Paya

beneath you are rows and rows of dull grey planks of wood, bolted together by rusted iron, creaking with every step you take. You could also hear waves crashing against the shore below, and the occasional call of a seagull from somewhere deep in fog, it’s a very foggy day, so thick you can’t see fifty feet in front of you. of course the group leader picked today of all days to patrol the boardwalk amusement park to look for other survivors.

If you could smell, it would smell like salty sea water and old carnival. but, your sense of smell was instead filled with the smell of fresh polyester plastic. You had been one of the few, lucky survivors to be picked up by a task force. Most survivors had been caught by now, no-doubt dragged back to some den to be used as chairs, fart cushions, footstools, and sex slaves. Meanwhile, these survivors had found you huddled in a corner in your home like a scared puppy. They took you in, rough as they were, and gave you a mask that filtered everything you breathed, and could only remove itself if you personally voice commanded it to.

“This way. Scans arent picking anything up, let’s move on.” the group leader, a rough and dirty woman in her thirties, motioned for your group to continue. Old, sea-rusted amusement park rides littered the boardwalk like ancient monuments, now decrepit and half-broken. It was hard to believe all this only started two years ago. This park looked so run-down, you wouldnt be surprised to find a skeleton in a closet, or riding bumper cars.

”cRrrrRREEeeeeaaaakkk…” trailing behind the rest of the group, you heard something. A slow, deep creak, like weight being pressed on a particularly loose board, coming from the fog behind you.