"Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that is troublesome."

- Isaac Asimov

Screeching, the rusted hinges of the metal warehouse door closed shut behind Tim. Though the thin dust fog restricted his vision, it was not enough to even dim the sight of the shipping containers in front of him. To his left and right, the rows and columns of the containers stretched to the walls of the far ends of the building. Vertically, the containers were stacked up in piles of four, some five, few a little more. Faded red, blue, grey, and rusty brown decorated the walls of metal boxes. The yellowish glow of incandescent lamps hung overhead, lighting the warehouse like tiny suns. A stench of - Blood? No. rusted metal, - hung in the air.

Josh's voice echoed through the warehouse. “Take this!” and a loud crash followed, ending in a thunderous rain of metal clanking of concrete. From the sound of it, whatever fell had to be large and heavy.

“Dad?” Tim called out. He began running towards the source of the commotion, circling round the containers that blocked him. He ran through the maze-like aisle of containers, his footsteps echoing along the concrete floor. The dust wasn't thick enough to affect his breathing, but he coughed at every turn of the corner, tasting the metallic pang of rust on his tongue with each huff of air.

After what seemed to be miles of running within the labyrinth, he took a left turn and had to abruptly skid to a halt as he reached a change in scenery, kicking up dusts at his sudden change in momentum. Surrounded by the walls of containers, he stood in a large soccer field-sized scrapyard. Small mounts of metal and parts scattered around the place, with pipes, wood planks and rebars sticking out. A pile of a dozen or so large steel tubes were heaped haphazardly in a corner, an out of place forklift at their side.

Unable to see the driver seat, Tim warily approached the forklift. Each step forward brought up a cloud of dust. He wanted to call out to his father again, but every fibre of his being screamed at him to keep silent. A metal pipe stuck out from a scrap pile next to him. It felt light as Tim picked it up, even though his left hand was not his dominant one. Thinking to himself, he hoped it was steel and not some weak aluminium crap.

He held his breath as he circled out of the blind spot of the vehicle, slowly stepping closer to it as he did so. With the pipe raised and only a short jump forward to swinging length, he leaped sideways into view of the driver seat, ready to swing at...nothing.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Tim lowered his weapon and stepped up to the empty forklift. Now up close, he could see that it had ploughed through the scrapyard, having left a tyre trail behind it.

As he approached the tracks to investigate further, a clang from behind got him to spin around. He raised his pipe and pointed it blindly at the source of the noise, only to see one of the steel tubes had rolled off its pile.

“Just a tube,” he whispered to himself. But try as he might, his body would not allow him to lower his weapon. He watched as his hand trembled, his body tensing up with either fear or anticipation, he wasn't sure. The aching pain in what's left of his right arm prickling at him, a nagging mother of danger to come.

The steel pile seemed to shook with his hand.

Clang!

Another pipe fell off.

Clang!

And a third.

His instincts shouted, Duck!

Tim dived to the side and behind the forklift, just as the pile of steel pipes exploded outwards. The Sawman, on his feet, slashed through the metal like paper. Shrapnels of steel cut through the air, slicing and sparking off the edges of the forklift as Tim rolled up into a crouching position to avoid the projectiles. The larger pieces flew over the vehicle and burst outwards all around him, loudly slamming into containers and scrap piles. The impact lifted up a gale of dust, forcing the teenager to bury his face in his arms to avoid being blinded.

Zoot. Zoon. Zoot. Zoon.

His heart skipped a beat as the sound thumbed through his mind. The storm of dust died down and he swung around, blindly whipping the pipe at where he felt fear oozing. Like paper, his aluminium pipe was sliced in half by The Father's saw.

Tim stumbled and fell onto his back, cursing, “Fucking aluminium!”

The creature took a stepped towards Tim as he tried to back away but his stumped arm made ground retreat difficult. Desperate, Tim kicked at its shin, an action he immediately regretted for it felt like kicking concrete.

“Son of a-” he recoiled his feet, ankle in pain. The Sawman raised up his weapon, ready to slash down at Tim's fleshy body with the same strength as it did the steel tubes and the fucking aluminium pipe.

“Get away from my son!” Josh charged in from the flank. A longer, this time definitely steel pipe swung at the head of the Sawman. Tim expected the attack to fail, that both him and his father would get brutally murdered at the hands of a concrete super-monster.

The Sawman let out an inhumane howl of pain after the hit, stumbling back, holding its 'face' with its free hand, swinging its saw blindly with rage.

“How did you do that?” Tim asked, mouth wide in shocked. “I kicked him and nothing happened.”

Josh ran over to his son and pulled him up. “Does it matter? We gotta go!”

The older man was wearing his sleeping clothes. A set of white singlet and shorts, brown and muddied almost beyond recognition of their original colour. His skin dirtied. His golden hair a pale white. His arms had cuts and bruises that ran down their entirety.

Following his father, Tim ran towards the nearest opening in the walls of containers. “What happened to you arm?” the older man asked.

Tim replied, “Long story, tell you later,” as they neared the exit.

Then, Tim's gut clenched as fear and instincts grabbed him. He reached out with his free hand and pulled Josh back just as one of the large steel tubes pierced over their head, slamming into the container pile. The tube pierced the metal containers cleanly at the side, and the stack of red containers above it tilted and slid before crashing noisily onto the once opened pathway, sealing them out from their exit.

“Shit,” Josh cursed as the dust died down. The pair turned to look around the area, and the nearest other exit was where Tim had came in from, right behind where the Sawman stood. A third exit was inconveniently placed at the far end. “Okay, here's the plan,” Josh said. “I'm gonna run towards that exit on the other side and draw the thing's attention. And you'll get out from the one on the right.”

“Are you high? You're gonna get killed!” Tim replied, though never taking his eyes off the Sawman who was slowly walking towards them.

Zoot. Zoon. Zoot. Zoon.

Trying to keep his calm, Josh placed a hand on his son's shoulder and explained, “Listen, we just have to survive until we wake up. We split up and we'll have a better chance that one of us survives.”

“That's a fucking stupid plan!”

The Sawman was closing in. Josh readied himself, turning away from his son. “Best I've got now.”

Though reluctant, Tim positioned himself to run. However, he grabbed hold of his father's hand before they started. Looking the older man in the eye, Tim tried to get the words 'I love you' out from his lips, but only managed a feeble, “We're cool.”

Josh smiled. The first smile Tim had seen on him in a long time. Josh replied, “I love you too.”

Tim let go of Josh and the older man ran, scooping up stones and small objects from the ground as he did so, throwing it at the direction of the Sawman.

“Come on, you piece of shit!” Josh yelled. The Sawman turned its attention to Josh as a piece of rock bounced off its straw hat. The older man continued his barrage.

Once the creature started to move towards Josh, Tim bolted from his spot. The Sawman seemed to walk-float, but the speed was just that of a jogging man. Tim felt it was impossible for it to catch up with his father. Confident of his analysis, Tim turned his attention back to his exit, dodging scrap piles as fast as they appeared in his field of vision. A quarter to the exit and nothing happened. Halfway and a smile broke across his face. Three quarters and passed the forklift and he knew he was going to make it. The exit was within arms reach.

Josh's scream rang through the warehouse, braking Tim from his run. A gurgled, pain-filled, primal scream, followed by an ear piercing silence that etched the last note of the cry in his ears.

Tim panted hard, heart beating fast. His mind went through dozen of scenarios as to what could cause such a painful yell before slowly and shakily, turned back to look in the direction of the Sawman.

It stood over Josh's body, slumped down against a container. His brown-white shirt was drenched blood red and Tim could not see any signs of movement. Not even the rising of his chest.

“Dad?” Tim mumbled. He took two wobbling steps towards his father. “Daaaaaad!” he broke into a sprint.

He swiped a steel bar that protruded from the ground, roaring in righteous anger. The Father, the monster man with the straw hat turned to face its attacker. It strolled towards the charging teen, strides long and confident.

Tim crossed the field. A quarter. Halfway. Three quarters. Within reach. He brought his weapon up across his face and behind his right shoulder. The Sawman swung its saw at him and he swung back at the weapon. Steel clashed again steel, the Sawman drawing back its weapon arm, knocked back by the force of the swing. The Sawman sliced down again. Tim swiped his weapon upwards.

“Go!” he knocked the saw out of his opponent's hand. The steel bar raised over his head and he sent it striking down. “To!” The Sawman stumbled once more and Tim pulled his weapon back behind him. “Hell!”

Tim leaped forward, thrusting the steel weapon at The Sawman's 'face'. The bar went through the hat and he felt it impact whatever that served as a skull underneath it. As if he had just punctured a bag of rice, sand exploded out the back of the monster's head and the body instantly crumbled into dust, leaving a heap of particles on the floor as the clothes of the creature flopped down onto it. The straw hat hanging from the steel bar that pierced it.

Panting hard, his heart pounding against his chest like a cop on the door, Tim slowly lowered his weapon. The hat slid off the bar and floated to the floor. The weapon clanged against the ground when he dropped it shortly after, ringing across the empty warehouse and likely, the universe in which they resided. Then he turned to his father. Adrenaline clouded his head, dazed from the rush of the fight and speechless by the blood he saw in front of him.

Wavering, Tim walked towards Josh, eyeing the injuries more intently the closer he got. A large cut traced down from Josh's right shoulder to his stomach. His blood drenched ribs were visible, his right shoulder limply hanging from its tendons, having already been detached from the bone that held it to the torso. Blood had pooled around the body all the way past the legs. Dark red and shining under the incandescent yellow lights above, a glowing pond of black.

Tim knelt down beside his father, dipping his pants into the blood, staring blankly into the opened wound. He couldn't fix that. Didn't know how. Don't think it possible. Voice coarse, he croaked, “Dad?”

Josh's eyes slowly fluttered open, a small glint of life. Each breath he took pierced what remained of his lungs but he was in too much pain to even feel it properly. With what strength he could muster, he looked up to see his son's face. Scared. Confused. Pained. Alive. And hidden in all of that, determination.

He raised his one good hand up and cupped it around Tim's face. “Look at you,” he smiled. The light left his eyes. His hands slumped down beside him, thumping into the pool of his own blood. A growing pond of black.