Deadwastes

Mason quickly pulled down the scarf and vomited, emptying the contents of his stomach onto the icy ground. He stared bleakly at his own body, fear and confusion racing at equal paces through his mind.

His hand shaking like it was made of jelly, he stood up slowly and touched his own face. It was cold and icy, just like everything else. Looking away, he screamed in frustration at what was happening, asking, pleading for an answer.

Only the frozen wind responded.

A gigantic burn lay on his chest, the flesh and cloth of his jacket mixed together from the intense heat. It stank, horribly. Mason managed to swallow his thoughts, long enough to grab his body and drag it into the remains of a yard. He set his corpse face-up in the snow, not wanting to look at it, but unable to stop himself. He stared into his own empty eyes, and realized something. It certainly looked like him, and it was wearing his clothes, but there was something… wrong with it.

His face was different. His pale skin had remained, and his general physique, but that was where the similarities ended. His hair, normally long and shaggy, was short and neat, and a jagged scar had formed from the right side of his head all the way down to his neck. He had stubble growing, whereas Mason normally kept himself shaved. The eyes were a faded, pale blue. It was like looking into a cracked mirror.

Putting the arms over each other, in a resting position, he dragged snow over it, covering it up slowly until eventually, all that remained was a misshapen lump in the cold. He couldn’t do anything more for it. For him.

Mason choked back a sob. He turned around and walked towards the center of the ice puddle, trying to see any sign of what had happened. He could only find blackened scars and charred ice, evidence of the bizarre electrical event that had sent him down this maddening spiral. He stared down into a puddle of melted ice and pulled off the goggles and hat, looking at himself, trying to see if anything was wrong with him.

He let out a breath of relief, although something certainly had changed. His eyes had always been a deep brown color, but now they were a bright, almost glowing blue color. It was unnerving.
He glanced back at the pile of snow where his body, somehow, lay. It was enough to make him feel light-headed.

Mason pulled the new scarf over his mouth, realizing how cold it was. He needed to leave. He needed to get away from this, from himself. He needed to clear his head. There was nothing here but confusion and suffering. He started shaking, violently, and had to sit down for a moment to calm himself. After what seemed like an age, he managed to stop the nervous rush inside his body, his mind still disturbed.

Standing up slowly, he looked around, trying to think of what to do now. There was nothing left here. He needed to leave. Glancing behind him, he spotted that same military backpack, and opened it, trying to see what was inside.

Mason found a cracked flashlight, a few cans of beans, some water bottles that were frozen, and what seemed like a flare. His stomach growled, and he knew those beans wouldn’t last very long.

Food. Food should be his first goal.

He stood up, his face wet from tears, and slung the bag over his shoulders, his whole frame shaking. Mason didn’t know where he was going to go, but he had to get away from this mess, had to figure out what happened and why he was here.

He started walking east, towards the center of the city. He’d lived in a suburb of Denver, and he figured if everything else here was the same, then that must be too. He had only started walking, slowly, for about twenty meters before he heard a noise.

It sounded strange, bestial. Like a dog’s growl, only bigger, and deeper. It was coming from one of the houses on his right. He heard a snarl, and the sound of something heavy being dragged across wood. Mason froze, then stepped back, slowly, to his left.

Moving quietly, he quickly pushed open the door to the house opposite the one that the animal seemed to be in. He got down behind a window, peeking his head above the glass as he watched a large, black form move outside of the door.

It looked almost like a wolf, except it was the size of a horse, with eyes that glowed a deep, angry red. It stood on the porch of the house, sniffing the air intently, staring off into the distance. It let out a snarl when it turned its head towards where Mason was. Its jaws were stained with blood, and at it’s feet lay the corpse of some large rat-like creature. It crept towards Mason, slowly, purposefully, letting out a low, rumbling noise.

He pulled his head down quickly, trying desperately to control his breathing, but it wasn’t working. With his eyes wide, Mason stared at the door on his left, watching the snout of the monster slowly but surely push forward into the house.

Without warning, it let out a piercing howl, and crashed forward into the house, its huge form smashing through the doorframe. Shaking off the dust, it turned towards Mason swiftly, growling at him through bared teeth. He could smell the disgusting odor of rot oozing from its bared jaws, even through the scarf covering his face.

His mind went into overdrive, and his thoughts boiled down towards a single instinct: survival. He rolled, barely avoiding getting caught by the monster’s jaws. It growled angrily as Mason sprinted as fast as he could out of the house, running down the street. With another howl, it jumped outside, chasing after him.

Mason’s mind raced, trying to figure out a way he could survive this situation. He knew he wasn’t nearly fast enough to outrun it, so he couldn’t keep running on the street. He had to lose it somehow. An idea flicked weakly into his head.

He turned abruptly to his right and started running between the houses, bobbing and weaving through them, going past cul-de-sacs and cold, empty suburban homes. He dared not look behind him, afraid that even the slightest loss of speed would result in him dying - again.

Trying to split his mind between keeping his speed up, avoiding the wolf-thing, and not tripping on a stray piece of ice was taxing. He could barely manage to keep his forward momentum on an even pace, constantly slipping on frozen puddles and patches of snow.

He heard the monster panting behind him, its massive body colliding with houses and destroying rotting fences. Mason kept moving, his eyes constantly searching for somewhere, anywhere, that could offer him refuge.

His breath was coming out in gasps and wheezes. He couldn’t last much longer. One bad trip, one fall on a rock, and he’d become this creature’s next meal. No answers, no nothing. Just silence and darkness.

He saw that he was reaching a more commercial area of the city, racing out into a large intersection with fast food shops and a few supermarkets further down. He saw an old chain fast food joint that was boarded up, with an unrecognizable sign out front that had cracked and shattered into obscurity.

It wasn’t big, but the windows were covered in wooden boards and he looked like he could hide in it at least for a while. He sprinted inside, slamming the door shut and running behind what was once the front counter. He ripped off the scarf and goggles, breathing heavily, sweat dripping off of his face. His chest was heaving, and he felt like his lungs were going to collapse. He’d never been good at running, from anything.

He heard the great beast clawing at the door, its heavy paws pushing it in. Mason looked around for a better location, his eyes spotting a closet that lay next to a still grease-stained frier. Hearing the flimsy door snap, he shot up and dove into into the small cramped closet, closing the door with blinding speed.

A large thump and heavy panting came from outside of the closet, and Mason closed his eyes and cursed whatever had brought him here. He stood as far against the wall as he could, beads of cold sweat dripping off his face.

Holding his hand over his mouth, he listened as the beast’s heavy paws creaked slowly into the building, hearing it sniff the air intently. He half-heartedly hoped the smell of grease would cover his scent, but that was only wishful thinking. Mason was great at that.

Slowly, noiselessly, he curled into a ball, hoping with all his heart that he’d somehow, impossibly, get out of this situation alive. He didn’t want to die. Not again. He tried not to imagine the horrible pain that getting eaten alive would bring.

He heard the sniffing get closer, and closer, until it was right in front of the door. Growling, the creature tested the door with it’s snout, feeling how weak it was. Then suddenly, it became deathly quiet. The only sound Mason could hear was the pulsing of his own fearful heart.

The silence dragged on, agonizingly slow, and Mason felt like he was about to explode. His fear was so thick you could grasp it. His hands were shaking violently. He was screaming inside his head.

And then, with a roar that could freeze hell itself, the wolf monster charged, slamming its head through the door. It would have looked almost comical, if it weren’t for its rotting breath, huge size, and how it was gazing at Mason with eyes full of hatred.

Mason stood back, as far against the wall as he could go. Snarling, it twisted its head, pulling it back through the door, before smashing it down with two giant paws.

Making a split-second decision that was pure instinct, he rolled under its legs, narrowly avoiding the beast as he heard its jaws clamp down on empty air. He scrambled to his feet and jumped over the counter as it howled, turning back towards him with burning eyes. Roaring, it leaped into the air, its gaping maw poised to rend Masons head from his shoulders.

He flung his arms up in front of him, a feeble attempt at self-defense, but the only thing that he could do. Before Mason could even scream, a feeling of getting sucked away came over him, like he’d been shoved inside a giant vacuum cleaner. The breath was ripped out of his mouth, and his vision became tinged in blue. He watched the hate in the monster’s eyes die, replaced by a deep, primal fear.

Unable to stop its momentum, it continued to soar towards Mason. Time seemed to slow, almost freezing, as the smell of electricity suddenly pierced Mason’s nose. His hands moved unwillingly, and he felt a deep, unfamiliar sensation, like he was dragging something out of the center of the earth itself.

Without warning, an earsplitting crack resounded as a massive burst of voltage clawed its way out of his hand and slammed into the wolf’s underside, flinging it away into a wall. It landed with a loud yelp and thrashed violently. The smell of burning hair and flesh assaulted his senses, and as the blue tint faded from his eyes, Mason collapsed, feeling pain throughout his entire body.

Breathing heavily, he got to his hands and knees, staring at the now dying monster. It howled in pain as lines of electricity crawled across it’s body, like a swarm of angry serpents. With a choking noise, the howling stopped, and its legs twitched violently, spasming in one final burst of life. The lightning slowly faded, leaving only silence.

Mason, his mind reeling and his head aching, managed to stand back up. He watched in dulled confusion as small blue veins of lightning, arcing across his hands, slowly dissipated. Mason leaned down and grabbed the scarf and goggles off the ground, put them on shakily, and left the building.
He walked outside, slowly, feeling like he was a stranger in his own body. The monster’s eyes, laced with terror, had been burned into his mind. He could never forget them as long as he lived, he realized depressedly.

Standing outside, he stared at the sky. It was bright, without a cloud in sight, but his face felt cold. He looked to his left, seeing the remains of skyscrapers. He was closer to the center of the city now.
Mason slowly pulled off his gloves, wondering how they had managed to remain intact, and stared at his shaking hands. They looked the same as they always had. He walked over to the middle of the cracked road and sat down, staring numbly at the ground.

He tried to make a mental list of things that he didn’t understand or that had confused him in the past couple of hours. He’d been taken somewhere that was his home but wasn’t, he had been killed by a man frozen in ice with lightning coming off of him, then he’d been brought back to life somehow, while not looking the same as he had, and afterwards he was attacked by a giant wolf which he’d somehow murdered with the same lightning that had killed Mason himself earlier.

His head ached horribly. Mason felt so tired and worn out and he just wanted an answer. He just wanted to know why this was happening to him. Then a thought occurred to him, something he couldn’t believe hadn’t happened before.

“Am I just dreaming?” he thought to himself.

Mason took a moment and considered the idea. It seemed obvious now that he imagined it. He’d gone to sleep and woken up somewhere completely different. But then he remembered something.
He had been feeling really, really cold last night. In the beginning of summer. That wasn’t normal, not at all.

“And now I’m in a world covered in snow and ice.”
He shook his head. Coincidence or not, he couldn’t do anything to change his situation, and he couldn’t wake himself up. Mason figured if this was a dream, he’d have probably woken up a long time ago.

So, no matter what happened to bring him here, he obviously couldn’t reverse it. He had no choice but to try and survive, to try and find answers. He got back up once more, and doing his best to hide his fear and confusion from himself, Mason pressed further, walking towards the center of the city.

He’d been to this part of town a lot, so he could remember the layout well enough. Images of him and his friends relaxing at these various fast food places, laughing and making jokes, flitted through his mind, and a pang of regret and sadness pierced him. He didn’t know if he’d ever have that again.
Admittedly, most of his friends had left town, gone off to college or something, while Mason had just… stagnated.

Pulling his mind away from that, he looked up, and saw the large ruins of a supermarket on his left. He slid the backpack off his shoulders, checking if anything had been damaged while he was running from the monster. It looked fine, but from what he could vaguely remember from camping a few years ago, he was going to need a lot more food and water.

Mason pulled the bag back on and walked towards the supermarket, looking for a way to get in. Snow had piled up in large amounts at the foot of the building, blocking any normal entrance. There were a few large windows on the sides, shining in the pale light of the morning sun.

Walking up to one, he tried peeking inside, but couldn’t see anything through the heavily frosted windows. He stood back, considering his options. He wasn’t about to spend hours shoveling out snow with his bare hands just to get to a door that was probably frozen shut. He took another look at the windows. Maybe he could shatter one and climb in.

Mason walked back in front of a window, the furthest one on the right. Surprised they hadn’t been destroyed, he held out a hand and tentatively pushed on the glass. It felt brittle and stiff, and flakes of ice fell off when he touched it. He turned back towards the street, ripped off a chunk of ice that had been growing on a decaying, crumpled car, and aimed it straight at the window, close to the ground. Then he threw it as hard as he could.

He missed. The piece of ice smacked the edge of the window, wobbling it slightly, but not really doing anything. It fell with a dull thud.

Sighing, he walked over and grabbed it, this time standing closer. Mason threw it with a lot of force again, making sure he couldn’t miss this time.

The shard crashed into the window, puncturing a hole straight through the middle of the glass. The window seemed to sway in place for a moment, as if buffeted by a gentle breeze, before cracks spider-webbed the glass from the hole, and it fell to the earth, shattering.

Stepping inside gingerly, avoiding the frozen shards of glass, Mason looked at the supermarket’s forlorn aisles. Everything had been frosted over, but at least there wasn’t snow inside. He sniffed, the foul odor of rotting food seeping the building.

Mason fumbled around in his backpack, grabbing the cracked flashlight he’d seen earlier in it earlier, and attempted to turn it on. It flickered to life for a moment, then burned out. Groaning, Mason smacked it a few times, trying to get it to turn back on, and suddenly it burned forth with a bright, harsh light.

He held it up in front of him and started looking through the store for supplies.

Mason walked slowly down the chilly aisles, trying to see if anything here was still good. Crumpled bags of chips and rotting candy bars filled the the aisles on either side of him, sad-looking in the yellow light.

He kept moving, keeping an eye out for anything that he thought might have stayed for… Wait. He didn’t even know how long this world had been frozen. Was it years, months? Weeks maybe? Would anything even still be good to eat?

He grabbed a deflated bag of chips and turned it over, checking to see the expiration date. Finding it on the bottom, he squinted, reading JULY 29th, 2020. Well, it didn’t seem to be too far off from the time back home. He paused for a moment, trying to contemplate the ridiculousness of that thought.

Nothing made sense. He put the bag back down, sighed, and moved on.

He fiddled with a small piece of ice in his free hand as he kept looking for extra food. He felt so nervous and afraid right now. Mason had never truly been on his own. He’d always had someone there for him, someone to catch him if he fell. Now he could only rely on himself. The problem was, he knew how unreliable he was better than anyone else. And that thought scared him more than anything right now.

He made it to the back of the store, the beam of the flashlight carving a path through the dark. He kept walking, looking around. A high-pitched squeal gave him a start, and he quickly turned the flashlight off, breathing slowly.

A scurrying form dashed across his feet, stopping a few meters away. Mason turned the flashlight back on and looked at it. It was just a normal rat. He exhaled slowly, calming himself, before moving on.

He had reached the far left end of the store. He turned the flashlight this way and that, searching intently. A reflection of light caught his eye.

To his left, down a few aisles, he saw some pallets discarded on the ground, with what looked like cans lying on them. He let out a sigh of relief, and quickly walked over to them.

Most had been cracked or gnawed open by small animals already, but he managed to find a decent number of them intact, enough to last him at least a week or so if he could figure out a good way to ration the food inside. He pulled open his bag and dumped the good ones in, adding a decent amount of weight to it. Now he needed water.

He got up and walked to where he thought the water might have been before the store had gone to crap, stumbling over empty boxes and crunching over broken glass in the darkness. Mason managed to find the refrigerated aisle, but it seemed completely empty. He’d have to get water something else.

As he walked back towards the light of the window, a thought occurred to him. Weren’t snow and ice just frozen water? If he could light a fire, he could probably just melt them and get some water from them to drink.

Smiling to himself at this new revelation, he hoisted the bag back over his shoulders and walked briskly out of the market. He knew it was a small kind of hope, but it was all he could hold onto for now.

He stepped past the shattered window-frame and back out into the light. He looked up at the sky.

Through the veil of clouds, he could see it was still just before noon. All of this had happened in such a short time. He shook his head in disbelief before he realized something.

He had no idea what to do.

Sure, he could probably scavenge and survive for a while, but why? Where did he go now? What was he supposed to do?

Mason scanned the horizon, trying to think of something. He tried to remember anything that was like this, some book or show he’d watched. Everything he thought of had people in it that were just doing what he’d started to do: survive. But there was one difference between him and them, he realized.

People. Plural, not a single person. Mason was sickeningly alone.

Maybe if he found others, a group of people who had survived whatever catastrophe had stricken this world, he could get some answers. That, and it would probably improve his chances of survival if there was anything more like the monster that had attacked him.

He looked towards the center of the city. If there were people left anywhere near him, they would probably be there, somewhere. He just needed to find them.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth, resolving himself that he wouldn’t stop until he found other people. Anyone.

Mason’s eyes turned bright and determined, a hopeful spark glowing deep behind them, but that faded as soon as a blunt object hit him in the back of the head and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.