Super Used

[Bartholomew]

Grant was always a trouble maker, even when he was but a young boy. His parents always had trouble keeping him walking down the right path. Grant always felt like an outcast with his chin stuck up to the sky. Other kids would point fingers at him as if he was a dead body and they were poking him with sticks. Grant never fit in so he got into trouble. From stealing to vandalism, even assaulting students and even teachers. Grant felt like he was always watching the world through the looking glass, but every time he tried to touch something, the glass would crack.

Trouble often followed him everywhere he went because he was the epitome of trouble. People often said Grant would get himself killed and they were probably right. He brought his own shovel with him, draped it over his shoulder and every step was another patch of dirt. One day he would dig a six foot hole and hop himself in, don't forget his tombstone. His epitaph? "Grant brought this upon himself." As Grant got older, he only got worse. Grant broke into homes and stole from people, assaulted police officers, got into bar fights, landed himself in jail a couple times. Grant was troubled with enough demons to make his own Hell. He could not hold down a job, wrecked every car he ever had because he was addicted to the bottom of a bottle.

Yes, Grant was quite damaged and despite the help he was bequeathed by his parents, he never got any better. Therapy always ended in disaster with the therapist demanding he see someone else. His anger would cause him to fly off the handle to the point he would claw at their throats. Multiple restraining orders and eventually blacklisted from every therapist. Grant would spend the rest of his life paying his dues to the man for all his deeds. That was, until the incident happened. The day the monsters showed up. It started by an explosion in the middle of the city with these creatures crawling out, ripping and tearing with large claws and maws to crush bones. That was the night everything changed.

Grant was twenty one when shit hit the fan. He watched the world he thought he knew crumble underneath him as unfathomable horror became its legacy. During the day? Crime was afoot for people were convinced this was it- this was the end of the world. With the incident, a strange plague began wiping people out. It started out as a flu and turned violently worse. People were ending up in body bags, on the streets as they withered away. Multiple parts of the city were closed off due to quarantine and those that weren't? People were required to wear masks and gloves, only go out to work and for food. Anyone caught outside for any other reason would be charged with failure to comply, fined and placed on house arrest. If further incidents would occurs, they would be thrusted into jail and left to rot. The world was not a pretty place.

Politicians took advantage of the scourge, using it to boost their campaigns. Some claimed they could do away with the monsters, send them back to where they belong; others boasted they would find a cure for this novel disease wrecking havoc in the homes and on the streets of the common people. They were walking a living nightmare that gutted the world in a way no one saw coming.

There was a light at the end of the tunnel. Special people known as Super Users began birthing all over the globe. People with abilities who used said abilities to fight back the monsters. While the sun brought crime and corrupted police and politicians, the night brought them. Monsters would level homes and buildings, murder people on the streets in cold bloody leaving their innards to decorate the sides of buildings and dark alleyways. Super Users began contracting themselves out, taking money to destroy these creatures. Some did it for free, they thought the liberation from these blood thirsty animals was enough payment. While others? They thought the monsters justified and necessary. They thought the world breathed in the human bullshit enough and this was just its way of relinquishing the humans from the world for a chance at fresh air.

These Super Users fought against the heroism, thus tossing the world into a civil war beyond any proportions it has ever seen. Insurance companies tried to bank on the catastrophic warfare, only for their pockets to dehydrate as people were losing more money than they could afford. Buildings were leveled nightly by these creatures and the war; places were bombed during the day and businesses were broken into, swept dry of their contents or destroyed. Homelessness was at an all time high and was the leading cause of many deaths from the plague to other fatal diseases. Murder and feasts for the monsters.

Grant tried his best to steer clear of it all, but even he was not void of the chaos that had taken hold of the world with two hands and tried to squeeze the life out of it. Though he broke into homes and businesses, stealing their valuables and pawning them off, Grant was not the one to straight up murder someone for any reason. He was a bad egg, but even he had morals. It was a fateful day, late in the afternoon when Grant found an abandoned building. Curious, he found his way in through a broken windows and began exploring. The building was old; the walls were claimed by dust and decay as time began to peel the pain and litter the floors with debris from the ceiling. Holes were everywhere, forklifts were rusting and pallets rotted. It looked like the people who worked there left it in a rush.

Packages strewn across the floor, ripped open while their contents of metal rusted away. They looked like tools and gears. Whatever these people were making, no one would want these. Grant was not paying attention to where he was stepping, too focused on the warehouse itself when he stepped on a crack. The floors began to buckle and he fell through. The fall was not far enough for him to fall through and he was not bombarded by the concrete floors, but the smack of his head had knocked him unconscious.

His eyes fluttered open, his head feeling like he just took a mallet to his cranium over and over again until his brains spilled onto the floor. The left side of his face was smeared with blood and he could barely stand without falling backwards and hitting his head again.

"Ow. That hurt. Where am I?" Holding his head with his right hand as if it would fall apart if he didn't, he looked around the abysmal darkness. His brows furrowed and he took a step when lights flickered on.

He stood in a vacant open area painted completely white with a hall of glass staring him in the face.

"What the…"

He heard stories of an underground facility from the whispers of the outside world; it was the talk of the town some might say. He never thought he would find himself stumbling across it. Well, technically he fell in, but who's keeping tabs? He began walking through, looking through the glass. He saw white cells, and people inside. Fucking people! What the hell? Why were there people here? Some were muttering nonsensical whispers as they looked up in the air, some were rocking back and forth, their knees to their chins and hands on their heads.

"Okay this is fucked up."

The hallway lead to another hallway that split in two directions: left and right. He did not want to do it, but something kept him going against his volition. His body was like a machine and someone pressed the button, he would keep moving until he was face to face with the last cell on the left. He stopped, turning to look inside. Another person; somebody else being held against their own will. But why? What was the purpose of all this? Who was doing this? Grant heard stories of people being taken from the streets. They said a white van would pull up, put a brown sack over your head and inject you with something that would knock you out. Were these the people who were kidnapped? What were they doing here?

 

[Appletree]

The person in this cell was at first glance no different from any of the others in the facility. Dressed in what looked like an off grey hospital gown, with broad similarly coloured bands around wrists and ankles. They were huddled in the far corner, knees drawn right up to their chest and shaven head resting on the arms crossed tightly around them, staring vacantly straight ahead.

Only when Grant paused outside their cell, did the pearly light grey eyes move very slowly to focus on him. They looked too large and too bright against the fine boned, mocha coloured face that was still completely expressionless. In an almost bird like motion, they tilted their head to the side, still watching him, then uncurled and stood up, revealing a tall body just as gaunt as the face, but quite obviously female under the flimsy gown she was wearing. As she stepped forwards towards the glass, the light in the ceiling above her head started flickering.

A foot or so away from the glass she stopped, reaching out as though to touch Grants face, but was stopped by the invisible barrier between them. Face still blank, she still somehow managed to look confused for a moment, before saying in an ethereal voice,

“You are like them, but not… We have never seen someone like you…”

She spoke in barely more than a whisper, but there must have been some kind of coms system that carried her voice enough to be heard on the other side of the glass.

 

[Bartholomew]

Grant was somewhat mesmerized by this female who seemed to be reaching out. While she was dressed in a grey hospital gown, Grant wore flat footed shoes old and falling apart, torn-at-the-knees skinny jeans with a red and black flannel. His head was still pounding, but for some reason, he did not care about that. Something must have possessed him for when she reached out, he did, too until his palm touched the glass.

Her voice was strange, but oddly soothing and she spoke of we as if she was not the only one in the room. Grant did not know what the hell was going on and it was beginning to freak him out.

"What happened to you?" He asked, looking down at her clothes and bone body. She looked starved and deprived of nutrients. She could die in here.

There was a keypad next to the glass, but without knowing the passcode, how would he be able to free her? His dark blue eyes hovered over her just a little while longer until he heard a banging and red lights flashing. An alarm began to hum all around him and he pulled away from the glass. Was he caught? If he was, what was the point of being subtle about it?

"Stand away from the glass!" He shouted with a cusped hand on his face. With a step, he gave the glass the best boot kick he could; only managed to hurt his leg in the process.

"God dammit!" He wobbled holding his leg, limping in a circle before collecting himself and cracking his neck. One more try.

"Here goes noth-" he took a step forward with he felt a rush run through his body like static. Every nerve in his body lit up like pins and needles and he fell over, smacking his head once again and knocking himself into a near haze.

 

[Appletree]

Palm to palm with the glass between them, she continued to watch him with that intently blank look in her silver eyes. It took a while before she spoke again. “We are bound.” Was the only answer she had time to give him before the alarm blared down the corridor.

The moment Grant removed his hand from the glass, she stumbled backwards too, upright posture suddenly replaced by a submissive, almost cowering stance and a look of mixed terror and something rather like awe on her previously inexpressive face.

She scrambled further back when he called to her, preparing to kick the glass, shaking her head at him and making a faint motion at him that might have been a shooing gesture. She didn’t even flinch as his foot connected with the glass, obviously not expecting it to give in the slightest. A hint of worry had shoved its way into the tilt of her eyebrows as she watched him hop on the other foot before collecting himself for a second charge.

Again she shook her head at him, then seemed to notice something behind him. Her eyes widened and she lurched forwards just moments before the charge would hit him. This time, two voices seemed to issue from her mouth at the same time. One was the ethereal one she had spoken with before, but underlying it was a much more human sounding one, rough and dry like a fever patients.

“NO!”

Dropping to the floor, she pounded weakly against the glass in a futile attempt to get to the prone figure on the floor. Had Grant been able to hear the coms over the still screaming alarm, he would have heard the human voice, devoid of the ethereal overlay now, whisper, “No, please…”

At that moment, all the lights in the vicinity went out at once. The alarm continued to sound in the total blackness and the sound of shattering glass could be heard. Then a faint whitish glow lit the corridor, enough to show that the glass of the cell had shattered, spilling glittering shards all around Grant. The girl was now crouched beside him, hands hovering near but hesitating to actually touch him, with the faint light radiating from her very skin.

 

[Bartholomew]

The world around him seemed to be spinning and his body was completely weak, convulsive periodically even as his nerves reacted violently to whatever hit him. There was lots of pain; more pain than when he dropped in uninvited and bumped his head. No, this was felt like someone doused him in kerosene and lit a match. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and his body shook against its own volition. He wanted to scream, but all he could manage were breaths of a dying man, desperately clinging to whatever life he may have left.

And then, just like that, at the tip of a hat the pain was gone and his vision began to return. He forgot who he was for a moment, forgot where he was. There was a strange girl crouching next to him- who was she? He managed to slowly slide to his stomach, pushing himself up with his hands and onto his knees. He took a few moments a few minutes to collect himself, his hands hurdled into his chest as she shook like he was cold. Sweat dripped from his face, his eyes slowly mulling over the strange glass hallway. Who were these people? Who was he? And why did he suddenly have a strange connection with all of them?

No chance to collect his thoughts as voiced boomed from the distance, boots hitting tile and the cocking of weapons.

"It went this way!" A strong male's voice could be heard over the screeching of the alarm. It was so loud now, everything was so loud. The air was loud, his breathing was loud. The girl's breathing was loud. Why can everyone just shut up?!

Glass all around him began to shatter, falling to the floor and others began to step out. All of them were just sacks of meat and bones, seemingly deprived of food and other nutrients the body craved to keep itself alive. Their eyes were sunken in and the faces were the shapes of their skulls. A man stepped forth, his hands and fingers moving melodically in the air and with a foot forward, he stretched his arms outwards like he was pushing a ball. A small glimmer of energy flickering like a lightbulb slowly going out snaked in the air and pulled itself into an invisible force around the door leading to the hallway.

Guards in black uniforms and gas masks ran into this mysterious forcefield, only to find themselves propelled backwards and into a wall. The male leaned down, offering his hand out the girl and Grant.

"Come on. We got to leave!" His tone was you g, no older than Grant. Maybe a twenty one year old college student who was unfortunate enough to get snagged? His eyes were a light chocolate color and his skin was pale. There were scars on his arm like someone sliced him open.

Grant was hesitant at first, but his hand weakly found this man's hand, and onto his feet he went.

"Stop!" A man called out from behind the forcefield. Only a silhouette in th darkness, but when the red lights hit him, he was not wearing a mask. No mask covered his bald head and chiseled chin. Nor did if hide the black vest with the many pockets and cargo pants. He was dressed in all black like the others, and the most notable about this man was the scar on the left side of his face, like he stepped into the ring with one of the monster outside.

He was greeted with a finger from this mysterious make who could form forcefileds before watching the three run off into the darkness. Through the warehouse they would go until they poured out of the building and onto the streets where Grant would have to stop to catch his breath. He thought he had ran the marathon five times over. His legs were jello and his arms he could barely lift. He slumped back down onto his knees, closing his eyes for a moment before being pulled back up and into another sprint down the block.

 

[Appletree]

The girls hands fluttered helplessly over the spasming man on the floor, still not touching him, not even seeming to notice that her skin was giving off a steady white glow.
Only when Grant found the strength to push himself up a little did she shuffle back a bit to give him some room, still watching him intently. At the sound of running footsteps and hectic voices, she looked away from him for the first time since catching sight of him, staring down the corridor as she pressed herself against the wall between two of the cells.

She didn’t move even when the glass rained down around her and her fellow prisoners were freed. Only her eyes moved just enough to watch one of the new arrivals gracefully conjure his force field and send it to block the oncoming men. She flinched away from the mans offered hand, trying to press herself further into the wall away from him. Only when Grant accepted the helping hand did she seem to relax enough to creep forwards a little.

At the scarred mans appearance on the other side of the barrier, the girl bared her teeth in a silent animalistic snarl aimed in his direction, her posture turning from passive to actively aggressive for the first time.
When the force field man turned and left, practically pulling Grant with him, the girl scrambled to her feet and followed; the only one of the prisoners to do so. The other skeletal people stayed put, many acting just as they had when imprisoned; mumbling to themselves or crouched on the floor, rocking to and fro.

A some point in their mad dash through more darkened corridors of the underground complex, their guide/leader asked her, “Can’t you turn that off?” but was met with only a panicked and confused look. Only when they reached the open air outside the warehouse did the consistent glow slowly fade away, which seemed to reassure their guide.
Despite their emaciated looks, neither the girl or the man seemed half as winded after their escape as Grant was when they paused to let him catch his breath for a brief moment. Under the open sky, the girl seemed to grow a little more lively, actively looking around, especially behind them, and the first to start tugging on Grants sleeve to get him up and moving again.

 

[Bartholomew]

Through the warehouse and into the streets they would find themselves. How long was Grant down there? Had it been a day? Had it been three? The sun fell already, the skies as dark as Grant’s mind. The streets were familiarly barren, like the corners of Grant’s mind; like the soul that walked around in this meat suit of his that he tried every day to dispose of. Cars were left to rot like the blood inside his veins, the skeletons left to stare forward as if fear was their demise just like him. He thought he had more in common with the dead than he did with the living. There were times he wished he could just walk outside and let the monsters take him where he stood.

The darkness brought its own threats, beared its own teeth and claws that could tear anyone apart and leave them to coagulate on the ground as everyone walks over them as if they never existed in the first place. Grant feels like a ghost some days. He tries to reach out but they just move right through him. When he locks eyes with someone, they do not see him. Other days? He is a zombie. Stumbling through life begging for anything to make him feel alive so he stuffs himself with poison. And when someone tries to reach out? He attacks, eats them alive and shits them out.

The streets here reminded him of his dreams. A barren wasteland he wandered around with a shopping cart picking up anything and everything he can find to make himself feel whole, only everything he finds destroys him further. From the drugs to the alcohol, to the girls to the abandoned buildings he found to sleep another night off. These streets, they resonated with him so well. They took humanity like a drug, used it until there was nothing left and disposed of the scraps.

The humans here? They were short lived. There was not a night that went by they were not running for their lives and the sun only brought other trials. They say life is what you make it, well what do they have to say about this?

“Come on,” the strange male beckoned, leading them through the streets in feet quiet enough not to disturb a mouse. Peering around every corner like something would reach out and pry his face from his skull with little to no effort. He waved for Grant and the girl.

There was a question on Grant’s mind. He was normally one to keep his head down; when out on the streets, you learn to keep to yourself. Monsters came in all shapes and sizes; they came with kind words and masks and when they tear them off, it is too late. So why did he stick his neck out for her? Why did he abandon his usual resolve and try to break her out? Whatever it was, he had no time to ponder the question for they were moving again. There were no signs of monsters. Across the way- a gas station stood as firm as it could, but even it seemed like a zombie itself. Windows bashed in like skulls, the door missing like a mouth having had its teeth kicked in. The roof torn off like a cranium to expose the insides to the outside world from a bird’s eye view. The parking lot was empty; only the gas pumps and they were left to rust and decay themselves.

Moving forward, taking a few seconds to look both ways, they would find themselves huddling the wall on both sides of the door. Grant knew what he was hiding from, but what was the male hiding from? Did he fear soldiers breached the surface? Would make sense.

“I think it’s clear.”

Grant allowed the male to move in first, poking his head around the corner to stare into the darkness as he became nothing but a silhouette. After a few seconds, Grant finally moved in, surmising nothing was waiting for them. He turned to look at the door, trailing up the outer edges.

“We will have to find something to block this door off.”

“No point,” the male suggested as his eyes rummaged through the shelves. Many had been through here already, took it for all that it had save for a few items like small tubes of lotion or even packages of toilet paper in singles. “We’re not staying long.”

 

[Appletree]

The girl followed the two men silently. Her bare feet made no sound on the uneven and treacherous ground they ran over, as though she was floating over it, never actually alighting down on it, though she ran just like Grant and the man did.

She copied their actions when they slipped into the gas station and immediately pressed themselves to the wall. While the two men were clearly listening for suspicious sounds both outside and inside the building, the girl seemed more interested in the interior of the station.

As soon as their guide gave the word, she started wondering around the shop, picking up random items here and there to inspect more closely before returning them carefully to their original spot. She had made her way in a full circle back to the entrance as the men searched the shelves for whatever they deemed useful.

Near what would have been the counter at some point in time, stood a mesh cabinet that had once held portable gas tanks, judging by the one husk still remaining inside. The cabinet had been pilfered just like the rest of the station, but this tank had been left behind; perhaps because it was already empty.

As she caught sight of the innocent little tank lying on its side, the girl shied away almost violently from the cabinet and its contents, backed into a shelf and sent herself as well as the whole shelf crashing to the ground with a loud clatter.

 

[Bartholomew]

It was silent, not even a mouse stirred as Grant and this mysterious make lived through the abandoned store, rummaged through the shelves and searched for anything they could use. There was nothing, not even food. This part of town was a warzone and they would find nothing but scraps. How disappointing. War was commonplace in the city, took refuge here and made it its home.

They say war is hell and Grant would have to agree. Lives were lost daily and the only reason the numbers of casualties went down, was because there were fewer lives to take. War was hell and it was becoming less and less profitable. Even the politicians began to cease their grip on it like the gold mine they thought it was.

"You see anything?" The male whispered; poked his head around a corner to look at Grant who answered his question with the shake of his head.

"Nothing. It's been cleared out."

Occasionally Grant snuck a peak at the female he freed, watched her move through the store until she disappeared into another aisle.

"I think we better move," the male joined Grant. They thought they could find something, even gauze, but there was nothing. "Before we get caught."

Without warning, there was a loud crash, echoed through the store and caused Grant and the male to stare at each other with fear. Fuck. Oh fuck! Grant moved as quickly as he could, helping the female to her feet.

"What happened?!" He whispered, looking around at the mess.

"We seriously need to get out of here. Before-" their male companion spoke when a sound interrupted him. It started out as a clinking sound, like a rock skipping across metal but evolved into something much worse.

It came from above them, the clinking sound and so did a loud bang. At first it was like someone took a metal sheet and slapped their hand against it, but that soon changed when it was accompanied by more. It was obvious something heard the crash and they were slowly being surrounded. Grant looked toward the door, noting it was wide open.

"THE DOOR!" It was pointless this time to be quiet, the banging erupted all around them as whatever was trying to break in got closer.

The male held out his hands and creating a circular motion, formed an invisible force around it. It would not last long for an arm broke through the ceiling and long claws wrapped around his head. He let out a scream, his hands scratched and dug at the forearm of whatever had his head in its grasp. The arm was a dark tan, skin peeled off in flakes and despite the grip strength, was nothing more than skin and bone.

"GET IT OFF MEEEE! GET IT OFF!" Despite Grant's efforts for he tried prying the fingers off one by one, he was unsuccessful. The male was flung around with the grip as tight as ever; knocked Grant back into a shelf and an old nail sliced through his arm as he fell.

The poor male was pulled through the ceiling, body torn by the aluminum. Ichor poured from the ceiling as the male screamed in absolute sheer horror. Whatever happened to him on the ceiling would happen to Grant and the female if they were not swift thinkers. Grant's arm was leaking sanguine from a deep wound he would not only need stitched up, but would need cleaned. His body hurt from being knocked into a shelf, but he managed himself to his feet.

"WE HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE!"

Clinks were heard swarming all sides of the gas station, claws dug into the walls, worked their way to the front door. Grant stood to his feet, held his upper forearm as blood soaked between his fingers. He thought they were to die; he closed his eyes, accepted his fate.

I swear you're fucking useless!

'What? What was that?' There was a voice, it sounded so close, like an older male stood behind him, talking in his ear, but when he turned around, no one was there.

I'm God and I've come to claim your soul!

'Really?' Could this truly be God, coming for his soul to tell him his life is over? Would God even come for him? After everything he has done, would God even waste his time?

Oh my god, we really are going to die. Look! You're bleeding, one of your compadres was just eaten alive and you're stuck in a gas station with no way out! Or so you think.

'Uuummm. What?'

Just shut the fuck up and listen. First: I am not God, but to you, I might be. Your life is never going to be the same again, kid, so get used to hearing my sexy voice. You want to save your skin and the girl's, too? The you better clear out the earwax in your fucking ears and listen up! I'm only going to say this once.

Grant took a moment to look at the girl and it would seem time took a moment to slow down around him. Whatever these things were, they were tore through the sides of the building and it was then when one was smart enough to form in the doorway. It was tall and slender, skin covered where the eyes were supposed to be. Its maw was filling with razor sharp teeth, short but strong enough to tear through any bone. Claws curled from long, boney fingers and its tan skin flaked off, revealing a burnt inner shell underneath.

Drool dripped onto the ground and formed quagmires at its feet. It resonated a clicking sound that rolled into an idiosyncratic growl. Whatever the fuck it was, it did not look friendly.

This is when shit gets real, bucko! Hold out your palm and strap your dick in tight!

'Hold out my palm?'

Just hold out your fucking palm, you useless creampie! Unless you want to be its next stinky turd, hold out your palm!

Hesitantly, his arm lifted upwards, stretching out and his palm faced the creature. It leapt toward him and just as it was about to rip his face clean off his skull, acid seemed to flood his veins in his arm, moved down to his hand and a ball of flame burst outward, ignites the creature and flung it backwards and out the door into the parking lot. Its body flailed, screeching loudly as the flames tore its body asunder.

"HOLY SHIT!"

RUN, MOTHER FUCKER!

Grant grabbed the girl's arm and sprinted for the door, burst through the doorframe. There was no time to look behind them, but one did not need to share a look to know they were being chased.