Just be careful and stick close to me when we do.
That was what Jameson had said, when Robin had suggested they explore the Mausoleum. The very words that were uttered, after he’d told Robin all about the zombies in the Quarantine Zone. To keep all the dead things in. Technically, Robin wasn’t going against Jameson’s wishes – not that he had to stick to Jameson’s wishes anyway. Technically, Jameson had been referring to the catacombs. Robin was now in the sewers, making his way not toward the ancient ruins, but instead toward the zone that had been cut off from the city.
Why had he never questioned its existence before? Maybe because he had other things to worry about. Being homeless, for example. Or having no cigarettes. When he had no cigarettes he felt like the world was ending. Maybe, like a lot of people, he didn’t think it was anything. A building site. Unsafe ground. Some kind of sink hole that couldn’t be fixed and couldn’t be built on.
Robin had a torch to find his way through the sewers. Sunlight poured through the manholes to light the rest of the way. He assumed he was under the right one when he could hear no signs of population up above. With his heart thundering in his chest, he climbed the ladder; he slid the manhole aside, with some grunting. And hauled himself up into what looked like a scene out of an apocalypse movie. Crumbling buildings and overgrown trees bereft of all their leaves in the cold weather. Snow covered everything, bulging piles of it beside the buildings.
Though Robin didn’t have much of a chance, in the beginning, to take in his surroundings. The first thing that he did see was the monster that Jameson had described; it was so much worse than what his subconscious had concocted. His nightmares were nothing compared to the hulking mass of flesh only feet away from Robin. He didn’t faff around—the manhole was left uncovered as Robin fell back into the soft snow, tufts of it flying this way and that as he scrambled backward, and ran for his very fragile life.
There were several mistakes that Robin made, which he later very heavily scolded himself for.
The combination of all Robin’s faults led to one very large conclusion.
He was freezing and vulnerable in the middle of a Quarantine Zone and the sun was fast to set in Winter. The days were shorter. He had forgotten. He had paid no attention. He’d told himself he’d have a quick look, and then he would leave again. Of course, he didn’t plan on getting lost. Several times he was this close to rounding the corner to find the manhole he needed, but he was always turned around again – always avoiding the ambling corpses. How were they moving so quickly in this weather?!
Darkness was descending. He had not discovered the lobby to the flats – he hadn’t got that far. No, instead, he’d inadvertently blocked himself into a corner of the abandoned Supermarket. He had his torch, and was swearing under his breath as he dug around in his bag, into his pockets, the blood slowly draining from his face. The sun had set, and the smart idea was to call Jameson. Obviously.
But he could not find his phone.
”******* brilliant!”
Probably not the best idea to shout in a zombie infested supermarket. He hushed, as his voice echoed. He paused, stood stock still. He could hear nothing approaching, and sighed. Though he wasn’t relieved. Not by a long shot.
That was what Jameson had said, when Robin had suggested they explore the Mausoleum. The very words that were uttered, after he’d told Robin all about the zombies in the Quarantine Zone. To keep all the dead things in. Technically, Robin wasn’t going against Jameson’s wishes – not that he had to stick to Jameson’s wishes anyway. Technically, Jameson had been referring to the catacombs. Robin was now in the sewers, making his way not toward the ancient ruins, but instead toward the zone that had been cut off from the city.
Why had he never questioned its existence before? Maybe because he had other things to worry about. Being homeless, for example. Or having no cigarettes. When he had no cigarettes he felt like the world was ending. Maybe, like a lot of people, he didn’t think it was anything. A building site. Unsafe ground. Some kind of sink hole that couldn’t be fixed and couldn’t be built on.
Robin had a torch to find his way through the sewers. Sunlight poured through the manholes to light the rest of the way. He assumed he was under the right one when he could hear no signs of population up above. With his heart thundering in his chest, he climbed the ladder; he slid the manhole aside, with some grunting. And hauled himself up into what looked like a scene out of an apocalypse movie. Crumbling buildings and overgrown trees bereft of all their leaves in the cold weather. Snow covered everything, bulging piles of it beside the buildings.
Though Robin didn’t have much of a chance, in the beginning, to take in his surroundings. The first thing that he did see was the monster that Jameson had described; it was so much worse than what his subconscious had concocted. His nightmares were nothing compared to the hulking mass of flesh only feet away from Robin. He didn’t faff around—the manhole was left uncovered as Robin fell back into the soft snow, tufts of it flying this way and that as he scrambled backward, and ran for his very fragile life.
There were several mistakes that Robin made, which he later very heavily scolded himself for.
- 1. He had nothing on him but a very small hunting knife.
2. He did not dress appropriately – snow got into his clothes and he was ******* freezing.
3. In his rush to get away from hulking mass of corpses, he did not pay any attention to where the manhole was.
4. He’d slept in (for this he would blame Jameson) and had let this little jaunt until later in the afternoon.
The combination of all Robin’s faults led to one very large conclusion.
He was freezing and vulnerable in the middle of a Quarantine Zone and the sun was fast to set in Winter. The days were shorter. He had forgotten. He had paid no attention. He’d told himself he’d have a quick look, and then he would leave again. Of course, he didn’t plan on getting lost. Several times he was this close to rounding the corner to find the manhole he needed, but he was always turned around again – always avoiding the ambling corpses. How were they moving so quickly in this weather?!
Darkness was descending. He had not discovered the lobby to the flats – he hadn’t got that far. No, instead, he’d inadvertently blocked himself into a corner of the abandoned Supermarket. He had his torch, and was swearing under his breath as he dug around in his bag, into his pockets, the blood slowly draining from his face. The sun had set, and the smart idea was to call Jameson. Obviously.
But he could not find his phone.
”******* brilliant!”
Probably not the best idea to shout in a zombie infested supermarket. He hushed, as his voice echoed. He paused, stood stock still. He could hear nothing approaching, and sighed. Though he wasn’t relieved. Not by a long shot.
[Attire]
