Henry the Headhunter
Published by Adam Thomas at Smashwords
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual
persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All physical locations are completely the imaginings of the author.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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Copyright 2010 Adam Thomas
Henry the Headhunter
By: Steven Thomas
Henry walked the streets night after night hunting, it was his job now that he was the last person alive after all. From now on, he would walk the remnants of his destroyed town looking for “them.” It was strange the way it all happened, he goes to sleep one night and everything’s great he wakes up the next morning and everything is shit.
The houses and buildings that once stood proudly now gone. Reduced to crumbled dens for those…”things”…Henry cannot think of them as people anymore as the only resemblance they retain is the basic shape. Where once there was skin there is now charred oozing scale, fingernails and even entire hands are now twisted claws. The worst of it though has to be the sounds that come out of their ragged fang filled faces, the screeching gurgling mess, almost speech like in its quality, is what makes all of this so nearly unbearable.
Henry carries in his backpack the basics: about 8 boxes of shells, a machete, and several bags of beef jerky. He has a sawed off shotgun slung over his back and an old dented canteen at his waist and a lighter in his pocket. He is by no means a small man either, standing at 6’5” and weighting 240 lbs. An ex-seal, he feels confident that with his supplies and training, he can handle almost anything out there. As long as he has his pills anyway, they are the only things keeping him from turning into one of “them” after all.