Primitive Outbreak

They moved like a swarm of rats. Thin frames and sinuous muscles, unkempt hair, in ashen body paint. As they passed vehicle, both parked and idling at stop lights, they swung homespun clubs and lumber jack axes; setting off airbags and alarms like the warning cries of wild animals.

Store front windows shattered and smoke billowed in their wake. Hundreds of them poured through the streets like a stampede of primitive revenge.

They bellowed deep guttural calls that echoed from the skyscrapers, filtered and deflected by billboards and the open air shopping centers.

Man hole covers preceded them, rolling down the streets like steel wheels of a runaway train, richetteting of curbs and breaking off fire hydrants, to punch through brick walls.

Cables with hooks were thrown over telephone lines, ensuring cars attempting to escape the growing chaos, pulling electrified lines through populated avenues.

From the roof tops incendiary arrows streaked across the sky, peppering the distant buildings with thermite charges that burnt through to floors below.

Utility boxes were smashed open and the intricate electrical boards inside were pulled free by means of crowbar and rudimentary clubs. City blocks disappeared into the night then reemerged in the red and orange light of spreading flames.

The ashed faces things trampled through jewelry stores. They threw the expensive baubles into the street, spurring on looters.

Men in business suits torn their designer fashion and sent them to drift in the backdraft of destruction, join the wild things as the moved through the city like a wrecking ball my of flesh and bone.

The traffic in there path became congested, the afore math of panicked retreat. A throng of people retreating on foot with no regard for those in their path, attempting to find safety in corporate towers.

Abandoned vehicles, that were left running, were tuned to a single radio station and the sound of the primal drumming spread from one speaker system to the next, spidering through the city like the single electric voice of a cataclysmic prophet.

Then it was over.

The ash faced things dispersed into the crowed. Their appearance hidden by the clouds of smoke and the grimy faces of those caught in their wake.

The city burned as the drumming continued to play.