Chapter 9
Sand Castles And The Tide
The morning light assails my eyes. I blink them, reflexively, trying to gain purchase of my environment, beyond. It seems to help, immediately becoming dimmer, though that is merely the door coming back into me. The howl from behind the door brings instant fear to my heart, the door however, brings instant pain to my face, as it slams back into me, trapping me between it and the jam. I am left handed, in case you wondered, so this presents an immediate concern. I can not bring my gun to bear. I blink again, seeing red, but it is blood from my forehead running into my eyes. The pressure relents so I shove back and am able to extricate myself as I feel the zombie backhand me. I momentarily feel myself falling, having been knocked completely off my feet. I tumble off the veranda, onto the ground at the feet of a couple others. One swipes at me and all I can do is to push it back with the end of the rifle. It swipes at it, knocking it from my grasp. The other swings and nearly collects me, instead it hits my pack, once again knocking me around.
I roll onto my back, pulling the small pistol from my pocket. I am lining up on the closest one when I hear more howling from around back. They are alerting more, I am out of time. I can not fight them, I have to run. I roll to my knees, pushing up off the ground as the closest one takes a giant swing at me hitting me in the side. It hurts bad, driving the little sub-machine gun into my ribs. It knocks the wind out of my lungs, and I cough and feel as if I could throw up, but I keep scrambling. I have no destination, right now anywhere but here sounds good. I hear them behind me, close. Too close!
Daring to look over my shoulder, I see at least a dozen, possibly more, all looking at, and starting after me. I feel the trickle of blood in my eyes and mouth, my nose is filled with it, and I can hardly breath. I nearly fall, I am leaning to run so hard, and have to push off the ground again to stay upright. I am running for my life now. I have no idea where I am going, but it does not seem to be helping. Every turn I make, more of them appear. I half turn, firing the small pistol blindly, just hoping it will hit one, more terrified than planned. It is entirely the wrong thing to do, I am only telling even more where to come. Right now though, I am too afraid to think of that, I only want to kill the ones closest to me, to get a least a few meters between me and them. They are so fast!
The gun clicks empty entirely too soon. I focus now on where I am going. Down the street, past a group of them. They all have turned and are trying to take swipes at me as I run past, but I duck down, dodging side to side, making them pause enough to try to aim at me. It is enough that I can get past, into the little town square. I have, it seems, the entire population of the town on me, that is, until I turn past the kiosk, then even with the hoard so hot on my heels, I pause. I have found the entire population. Bodies. At least a hundred, maybe more, all laid out at random angles. Pieces are ripped and torn like an insane game of pickup sticks. The ground here is blackened with blood, old dried blood. The zombies and crows are sharing a feast. The smell is so over powering that I feel vomit immediately come to me, and I throw up nothing but bile. If I had anything left in my stomach, it would certainly empty. Instead, I dry heave a couple times, trying to move, to run, staggering instead to the low fence. I climb over it, feeling my hands now dirty with whatever was on the fence. I don't want to know. It looks like the town must have gathered here to all kill themselves together. Men, women, children. From elderly, to infants, they were here, and are now feeding the zombies and crows. I have never seen this so up close. I can hardly pry my gaze from it, but manage to, long enough to see the following zombies now trying to navigate around the fence, and the few zombies that are willing to abandon their feast of death, now turn and see me.
I force myself to run, unable to really breath, I run along the fence line, gasping and sucking at breath, trying to fill my lungs enough to stop the threatening darkness that is trying to come, to take me to unconsciousness, from which I would not recover. I would be eaten alive, like the survivors of the helicopter, like my family perhaps.
The fence is coming to an end, so I make for it, wanting to get away from this visage as well as find somewhere more protective. Behind me, I hear five of the zombies that were feeding on the rotting corpses. I grab the sub-machine gun and turn to fire. It refuses to fire. I do as Banksy taught me, and pull the lever along the front. It goes back, then forward most of the way, but nothing. I let it drop back onto the sling. It is broken, it seems. I will have to look at it later, assuming I have a later. That is in doubt as I see even more of them from side streets coming. With nothing to lose, I make for one of the smaller houses. The door is closed, so I hope with everything I have, that it is not locked or barricaded from the inside. If so, this will be the last decision I make, because if I can not get in, I will be trapped, and have nowhere to go.
I reach the door, grabbing at the knob, only to feel it refuse to turn. It is locked. I am dead. I can not fight through the swarming zombies, I can not run any farther. With nothing left to lose, I grab the sub-machine gun and use it like a hammer, to smash the knob. It comes off after the third swing, and the door opens. They are upon me however, and I can not even try to close it. They are that close. I just dash across the room, opening an interior door and throwing it shut behind me. It actually manages to shut, but can not catch, and swings back open as the first of the swarm pour through it.
I turn down a hallway, to my right, towards the back door. It is open. I run through then slam it and this time push on it with all my weight. I hear it click, the small knob will not hold them for long, but maybe it will give me a few seconds. I lean against it as I turn, looking at the back yard. It has high walls. It looks secure, other than the weak lock on the rather old weak door. They will have no problem getting through that given a few swings. I take a couple steps, seeing the high wall. There is a picnic table near the wall. I begin to run, jumping onto the picnic table, then leap with all my might to the wall. I manage to land half way over it, and pull myself to the top as the swarm break through the door into the backyard. From atop the high wall, I see the town around me. It is so heavily infested, it looks as if the entire population of Chenarus gathered here. Most likely, it is merely the gathering of the town I passed through with the gas, as well as the entire population pushed out of Novomitrovsk. Still, there are too many to fight. I must abandon this place as fast as I can. As the swarm gather at the bottom of the wall, trying to reach me, I run along the top, like a balance beam, but much wider.
At the corner, I let myself down on the far side, obviously, and take that moment to lean against the wall, holding my side. Even through the thick vest, it hurts. I am starting to catch my breath now, but the dizziness and the lack of food and water, and the heat are starting to really take their toll on me. I need to drink, and I need food.
I run across the street, then duck low, behind a lorry that looks as if it saw its best days well before I was born. I crouch over, feeling the pain of my ribs, and slowly make my way between the houses on the far side of the street. Once to the back of them, I see several zombies, but they do not see me. I sneak past, wiping the blood from my face with my forearm. I manage to get to the front corner of the houses that backed up to these, and the next street is also full of them. The chances of me making it down that street without being seen are pretty low. I decide not to risk that. I back up and try a side window. It opens just enough that I can peek inside. It is empty. The door on the far side is closed, so at least this room is safe, and right now I need somewhere safe to regroup and figure out whats left.
I use the sub-machine gun to pry the window open a bit more, then I take off my backpack and carefully push it through, lowering it down on the other side so it does not land with a thump. Then I pull myself up and through the window, pushing it down again. Zombies are good at tracking by scent, it seems, and I am leaving a blood trail. I have to stop my bleeding and gather my thoughts.
Once inside, I lean back against the wall, head back, letting my nose stop bleeding. My lip is cut, but not bleeding anymore. My cheek is swollen, I am sure I have a black eye. The cut above my eye is not big, but it bleeds like something much worse. I take off the police vest as well as my shirt. I rip the bottom of my shirt off and tie it around my forehead. It staunches the bleeding enough to perhaps stop it until I can attend to it properly. I pull the remains of my shirt on, no need to die half dressed.
I see my sub-machine is indeed broken. There is something jammed into the place the bullets go. I have no idea how to fix that, so I figure its ruined. I at least unscrew the silencer, taking it off, and am delighted to find it fits the Makarov pistol. Thank goodness the police here are so well organized. How they were unable to stop the zombies, I do not understand, but they really should have been able to. Though I also see the many broken military vehicles, and I am convinced, there is more going on here than just the zombies. Chenarus is victim of something larger. This scientist must be involved in whatever it is, and if it is larger than this, then maybe they have somewhere safe.
I get up, leaving my gear lay for a minute. I need to look around. I am in a kitchen of some sort. There are bags of what look to be different kinds of food laying on the floor. They have been torn open and the food pieces are scattered all over. In the cupboards, I see some canned goods. I look them over, seeing most of them are merely ingredients for cooking, nothing I can eat immediately. I open the ice box, which is a new odor that there are no words to describe. Inside, there is what once was milk, now a science project, some rotted meats, and in back, three bottles of unopened water. I take those, closing the ice box and thankful I might never smell THAT again. I wipe off the top of a water bottle, then start to drink it as I lean against the counter.
I then realize, I am not alone. Sitting on the kitchen table, observing me in silence, is a little kitten. It looks half starved, but adorable. I see the mommy cat, she looks to have died some time ago, so this poor thing has probably been surviving on its own. I take a small bowl and a can of cat food, and go to my back pack. I open the can and scoop some out. I slide it to the kitty and without much hesitation, she starts to eat like its never eaten before. As it eats, I manage to pick her up and hold the food for it, watching her eat. I walk to the counter, putting them both on the counter, as I get another low bowl and pour her some water. She stops eating long enough to drink it all, looking up at me for more. I pour more. Then I drink some myself. We both enjoy the time together, and I realize, I can not just leave this poor little thing here alone to die. "I guess you're coming with me, now." I say to her. "How you managed so long on your own, I don't know, but you look like you didn't have long left."
I wonder how much longer I have left. I still have to get out of here, and get... somewhere. I go back to my backpack and sort through it. I remove all the magazines for the sub-machine gun as well as the rifle, that I lost. That leaves me plenty of room, so I put the remaining water bottles inside, as well as some powdered milk, a couple cans of beans, and several cans of cat food. Then I look around and am delighted to find a sturdy bag that looks as if it was the home owners grocery bag. I line the bottom with a couple towels from the drawers, then place my new friend inside it and let her get used to it, curling up to sleep off her meal.
I take my, now silenced, pistol, and slowly open the door. The rest of the apartment appears to be empty. I look through the living area, seeing the small television set. I remember watching television before. It has been so long since then. It has been so long since I heard music. My headphones died a couple days after the helicopter went down. I was able to recharge them a bit, but they since died again. I go upstairs, seeing the master bedroom. It looks as if it was cleaned before the zombies came to Chenarus, because everything is placed exactly so, only now there is a fine film of dust covering it all. The bed looks so inviting. I walk over, turning the corner down and lay across it just for a moment. That moment lasts for a few hours.
It is afternoon, and I go back down to hear the kitty meowing from inside its new carry bag. I scoop out more of the cat food, placing it on a small saucer in the bottom of the bag, and let her eat. I go back up the stairs to the second room, and see its is a child's room. She was far younger than me, so there is nothing for me to take, and the clothing in the parent's room is far too large, but I settle on a black tee shirt that looks as if the woman wore it. It looks laughable on me, but beats the torn tank top.
I return to the kitchen, pulling the back pack on, then putting the grocery bag over my shoulder, taking my little companion with me, as we go to the back door. Outside the back door are only two zombies. Neither are aware of us, so I lower my silenced pistol at them and fire at their heads. Both go down nearly silently. We sneak along the back side, across the gap between the apartments, to the row of houses beside. Fences block my way, so I turn and head towards the street, knowing that earlier it was full. It is still full, but we are near a police car.
I sneak to it, pulling the handle softly, till it releases, and the door opens. I lean inside, seeing the keys still in the ignition. I carefully turn them just a little till I see the lights on the instrument panel glow. Its still got some juice in the battery. This just might start. I have no other real options, it is either I risk it, and if I fail, I rush back to the apartments, or I try to make it on foot, but in this heat, and with all the zombies around, that seems unlikely to be successful. I put the kitty inside, then take off my pack, pushing it onto the passenger seat. Please have enough life left in you to start. I close the door most of the way then turn the key. It turns over ever so slowly. It seems as if it won't start. I try again as now every zombie around is alerted to me. It makes that sound you fear, when you know you're fucked. I'm about in tears, ready to abandon it, when it catches a brief ignition, starting to turn by its own means, then fires up. Good old Soviet era engineering. I close my door properly, then shift the car into first, driving down the street as quickly as it will take me. I shift again now as bodies start to slam into the car as I pass by. I hit them more and more, unable to avoid them. Soon the front is covered in blood, much like the large truck we drove through a hoard with. I learned from that, and know I can not just drive into them, I need to avoid them if possible.
I turn down the side street, hitting a pile of something, and I hear a very bad noise. The car pulls to the side, but I keep going, turning the wheel to correct, and driving out of the town. I am going East again, and I start to relax just a little. Me and this motley little cat are going to make it.
We manage to put a mile behind us before the car finally coughs, sputters, then dies. It rolls to its last stop, on the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere. I know the road took us North and East, so my best guess is, we are somewhere East of Smirnovo, or North of Novomitrovsk. I sit on the ground, leaning against the fender, sipping some water, and feeling a slight breeze. It is going on evening, and starting to cool down. After pouring some water for my kitty, I decide to search the car. In the trunk I find magazines and ammo for some kind of gun that I do not have. I leave them, they are worthless to me, but I do empty a few, they seem to shoot the same ammunition as my pistol, so that could come in handy. I reload the empty clip and replace it in my pistol. There is really nothing else in the car that I can use, so I abandon it, and pull my pack on, pick up my kitty carrier, and turn East. My ribs hurt so bad, I can not stand to wear the police vest, so I just tie it to the pack, along with the leather jacket. It is too warm still to wear that.
I had it all, briefly, guns, ammo, a safe place to sleep, but it quickly all slipped through my grasp, just like sand. The more you try to grip, the faster it slips out of your grasp. Maybe that's true with everything in life. It must be true with love. The closer I got to Banksy, the quicker he had to leave. The same with Dodger. Just as I started to get to know her, she also had to leave me behind. I look down the long lonely road. Maybe this is how its meant to be. I don't know. One girl, armed with a pistol, and protecting a helpless little kitty, alone in a world full of ravenous monsters, trying to find a mysterious scientist, that may not even exist. Somehow, in this insane asylum called Chenarus, that almost makes sense.
As I walk along, I decide, I will name the cat Eponine. She will be my one friend, and we will figure out the riddle of this place together. Certainly, it can't get any crazier than this. Maybe those people in the town square had it right. Maybe it was smarter to take the easy way out. They all died together. In the end, they were with the ones they loved. And here am I, thinking I am so clever. I am alone, nobody knows if I even live or die, nobody cares. When my time comes, nobody will even notice. Maybe they had it right, and I would be smarted to put myself and Eponine out of our nightmare with a couple shots from the pistol. What would someone think discovering our bodies out here in the middle of nowhere? Would they even care? Did I really care about the bodies back at the town? What is this place doing to me? What am I becoming? It seems harder to really feel anything most of the time. Maybe in a strange way, I am dying inside. Maybe that is how this ends. The zombies may not last long, eventually rotting and that will be the end of them, but what of those of us left behind? What will we be like? So many questions. I walk down this lonely road, alone with only my thoughts.
