My boots left small prints on the ground, smoke rising with every step I took..
I weaved through rusty skeletons of bent iron and metal, seeming to reach out towards me. They were heaped in soot and ashes, leaving piles of it everywhere.
My old, stained sweatshirt caught on a wire sticking out of a bent cattle panel, snagging me in its grasp. Tugging it free, I added another tear to the collection.
My knee braced scratched itself against a piece of metal that stood uprooted in the ground. Huffing in annoyance, I rubbed the scratch that joined its kin on the medical-made brace. It fitted tightly over my cargo-like pants, the metal lining both side of my knee and fitted securely with Velcro straps.
Finally approaching an old shed, I reached up to adjust my gas mask, tightening the straps. The rubber pressed tight to my skin, irritating me somewhat, as I entered the shed. The roof had partially collapsed in, leaving a heap of wood, metal and soot to one side. Dust gathered on old glass jars and boxes filled with things I didn’t recognize. Shadows sat in the corners and nooks, hiding whatever waited within.
Spotting a crowbar hanging on the wall, I lifted it down, soot falling with it. The item was surprisingly in decent condition, a few rust spots gathering here and there. I gave it a swing and nodded in acceptance.
Spotting a spool of wire, I swung my pack off of my shoulders and sat it by my feet, opening the back half and shoving some tools out of the way.
Settling the wire with the bunch, I added a box of nails and a thin sheet of metal. They joined some screwdrivers, a small hammer, and other metal pieces. Using the crowbar, I swept some piles of ash off of a shelf. Finding nothing else, I moved to the corner of the shed.
I passed an old cracked mirror laid propped up against a plant pot, catching a small glance of myself before I averted my eyes. I knew what it would show, a skinny paled, green eye girl, her face covered in scratches and scars. I knew that her cheekbones were sharp and dark circles lined under her eyes.
Shaking my head, I stooped down to pull out a box under a bottom shelf when the sound of glass shattering sounded behind me.
Startled, I whirled around, gripping the crowbar tightly in my hands.  A mason jar laid in pieces on the floor, glass shards lining the ground. It was when I looked at the shelf that I noticed the rat.
It stood growling, the sound vibrating in my ear, teeth frothing as it snarled. It scrunched up its body, the fur matted and lined with tumors the size of a dollar coin. The size of a Yorkie, its eyes glared red as they stared at me.
I stared back.
This happened when the world collapsed. Animals changed not only getting bigger, but also sprouting tumors and becoming mutant. Tumors were the most common mutant, and I suppose it was from the chemicals that blanketed the country when factories exploded. Rats were affected mostly by it, the vermin lining the alleyways, scrounging in the garbage.
A dark stench wafted slightly through the gas mask, smelling like severe roadkill. The rat snarled loader, saliva dripping from its mouth as it snapped the open air. It tensed its body more, coiling itself like a spring,
And jumped.
The large rat sailed through the air; its paws stretched out and flew to the side with a sickening crunch as it met my crowbar.
It landed among the glass jars, breaking several of them and did not move.
The sound of the glass breaking made me wince, the loud noise disturbing the silence.
Taking one last look at the rodent, I swung my pack onto my shoulders and exited the room.
This was just a small part of the burning world. This was one part of what it took to survive.
Ever since Yellowstone erupted.

I flattened the map onto the wood table, one leg supported by an old soup can. Unhooking the pen from the corner, I crossed out the North-Western part of Nebraska. I was just about out of the A-4 zone and just about to enter the A-5.
When the volcano exploded, ashes covered the whole United States, soot even ended up in the Carolinas. There was so much smoke and ash in the air, the sun was blocked and electronics failed. Cars hardly ran; either way gas was hard to come by as the gas stations had failed and siphoning the liquid was tough and vile.
Before the news was cut off, the officials had named the ash layers five through one, five being the heaviest ash layered zone and one being lightly covered.
The candle next to me flickered as a small gust of wind came through the busted-out window. An uneasy chill passed through me as I rolled up the map and placed it back into my back, pulling out a small jug of water and a rag in its place.
Reaching up, I loosened the straps to the gas mask and pulled it to rest on top of my head, the air humid on my face. I took a deep breath and immediately regretted the choice as I coughed harshly from the lightly smoky air.
Pounding my chest, I took a quick sip from the jug, the cool water soothing my ragged throat just for a second.
Slightly soaking the rag, I pressed it to my mouth and nose, putting the jug back into my bag. Crossing the room, I peered out of the second story window to the ground below. A gray highlight stroked the ground, the moon barely able to reach its fingers through the smoke and ash. The row of houses stood at attention, boards warped and burned, windows broken, and piles of soot mounded against their sides. Here and there small fires burned, formed by the showers of embers from the super-volcano.
My knee ached, so I tried to settle the pain to the usual dull throb by leaning against the windowsill, the wood digging into stomach and arms through the thin fabric. I was in a need of new clothes.
Standing there for a couple of minutes, I secured the curtains tightly together, trying to make some sort of block. I had already barricaded the door, and the window was the only other way of a barge in. I had taken refuge in the second level of a two-story house, scouring out the floors in case, and blocking myself into what would have been a small guess room before it all fell through. You would never know what was going to happen.
I was jolted out of my thoughts as shrill screams that were almost animal-like echoed through the empty street, seeming to come from a couple houses down. Surging forward, I quickly blew out the few candles that were lit and grasped the small Bowie knife I had laid out on the table. My breathing seemed like thunder as I stayed completely still, the half saturated blade hilt in my right grip and my pack strapped tightly to my back in case I needed to run.
Another scream ripped through the air, followed by high-pitch cackling, both closer this time. I could faintly hear the sound of something scraping against the paved road. Moving quietly, I pressed myself against the wall, peering out of the blown-out window as the curtains fluttered. I saw nothing at first until it laughed again and I quickly saw the two dark shapes moving down the middle of the road about four houses down, moving my way.
They moved in an almost gaited way, like a Tennessee Walking Horse that’s in an extended walk, unable to trot. They’re legs seemed to be longer and thinner than a humans would be, the hips narrow. The hair on the nape of my neck rouse as they giggled, sounding like hyenas only higher and much more creepier.
They seemed to be female and a form of human mutant that I haven’t encountered before. Traveling quick, they were now nearly a single house down and dragging something, piled with bags, that made a scraping noise as it was drug across the pavement.
Scra scra scra
I reached up and dragged the gas mask over my face, positioning so I could see clearly. Glancing back at the creatures, I noticed that they had paused, noses and ears tilted to the sky. I blinked, and they were gone.
Startled, I took a step back and gripped the Bowie knife tighter, higher and blinked again. They were right in front of me. I inwardly groaned as they studied me and I studied them right back.
They sat crouched on the windowsill like two frogs; they’re long, slim fingers and toes with long nails curled over to grasp the wood. Long, green-tinged hair hung in greasy locks from the creatures scalps and sharp cheekbones protruded from they’re thin face. Greenish-blue skin was pulled tightly over long bones, giving the creatures an almost skeleton-like appearance. Naked except of scraps of torn fabric that barely covered they’re beasts and waist area, they studied me with their large, yellow eyes.
“What is it?” The one farthest away from me asked her head tilted. Her voice was creaky and cracked.
“I don’t know. It looks weird.” The other one replied, crawling down from the window to stand in front of me.
It seemed to be full grown, just a little taller than me, and stood with its eyes dull. It gave me the creeps. I had encountered many different creatures before and had even started to log in the details in a worn out notebook, yet this was the first of its kind I had encountered. My voice rasped as I glared at the creatures.
“Get out.”
I raise the Bowie knife higher as the creature stepped towards me, a pale hand stretching towards me,
“What are you?” It asked as it poked my arm, confusing me.
“Get out,” I replied.
  It tilted its head once again, its large eyes bright.
  We call ourselves Reaks,” it replied as the one on the windowsill nodded.
Furrowing my eyebrows, I tried to grasp an action.
“Get out!” I said harsher, motioning towards the window with the knife.
The one in front of me bared its teeth that were short and sharpened to a point. The Reak on the windowsill crawled down to a crouch next to her companion frowning, and pointed an accusing finger at me.
“It has one of those masks like the others,” she said, motioning to the gas mask.
“It must be one of them!”
I tensed up as they hissed, and I mean hissing like a pair of feral raccoons. They bared they’re teeth and hunched up like a cat. Walking backwards a few steps, I adjusted my grip on the hilt of the knife, wishing for a more effective weapon.
“We must take it back with us!”
Woah, wait, what?
They leapt into action, moving quickly. I dodged low as one reached out to grab me with a swipe. Reaching up and grabbing her arm on the backswing, I shoved her back hard. Her companion leapt at me, landing on top and sent us tumbling to the ground, knocking my knife to the side. We grappled at each other, the Reak trying to pin me down while I was trying to buck her off.
“Grab its legs! Grab its legs!” She called out to her companion who jumped and held my legs together.
I jammed my legs upward, trying to land a blow to the Reak’s abdomen and brought my head forward, slamming my forehead into the one that was pinning me down. It shrieked and loosened its grip, allowing me to shoved myself away with my feet. My head had a dull throb, thanks to the gas mask partially protecting it, and my knee ached with an old pain, protesting the harsh treatment.
  I crawled a bit and barely got my hand around the hilt of my knife when one of the Reaks called out.
“Get the wooden leg!”
Wooden leg?
A echoed blow was landed on my right temple, the sound explosion of pain brought my body slamming to the ground. My eyes stung as I groaned with protest, trying to fight back the darkness looming around the edges of my mind, drowning in coldness. I could barely here the shrieks of enjoyment from the creatures as the darkness swallowed me whole, eating away at my core.
Oh, table leg.

My mind was fuzzy around the edges, like I’ve been drugged. My side was pressed firmly to something cool and firm, like metal, and something that spelt like blood engulfed my head, filling my nose. A rough, scratchy sensation encircled my wrist and legs, most likely being rope, rubbing any bare skin. The normal presence of my pack was gone and gasmask was gone and whatever I was laying on moved liked it was being dragged.
Great, I was being held captive by two crazy human mutants like looked like skeleton frogs. How could this night get any worse, or day I wasn’t exactly sure how long I had been knocked out. I could faintly hear the Reaks talking to each other, arguing.
“Chieftain will know,” one said.
“Will know,” the other echoed
I didn’t bother escaping, the outcome of me actually escaping was low. Humming in the back of my dry throat, I waited.

When I was hauled off of the platform, my leg restraints cut, it had been over an hour. Counting in my head, I could feel every bump and tip through the metal making the ride very uncomfortable. Shoved to my feet, my left leg buckled bringing me slamming to the ground on my side, my hands tied behind my back. My knee was stiff and sore from not being able to stretch it and as I was hauled back to my feet again, I was shoved forward to walk.
Limping, I silently cursed them for taking off my knee brace, the only support that helped out my knee. Screams and giggles erupted around me as I limped forward, guided by the hands that grasped my shoulders. After about twenty more feet, I was pulled to a stop and the bag was pulled roughly from my head. The sudden light from what seemed to be a fire blinded me for a second and I pulled away, blinking my eyes rapidly. Rough shouts were heard and I was shoved roughly onto my knees, a hand grasping the nape of my neck to force me to stare into a massive bonfire ahead. Craning my neck roughly upwards, I glared at my captors.
“Now this isn’t the warm welcome I was thinking of. Where’s your captain!?” I said harshly and grunted as my head was thrust downwards to glare at the ground.
“Don’t you worms know common house laws? Where’s the bread and salt?!” I taunted and hissed as the fingers dug into my neck.
I kneeled on the ground for a while, hearing the loud calls of the mutants until they dulled down to whispers and finally silence. I attempted to look up but was denied by a swat to the back of my head.
Oh they were asking for it.
The silence was powerful and soon a soft sound like rain pattering on the grass quietly pierced the void. It soon got louder, and louder till its slowly stopped, and I was looking a pair of bare feet, stained with red designs. I took a deep breath and slowly looked up at a middle age looking mutant.
His head was bald, stained with more designs, and his noise was pierced with a thin bone like the Nez-Perce Native American tribe. His grayish eyes studied me, and I studied him right back.
Around his waist was a loincloth and attached to it where many skulls of small animals. Every time he softly shifted his position, they clattered together. Like the other mutants, he was a greenish-blue color and had many intriguing designs both stained and surprisingly carved onto his skin. Muscles bulged from his broad shoulders and down his arm, giving him the appearance of a thick man. He nodded to the mutants holding me and I was pulled roughly to my feet. His voice was like gravel as he spoke.
“Why have you come?” He spoke it loudly and the voice carried through the crowd.
A shuffled of movement broke the crowd and the two females that had captured me threw my pack, gas mask, and thankfully my knee brace onto the ground. I glared at the females and yearned to get ahold of the brace.
“I didn’t come willingly you know. I was kinda bashed on the head and strapped to a sled.” I said smartly, shaking my hands slightly behind my back to try to emphasize my point.
“My scouts say that you are one of the masked men. You have come to capture my people once again for your pleasure.” The Chief said.
I looked dully at him.
“What?”
The mutant scowled and pointed at my gas mask.
“All the time you come. You steal our people and kill or wound others. We never see them again, yet we wish war on you, we wish The Other place on you.” He said, speaking the last seven words loudly as the crowd hollered answers at him.
“Behead it!”
“Burn it!”
“Leave it to the Wargs!”
“Eat it!”
He signaled the mutants me and I was shoved harshly forward towards a bench cemented or the ground. I strained to the side and backwards as I realized what they were planning for me.
“Oh come on!” I shouted. “You can behead me for something I didn’t do!”
I twisted and squirmed my body, trying to escape as my dog togs came out from underneath my shirt. They bounced with my moments as I struggled to look at the Chief.
“Have you no honor?” I called as I looked the leader dead into the yes as I was shoved onto my knees and my head was pressed to the cool steal. I really didn’t want to die like Ned Stark.
My dog tags dangled below me, the cool chain links pressing against the nape of my neck. I couldn’t help but stare at them I slowly started to talk.
“You want war? Well, I’ll help you with it.” I started as I saw a mutant dragging a long knife towards where I kneeled. I started to talk faster.
“You’ll need someone like me. I can train your people.” I pointed at a bunch of guns that laid carelessly in a pile in a corner and continued on.
“You see those weapons? They’re called guns. I know how to work most of them, and I can fix them too.” I swallowed as the mutant started to raise the sword like knife and I talked faster.
“You see this around my neck? They’re dog togs from when I was in the Marines. I found in battles and killed many men.” I was staring directly into the Chief’s eyes as I yammered on. He was watching me carefully, and took a few steps forwards to crouch down a few feet in front of me.
“Tell me where the masked men have gone to. I will set your people free.” I said loudly, watching the executioner paused before the down swing.
I really don’t feel like being beheaded today I thought to myself as I worked my jaw a bit.
Staring deep into the leader’s eyes, I tried to concrete what I was sure what were my last words, the same words I spoke to many of my comrades in battle.
“I’ll fight for you. I’ll fight with you. I’ll fight as a brother, a sister, a fellow warrior.”
And then I watched in the reflection of the Chieftan’s eyes as the sword was brought down.