Sound of Madness-OPEN

Heat emanated from everywhere. The sun beat down on the hard ground, parching it more as it reverberated into the air. The heat seemed to shine on the tarmac in front of the rugged man and the rays of it wrapped around him in a cloak of humidity. Sweat dotted the back of his neck and he trudged along slowly, heavy leather boots crunching surprisingly quietly. He wasn’t the only thing quiet on the small road. The birds flying by overhead made barely a noise and the squirrels only dared a whisper.

That’s what happened at the end of the world.

Logan Sawyer was a twenty-three year old male who two months ago had been hanging out with his older brother in their gang’s garage prepping for a raid. Two months ago, Logan had been cleaning guns and delivering them to the rendezvous point and grabbing a beer with his brother. Two months ago, his mother had been alive, his brother had been his best friend and right hand. Two months ago, the biggest worry Logan had was whether or not to expect a blade or bullet in his back.

Well, that hadn’t changed. He was still walking with his usual swagger that normally made others avoid him. This time though, the biker gang Vice Pres didn’t need much posturing to be frightening. He stood six foot five flat-footed and hefted around a four pound steel pipe encrusted with blood. His straggly brown hair hung in his tired almost bloodshot blue eyes and his mouth, which always appeared pursed, looked even more so with the five o’clock shadow surrounding it.

Hi jean jacket slung over his shoulders completed the ensemble. The wolf stitched on between his shoulders had a macabre splatter of crimson on it. He was immediately identifiable as a stranger with no qualms against violence.

His eyes were scanning the area around him, waiting and listening for any noise that meant the undead were stumbling his way. The pipe gripped tightly in his left hand was ready to bash skulls. It had done that long before the dead had started walking again. It was just acceptable now, with there being no law and all. Logan sometimes amused himself with the idea that this was a disaster to many people. But the danger that pressed on him at all times now was survival-based and his whole life had been spent doing anything he could do win that game. He was the reigning champion at it for twenty-three years now.

But despite his strong and intimidating appearance, he walked with a slow sadness familiar to many in this fallen world. He was lonely to his core. He had lost a lot of what he cared about and it sat within his chest in a way that dragged him down. No matter how strong he was, it still sat heavy on his shoulders.

He was alone. Logan hadn’t been by himself ever. His older brother, rough-and-tumble, cocky, mischievous, hot-tempered Cole had always been by his side. He had lost his best friend a month ago. A whole month, Logan had spent weeks tearing through these woods looking for the big brother he loved.

Since it was the end of the world and no one was around, he didn’t mind thinking it so plainly. He fought the perpetual lump in the base of his throat and pressed on. He knew he had spent too much time looking around for it to be effective. If Cole had been able to stay here, Logan would have found him.

Logan was still searching for his brother, just elsewhere. He refused to think the worse, that somehow something stronger than the knives that had tried to take Cole’s life, the broken bones from others who had almost done so, and that one gunshot wound on his hip, that a measly corpse had taken the rock Logan had clung to throughout childhood. He refused to believe that a Walker could take Cole Sawyer, Rabid Wolf, President of the WolfPack down.

He just isn’t so sure that he can measure up, that being alone like this won’t break him. He sighs and takes a deep breath before throwing off his heavy backpack on the ground and settling down beside it. He props his wrists up on his knees and looks up at the sky. It’s nearing midday and hot. If that isn’t an excuse to wallow in a little self-pity on the side of a dusty road leading to nowhere, he isn’t sure what is.