Day 201 – Recover – Where It Ends

“It’s not going to work, there’s too much damage, she won’t make it!” He yells across the spluttering, screaming engine.

“We’ve got no choice, you have to push it, if we don’t get over that wall, we’re done for!”

He smiles nervously before clenching his teeth, griping the steering wheel with one hand tightly, then throws it it top gear as he plants a foot down on the accelerator, the car lurches forward, then the engine coughs violently and dies. “Fuck, I told you it wouldn’t last, I told you it wouldn’t make it!” He says, fumbling with his seat belt, ripping it from its latch and jumping from the car. “We’ve got to move, NOW!”

She sits there, frozen in her seat, staring at him, “I-I-I, I can’t, it’s too dangerous,” she says.

“It’s more dangerous staying with the fucking car,  those things are getting closer, so we’ve got to move!” He yells rushing to her side of the car and grabbing her by the arm, trying to pull her out, but she twists and turns her way free of his grip.

“I said NO!” She yells. “Just go, I-I, I’m not ready, I, I just want to stay here, you go.”

He stands there for a few moments, staring at her, confused, worried, a range of emotions, that finally give way to release, as he throws his hands in the air and runs off, through the deserted, decimated, city streets. Once he is gone from sight she slowly gets out of the car, brushes the dirt from her dress, fixed her hair and smiles, as a dozen or more strange looking things charge towards her on all fours, coming to a stop a few feet away. They grunt and growl between each other, as if having a conversation, then turn back to her.

“Are you all done?” She says, as one moves forward, slowly, towards her, then presses itself to the ground, showing its submittance. “That’s a good doggy,” she says, kneeling down, and rubbing its back. “Nothing to say?” She says softly, as the beasts ready themselves for attack, “Hush my children.”

“W-W-Why the fuck?” his says from behind her.

“What? You didn’t realise by now, how I just kept on surviving, while everyone else perished? Come on, you’re not seriously that dumb are you?” She feels the cold steel press against the back of her head. “How long have you know?”

“Two days.”

“They’ll kill you before you…” but her words are ripped from her mouth mid-sentence as the bullet plows through her skull.

“I know,” he says, as the beast charge at him.



Published by

Matthew Tonks

People are surprised when reading Matthew’s stories that he’s a sane forty something year old, happily married, father of one, employed full time and dream of dark disturbing things that any sane person would never even contemplate thinking of. But it's true, he’s toyed with writing for most of his adult life, but has always found the peg a writer must fit into is not the shape he wished to be. His writing can be described as lamenting, long, concussive (yes it smashes you in the head), compulsive, and stuffed with rhythmic communication and violence, let’s not forget the violence. His own opinion on his writing is this, “You see, I don't just want the words to seep into your mind, but into your soul, showing you images of blood and beauty through, volatile language, violence, sex, love and sin. My muse takes different shapes, and every now and then you can see her shining her wicked smile in some of my stories, tempting you with her promises, but ripping your heart out instead.” So have a look, and take a seat in my wayward ride, as you join me while I purge through, this twisted road of madness.

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