Ethan whirled to run from the grotesque spider-demon and immediately caught his foot on the curb. He pitched forward, arms flailing as he fought for balance.

  His hand slapped against something, and he tried to grab it, only for his fingers to skid on a wet, slick surface. The missed grip stole his last bit of control, and his momentum carried him into a clumsy spin.

  He let out an oof as his butt hit the wet ground and he realized he was inside the car wash. The monster rounded the corner of the building and let loose a piercing screech as it eyed him.

  “Gah!” Ethan exclaimed as he scrambled backward, deeper into the car wash to get away from the thing. He clambered back to his feet and dove straight into the mountain of foamy soap filling the tunnel. Blindly feeling his way along the service track, he slipped and slid his way away from the monster.

  He burst from the other end, his face, hair, and clothes coated with bubbles. Looking wildly around, he tried to clear the bubbles from his eyes and mouth as he tried to spot the monster. Another screech was all he needed to motivate him to start running again. A trail of soapy bubbles billowed in his wake as he sprinted across the parking lot.

  His eyes bulged as he turned back to glance at the skittering monstrosity that pursued him. The monster had its own trail of bubbles as it pursued him doggedly.

  The beast zig-zagged after him, its progress rapid but chaotic as its many limbs worked to propel it forward. Its wet mandibles clacked and chittered in a way that drove Ethan to pick up his breakneck pace.

  Ahead of him loomed a seven-foot cinder-block fence that separated the car wash from the residential area beyond. Ethan sped toward the fence and launched himself up it in an adrenaline-fueled rush.

  He barely whipped his leg up in time as the monster slammed against the wall, mandibles chomping after him. Flinching back in fear, he lost his balance, causing him to tumble to the ground on the other side of the fence.

  He landed with a meaty thump, causing the air to rush from his lungs in a whoosh of air, and leaving him gasping on the ground. Even as he fought to recover his breath, he rolled onto his stomach and started dragging himself along the ground, frantic to escape the freak of nature.

  He found himself in the backyard of a modest two-story home. The garden appeared as though it was in the midst of being readied for planting, the dirt still fresh and turned. Tools, bags of soil, and a wheelbarrow cluttered the grass between him and the house.

  Ethan whipped around to look back at the fence as he heard a scratching, clattering noise behind him. To his horror, the monster was scaling the fence, its many legs reaching to pull it up and over. With a groan, he stood up, his back throbbing, desperately looking around for an exit or anything that could be useful.

  Time ran out as the monster crested the wall and smacked to the ground just as gracelessly as he had. As it collided with the ground, Ethan heard a distinct snap and, amidst his panic, saw that one of the beast’s legs was broken and leaking a black substance.

  “Oh gross,” he said with a gag as he backed away from the now limping creature. It didn’t seem to react at all to the injury but continued to chitter and clack its mandibles as it relentlessly pursued him. Ethan searched the ground around him for something to ward off the monster.

  His eyes locked on a dirt-covered trowel. In one quick movement, he scooped it up and flung as hard as he could at the demon. It emitted a soft thud as it made contact and left a deep gouge on the beast’s bulbous body. The wound trickled black ichor, but it clearly wasn’t enough to stop it.

  Ethan backpedaled, desperate to create space between him and the monster. He tripped on one of the tools strewn on the lawn and was once again flat on his back. The mutated creature sensed his vulnerability and scuttled forward, mandibles clacking wildly.

  Terror seized Ethan, and he screamed, lifting the heavy, oddly-shaped object, certain the monster was about to strike. To his dismay, it was a garden hoe. Not something that the creature would impale itself on like he’d hoped. Regardless, he thrust it forward as the monster lunged at him with open mandibles. The hoe wedged in the slobbering jaws, and Ethan yelled with effort as he held the beast back.

  He heaved with all his strength and recovered his footing. Thrusting the hoe harder into the creature’s maw, Ethan forced it to retreat a step. In a surge that pulsed through his body, he felt his fear turning into anger. The frustration and confusion boiled over into an emotion he had felt very few times in his life — unbridled rage. As adrenaline coursed through him, he focused his wrath in a way he’d never needed to before in his life: to kill.

  With a guttural roar and a burst of power, Ethan heaved the monster over onto its side. The creature sprawled in a heap, legs splaying out in all directions. It quickly scrambled to right itself, but Ethan didn’t give it a chance.

  He charged at the beast, hoe raised high above his head. With a running leap, he swung the tool with all his strength, the air whistling as it came down on the demon, like a lumberjack felling a tree.

  The hoe connected with one of the larger legs, blade first, and severed the limb from the creature’s body in a spurt of black fluid. For the first time, it appeared to feel pain as it let out a piercing screech and curled in on itself.

  Ethan matched it with a primal scream of his own as he brought down the hoe again in a vertical chop aimed at the middle of the beast’s body. It connected, leaving a deep furrow that instantly gushed black blood.

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  The monster was now shuffling back, blood gushing from multiple wounds, but Ethan kept going. He channeled the rage, the heat of fury prickling his skin, into his next strikes. Each chop and swipe landed with a sickening thud, the air filling with the putrid, sour scent of the monster’s blood. His foe retreated, leaving torn flesh and severed limbs in its wake.

  The world around him shrank, the monstrous form his sole focus. He lunged, a scream tearing from his throat, fueled by a rage he’d never known.

  His rampage continued as Ethan maniacally hacked at the enemy, black blood coating the blade of the hoe and shooting up in great, black spurts. Blow after blow rained down on the monster, his every strike made with the intent to kill.

  Eventually, he realized the creature was no longer moving, and he stumbled to a halt, breathing in heaving gulps as his heart pounded so hard he thought it might burst from his chest. The creature before him was an unrecognizable pulp of blood and broken limbs.

  Did… did I really just do that? he thought in disbelief and horror as he looked over the carnage.

  The rage that had consumed him was gone in an instant, and he let the hoe fall from his trembling hands. Ethan looked at himself and realized he was covered in the sticky black blood of his slain enemy, its stench unbearable.

  He began to shake and an uncontrollable nausea came over him. He lurched away, the acrid taste of last night’s takeout still clinging to his throat, and retched, the bile a sour sting. Disgust twisted his features, mirroring the revolting scene before him and his regret.

  I… don’t know what came over me, he thought as he spat to clear his mouth. He felt weak and empty after the ordeal. His hands were shaking, and he leaned on his knees to steady himself. He felt exhausted even though the altercation lasted just a few moments.

  After catching his breath and spitting a few more times, he looked back at the monster’s remains. One leg was twitching reflexively, but it was clearly dead.

  Suddenly, a red misty orb of translucent light rose into the air above the monster, swirling slowly. Ethan yelled in surprise and snapped up the garden hoe again, ready to defend himself. The orb suddenly shot toward him at blinding speed and hit him straight in the chest.

  “No!” he belatedly yelled as he swung the hoe to intercept the orb, but by then it had already dissipated. The moment the orb struck, a jolt of power surged, chasing away the bone-deep weariness that had threatened to overcome him just moments before.

  The unfamiliar sensation dumbfounded him, but he was grateful for the burst of vitality it had infused in him. Shifting the hoe to his other hand, he noted that somehow it fit better in his hand, and he intuitively understood how to wield it more effectively.

  His eyebrows shot up as he looked down at the mundane tool as he turned away from the monster and moved toward the house. He had a sneaking suspicion the house was empty like the rest of the world, and he felt like he might die of disgust if he didn’t take a shower immediately. The blood was already drying, and his ruined clothes were a total loss.

  He silently chided himself. Your wardrobe is the least of your problems, buddy.

  “Hello?” Ethan called as he poked his head through the open sliding glass door. “Anybody home?”

  Silence answered him. He was beginning to think he might be the only human left on Earth as he cautiously moved deeper into the house. Reaching the foot of the stairs to the second floor, he called up again, waiting to see if there was an answer. Not receiving one, he shrugged and climbed the stairs two at a time, desperate to get out of his ruined clothes.

  He found the primary bedroom and quickly made his way to the bathroom, where he immediately turned on the shower. He studied himself in the mirror while he waited for the water to heat and struggled against the urge to vomit again. His matted hair clung to his scalp, the strands heavy with grime.

  Ethan eyed his torn and soiled clothes, the fabric stiff and smelling of that putrid monster blood. He lamented the loss of his favorite jacket, but there was no salvaging it. It would be a miracle if he could get the substance out of his hair and skin, let alone his clothes.

  Unable to stand the filth another second, he grabbed a tube of toothpaste from the vanity and entered the steamy shower fully clothed. He then took the most thorough shower of his life. As he shucked off his clothing and kicked it into the corner of the shower, he belatedly remembered his cellphone. He pulled it from his pants pocket and sighed in dismay at the large crack that ran the length of the screen.

  Who would I call? he wondered, scrubbing his hair and skin vigorously. Dad was… dead to him, essentially. Plus, the guy lived in Florida, last he’d heard. Not exactly helping distance even if he wanted to see him again.

  Mom… she had been gone a long time. He pushed her out of his mind, not wanting to add to his woes. He squirted some toothpaste into his mouth and gargled, hoping to dispel the bitter taste in his mouth.

  There were a few friends he might call, but the next person who came to mind surprised him. Samantha… he thought. She may not pick up even if it is the end of the world. They had ended their relationship… abruptly. His fault, of course.

  Guilt churned his stomach like it always did when he thought about how they’d ended things. Turning off the tap, he inhaled deeply, the smell of shampoo and soap thankfully overriding the awful smell of the monster’s blood.

  Water still beaded on his skin, a chilly prickle, as he stood, the silence amplifying his thoughts. No, he would be alone even if his phone was working. A thought that made him sadder than he expected.

  Ethan decided he must confront the reality of this situation and try to piece together what the hell was going on. He thought back to last night and passing out, followed by the strange, garbled message this morning.

  The system message had said something about a survival chance of 0.004%. Did that mean he was likely to die? Or that he’d survived when 99.996% of people died? He was leaning towards the latter, seeing as the world now seemed uninhabited.

  What about the ability that the message had mentioned? Analyze soil or whatever. There was definitely a distinct feeling when he’d put Joel back in his pot, but that only begged the question — why? He now possessed some sort of ability, and when he’d killed the monster he’d absorbed… something. Did the world now run on video game rules?

  These thoughts swirled in his mind as he grabbed a towel and dried himself off. His brown shoulder-length hair was a frizzy mess, but he only gave it a cursory brush with his fingers. He made his way to the walk-in closet, praying that there would be something in his size.

  Luckily, it appeared a man about his size lived here, or had lived here. He donned a pair of jeans that were just a little baggy and a warm sweatshirt. His tennis shoes were a soiled heap in the shower, but luckily he found some work boots and a pair of woolen socks to go with them that weren’t a terrible fit.

  As he prepared to leave the bathroom, he hesitated, looking at the garden hoe he’d taken into the shower with him. It was clean now — he didn’t even realize he’d taken it in the shower with him. For some reason he felt like he should hold on to it. It wasn’t an ideal weapon if more of those monsters showed up, but it felt good in his hands, and there was a sense of rightness when he considered using it as a weapon.

  He thought that might have something to do with the red orb he’d absorbed into his body and the subsequent burst of energy he’d felt. Hesitating only a moment, he snatched it up and headed out the door.

  As he descended the stairs, he contemplated his next steps, deciding he just wanted to get home and consider his options. Which raised a very poignant question: How the hell am I going to get home?