Punk Hazard
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Chapter 1
Rain poured down heavily. In the distance, a flash of lightning lit up the sky, followed by the low rumble of thunder. Abandoned cars littered the streets. The windows shattered, you could find a refugee or two seeking shelter inside of the once useful machinery, now made nothing more than a pile of metal on the sides of streets, as repugnant and common as the trash that could have been seen throughout the streets before the Events. A clank was heard. A man stumbled from an ally. His hand against the edge of a building that had long been abandoned, he was panting. He looked back and heard the sound of footsteps, his pursuers following close.
“Dammit, I already told them I don't have anything!” he muttered.
He took off again. On his body, he wore a black suit. The white shirt with its first two buttons unbuttoned, the blazer open and the pants torn about its legs, he could have very well been some kind of business man or Jehovah's Witness before the Events. Who could tell?
“I saw him go this way!”
“Hurry up, don't let him get away!”
The man swore under his breath and took off again, panting as he ran down the street. His dress shoes were worn out. It seemed like he had always been running, running from something. This time, he knew what he was running from very well. A group of thugs. Refugees, one of the lucky few who survived the Events, just like him. He looked back, strands of brown hair hanging in front of his eyes. He saw two of the three men coming up. One held a shard of glass in hand. He hadn't noticed it when they first tried to jump him. The man turned around another corner and saw the door to a bar opened. He dived in and quickly hid behind some tables that had been overturned and partially destroyed. He leaned against the table, praying that the men hadn't seen him duck into the bar.
“Where the hell did he go?” a brash voice yelled from near the doorway.
“Shit if I know, he turned this corner and just vanished,” another said.
“He couldn't have just vanished, moron.”
A brief pause.
“Here, it's some kind of old bar.”
'Shit!' the man thought, sweat pouring down his forehead.
'Think! Think, Dave! What do I do? What the hell do I do?!'
Clattering broke his thoughts. The men were in the bar now, and were closing in. Dave closed his eyes tightly and quickly opened them when he heard one of them were dangerously close. He looked around and saw a bottle laying beside him.
'A weapon? A weapon!'
He carefully reached down and clutched it. He waited. One of the men were nearby. Dave tightened the grip on the bottle. He couldn't even tell in this time if someone had a gun or not. All he knew was he was gonna take out at least one of them with him. He gritted his teeth and prepared to jump up and smash his face in.
Suddenly, more clattering. The man near Dave moved away. The clattering increased. Dave's heartbeat increased until he could hear it pounding in his ears. Clattering. Pounding. More clattering. Faster pounding. He heard talking but couldn't make out the words. He could tell that there were at least three people now. Three people. Three people in the gang. The third thug.
'Dammit!'
“What the fu-!”
Yelling broke out. Dave's eyes widened in surprise. The clattering increased and suddenly, the sound of a bottle smashing. The sound of a body thumping. More struggling. Suddenly, a gasp. Another body thumping. Dave gasped and let out shallow breaths. He squeezed the bottle. A voice called out to him.
“Yo. They're not gonna bother you. I knocked the third one out too. You ok?”
Dave let out gasp-like breaths. He was panting.
“Listen, man. I'm not gonna hurt you. In fact, I kinda wanna ask you something. I don't really think you're in a position to refuse.”
'A position to refuse? What was that supposed to mean?' Dave's panting increased. The sound of a table scraping broke his thoughts.
“Listen man, I'm not gonna kill you or anything. You know damn well as me that we're not gonna survive on our own. You saw how those guys were. They formed a group and had you cowering like a rat. Strength is in numbers in this world now, and the weak won't live that long.”
Dave looked down. Could he trust the man? What if he was a thug too? Then again, he took the thugs down. Why couldn't he just kill him too? An even better question flashed into his mind.
“Why, why the hell did you choose me?! You called me weak just now, like a rat! What do you want with me?!”
A slight pause. “Those guys? I've kinda been stealing from and watching them for a month. They're not the kind of people I want. They're stupid and easy to get rid of, as you've seen. You? I know you. Doctor Dave Carter. I've been to the hospital you've been at. You'd make a good addition to a team. Listen, if you don't want to, I'll just leave now. Good luck with whatever you do. You're just gonna end up dead.”
Cluttering again. The man was starting to leave. Dave stood up quickly.
“Alright! I'll do it...”
The man smiled.
“Good. My name is Punk. Welcome aboard.”
“Punk? Jesus...”
Punk smirked.
“It's a street name I picked up. By the way, I'm not the one you need to worry about. My partner on the other hand... Look out for him.”
Rain poured down heavily. In the distance, a flash of lightning lit up the sky, followed by the low rumble of thunder. Abandoned cars littered the streets. The windows shattered, you could find a refugee or two seeking shelter inside of the once useful machinery, now made nothing more than a pile of metal on the sides of streets, as repugnant and common as the trash that could have been seen throughout the streets before the Events. A clank was heard. A man stumbled from an ally. His hand against the edge of a building that had long been abandoned, he was panting. He looked back and heard the sound of footsteps, his pursuers following close.
“Dammit, I already told them I don't have anything!” he muttered.
He took off again. On his body, he wore a black suit. The white shirt with its first two buttons unbuttoned, the blazer open and the pants torn about its legs, he could have very well been some kind of business man or Jehovah's Witness before the Events. Who could tell?
“I saw him go this way!”
“Hurry up, don't let him get away!”
The man swore under his breath and took off again, panting as he ran down the street. His dress shoes were worn out. It seemed like he had always been running, running from something. This time, he knew what he was running from very well. A group of thugs. Refugees, one of the lucky few who survived the Events, just like him. He looked back, strands of brown hair hanging in front of his eyes. He saw two of the three men coming up. One held a shard of glass in hand. He hadn't noticed it when they first tried to jump him. The man turned around another corner and saw the door to a bar opened. He dived in and quickly hid behind some tables that had been overturned and partially destroyed. He leaned against the table, praying that the men hadn't seen him duck into the bar.
“Where the hell did he go?” a brash voice yelled from near the doorway.
“Shit if I know, he turned this corner and just vanished,” another said.
“He couldn't have just vanished, moron.”
A brief pause.
“Here, it's some kind of old bar.”
'Shit!' the man thought, sweat pouring down his forehead.
'Think! Think, Dave! What do I do? What the hell do I do?!'
Clattering broke his thoughts. The men were in the bar now, and were closing in. Dave closed his eyes tightly and quickly opened them when he heard one of them were dangerously close. He looked around and saw a bottle laying beside him.
'A weapon? A weapon!'
He carefully reached down and clutched it. He waited. One of the men were nearby. Dave tightened the grip on the bottle. He couldn't even tell in this time if someone had a gun or not. All he knew was he was gonna take out at least one of them with him. He gritted his teeth and prepared to jump up and smash his face in.
Suddenly, more clattering. The man near Dave moved away. The clattering increased. Dave's heartbeat increased until he could hear it pounding in his ears. Clattering. Pounding. More clattering. Faster pounding. He heard talking but couldn't make out the words. He could tell that there were at least three people now. Three people. Three people in the gang. The third thug.
'Dammit!'
“What the fu-!”
Yelling broke out. Dave's eyes widened in surprise. The clattering increased and suddenly, the sound of a bottle smashing. The sound of a body thumping. More struggling. Suddenly, a gasp. Another body thumping. Dave gasped and let out shallow breaths. He squeezed the bottle. A voice called out to him.
“Yo. They're not gonna bother you. I knocked the third one out too. You ok?”
Dave let out gasp-like breaths. He was panting.
“Listen, man. I'm not gonna hurt you. In fact, I kinda wanna ask you something. I don't really think you're in a position to refuse.”
'A position to refuse? What was that supposed to mean?' Dave's panting increased. The sound of a table scraping broke his thoughts.
“Listen man, I'm not gonna kill you or anything. You know damn well as me that we're not gonna survive on our own. You saw how those guys were. They formed a group and had you cowering like a rat. Strength is in numbers in this world now, and the weak won't live that long.”
Dave looked down. Could he trust the man? What if he was a thug too? Then again, he took the thugs down. Why couldn't he just kill him too? An even better question flashed into his mind.
“Why, why the hell did you choose me?! You called me weak just now, like a rat! What do you want with me?!”
A slight pause. “Those guys? I've kinda been stealing from and watching them for a month. They're not the kind of people I want. They're stupid and easy to get rid of, as you've seen. You? I know you. Doctor Dave Carter. I've been to the hospital you've been at. You'd make a good addition to a team. Listen, if you don't want to, I'll just leave now. Good luck with whatever you do. You're just gonna end up dead.”
Cluttering again. The man was starting to leave. Dave stood up quickly.
“Alright! I'll do it...”
The man smiled.
“Good. My name is Punk. Welcome aboard.”
“Punk? Jesus...”
Punk smirked.
“It's a street name I picked up. By the way, I'm not the one you need to worry about. My partner on the other hand... Look out for him.”
