I grabbed my machete and sprinted into the woods. I had no time left. My camp had been overrun by those… things. It was no use staying and fighting at this point we had already lost. I had a compass, machete, the clothes on my back, and the wilderness at my disposal.
It was time to run. I needed to work my way into the valley near camp. The terrain was marshy and wet after the rain. My boots sunk deeper into the ground after every step.
The monsters dwelled in the shadows and never tired, but they operated and navigated by smell so in the rain it was hard for them to find me.
A flash of movement appeared to my left and I struck with my machete. It left a splash of silvery blood on my blade. Where had these things come from and why did they want us. Their regenerative abilities make them the perfect hunter.
We weren’t prepared. If there is an apocalypse this is it.
I don’t know what we did wrong. I am the last one left and I am stuck in a cave in the middle of nowhere running from the unknown, sharpening my machete.