals and beliefs were spawned. It didn't matter what he said now, they listened only to what he had opened up inside them... the force of large numbers of humans thinking they are one. Nothing can compare. Certainly not a father and his three sons with some military equipment. But they had to find a way, because outside of the storage locker was a swarm of Hilroy followers. Thousands of them, soon to be millions, working together as a unit. Killing or capturing anyone who wasn't one of them. Hilroy had created a monster. A monster with ten million glazed over eyes, no ears, and one twisted, shape-shifting consciousness of irrational evil.
Joe looked at the flame as it went out. "I got it," he said quietly into the darkness.
"Got what?" asked Gary.
"What you think? I know what to do."
"No way we can get past 'em, we don't have enough..." Kyle began.
"I didn't say get past 'em. We're gonna join 'em."
"You out of your mind little brother? That poison seeping into your brain?"
"Well what do you suggest? We're all out of candles, should we just turn this into the Donner Party?"
"We're eating you first, you half-blind, no good..."
"Let him finish Kyle," Gary put his hand on Kyle in a firm but loving grip. "Every Crimmons counts."
Joe started talking. It wasn't much of a plan. But it was a plan.
