wildmoored:

If there was one thing Garrett knew how to do, it was keep himself alive.  He was shite at school and worse at essays, but ten summers of working for his uncle – whom Garrett was certain could survive absolutely anything at all even if he were half-asleep and hungover – had taught him plenty.  Whatever happened was magical, and he’d learned not to use magic right quick.  Maybe for the better.  

The past two hours were a blur.  All he knew now was that he had a truck, a big one with an imposing metal bumper stuck out in front of it, and he was fucking grateful that Uncle Alan had taught him how to drive.  With two 24-packs of water stowed in the back, it was a decent start, but he’d need more than that.  No word from the others … and he didn’t let himself think about that.  Right now he sped up the M5; the engine roared like a beast and he knew he was drawing attention, but last he checked, few things that were person-sized wouldn’t be run over at best if he drove into them at borderline illegal speeds.  Good thing there were no Muggle police around.  

Coming up on the exit for Bristol, Garrett decided he would be better off getting food and ammo and anything else sooner rather than later.  Later might not be for a very long time.  He revved the engine and flew down the off-ramp – that crunch must’ve been some poor cursed bastard Creature, but he didn’t stop – and did not even slow down until he reached what looked like a grocery.  Perfect.  

Then he realised a man was standing in the middle of the road.  A man with a knife, which meant not one of these things.  Definitely worth the risk.

He checked the rear-view mirror.  Clear, but there were Creatures coming out from behind the grocery.  And he had one very good pistol and probably enough rounds to take them.  Thank you, Uncle Alan, for insisting I learn to do everything the Muggle way.  Risky, but the food inside that store was worth this risk and then some.  

Garrett took hold of his weapon and rolled down one of the windows. 

“Oi!”  The Creatures already heard his truck, wasn’t like he’d do much worse by calling out to the man in the middle of the road.  “Get inside if you aren’t one of those things!”  A moment passed and he continued, “And I’m armed as shit so don’t try anything.” 

Severus was immensely relieved when the truck pulled to a stop and a voice shouted at him to get moving – he didn’t bother to concern himself with the fact the other was armed, mainly because vehicle or no, he’d be stupid not to be. He didn’t hesitate or wait for the man to reconsider, not with those things closing in from around the building. 

Racing to the truck, he took a brief moment to note and admire the crush-ready metal hooked to the cab before he pulled open the door and hopped in, setting his bag in the center as he snapped the door shut again and leaned back – letting his eyes fall closed for a brief moment of respite as his whole body reacted to the fact there was a chance now. It was, however, only for a moment before he turned to observe the driver and incline his head gratefully. 

“Thanks,” He wasn’t big on lengthy conversations and had never been particularly good at social situations on the best of days when he was uncomfortable, but the last thing he wanted was to have his silence mistaken for the set in of a flesh-eating, feral sickness. Or whatever this madness was. Looking back toward the road and the coming creatures he supposed it couldn’t hurt to ask the obvious question. 

“What the hell is happening? I don’t suppose you know?” Severus hadn’t the faintest clue, but it was magic related. Of that, he was absolutely certain. If the man beside him was a Muggle this would be the moment of truth. Not that it would matter either way beyond letting Severus know what not to talk about. “Ah – I’m Severus, by the way.” He added, almost as an afterthought as frankly, he wasn’t certain names meant much at this juncture.  

{ Closed group starter for @wildmoored }

Severus had no particular notion what precisely had occurred. All he knew was that he had met with his contact in Bristol mere moments before the very world seemed to shift and something akin to old Toby’s stories of Judgement Day was unleashed. His contact had literally tried to sink teeth into his damned neck moments after the world had settled – which had been more than enough go underground. 

The creatures were literally everywhere and after two days of dodging the bastards, he had determined several things. Intellect and speed seemed to vary on an individual basis, they were bloody well impervious to pain and so far his best method of stopping one had been stabbing one through the eye socket in sheer desperation when his blade had sank through ribs to embed in the heart and he was still dragged to the ground by implacable and feral force.  

He had also learned that magic was not a good plan. One spell – one – had changed two of the things to twenty so fast his head had damn near spun. He was lucky to have escaped at all and not long after, he had cast a locator spell only to have his chosen hideaway swarmed shortly afterward. Whatever they were, they had a preternatural sense for magic – and that put Severus at a distinct disadvantage on his own. 

His current hideaway was in an abandoned warehouse, the ladder up to the loft area broken down and his only proper escape route being through a window and down to the street. Not ideal, but better than nothing as he tried to determine his next move. He was armed with stolen knives and a canvas bag of supplies he had nicked up from a hunting shop, but fat lot of good any of that would do him if he couldn’t find a way out of Bristol. The streets were crawling and he was some kind of bloody magnet for the things. The situation was, in a word, grim.

He’d been forcing himself to rest, knowing it would serve him well and that denying his body healthy habits in a time of crisis would only make him weak when he needed that strength most. Sleep had just begun to creep in on his senses when he heard the familiar roar of an engine, lowly rumbling in the distance. At first he thought nothing of it, dismissing the approach of a Muggle vehicle out of habit.

Then his eyes opened. He hadn’t heard a single motor since he landed in Bristol. Or rather, this strange and demented twist of Bristol. Which meant that vehicle belonged to someone not like the creatures. There was no telling if they would help him and frankly, relying on the good natures of other people was so far out of his usual thinking that the fact he was already grabbing up his bag and walking to the window was proof of how strange this entire situation was. 

When there was no hope to be had, even the smallest flicker of it could spark madness. 

Clambering out, Severus eyed the area below before scanning the roads and determining where he needed to go. The creatures had surely heard the vehicle too, which meant he would likely be walking straight into death itself. For a moment it occurred to him to use this to run the other way, to let the sound summon the creatures and make his escape – but logic told him there was security in numbers. 

Scrambling down to the road below, he picked up a jog and managed to get out onto the road in time to see that it was a truck when several of the creatures stepped out from buildings on either side. Standing in the middle of the road, Severus could only hope the driver would stop as he drew a long knife and prepared himself for a fight.