Allen Stone opened his eyes. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up in bed. Thunder rumbled outside of his window. That was a regular occurrence these days.
Allen pushed off his covers, and gazed out of the window. He was on the fourteenth floor of building 411 on West End Ave, in Manhattan, New York City. Or at least, what remained of it.
Outside the streets were completely deserted, like always. Abandoned cars littered the roads, while overturned trash cans and corpses lay on the sidewalks. Above, red clouds loomed over the city, thundering rumbling within them. The red clouds had first appeared on October 25th, 2009. The day the world went to hell.
Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, Allen grabbed his curtains and pulled them shut, blocking his view of the hellish world outside. Allen lay back down and tried to go back to sleep. But after a few minutes of trying to do so, Allen round he could not. Sighing, Allen got out of bed and decided to get dressed. There wasn't much point in it, since there were no people left to see him naked, but Allen felt less exposed.
Allen felt underneath his pillow, grabbing his Colt Python he kept underneath there. Pulling it out, Allen walked across his small apartment, going into the bathroom. Setting his Colt down on the sink, Allen did his morning business in a bucket filled with water. He could no longer use the toilet, as it no longer flushed. His shower still worked, but when Allen tried to use it the night after it happened, his shower did not spray water, but human blood. Allen never used it again after that.
Finishing his business, Allen looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes looked tired, and he had grown a scruffy, unkempt beard. Allen didn't bother shaving, as there was no longer a point to it.
Leaving the bathroom, making sure to grab his Colt, Allen made his way to his closet next to his bed. Allen opened the doors, and involuntarily shuddered. He had flashbacks whenever he opened these closet doors. Allen remembered running home after the incident, barely dodging the monsters coming out portals all over Manhattan. Allen had opened his closet doors, hoping to hide there, and found one of those faceless things inside. It tried to strangle him, but Allen managed to fight it off and stabbed it to death with a kitchen knife. Allen could still smell its blood, and still had nightmares about its faceless head looming over him, twitching wildly.
Allen gave a sigh, closing his eyes. All this reminiscing had brought him back to October 25th. Allen had been on his way to work, when red clouds gathered in the sky, blotting out the sun. Everybody stared at them, some religious fanatics believing they signified the end of days. For the first time, those nuts had actually been right.
Black portals had appeared out of thin air all over Manhattan. Monsters, abominations out of a nightmare had stepped out of them, and began to kill everyone they could see. It had happened completely out of nowhere, and authorities barely had enough time to mount a counterattack. Those that did try to fight where quickly overwhelmed and killed. It had been complete chaos. Dozens were killed in the first few minutes, and everyone else had gone into a panic, fleeing for their lives. Allen had almost been crushed by the crowd.
Allen had managed to dodge the monsters, and ran back home. After killing the faceless thing in his closet, Allen had locked the door and turned on the TV. News stations were reporting these portals were appearing all over the world, and thousands of monsters were emerging, killing off everyone in sight. News teams reporting the situation live were killed by the monsters, and soon, the things invaded the news stations. The stations had then gone off the air.
Then, a man appeared on Allen's TV. His skin had no color to it, looking almost dead. His mouth had been stretched into an evil grin, and he had red pupils, with no irises. He had seemingly been addressing the whole world, calling everyone worms and describing this was the end for them, the Apocalypse. He had asked everyone to simply die like the pathetic insects we were, and had said that this was his world now. Then, the TV went to static. It never showed anything else but static after that.
Allen sighed, rubbing his head. No good to be focusing on the horrid past.
Focus on your routine, Allen thought. Its what kept you going. Kept you from going mad.
Allen had remained in his apartment for a year. The entire world had fallen silent outside, the screams of people being killed dying out after the first week. Allen had dared not venture outside, but had been forced to twice when his food and water supplies had thinned. Allen had looted supplies from markets such as Fairway and Zabars, and had managed to get back home without being spotted by the monsters roaming the deserted streets.
Allen pulled out a pair of sweatpants from his closet and a black shirt. Allen slipped them on and then went to the refrigerator. Pulling it open, Allen looked inside for some food.
All he could find were some canned beans and leftovers from last night, which included some pieces of turkey and a half-eaten corn on the cob.
Crap, Allen thought angrily. Looks like I'm low on supplies again. I guess its time for another food run.
Allen gave another sigh, gritting his teeth. He could already feel his heart pounding at the very thought of going out of his sanctuary.
You've done this twice before, Allen thought. They didn't see you, and you'll do it again. Zabars is right up the block and if that doesn't work out, Fairway is just six blocks over. It'll be fine.
Allen went back to closet, pulling out his dark brown trench coat. Slipping it on, Allen pocketed his Colt Python, checking the bullets first. He hadn't been forced to use any yet, but Allen preferred to be certain than sorry.
Allen then went to his front door, unlocking the two locks in place. Allen took a deep breath, and pulled the door open. With one last deep breath, Allen ventured out of his apartment.