Chapter 5

“And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.”-Frederic Nietzsche

 

I open my eyes but have to close them as the sun’s harsh light beats down upon me. Snipes is carrying me over his shoulder. I look up, Charles is behind him carrying my pack, “Well rise and shine old chap, you’ve been out for a while. I’m glad Natasha didn’t hit you too too hard.”

I feel the bump on my head, “F**k, Natasha got me good.”

“You’re weak comrade,” the Russian accent from in front. Snipes decides this is a good time to put me down and promptly drops me. I land in the dirt. I get up while trying to speak to Natasha, “F**k you Snipes and f**k you Natasha, where’s the girl…oh what’s her name?...Susie! Where is she?”

Natasha looks back at me, “She’s been following us for a while. Hopefully the idiot decided to bring food instead of her stuffies. Ahhh no mater, she’ll die either way. Look there,” says Natasha while pointing to a partially bombed town, “The zombies got to them no doubt, which means we have to move faster. Comrade, whatever you do, do not take the girl, she is dead anyways.”

Greg looks at her, “You can’t be serious! We can’t leave her to the zombies!”

Natasha doesn’t even bother looking back, “Hey, if you want to carry her, it’s your funeral.”

Snipes taps Natasha on the shoulder and points to some shapes moving slowly towards us from the distance. Natasha begins to get more commanding, “Okay comrades, listen up! Zombies are coming! Stay close and keep moving quickly.”

Greg looks at her, “Why not search the town for anything we can use?”

Charles starts to laugh, “Because it’s been hit by a bomb. The radiation isn’t worth it and let’s face it, most of the people are zombies and anything useful would have been either irradiated or looted. How have you lasted this long without knowing this?”

Greg sighs. He is not cut out for this. He looks back at Susie who trips and falls. He runs back to help her. Natasha  yells back, “Don’t bother, she isn’t worth it.”

As we get to the top of the next hill we see the zombies are close, over twenty of them.  We pause a moment before Natasha says, “We’ll have to jog until we find shelter, which means leaving Greg and Susie behind. If anyone is opposed, now is the time to speak,” everyone looks at me.

“Let’s go,” I say. All I’ve known is survival and now is not the time to know anything different. We start at a brisk walk and move into a jog. I am surprised at Charles’ stamina who despite his age is able to keep up and is showing no signs of weakness. It is obvious his cane is to satisfy his peculiar fashion sense. He will get to Miami. Snipes in the meantime is leading the pack. Ten minutes of running later, a faint scream can be heard in the distance behind us. She is dead, the world moves on. I hope for Greg’s sake that he realized Natasha’s truth and abandoned her. It is far better that one dies than all die.

After an hour of running the zombies are far behind and we slowdown to a walk. Snipes taps Natasha on the shoulder than points to a pile of rubble. He lies on his stomach and we all do likewise. Natasha and Charles look at the hole while Charles and I cover the rear. I see a head poke up out of the ground, look around and duck down. Before I have a chance to tell the others, Charles speaks up, “There are people here, they’re in holes underground. It’s a trap, get out!” We get up and start running, but we are too late.

Soon we are surrounded by men in large brown overcoats with helmets, gas masks and carbines.

One walks forward, “Drop your weapons, there’s no point in resisting.” We comply and put our hands on our head, even Snipes complies. More masked men take our weapons and put them in a pile out of our reach. The masked man starts asking questions, “Have any of you been bitten? Any radiation sickness?”

Natasha answers all negative and then asks, “If you’re robbing us then be done with it!”

The masked man looks at her, “Not robbery, security. Follow me.” He disappears into a hole and the other men hand us our weapons. I look at Natasha and for a brief moment she looks back before saying, “Well, if they haven’t killed us by now, they aren’t going to so we may as well follow,” and she disappears down the hole. I follow and a short drop down I land on a metal walkway of what appears to be a bomb shelter. More men come in behind and close the hatch, “To prevent fallout from entering,” one says.

The guy in front says, “Welcome to mole city,” as he takes off his mask and coat, “I’ll explain everything you need to know in a bit, you guys should hit the showers over there. With all the radiation out there, it’s amazing you aren’t dead. Leave your clothes in the basket just outside the showers, we’ll clean them and get them back to you tomorrow. We’ll provide alternatives until then.”

Not fully sure if I should listen to them, I shuffle down the hall with the rest of the group into the shower rooms. For the first time in over a week, I peel my grime covered clothes off and throw them in the basket outside the room while turning to the wall, trying to hide myself from everybody else while I look at the floor so I can’t see them. It is strange being naked after wearing the same clothes for so long. I think I may have pulled off some of my own skin in removing my pants.

I shuffle into the other room and stand underneath a shower head soon cold water pours down upon me. Under the shower head is liquid soap. I apply several layers trying to wash off the layers of filth that have accumulated upon me. It seems as though no matter how long I scrub I am still dirty. After what feels like ten minutes, the water turns off and a door opens beside me.  I walk through, followed b the others. In the other room we are presented with bath robes. After we don them, masked man walks in. After looking at all of us he starts explaining things, “This is mole city, an old bomb shelter we since modified to sustain our community after the war. We have everything we need to protect ourselves. We’re hoping to start above ground agriculture within a year. Until then, we have all that we need below, food, water purification, electricity, everything. Now, you can stay here for tonight and we’ll fix up your weapons for you and we’ll give you all the food you can carry but you have to do us one tiny favour.”

The entire group looks at Natasha who looks up for a moment before replying, “What is it you want?”

The man chuckles, “Straight to business are we? Well, when you leave, we’ll hand you a small wrapped package. A few miles down the road, you will see a hole in the middle of the road. Open the door and drop this in then keep moving, it’s a package for some friends who live in that mole city. They tend to be violent so don’t stick around and it may be better to go at night.”

Again we look to Natasha who again has a response, “We will do your favour, but you have to take this Gregory kid here. He isn’t a wanderer, he’s a home body.”

 The man smiles and stretches his hand out towards Natasha which she shakes, staring coldly into the man’s eyes.

After he leaves, we find clothes which are neatly folded in the corner of the room. We each reach for one of the grey “Chairman Mao suits” and put them on. I hear a ripping as Natasha forces her arm through one of the holes. Aside from her, everyone fits well into the suits. Charles however seems uncomfortable and after finishing buttoning up his shirt he says, “I must say, it seems rather undignified to be wearing uniforms as though we are prisoners.”

“Oh shut up you whining senile old man!” replies Natasha, gracing us with her wonderful leadership, “Just wear it.”

“Oh that’s easy for you to say,” whines Charles, “You’ve spent your youth in a Soviet lab. Uniforms is a way of life for you, I on the other hand am a gentleman and such a uniform is quite humiliating.”

 Before he can go on, the man again walks in and directs us into yet another room where barbers attempt to clean up the magnitude of hair that has grown on everybody. Both at the beginning and end of this process I do not recognize the man that stares back at me in the mirror. He has hope, he is strong, I am but a broken shell scratching a survival in a barren world. But, both of us are fighters, he just knows what he is fighting for.

After being made presentable to the sheltered community, we are filed into a cafeteria to be served dinner. We are all sent to different tables where different professionals and common citizens are to ask us questions about our experiences. Most of the professionals flock to Natasha and Snipes, fighting for a seat at the tables.  Niether seems to be enjoying it, especially Snipes who looks back and fourth uncomfortably. I hope he doesn’t get violent.

 At my table, a male psychologist who looks eerily similar to Freud sits down. He pulls out a notebook and begins to ask questions,

“Tell me, where were you when the bombs fell?” he inquires.

A middle aged couple also sits down each with their dinner, “How’d you survive, how’d you get here?”

I look up, recalling the events. The memories come back to me like somebody just shattered the damn blocking my memories.