Did Ian have some sort of guardian?
The simple answer was no.
The only conclusion was two predators fighting over their prey.
Ian quickly moved out of the building catching a glimpse of a slightly smaller and thinner creature clawing madly at the downed large muscular monster. Then Ian sprinted away towards his original destination, his mind was in a state of panic and sheer adrenaline coursing through his veins.
He ran but made sure to scan his surroundings then he soon spotted more monsters in the distance so he went through one of the alleyways. Ian then speed walk down the alley looking for a place to catch his breath until he spotted a door to what appears to be a villa. He tried to open the door which luckily was unlocked then he pushed it open to reveal a garden...or what's left of it.
Ian scanned the abandoned garden for any monsters only to find human corpses laying around then he walked in and closed the door shut as quietly as possible. He then sat down on a nearby stone bench ignoring the blood and scratches on it. Ian faced the floor while clutching the back of his head taking deep breathes.
What he experienced was a disaster.
The moment something startled him, he ran inside the nearest building not knowing what was inside and basically trapped himself. He wasn't sure if the noise alerted the monster or his panicked movement did. But Ian was sure that his comfy lifestyle was endangering himself right now.
Hiding inside against wild animals would've worked but against actual monsters?
Well...what he experienced earlier answered his question.
The only reason Ian was alive was because of sheer luck and he hated it. He was never a gambler especially with his life on the line. Sure he was ready to die fighting but at the time he ran out of options.
But this....this was different, he needed to be more careful and also be more reactive to situations at hand.
Ian was racking his brain for a solution but his comfy modern life in Los Angeles wasn't helping. He could try to mask his scent with mud or something but he wasn't entirely sure anymore if that would help. That minotaur-like monster didn't have a nose instead it had 3 eye holes like a skeleton and it looked directly at Ian when it crushed the door open. Ian shivered at the brief encounter and looked up...
...only to find a humanoid figure ten steps away from him.
Surprised, Ian stood up and drew his club at the figure yet it stood still. The humanoid figure was hidden by the shadows as if hiding from the moonlight in front of it. It stood awkwardly leaning a little to its side as if injured in one leg.
Ian's heart felt like it was beating in his throat due to the surprise. He felt sweat dripping down his back as he took a glance around for anymore surprises.
Nothing.
He then turn back to the unknown figure deciding his next course of action. There was no way a survivor would appear now especially without alerting him first. With that thought in mind, Ian gripped his club even tighter waiting for the figure to make a move.
He waited.
He waited even more.
Finally Ian's nerves were getting to him and a sudden thought came to mind.
'What if it's actually a survivor?'
If it was a survivor and they lived through the entire ordeal compared to Ian's miniscule experience then it would make sense that the survivor would be traumatized or still in shock or whatever people experience after going through hell.
Ian's rationale got the better of him as he relaxed his tense muscles a bit and decided to whisper at the possible survivor.
"Hey...it's alrig-"
Crack
As if on cue, the figure walked forward while making a disgusting bone crunching noise. The moonlight shown upon the figure revealing its true form forcing Ian to raise his guard as his eyes widen at the revelation.
It was human.
Was.
It was an elderly man with cloudy eyes and no hair on the top. From a distance, this was a regular person, but up close from Ian's perspective, he could see large white worms crawling in and out of every hole on a human head. The worms seemed large enough to barely fit through the former old man's nostrils.
"Fuck my life, damn that woman for sending me here."
Ian muttered under his breath without a second thought. He couldn't help it, he hated insects and other small bugs ever since he was a child. Now there was a zombie-like monster in front of him with worms crawling inside it causing him to curse at his supposed mother.
He could run away only for the zombie to chase him or he could fight it.
Ian chose to fight the zombie. He needed to vent his frustration on something and it was standing in front of him. He also needed to get use to the idea of killing...if a zombie was considered alive.
And zombies were familiar to Ian since practically everyone in his generation have consume a piece of media with zombies in it. And their main weakness was...
Thud
...the head. Ian swung with all his strength at the head as the zombie walked towards him.
The creature was still standing after one hit. It tried to reach out for Ian as if grabbing for him.
But Ian dodged and hit it again.
This time he heard a bone crack as the force of the second hit pushed it back a little so he swung for a third time causing the zombie to lose balance and fall to the floor. Adrenaline was coursing through Ian's veins as he continued smashing the zombie's head.
Ian never fought with killing intent before but in this situation, it was do or die. It didn't help that the zombie was a former human, but Ian had to fight against the disgusting feeling inside of him in order to survive. The rational part of his mind even told him to stop but he ignored it to continue smashing the head.
He kept smashing and smashing at the head until it burst like a watermelon.
Many worms were crawling outside of it but many also died bleeding black blood. Ian backed off wiping any blood or fluid that stuck onto his face. He was breathing rapidly from committing the necessary dark deed.
He took a life or at least he attacked something with intent to kill. Whatever the dilemma, Ian felt satisfied that he was in control of something.
But like his life so far.
His joy was short-lived.