Propping his gun against a wall and tossing down his bag, Ish heaved in a long, somewhat pungent breath and tumbled onto his mattress.
Instantly regretting it as a sharp stab of pain pierced through his side where a bullet had grazed him last week – despite his best efforts, that was still sore – he winced, one hand temporarily twitching to hold the injury before falling back to rest over his stomach. His other arm propped up behind his head as a sort of pillow, blue-grey eyes sought out the ceiling and stared.
The silence stared back uncomfortably.
"So," Ish said to no one in particular. "Nice place you've got here."
No one replied.
Now that's just rude, he thought wryly to himself with a small smirk. Didn't your mother ever tell you that ignoring people is frowned upon? Not that I'm sure how many ceilings actually have mothers, but…
"This is getting ridiculous." Interrupting himself and sitting up, one arm slung around a knee, the tall man sighed. "People like me aren't meant to be in apocalypses, you know. We start going crazy."
More silence. Another sigh. "Shouldn't complain too much though," he admitted to an empty set of shelves that had somehow made its way into the sewers before he'd shown up. "This place is pretty roomy. No one gets in here that I can't outrun. No neighbors to try and kill me like everyone seems so interested in doing so these days." A pause. "Got the whole sewer to myself!" The walls threw his words back loud enough to be startling. Maybe yelling isn't the best method of alleviating boredom in small rooms where you're hiding from a bunch of insane Infected and equally insane non-Infected. The small smirk that had crawled onto his face faded away.
It had been two months since he'd left the Antananorivo to rest on a beach which had somehow wound up being fairly close to his current abode. One month since he'd stumbled across these sewers, which seemed to spawn for miles with unlimited exits, dim natural lighting, and labyrinthine walls that were usually covered in some sort of thankfully unidentifiable slime. Three weeks since he'd decided that they were exactly the place he needed to hide in until the situation with the cordyceps sorted itself out. Since then, he'd only ventured out on occasion to find some supplies and food. Every time he'd gotten out, it had been a nerve wracking experience which had made him eager to go back into his hiding place. Fighting had never been his strong point, and running could only do so much for him without anywhere to hide. Interactions with any of the other survivors never failed to force him into one or the other.
It was safer here than out there, admittedly. But it was also boring as hell, way too damn empty, and, depending on location, smelled like shit.
Not quite the Hotel Ritz, he told himself, but I suppose it could be worse. Somehow. I think.
"I get it," he muttered to the walls and shelves around him. "You want me to stop whining, don't you?" A pause. "Sorry, but I don't think that's going to happen." Silence. "Oh, don't be like that. Look on the bright side – you'll be rid of me for a couple hours tomorrow. I have to go find food again, because that went so well the last time." More silence. "Yeah, well, hello to you, too. Asshole."
Great. Now I'm not just talking to the walls, I'm insulting them. Maybe I really am the crazy one.
Rather than following that train of thought, Ish shook his head, closed his eyes against the light, and smiled gently, humming some song he'd long since forgotten the name to under his breath until he fell asleep.
~O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O~
The early morning air was brisk and biting as Ish emerged with a less than graceful stumbling, nearly falling over as he struggled to right himself on the hill.
"Right," he muttered to himself. "Never using that tunnel again." Between the steepness of the climb out and the fact that it had narrowed to an almost impassable channel the further he'd walked along, escaping through that route had been a less than enjoyable experience that he didn't care to repeat.
Still, he thought to himself, worth the effort. Even if the world's going to shit as we speak, you can't tell that now. Sucking in a long, icy breath, a small smirk curled at his lips. Over a set of nearby suburbs, the sliver of a rising sun cast a grey light over the area as it ate away at the darkness, leaving the world shrouded in a sort of fog like, mystical air . The scent of rain and shrubs which were finally starting to grow back after the long winter mingled into something which tasted new and fresh on his tongue.
Might not be much, but it's a hell of a lot better than the sewer, Ish thought, watching for a few more moments before shaking himself from the reverie.
"Alright," he murmured, "get a move on. Didn't get up this early to sight see." With something not entirely unlike regret, he started to slip down the hill towards the waiting gathering of buildings below, concentration carved onto his face. The whole point of getting out early was to attempt to sneak around in the dark and avoid human interaction. The sun would only give him forty-five minutes before taking the suburbs into day and making survival ten times harder.
Which means I have to do this fast.
Silencing his eternal urge to monologue, Ish crept in behind a massive building which seemed to be somewhat randomly placed on the outskirts of the nearby town, feet quiet as he hid behind the brick walls and looked over the suburbs. There were no Infected that he could see immediately, and no non-Infected either, which was a definite plus. Only thing worse than someone who's lost their mind trying to kill you is someone who's just crazy trying to kill you, Ish thought grimly to himself before blinking at the realization that the thought had been almost entirely illogical. Speaking of people going crazy, I might consider putting myself in that group. Shaking his head to return to the task at hand, he nodded to himself. Looks clear enough for safety. I can probably sneak through, try and steal some stuff, and get back. Just have to avoid the locals.
Slipping from around the corner of the building where he'd stationed himself, Ish skittered silently down the grassy and dirt-patched hillside to where it cut off in a sharp ledge, catching himself on the concrete and stopping abruptly just before he could topple off. With a last glance to make sure that no one was around, he jumped down, a light crunch under his feet as the gravel twisted and he continued onward.
The dim grey light didn't do much to hinder visibility, luckily enough, but combined with the barely noticeable fog, it cast the world in an almost eerie light that Ish couldn't help finding unnerving. As if everything wasn't bad enough, he thought with a sort of grim humor. On the upside, I'm not dead or infected yet. A beat. Think I'll try to keep it that way.
Around him, the silence still hadn't stirred, the only noises the occasional crunch of his footsteps and the occasional chirp of a bird calling across the rooftops and sparsely placed trees. For a moment, he almost smiled. Despite the unexpected delay of getting lost in the sewers leading to a late start, so far there'd been almost no sign of locals. I can live with this, he thought.
And then a shotgun shattered the silence.
The sharp bang piercing the night, Ish was startled into immediate stiffness, cursing in shock almost on instinct. Instantly looking for a nearby house to take cover in until the source of the shooting could be defined and avoided, he turned sharply to his left, the closest available option. An unassuming house with peeling brown paint, it seemed promisingly quiet and, with any luck, uninhabited. It would explain the lack of any kind of light or sign of life in the windows and, more importantly, it would mean he didn't get shot.
Here's hoping, Ish thought desperately, crouching down and fiddling with the lock using a set he'd found and - with a sort of sheepish disgust and guilt – taken from the body of an Infected young teenager whose intestines had been scattered halfway across the sidewalk where he'd been killed.
The lock made a satisfying click of acceptance as the last pin twisted into place, and breathing out a quiet word of thanks to any person who was listening, Ish slipped into the now open door quickly, shutting it behind him and locking it and hoping the next person to try to enter wouldn't have a lockpick set or a gun.
Leaning back against the door, Ish closed his eyes for a brief second, catching his breath as his heart pounded in his chest and threatened to beat out. Outside in the street, the sound of shuts continued for a few seconds then faded into the silence, at least temporarily. Holy shit, that was intense. Now to figure out where to go from here, once I actually get out of here…
"Who the hell are you?" The sudden sound of a male voice, young and defensive and low cut through Ish's thoughts, and he jolted as if electrified, eyes shooting open and taking in the scene before him in an instant.
In the living room where he was now standing, a woman who looked to be in her early thirties stood across the room with a man who looked to be about five years younger and wore a faded blue baseball cap. Both were holding their arms out in what looked like an instinctively protective gesture, barring back what appeared to be at least four children, some of who appeared to be as young as five. Distrust was carved into their stony faces, coupled with a hardened determination which stood firm in their eyes. Right in front of him, a third man, this one looking to be in his late thirties stood, a shotgun in hand pointed levelly at Ish's chest and a scowl on his face which was more than clear in saying that any movement the sailor made forward would likely be his last.
Cursing in shock again, Ish raised his hands on instinct, holding them far away from himself. "Don't shoot!" he said, eyes wide. "I'm not-I'm not here to steal anything."
The man with the gun glared, not lowering his weapon. "Then why are you here?"
Keeping his eyes trained on the gun barrel, Ish shook his head. "Gunshots. I was out trying to get some food and there were gunshots so I hid in the first place I found, which was here. Now I swear I'm not going to take anything, but-can you please just put that thing down?" Dying of a gunshot wound while trying to hide from that fate hadn't been on the day's agenda, and Ish wasn't especially looking forward to adding it.
There was a brief second when the man was appearing to calculate and weigh his words before one of the others spoke. "Kyle, put it down," he said. "I think he's telling the truth. Most looters don't take the effort of picking the lock – they just shoot it off." Without looking, Ish could feel everyone's eyes on him, and the tension seemed almost choking as another second went by, then another in absolute silence.
Please don't kill me, Ish thought.
The man with the gun frowned for a moment, studying Ish. "I think you're right," he said finally, the gun lowering. The tension drained out of Ish's shoulders, and he leaned back against the door, hoping to regain his breath. This was not what I was expecting when I left the sewers today. Won't I have a story for the walls?
Shotgun now pointed at the ground, the man stepped forward. "My apologies. There's been a lot of looting lately around here. Can't be too careful when strangers come breaking into your house. The name's Kyle," he explained, extending a hand out. Gratefully, Ish shook it, nodding his understanding.
"No problem," he breathed, waving it off a little. "Thanks for not killing me." Thanks infinitely for not killing me.
From over by the other two, one of the children was peering around the woman. A young girl of about five, she had dark brown eyes that watched him curiously from afar for a moment before she detached herself from the woman who looked vaguely as if she could be the girl's mother, moving quietly across the room and stopping about five feet away.
The girl blinked at him for a few moments. "You don't have hair," she observed, and Ish chuckled, running a hand over his head.
"Nope," he agreed with a still shaky smile, "I don't." The girl giggled, but before Ish could say more, the woman touched the girl lightly on the shoulder, murmuring something he couldn't make out as the two of them backed away, returning back by the man with the baseball cap, who was now holding a girl with blond ringlets who had buried her face into his chest.
Outside, the gunshots were still firing, now sounding like they were coming from a different direction, short bursts of bickering ammunition cracking into the air. Against his will, Ish shuddered a little. Damn, he thought. This early in the morning and people are already killing each other. Doesn't this madness ever sleep?
"Hey," Kyle said, interrupting Ish's thoughts. "Since you're here and we're not going to kill you and I'm assuming you're not heading out until things quiet down, you feel like maybe swapping some supplies? Make sure this trip isn't a total waste for you."
Ish gave a quick nod. "Works with me," he said. "I've got plenty of bullets I'm hoping I won't need, if you're interested."
Kyle gave a dark laugh, half under his breath. "Have you seen the times recently? If it can keep us safe, of course we're interested." His face was shadowed for a brief moment before he turned around, gesturing for Ish to follow.
"Where are you going?" Looking up from where she was crouched by and talking to the dark haired girl from before, the woman raised an eyebrow.
"Just going to try and trade some stuff, Susan," Kyle explained. "We'll be back in a few minutes." At her nod, Kyle continued, jerking his head onwards in indication that the other man still needed to follow.
Heading up the stairs, the pair continued until they reached a sort of closet in an upper hallway. Fiddling with the lock for a moment, Kyle opened it to reveal a set of shelves populated by an assortment of canned foods, bottled water, and a few boxes of ammunition. Scattered in various places were other implements of varying use, most of them which Ish just ignored.
"You see anything in particular?" Kyle asked, rocking back on his heels.
Ish shrugged. "Couple cans of food, if you're willing to part with them," he said. Kyle nodded, and Ish pulled off a few cans at random, purposely avoiding reading the labels.Nothing like trying new things, he thought. Hopefully none of it is poisonous.
"Here," he said, reaching into his backpack and grabbing a box of shotgun shells. "I don't know how much you want or how much is necessarily appropriate, so take whatever you think." I can probably guess at least loosely if someone's trying to gip me, though I somehow doubt he's going to.
Kyle nodded, taking a handful of shells and gesturing for Ish to keep the rest. "This is good," he insisted. "Thank you. Should last us a while. Keep us safe until we can maybe come up with somewhere else to go."
I know of a place with some vacancies, Ish thought for a bizarre moment, almost speaking on instinct before he was cut off by Kyle closing the closet and leading the way back down to where the others were waiting, noting at the bottom of the stairs that the shooting seemed to have quieted.
Never mind then. That was a stupid idea anyway. He's right, I know the times, Ish thought. Besides, with the shootings over, I don't have time to discuss this anyway. Home sweet sludge is calling. The cockroaches might get lonely. Almost snorting to himself, he earned an odd glance from Kyle that he just waved off.
"I'm gonna head off then, try and get back to my hideout before it starts up again." A brief pause. "Thanks for the food," Ish offered.
Kyle nodded. "Likewise for the bullets."
A brief smile flitted across Ish's face. "Glad to be rid of them. Don't like killing things." He cleared his throat. "Anyway. Keep safe and don't mind the neighbors." With a last duck of his head, he slipped forward towards the door he'd entered through, opening it silently and closing it behind him with an equal lack of noise.
The sun was fully out now. Better hurry before I turn into a pumpkin, Cinderella.
He slipped forward, disappearing into the horizon without looking back.
~O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O~
"One-ninety-seven, one-ninety-eight, one-ninety-ow!" As the ball he'd been bouncing against the wall of the sewer cracked back into his face, Ish fell off his rhythm with a curse, rubbing his nose and eyeing the toy with something not entirely unlike disdain.
"That," he said, "was not very kind. Didn't anyone ever tell you hitting people isn't nice?"
Predictably, the rubber ball didn't respond, and Ish sighed, shaking his head. "Just before I got to two hundred, too," he murmured. "At least there's always next time."
His words bounced off the ceiling back at him with the ever-present and vague scent of slime that the sewers always seemed to reek of, threatening to push his lunch into making a half-digested reappearance. His earlier game of chance had gotten him a random can of Vienna sausages amidst the other mostly edible and recognizable foods, something which he'd groaned about to no one in particular. He'd never been fond of them before the outbreak, and that hadn't changed to date. When combined with the scent, it was only with a great force of will that he kept himself from being sick.
Ish let out a long breath, sinking with very limited grace onto his mattress and slinging his arms around his knees before deciding that was too much effort and falling back to stare at the ceiling. For some reason, ever since he'd left that house the morning previous, its inhabitants had continued to float back into his mind, making him remember the way they had all stuck together so close and been so cautious. They'd clearly been terrified, though they had tried to cover it up with preparedness and a shotgun.
A small part of him couldn't help wondering if that was how he himself looked most of the time. It wasn't like there was usually anyone or anything around to care, necessarily, but he was unable to keep himself from being somehow curious.
Not that it particularly mattered. He'd gotten lucky that morning, nothing more. It was rare to find anyone level headed these days, and doubly hard to find someone who was levelheaded after having their house broken into.
Besides, they're probably dead by now anyway. People like that don't really last long these days, I've noticed. Not unless they're in safe zones.
If safe zones were even real, anyway.
"You know, this whole thing is very depressing," he told the ceiling again. "The whole talking to myself and thinking in circles. Not getting me too far." A pause. "Which probably shouldn't surprise me, I guess. I mean, just because you're a captive audience doesn't mean you're captivated." Silence. "Though you could at least be a little more responsive." The quiet remained.
His thoughts wandered through the stillness, set free as he decided to not bother trying to keep them on a leash since they seemed to listen about as well as the wall did. He allowed them to chase whatever distracted them, finding himself less than surprised when they found their way back to the memory of the family yesterday morning, of the children who had looked to be no more than six, and the girl who had approached him about his baldness and the fear in her mother's eye and the mercy they'd extended a total stranger after he'd broken in. It was as if they were stained glass, some sort of fragile and miraculous beauty which he knew was destined to shatter but couldn't help admiring anyway. The thought of them wouldn't dissipate.
Abruptly, Ish pushed himself to his feet. "This is ridiculous," he muttered, "and I'm not really talking about the conversing with the wall bit, just so we're clear." He leaned himself back against the sewer and promptly regretted it as he pushed off again to avoid whatever was oozing along the concrete. "For God's sake, if my family thought I was crazy before, they should see me now. Talking to a wall, thinking about a bunch of people who are probably dead or dangerous or both, considering taking in a bunch of kids when I can't even keep myself alive. What the hell am I even on today?" A pause. Not even an echo responded. "You know, you could at least throw my own damn words back at me so I could hear those and pretend that it was someone else speaking!"
Nothing.
He paced across the room, boots grinding against the chunks of stone. "Say I were to do it. What then? I go through and ask them and they say yes, decide they don't have time and shoot me? They think I'm trying to play them and they shoot me anyway? It's a pointless risk for me to be taking just so I can get myself killed when I can do that for free just about anywhere."
They'd been so scared. Just like him. And there weren't too many murderers who kept kids around. And that girl had been so innocent and so open. She wouldn't last long in this world, not unless her family found a safe spot. None of them would. Not in a place where the nights were made of gunshots.
"Stop trying to convince me on this! It's a bad idea!" He turned sharply on his heal, walking the other way again.
Kids didn't belong in this kind of danger. They didn't deserve the kind of end they were going to find out there.
"You are insufferable!" Scowling, Ish shook his head, running his heads over where hair used to be and blowing out a long breath. "You know what? Fine. If you won't be of any help, I'm going to go talk to myself. Maybe then I can at least get some sane input."
Sitting back down on the mattress, Ish pulled out a pad of paper and a half functional pen from on the shelf at the end of his makeshift bed, crossing one leg over the other to use his knee as a brace for the paper.
He wanted to write something scathing, something which said exactly what he thought of the situation. Wanted to find the words to describe every single stupid thought which was chasing itself in his head and find some way to define exactly how utterly idiotic he knew they were. "To hell with being lonely," he growled. "It's either alone or dead. What do you want?" Jaw set with irritation, he started writing.
Against his own better judgment, he gave himself an answer.
Yesterday I met with some people who did not want to shoot me on sight. Shocking, I know. We traded some supplies and went on our merry way.
They had kids with them and they seemed pretty scared. I almost told them about this place. What if they're like the others? What if…
You know what? I don't care. What's the point of surviving if you don't have someone to laugh at your lame jokes?
Tomorrow I'm going to search for them. See if they want to join me in here.
-Ish
As he read over his note, he contemplated it, realizing slowly exactly what he'd just said as he groaned and leaned back against his mattress, letting the paper and pen fall from his hands somewhere onto the ground.
"You're crazy," he told the walls around him. "Certifiably batshit."
The walls knew.
