The Lost

‘The end of the world, the grand day people have been waiting on since the Cold War. Well, it wasn't as exciting as people thought it would be. There's no Skynet, no radiation, no zombies, and no big wars. It's just the demons, ruins, and the few sorry suckers stuck out there.

Yeah, I said demons. They're these big monstrous creeps that scream at you when they see you, a glass shattering nightmare fuel screech. I always called them demons, because, well, what else? They're disturbing, monster-like, and ugly. Good enough for me.

They had brown leathery skin, cold empty black eyes, more like eye holes honestly.

Some stand on two legs, some stand on four. But one thing stays the same, they see you, they want you. They also get the name from their obsession with humans. Otherwise you're okay out there. You have huge empty towns, cars, food, and anything you want all to yourself. You don't come by too many demons where Quint is. It's peaceful really.

Like I said, no metros, no mutants, no giant tanks.

Just us, The Lost, out there.’

Quint laid back against the chimney of a roof. An ordinary house roof, brown shingles, and a brick chimney. He enjoyed rooftops, it was relaxing, and it was like if he just closed his eyes, he was safe. Truth was, none of the Lost are actually safe, nor in immediate danger.

The demons, wildlife overgrown, and unstable buildings is already enough explanation.

Quint was always good at making it, not like ‘oh I'm good because I'm fast.’ Though he was fast, flexible, and strong enough, that wasn't it. He was simply lucky. If you want to, maybe call it chance on his side, he preferred that himself. Or even more simple, he doesn't care enough to worry himself.

No stress, no problem.

In fact, his appearance said that about him. Yeah, sure, you probably picture old rough brown cloth, leather, and scarfs made from torn fabric, goggles on his forehead, old brown boots, cocky smile, messy hair, and gloves. Well yes, that's all completely correct. However, he wore it in a way that screamed, ‘I simply, couldn't care less’.

I used the word simple a lot, yes. ‘Simple answer, everything is simple if you just say it is. ‘Really, it makes things easier.’

He didn't have anyone else, no human interaction since the end came, ten years ago, when he was nine.

He did have one companion however, a grey pigeon, the kind you see on the streets back in the 2030s. His name was Hubert, Hubert II.

He was a homing pigeon, loyal, listened great, and a bird. He stayed glued to Quint, and had everything perfectly memorized. I suppose just as humans adapt, so do birds. When Quint ran, he flew with, when Quint whistled, he came, when Quint threw him, he flew home.

Hubert usually sat in Quint's arm, his shoulder, or a perch Quint made attached to his backpack. The backpack had the end of world essentials:

Food, maps, parts, weapons, more food, water, and seed for Huge.

Speaking of home, when Hugh flew there, a simple town house, surrounded by motion sensors, and had reinforced doors, and windows, he flew straight in through a slight open window, just big enough for him. He had his own room through the window, and knew exactly how to peck at a string, once broken would trigger a panel to fall over the window opening behind him.

That was life for them, and they enjoyed every second. The whole town, hell, probably the world, to themselves.

It was noticeably colder without humanity, no pollution, no body heat, no heaters, no cars. It went from an average of 70°F on a summer day, to about 50°F. He didn't mind, but Hubert did, that's one reason he stayed nearby. Not just because he was in fact genuinely loyal, but partly because he would get too cold without Quint. Oh yeah, and demons love chasing birds. That's why birds are rare in open areas.

It was odd, and unsettling how the demons enjoyed their reign. Almost like they understood their plan, not like some predator who just eats, simply to eat.

But that wasn't something that really concerned Quint, he just cared if they stayed away. Hubert, even more so.

What was important, the town was theirs.

He could run, or drive anywhere any time, he could play electric guitars on rooftops with the amp cranked to 100%, (it actually scared away demons), he could shoot whatever, pointlessly, it was all his, and Hubert's.

There was never anyone else, ever around. That was fine with him.