Story
Once he finished his breakfast [which, in this case, was a couple of stale granola bars and some partially stagnant water he had stolen from Thomas while he slept], Warren was already throwing all the things he'd need into his duffel bag, trying to decide where was the first place he'd hit up. There was a house in the outskirts of town that hadn't been burned yet though the place was kind of deserted and Warren was pretty sure he had seen a coyote there only a few days ago, raiding the house for any leftover food...or bodies. There was city hall, full of precious documents and all sorts of history though Warren knew the place wouldn't have a quick enough burn and some do-gooder survivors would end up putting it out before the fire would be able to spread to the inside of it. How boring.
Slipping outside in the world was like taking a hard punch to the face from reality. The seriousness of the situation was all too apparent to Warren who watched as plumes of thick gray smoke rose into the cold air against the pitch black skyline and the bits of nature that hadn't been destroyed were slowly being eaten away by acid rain that had fallen only a few hours before. As he began to walk through the deserted city, he came across one dead body after another. Some had already begun to rot away, the putrid smell of decay and death surrounding them while others showed clear signs of animal wounds who had probably been feasting sometime during the night. Each and every body that Warren stepped over was difficult, like leaving a part of his humanity behind but it had to be done; they were already dead anyways. At one point, he considered using the bodies to his advantage, wondering if they would burn quite as well as wood or paper does but even he knew he wasn't that heartless to do something like that. There was no afterlife for their souls to go to so he might as well let their bodies rest in peace, at least. His walk started out in search of a new target for his burning pleasure but quickly turned into an exploration of the city. Warren tried not to venture too far away from the warehouse very often, knowing that the farther he went out, the more dangerous it became, but curiosity seemed to get the best of him this time and as he turned around, Warren could barely see the outline of the warehouse anymore. It was slightly unnerving but it was even more so not knowing what was in the same city he was calling his safe haven for now; if there were survivors here, he wanted to know who they were and if they were just as skeptical of this so called apocalypse as he was.
The city seemed the same for the most part and nothing less than what Warren was expecting. Broken doors, windows and locks told Warren everything he needed to know without even having to talk to a single person: there were survivors in this city but were they the ones killing everyone? Just as he began to ponder that thought, he stopped in front a building and for once in his life, it brought an evil, mischievous smirk to his face that spelled out disaster waiting to happen. It seemed that in this city, the government thought it would be best to build a large church right in the middle of everything to attract people to the idea of God and to keep people on the 'righteous path that the Lord and Savior walked'. It seemed almost as if it were mocking Warren, a large weather beaten cross perched precariously on top of the roof and the few windows that hadn't been busted out, painted with religious figures that he could almost recognize.
Almost.
With a wicked smile on his face, Warren dug around into his bag until he got the necessary ingredients to build his special weapon: a molotov cocktail that would set the entire place ablaze in just a matter of seconds. In his bag, Warren pulled out an unopened bottle that he had packed just before his leaving. Although most wouldn't be able to tell what it was by just looking, the smell was familiar and comforting to him, the sickly sweet smell of gasoline that wafted from the bottle and up to his nose. Warren doused the scrapped piece of fabric [courtesy of Thomas, though he just didn't know it yet] of in gasoline, filling up the empty beer bottle with some extra fuel as well before tucking the fabric inside and leaving just enough for him to light it up. Everything else that hadn't been used was put away back into Warren's bag for a later date and now, all Warren had to do was light it and he had just the thing to do it. A lighter emerged from Warren's pocket, along with a single dusty cigarette that he had discovered at the bottom of his duffel bag; with one flick of the wrist, he popped the cigarette into his mouth with one hand and held the molotov in the other, staring down the church with a grin that could only be defined as dangerous. Warren clicked the lighter a couple of times as it struggled to light, apparent by the pop, pop, pop sound it was making until a small flame popped out of the lighter and danced on top of the metal, a small wind just threatening to blow it out. As if he were just going out for a smoke break after a long day at work, Warren lit the cigarette in his mouth and inhaled deeply, the toxic taste of poison filling his mouth while his lungs threatened to begin one of his coughing fits if he didn't breathe it out quickly enough. The tickle in the lungs was his signal to exhale and as the wispy smoke escaped through Warren's parted lips, the dancing flame of the lighter found the fabric of the molotov, engulfing it in twisting orange and red flames. Once the molotov left Warren's fingers and was flying through the air towards it's destination, Warren took a few big steps back and watched in excitement as the glass busted at the entrance of the church and soon, spread up the sides of the wall. Every inch of wood made a beautiful, crackling noise like fire at a campsite and the red and orange glow against the darkened city gave Warren a sense of both fulfillment and pride that left him in awe of the work he had just done. The smoke began to rise in the air as a sign of his treason against God but he didn't regret it a bit. As he sat back and watched his masterpiece, the large cross that was atop the church finally came toppling down to the ground, splintering into at least a few different pieces as Warren chuckled to himself at the devastation he had caused. Just when he was getting ready to turn back to go home, he saw something out of the corner of his eye. Although he wished he hadn't acted so quickly, Warren whipped around to face what it was, but only got a glimpse of two long slender legs running away from the scene they had just stumbled across. Instinct kicked in before reason did and Warren was off, chasing down whatever it was that had just witnessed his crime. He didn't care so much that they had seen him as much as he cared who exactly it was and what side they were on; if they were on the survivors side, they might be of use to him but if they weren't, then there was a good chance he had just put a hit out on himself. As he turned around another corner, his shoe skid against the gravel, nearly pulling his feet out from under him but Warren managed to stick his arm out to the side and press himself back up off the ground, mid run, to keep the momentum going. He could see it was a woman now, dressed just as he was in regular civilian clothes.
"WAIT! J-JUST WAIT A DAMNED SECOND!" He called out to her, a little more viciously than he had intended. Warren saw her look back at him in fear, speeding up her quick run to a desperate race to escape what she thought was probably a crazed madman.
"I'M NOT. GOING TO HURT YOU. GET. BACK. HERE!" He said between breaths, but she wouldn't listen. Quickly, the woman turned the corner, disappearing behind a building and out of Warren's sight and by the time Warren had reached it, she was already gone. He cursed through his staggered breathing, kicking some gravel underneath his foot and wondering where she could have gotten off to so quickly. His lungs felt like they were on fire, a fire as big as the one he had just set, burning every breath he was trying to take in, but Warren did his best to hold the pain in. One breath came through his lungs too quickly and caused Warren to begin coughing, the pain and lack of oxygen bringing him to his knees until the rhythmic pattern of his breathing returned to normal and his fiery lungs simmered down to a dull soreness. After a few minutes of rest, Warren looked up from where he was kneeling, scanning the area to see if he knew exactly where he was at but everything just seemed out of place now; he had gone too far away from the city. He sighed and looked around, trying to figure out where he needed to go next when an unusual sound came to his ears, the quiet sound of muffled voices a couple of blocks away. Warren wondered if he had worn himself out to the point of insanity but as the voices came closer and became louder, he knew he couldn't waste a second of time; maybe they could help him find his way out. Darting from his knees to his feet, he rushed towards the sound of the voices, hoping that the woman had told her group of survivors that he was here, but instead of meeting the woman, he saw a group of men in what appeared to be military gear, guns drawn and ready to attack. For some reason, Warren didn't even need to wait for an explanation; they didn't look like the kind of people he wanted to deal with and even if they were survivors, would they know him? Would they try to kill him for desertion? Warren didn't want to stay to find out. Suddenly, a gunshot rang through the air and before Warren could even think, his legs kicked into overdrive and he broke out in a run. He wasn't sure where he was going as he tore through the city, trying to figure out where he had come from or which way home was, but he didn't have time to plan his movements, especially not with three to five highly trained soldiers on his ass. Still, they probably weren't planning on dealing with an ex-solider either.
"LET'S SEE IF YOU CAN KEEP UP, GRUNTS!" Warren taunted, ducking into a house and slipping out the backdoor, hopefully buying him at least a couple of seconds. Warren was met with a large fence which he managed to scale in only a few seconds, thanks to his training but as he landed on the other side and into an alleyway, he tried to decide where he should go next and then, it hit him. Warren looked up at the sky to see the large, gushing black smoke pouring from the church, like the star guiding him on his way home. With a smirk of pride on his face, Warren rushed towards the smoke, a few voices coming from behind him and more gunfire echoing through the city. By the time that Warren reached the burning church, fire had consumed most of it and now, it looked unrecognizable. Warren wanted to stop and admire his handy work some more but there was no time now and staying would spell death; he had to keep going. He ran until he was barely able to breath, busting into the warehouse where Thomas stood with a toothbrush in his mouth, eyeing the cigarette that Warren has managed to keep in his mouth and the deep, gasping breaths he was taking.
"What in the hell happened to you?"
"Guys....chasing...woman...couldn't catch..." Warren heaved, trying to get both his thoughts and breath steady before he spoke again.
"Warren." Thomas cleared the space between the two. "What did you DO?" The look on his face was deadly and if looks could kill, Warren would already be dead, in the ground and burning in hell if Thomas had anything to say about it.
"There are....guys....chasing...me..."
Thomas' eyes widened but Warren couldn't quite read the look on his face. Quickly, he rushed over to the door and peeked outside, coming back to Warren's side and throwing everything they could into a bag.
"You idiot!" Thomas hissed. "You led them back HERE?"
"What the hell else was I supposed to do? DIE?!"
"That would have been preferable."
Warren helped pack up as quickly as he could while Thomas disappeared into the bathroom for at least a few minutes, making Warren wonder what exactly he was doing.
"This isn't the time to SHIT! Get out here!" Warren growled, his eyes darting back to the door with every second that passed. Just as Thomas reemerged from the bathroom, the door began to rattle on the warehouse and Thomas began to paw at Warren's legs.
"What are you DOING?!"
"Dammit Warren, I know you have a lighter in here, WHERE IS IT?"
Warren tossed the lighter to Thomas who opened up his hand to reveal two small bombs, each with an unburned wick sticking out of the top. The doors finally gave in, revealing the same soldiers who had been following him before but before Warren could even say anything, Thomas lit the two bombs and threw them at the men. Both Thomas and Warren disappeared out the back and into the unknown once more. Two loud booms were heard from inside the warehouse as Warren turned back to see the damage, a small fire beginning from within and a large cloud of smoke covering every square inch of the warehouse and although he would have liked to see more, Thomas was quick to grab him by his ponytail and pull him along.
"Well. Where now?" Thomas asked, the frustration in his voice obvious. Warren looked to him for a second and shook his head, not even sure what to say anymore. After all, where are you supposed to go when everything and everyone around you is going to hell?
