Something was very wrong. He heard voices. “I’ll fucking kill the all. Look what they’ve done to us!” The man turned around, looking for the woman who spoke. She wasn’t there. No one was there. He was alone and in the scrubland. For the past half hour or so he had been working his way toward the only thing that looked interesting in the surrounding area. A few steps away he realized it was a pile of vehicles. Trucks. Melted.
The wreckage was twisted from the heat and seemed to flow like wax down into the earth. It was also cold to the touch, whatever happened here had happened a long time ago, days or weeks, but not months. Around the outside of the pile there were scattered debris, things that might have been broken off the trucks before whatever happened to them had occurred. And other things as well. He saw a finger and many spent shell casings. Some crude clubs and a strip of colorless plastic caught on a bit of scrub brush. He plucked the plastic up with his hand. Invisible. It was light deflecting technology, a piece of a plastic cloak that was battery operated and, when worn, could make the wearer disappear. It was effective against zombies as well as humans.
A glint of light caught his eye, a piece of broken mirror. He shuffled toward it. Am I alive or dead? He had no idea, but he didn’t feel dead. Standing over the mirror he knelt down and looked at the face staring up at him from between his feet. For a moment it was a wind scrubbed face, lean and raw, then it shifted to that of a plumb woman before finally settling onto that of a young Hispanic man who could use a shave. He smiled and the face smiled back. “I know who you are. Your name is Javier. What have we gotten ourselves into?”