A pale, dim light illuminated the cabin, revealing a living room in disarray. Trinkets were strewn about, mixed with debris, and rusted weapons hung from the walls.
The breeze outside intensified.
An old cupboard, gathering dust in the corner, supported a small television that crackled with static. In the center of the room sat a torn couch that emitted a foul smell, facing a table seemingly fashioned from unpolished planks. A steaming cup of coffee rested on the table, its steam dancing in the air.
With a rattle, a wrinkled, sturdy arm grasped the cup handle firmly, lifting it to the old man's lips.
"Hot and bitter, this is how coffee should taste," he commented ecstatically, savoring the lingering flavor on his palate.
Suddenly, the lights flickered, and the old television, which had been stuck on static for as long as the man could remember, sprang to life.
A global broadcast filled the screen, a blaring red sign flashing "EMERGENCY" at the edges. A woman, her face etched with poorly concealed terror and draped in a blue suit, spoke in a panicked voice.
"An unknown terror has been unleashed upon our world. We do not know what these creatures are, but they have caused numerous casualties across every continent. There are assumptions that they are aliens, but the government is desperately trying to restore order. A team of researchers is attempting to establish communication with these beings, but so far to no avail. Everyone is advised to move to the nearest safe house as quickly as possible."
The announcement was immediately followed by footage of humanoid wraiths, their decaying forms caked with dark viscera. They plowed through humans, vehicles, and buildings alike, while the bullets, cannons, and grenades of the panicking military did little to halt their advance. A few of the wraiths charged toward the screen, their loud wails echoing in the background before the footage abruptly cut off.
"Souls of the damned, in this realm?" the old man mused, aghast.
The wind outside the cabin intensified still.
The news anchor reappeared on screen, her expression shifting from terror to enthusiasm. "According to reports, a mysterious individual has finally managed to communicate with these entities, and it turns out they are looking for..."
Suddenly, the cabin plunged into darkness. The strength of the wind outside became apparent.
The old man grinned and lowered his bald, wrinkled head to finish his coffee.
"It seems I have visitors myself." He stood and retrieved one of the blades from the cabin wall.
As he opened the cabin door, a fierce gale swept through, tugging at his tattered garments. Dried leaves danced aloft in the air, following the rhythm of the wind while ominously gathering in the distance was a small army of wraiths emerging from nothingness. The fabric of reality rippled with their passage. A jagged thunder rolled across the sky as if emphasizing their presence, and then a storm descended.
The old man's eyes widened, one normal and the other murky and blind.
"I do not know who sent you, nor do I know what you seek. But I know one thing is certain, you do not belong here!" he shouted, his shaky voice struggling to rise above the storm's howl.
"And I will see to that," he added, moving with a speed and strength unnatural for someone his age. He plowed through the wraiths like a combine harvester, dispatching each one swiftly. When he finished with them, he transformed into an especially large and grotesque eagle. With an ear splitting caw, he took to the skies.
***
An intermittent, muffled beep grew increasingly loud, as a forlorn mind was reawakened. He sat up, his bandaged head throbbing with pain, bringing along a flood of painful memories, which he has sworn to bury forever. The accident that claimed his parents, the recent jump from that building in a suicidal attempt. Beyond those memories, he had only a fuzzy recollection of who he used to be and how he once lived.
He hated that he still lived to remember these things, he longed for them to vanish while his soul rested in the solace of death. He couldn't recall much of anything and felt an urgent need to ask someone, anyone, who he was and where he was.
He felt… lost.
Wincing, new memories flashed through his mind, decaying humans, enormous skeletons, golden arms.
"That has got to be the weirdest dream I've ever had,"
he thought as he removed the instruments piercing and strewn all over his body.
He felt surprisingly fit for someone who had been at death's door just days prior.
He opened the door to the ward and looked outside, only to be greeted by silence. There wasn't a single soul in sight, and the flickering lights above hindered his vision.
"Hello! Is anyone there?" he yelled, hoping for an answer. He did get one though, in the form of the echoes of his own voice.
He walked around, searching for clues about where everyone had gone. As he did, he noticed some alarming details about the hospital. It appeared that everyone had left in a hurry, as evidenced by the disorganized state of the building. They must have abandoned him or thought he was dead. Either way, he found himself in a disturbing predicament.
Suddenly, a sonorous female voice echoed through the hallway, making him flinch. It seemed to be coming from quite a distance, but in the oppressive silence, it was easily traceable. He ran after the voice, calling for help as he went, his foot falls echoing loudly against the walls. He entered the waiting room, only to find a large screen from which the voice emanated. A woman draped in a blue suit appeared on the screen, her face etched with poorly concealed terror as she spoke in a panicked tone.
"…everyone is advised to move to the nearest safe house as quickly as possible."
The announcement was soon replaced by footage that widened his eyes in horror, he recognized those disturbing creatures.
"Hell no!" he exclaimed.
The brief footage ended, and the woman returned to view, her expression shifting from terror to enthusiasm.
"According to reports, some mysterious individual has finally managed to communicate with these beings. It turns out they are looking for a person named Corey Floyd "
"That's… that's my name!"