Dave was lying face down in the prison ship. Bodies were lying all over place covered in blood, some where dismembered. The sited showed every signs of Vortid attack. The ship had come from Prison 7. He had been considered a rebel. He had laughed at the human-ish Crymans. He had laughed. They threw him into the prison with dozen other rebels. They were to be transported to City X for interrogation. The ship had been unarmed and had six Crymans unlike all the other prison ships. Vortids had attacked. They were ambushed. The ship was brought down easily and every person was killed except Taylor. Somehow a huge steel screen had cashed on him due to a lone shot from the guards. He had been shielded from the eyes of the Vortids. He had survived.
He stirred. His face was splattered with blood. It was not his blood. His prison suit was torn and his handcuffs broken into pieces. He let out a low moan. The body was paining. He felt his face touching the darkening and drying blood. He gasped and slowly rose up from the ground. His body was aching immensely. He stood up with a stick as support. It was dark. His eyes were blurred and were yet to adapt to the low light. He shook his head to get rid of the fuzziness and looked around. Everything was still. He didn’t like that. He crouched and checked the body very near him. It was a Cryman. He felt the suit the guard was wearing slowly making his way from the shoulder to the hip. His hands struck at a flashlight. He removed it quickly and checked the charge level. It was unused but the handle was covered in blood. “There has to be a gun”, he murmured into the darkness. He felt around the hip, machine gun magazines. His heart rose a little. He took the flashlight and switched it on. The light played across the darkness. A black metallic glint caught his eyes. He crouched and focused the light on the area. It was a gun. He picked it up and examined it. It was Cryman standard SMG with short distance scope. He quickly removed the magazine and counted the bullets. The capacity of the standard Cryman SMG magazine was 30 bullets. This one had 20 remaining. He had two cartridges with him. That gave him 3 rounds of a total 80 bullets to work with. He after all had a chance of surviving another Vortid attack if that happened. He walked to the other guards and checked their weapons. The other five guards had four more cartridges. His mind was in surviving mode. The animal instincts were back. He checked the other SMGs. One SMG had a flashlight holder and recharger. He picked it up and threw the other one to the ground. The ship had been broken into pieces. Dave checked the surrounding area scanning with the scope. It was clear and he stepped out of the ships secure darkness into the unknown.
It was like a scene of a battlefield. Bodies without heads and heads gnawed away from the bodies lay on the ground. Blood flowed on the ground. He knocked the safety off and cocked his gun ready to fire. His feet squelched over the blood. He walked slowing encumbered by the small area the flashlight shone its light on. The squelching gave away to an eerie silence. His feet were in hard ground. He switched the flashlight off and looked behind. The ship’s silhouette was still visible. A rustle fell into his ear. He cocked his gun with his finger on the trigger. Sweat started trickling down his sleeve. He scanned the area with his eyes. The darkness was like a wall snaring his senses and arresting him of any thought. He shook his head trying clear the fear. He heard another rustle. He snapped his head into that direction. His head was aching. Then he saw it. A face gnarled beyond recognition. The body twisted like melted can. It was a Vortid. He was rooted to the spot. The Vortid swung in his direction. Dave caught a glimpse of the face. The mouth was wide covered in sharp canines. The nose was like slits in between two dark red pupils. There was a steady drop of blood from the teeth. The Vortid moved forward towards the ship. He kept his eyes on the creature twisting whenever he lost sight of it. The Vortid moved slowly on its haunches walking silently. He felt hatred in his mind. His trigger felt loaded. He stopped the impulse to shoot and waited for the perfect moment. He Vortid moved with a sense of savagery. It stopped near a body and smelled the body. It shook its head and walked to the next one.
Dave thought it was doubling over. Then all of a sudden it rose up with a body cut below the hips. Overpowering nausea hit Dave. He strongly held back and looked at the creature with hatred. He raised his leg and placed it behind his front leg. Crunch, a dried piece of wood cracked. The creature looked in his direction and threw the body on the ship and started to lumber towards Dave. Dave’s mind was empty his ear had lost the capacity to hear and his mind to think. But by instinct his fingers squeezed the trigger. He heard six loud blasts as the Vortid was punctured and thrown into the air. He looked on as the Vortid hit the ship denting it. Dave walked slowly with the gun trained upon the Vortid. He unleashed a few more shots and walked close to it. The Vortid was dead and he was still alive.
Suddenly, light washed over the area. Flooding his eyes with light, he turned and looked at the source. Dave heard a voice, “Hey, there. You okay? We have come to help you. We heard that a prison ship was brought down by those damned Vortids. Any other survivor?” Dave was smiling but he heard himself reply. “No other, I am the last.”
