I struggle, shaking my body, arms and legs pulling and twisting. At first, I think I must be careful, but the more I move, the more I realize I am bound so tightly by leather ropes, that without some kind of force I will never break free.
Time ticks away, and in this empty darkness, I can sense the movement around me. As if the earth beneath my feet crawls with life, even the tiny lights and flickers of flame, they grab and gnaw at the air, seeking out visibility and existence.
I know if I wait too long, others might come along, a wandering group of bandits, someone or thing seeking food, which might be turn out to be me. I wonder too if I might never escape, and then what, a rotting corpse, stuck here for eternity?
This will not be my damnation.
I end my desire to be hidden in the shadows, the escape lithely and without force. I rampage in my struggles, fighting with all my might to move. The ropes don't loosen, but I feel the metal, chain link fence wavering. I kick and lurch out, suddenly feeling gravity moving beneath me. It isn't subtle, as I fall heavily forwards, the fence post snapping, clattering to the ground.
It hurts, but then life does.
I push myself, and can feel the fence giving way, pieces falling off, a post has shattered, causing the metal links to break, they're so brittle.
At last I free myself, and the ropes unravel against my skin. It feels sore, but I am glad, because it means I am alive: for now.
Shadows moves near me, scurrying across the floor. Too dark to see it, but I know I need defence, and to leave, quickly. I grab a metal post, a foot long, sturdy enough to hit anything that gets in my way. I look ahead and see a tunnel leading off, it is shrouded in mist, but there are lights greater than these, and perhaps a sign of life, perhaps hope.
As I run I spot my bag, I feel elated, so relieved. I look inside and see my things are still there, all that I need. The food in tins I had is gone, but for some reason they never took the water. I suspect where they were in life they no longer needed it. They were heading for death anyway.
As I walk I tread softly, the ground is a field of rubble, broken and fallen ceiling, old benches. To one side on a track is a crashed train, a subway car, looks in unusually good condition.
I wonder how many came down here when whatever destruction took hold above, and actually survived. Imagine the crazy luck, to have been looking for a subway train to wherever and destruction reigned down and those few escaped the torment. I wonder how long my luck will hold out, and how far I can go. I need some kind of base, something to build upon, because without that, if I find an unwanted terminal to the world, I need something to come back to.
the only way I can ensure that is to find a permanent source of clean water!
As I walk I look at the tunnels. The walls are shiny and grey, the tracks surprisingly intact. The mist gives way to a yawning chasm, a tunnel so bleak and dark I doubt I would be able to see a thing ahead. I track back and take one of the torches the thugs were using. It seems to have cloth wrapped around it, and be soaked in some kind of oil. It stinks awful, but no matter because it burns well and gives of plenty of heat as well as light.
It must be getting dark outside, and I feel sure tiredness will be eating away at me. Thinking of eating, I wish I had something to eat now. It's been too long since I had something decent.
A door lies up far ahead, to the left side. It's a good job, because piles of rubble block progress beyond, unless I want to crawl through piles of it, and pray too that the roof doesn't collapse on me. A hateful end.
The door looks made of metal, very solid, impenetrable. I curse, blocked, locked and no way to go. I smack the door with my open hand, then kick it. I know it is foolish, but I am so tired and hungry.
To my utter shock the door swings open quickly, clanging against the wall beside. There is a man stood in its entrance, holding a pistol towards me, ready to fire. He looks at me without blinking, no doubt because his eyelids appear burned off. He is like one of those gross creatures, so thin and yet their entire skin burned to the flesh. What is most odd is how he is dressed, in a trilby hat, smart shoes, and a very nice, albeit worn suit. He even has a shirt, with a loose fitting tie.
'What can I do for you stranger, other than kill you?' The man asks me abruptly. His voice is gravelly and deep, awash with sarcasm.
Before I get a chance to answer, his gun clicks, and fires...
No comments:
Post a Comment