Outbreak
8. The Subway
"I spy," Chad began, glancing around the small room. "With my little eye, something beginning with… T." He finished with a proud smile, certain that this one would be impossible, or at least remotely challenging.
Troy sighed and shifted uncomfortably where he sat leant up against the cold wall. "Tiles?" He guessed unenthusiastically, not bothering to open his eyes to scan the room for objects he'd already become so familiar with.
"Nope." Chad's I-know-something-you-don't-know smile grew and he felt a childish glee at Troy's incorrectness.
"Toilet?"
Chad's I-know-something-you-don't-know smile dropped. "H-how did you-…?" He stammered, both disappointed and completely perplexed by Troy's effortless triumph.
Finally bothering to open his eyes, Troy answered the question before it had been asked. "Firstly," he said, bearing about as much gusto as a dead jellyfish. "You did that one about five minutes ago. And secondly, there's not much else to choose from in this room, is there?" He grimaced, not even sure if he could refer to the place as a 'room'.
This was their home. Their cramped, grimy, reeking home. They didn't know how long they'd been staying there. Being underground, they'd sort of lost track of time. But it must have been at least two weeks since the prom. And it had taken them a few days to locate a safe place to stay. Since then, they hadn't left the subway station. And they rarely left the restroom; being out on the platforms left them unnervingly exposed and, although they hadn't had visitors yet, nothing was to say that they wouldn't come eventually. It was for that reason that they only left the tiny, yellow-white room to raid the stations vending machines; their only source of food, which had run out of snacks three days ago.
Three days they had gone without eating. The only thing keeping them energised was the stagnant tap-water and even that was barely effective. They were weaker than they had ever been. Thin and frail and exhausted and hopeless. Death was looming over them. Slowly creeping up. The saddest part was that they knew it was coming but were helpless to stop it.
"Uh, actually," Chad replied, looking slightly offended and a bit embarrassed at being outsmarted so quickly. "It could've been 'Taps'." He added defiantly. He knew Troy couldn't care less. He knew he was probably being irritating. But playing these tedious games was the only way he could take his mind off how close they were to demise. "Or, toilet cubicle. Or, Troy…"
Troy wasn't listening. He'd made that clear by shutting his eyes again and resting his head on one of the pipes. He had his arms crossed on his chest and looked to be in uncomfortable slumber.
"…Or, Tea tree oil scented air-freshener." Chad continued, unfazed by his friend's lack of interest. "Hmm!" He added with surprise. "With a free soft toy if you purchase nine bottles."
Troy raised his hands in surrender. "Okay…" He shrugged. "I get it. T is a very popular letter. Well done."
Chad knew it was sarcastic but grinned nonetheless. "Up for another round?" He offered, eyebrows raised with eager anticipation as he already began to scour the room for another target.
"No!" It was the quickest Troy had reacted to something all day. And the most passion he'd shown in about a week.
It was fair to say that the state of the world had gotten to him. He hadn't been able to block it out, so the devastation flooded his senses and left him a depressed and disconcerted mess. He often wondered what there was left to live for any more. If it wasn't for Chad's company, he'd seriously consider giving in to the increasingly agreeable idea of suicide.
Opening his eyes again, he couldn't help but notice the small trace of hurt behind Chad's forced smile. He realised his fault in taking his frustration out on his best-friend and softened his tone. "But," he sighed. "How about we give this place a quick spray of Tea tree oil air-freshener?" He suggested. It sounded like the kind of thing old people scented their dilapidated homes with but, compared to the current smell of stale urine and damp, anything would do.
Chad's smile faltered further, but this time out of awkward surprise. "Oh…" He breathed as if unprepared for such a request. It was clear that he hadn't expected Troy to propose such a thing. "I, uh… I made that one up." He admitted. "There is no… tea tree oil scented air freshener." His cheeks subtly tinted pink as he blushed slightly. "Sorry."
Gratification rose through Troy from the pit of his stomach and poured as laughter out of his open mouth. He wasn't sure why he was laughing; whether it was Chad's playful and juvenile shame, or just a release of built tension, but he couldn't stop. He didn't want to stop. The aches in his muscles faded. The tiredness behind his eyes disappeared. And he and Chad revived their dying brotherly bond as they chuckled together for no apparent reason.
This was the first time since that night that they had relaxed. It felt good, comforting, and momentarily took their minds off the turmoil around them. They were no longer in a grimy public toilet, but in the changing rooms of the schools gym, just hanging out and laughing in their friendly, untroubled way.
An almost unnoticeable itch within the depths of Troy's chest escalated suddenly into an unbearable bout of pain. He began to cough breathlessly as phlegm and saliva blocked his airways. His face was turning red as he rocked himself unknowingly backwards and forwards. His eyes popped far from their sockets and threatened to leave his skull completely as they leaked a mass of tears. Between uncontrollable coughs, he struggled to suck in even the slightest desperate intake of air.
Unsure of what else to do and feeling helpless as he watched his friend suffering, Chad crawled over the small space that separated them, lay a tentative hand on Troy's back and began to pat and rub lightly. Eventually, after what seemed like hours, Troy managed to regain a normal-ish rhythm of respiration. His face glistened with sweat and he looked even worse than ever before.
He was sick. They both were. Due to their living conditions. Their lack of a substantial and healthy diet. The depression. They were sick. And it was killing them. It was clear that they were on deaths door. Any amount of excursion could tip them off the edge of life that they were tottering so precariously on. They had no chance.
Chad was about to ask Troy if he was okay, when a quiet sound came from outside the room. At first, both boys had thought it nothing more than the echo of Troy's coughing fit; the vibrations of his noise bouncing off the walls of the underground tunnels. But it came again, louder. And sounded more like a voice. A child's voice.
Putting his finger to his lips, Chad slowly stalked to the door on his knees. Troy mustered all the strength he could and got to his feet. He tiptoed behind Chad and leaned over him. As Chad silently opened the door, they both peered out at the station platform. What they saw made their breath hitch.
Chad shut the door quickly and put his back to it, leaning on it to keep it shut. He looked up at Troy who still stood above him.
"Did you see that?" He whispered, hoping it had just been a figment of his twisted imagination. A mirage induced by extreme hunger.
Unfortunately, Troy nodded.
Yes, he had seen the little boy who stood alone by the platforms edge. The child must have been no older than seven. He was infected. They could tell, even though he stood with his back to them. His pale skin was telling enough. Not to mention the fact that he was shirtless and barefoot; clothed only in bloodstained, torn jeans. He stood tense, head slightly tilted to the side, babbling to himself in an unknown tongue. He was mere metres from them.
Troy reached out a hand to help Chad to his feet, already formulating a plan of escape. They were going to have to run for the entrance before the little boy sussed that they were there and alerted any others to their whereabouts. The thought of having to find a new place to stay hadn't even occurred to them. Survival was their only instinct.
After silently ascertaining that they were both as ready as they would ever be, Chad slowly and silently re-opened the door. The space where the boy had stood was empty. The entire platform was void of presence, as it had been before. In their hearts they hoped that the little boy had gotten distracted and gone elsewhere, but they both knew that that was unlikely. He had probably just wandered out of their line of sight. Either way, their exit plan still stood, their 'home' not being as zombie-free as they had presumed.
They opened the door fully and stepped out into the main area of the station. To their left was the edge of the platform and the dead tracks. To their right, light shone down from the entrance that opened right onto the street. As they walked, their eyes were in constant search of the disappearing boy but they caught no sight of him until they reached the foot of the stairs that led to their exit.
Standing within the doorway, he was silhouetted against the bright light that shone from outdoors. His head was still cocked strangely to the side and he was shivering noticeably. He wasn't alone.
Neither Troy nor Chad stopped to count the boys company. Just seeing the line of expectant, hungry and twitching infected was enough to make them bolt in the other direction without a second thought. In their carelessly hasty run, they made contact with a discarded Coke can on the concrete floor. The sound of it was picked up instantly and the Savages broke into chase.
There weren't many places of escape. And it all happened so quickly that there was no time to think about it. Troy grabbed Chad by the shirt and they sprinted together to the edge of the platform. They jumped onto the tracks, the sound of the Savages' infuriated shrieks close behind them. Threatening and impossibly dark, the mouth of the tunnel beckoned them as their only chance of survival. The second they were within its curved walls, they were engulfed in pitch black. Troy still clutched Chad's shirt as they stumbled blindly through the underground rail system. The metal tracks and surrounding gravel made an unsettling amount of noise with each hurried step they took. They were leaving audible breadcrumbs, leading the sound-dependent Savages right to them.
Behind them, chillingly close behind them, the murmur of hoarse, ragged breathing never stopped. And the frantic searching grunts and moans echoed off the walls of their entrapment, making it seem as though they were already surrounded.
It occurred to them, at the same time apparently, that they would never escape by running. They were far too weak to be able to stay ahead of their enemies much longer. Their lungs wailed out of desperation and emptiness. Their exhausted legs threatened to buckle at any moment. Their minds and bodies groaned in unison. And their loud footsteps were a constant giveaway to their location.
Troy tugged again on Chad's shirt, pulling them both off the tracks. They staggered to the nearest wall, colliding with it with more force than intended. There, they stood, struggling to stay silent as they distraughtly attempted to fill their starved lungs with air. Their bodies ached even more now that they were stationary and it took almost all their energy to just stay upright.
In no time at all, the footsteps of their followers neared and came to a halt only a few feet from where they stood. They pressed themselves as close to the wall as they could in their attempts to go undetected. They held their breath, but even the rapid beating of their panicked hearts seemed deafeningly loud enough to reveal their positions.
The crunch, crunch, crunch of the gravel underfoot, gradually got louder until it seemed to be right in their heads. Both boys were hit with an overpowering stench that assaulted their noses and tongues. They resisted the urge to gag, realising what the scent meant. Although they could not see at all, they could smell, hear and feel the presence of a Savage that stood right in front of them. It's hot breath gushed repeatedly over their faces. The material of it's torn clothes gently tickled Chad's skin.
There isn't a word in any dictionary that could describe the feeling that washed over them at that moment. Such fear is unfathomable. It built up within them like a ticking time-bomb, slowly rendering all of their senses. Neither of them could think of anything but how close they were to slow and painful deaths. Their vulnerability was unbearable. Their hearts beat hard and fast in their throbbing chests. Their blood rushed through their veins. They couldn't stop themselves from shaking.
The Savage began to sniff, sensing the weeks-worth of dry sweat in front of him. The scent of fear. He leaned closer to Troy and Chad. And if they had known how close they were to him now, the boys would have been thankful for their blindness. Because his face was not even an inch from Chad's. Barely a centimetre. If it wasn't for his smaller height, he would have been touching Chad's hair. But the slightest movement from either of them would have their faces touching.
A loud shriek sounded at once and Chad was hit with a gust of hot, rancid breath. He shut his eyes and tried to picture himself anywhere but here. Anywhere but here. The quietening sound of retreating crunches didn't even register in his brain. His eyes stayed clamped tightly shut and he continued to starve his shrivelled lungs of air. Even when the beasts were out of earshot, he did not attempt to move. He was suffocating in the darkness. Finding it impossible to be anywhere but here.
"I think they're gone." Troy's trembling and uncertain voice announced.
And only then did Chad let go. His body crumbled to the floor as he sucked in a painful amount of air until his lungs felt like balloons fit to burst. Hard pebbles dug into his hands and knees as he coughed and spurted uncontrollably. The world came crashing down on him and he was powerless to hold its overbearing anguish off. It tore him apart from the inside out, gushing through every pore in his body and staining his blood black with terror.
"Oh god," he sobbed between desperate gasps. "Oh god." His knees collapsed beneath him and he lay in a trembling ball on the floor. "Oh god." His hands clutched his head as he tried to block it all out. "Oh god."
Beneath the consuming despair was one solid thought that kept repeating in his mind. Death. He would have preferred death. Because having the Savage slaughter him would have been easier than this. Now he had to live with the memories of how close he had been to being killed. Now he had to face the nightmares. At least, in death, he would have finally found peace from this cruel, harsh world.
A/N: You're probably thinking that was a bit of an extreme reaction and wondering why Troy didn't seem as traumatized as Chad. Let me explain. Troy has come to terms with the idea of dying and, although he doesn't want to, he is acceptant of the fact that it will probably happen soon. Chad is in denial. He's gotten himself in the idea that they are going to live forever and that this was just a minor setback in their lives. This is the first time that he realises that they probably aren't going to live and it's all too much for him to handle. Reality just crushed him like a tonne of bricks. Sad sad.
Next Time…
Chad released his grip on Troy's arm and took a step back. He let out a sound that is only possible to make when one is at their most devastated. A quiet cry of pure despair. A long whimper of anguish. He found himself overwhelmed with distress, so much so that he couldn't stop himself from clutching his head with both hands, his fingers so tight that his nails dug into his scalp. His line of sight never left the injury that meant the end of his best friend.
xX M Xx
