Chapter 1
What happens when the world is no longer the way it used to be, safe. But rather a haven for horror and blood and fear. Well, this is what he is used to.
He, hiding in a rat tunnel in the disease-stricken city once known as Washington d.c; America’s capital. He doesn’t remember his name nor where he came from, but he knows it wasn’t good. Is it any better than hiding in a rat tunnel from the crazy men who will eat you for dinner if given the chance? He asks himself in his little corner of the tunnel. His corner of the tunnel is all he knows of something similar to home, his refuge. His corner is full of weapons and his little fragments of a better world.
He doesn’t know how long he has stayed in this tunnel, nor how the passage of time is. All he knows is that he is tired of the silence. Tired of the loneliness, of the horrible feeling of being alone, and not knowing if you will always be alone.
In the deafening silence of the tunnel there is a groaning sound and the sound of water sloshing. He deliberately picks up his weapon-a metal bat reinforced with spikes- and moves to the corner. He jumps out once the sloshing sounds 2 feet away. It’s a man. Covered in blood,warts and god knows what else, the man falls to the floor the sound almost painful. He can not stop the retching that follows, spewing all over his nice little corner. The slosh begins again, this time seeming to be amplified by a thousand microphones. He tensed; the hairs on his neck standing up. He bashes the man’s skull in one precise hit.
He wavered before deciding to peek again. He saw what seemed to be hundreds of these Men covered in blood and warts. The sloshing got louder; he was getting closed in on. NO! His subconscious shouted at him with a ferocity similar to a lion roaring. Not yet, not before we have found who we are. Not without knowing our own name! His subconscious continued roaring, combating with the sound of his heartbeat which was racing at a pace way too high to be healthy. He had to find a way out and fast, he had to survive, to find his purpose.
These men were the reason he went into the tunnel, to hide away from them. The only thing he remembers from before the tunnel were these men, these men who wanted to kill anyone. Mad men. He looked and looked around his eyes pacing and scanning as a computer. There was a gap near the end of the tunnel. He could take that. But to get to it he would have to get through the men. Which one had just collapsed onto the floor. The one on the floor was a woman-quite young actually- and her body started to convulse. All of her bones breaking at once. Once she was a pile of broken bones and skin, her skin repeated the same process, bursting at every joint and like a crack in a glass jar-spreading. He watched in horror and curiosity at this process.
He was brought back to the beginning of his time in those tunnels- around the earliest he can remember. He was full grown; a man. Around 17 years old, maybe older. He wandered aimlessly till he encountered a group of dying people who offered their weapons before they died. His companion became his metal bat, revolver-which he was not a fan of- and his dagger. He killed when he had to, because that’s how you survive. Survival of the fittest truly comes into play when you have mad men running around looking for one last kill before they die themselves. And right in front of him was a horde of them. He scanned the group looking for spots in between them, places to move to. He tightened his grip around his baseball bat and right then the woman’s body exploded, starting the battle. He swung the bat into the faces of 3 of the strongest men, whose heads spun back and their bones cracked. The mad men roared the sound filling the tunnel. He had already put his arm into his pocket to take out his revolver. Turned off the safety and shot person after person the sounds of their bodies breaking; turning into mush. There were around seven left. Could he outrun them and save his bullets or should he switch back to his bat? He tensed up his muscles and took in the sizes of the people left.
Man 1: tall build but clumsy. He nicknamed this one joe.
Man 2: short and steady but mainly power. Ollie.
Man 3: a woman who looks like she walked out of an army movie. Colonel.
Man 4&5: currently engaged in a fist fight with each other. Dumb and dumber.
Man 6: a middle aged black man who has the body of a runner. Bolt.
The only people who would cause problems to him would be Colonel and Bolt. He could take them on a diversion into a wall where he could just bound off. He got ready to run left to the dead end instead of right. The Colonel and Bolt were right behind him. The cut off appeared and instead of bounding off of it he smashed into it. Falling to the ground trying to remain conscious. His body screamed in pain and anguish at him as he stood up and continued to run. Right, right, left, right, left, left, sewer pipe and pothole opening. He thought he was going to die as he left his last time and looked back seeing Bolt still with him. Something about Bolt’s face was familiar yet it was only a feeling.
All of it was feeling really, since he had no memories outside of the tunnel. Bolt neared him and whispered in his ear, “you are Sid Jackson, that’s your name.” Then Bolt fell to the floor and became a puddle on the floor too. Sid. Sid Jackson. He tried the name on his tongue, it felt right and Sid accepted it. Sid reached the top of the pipe and pulled himself out of the manhole.
He survived, and with something to call himself. Sid Jackson. There is no longer the sound of sloshing water in the background replaced now by the sound of falling. The sound of the impact. It’s kind of calming. Sid gets up and as far away from the manhole as he can and collapses next to a trash can in an alleyway near what used to be south capitol street. His bones convulsed and he worried that he was getting sick like the mad men.
Sid used to be happy, before the virus came, before whatever life he had was destroyed by the virus and the mad men. It seemed like a thousand times worse version of mad cow disease. The disease was never named because all people could get sick first. Sid remembers calling it The Hyper-madness syndrome. Or HMS.
There is a murmur of voices close to where Sid is hiding. If he has learned anything it is to never trust sounds or people. He quickly finds his hiding spot; a little nook behind a pillar that he is invisible to the eye. As he is enclosed in the space he can feel everything;every little tingle from any touch or the hairs stood up in fear. His heart beat so fast it threatened to burst out of his chest and catapult to the moon or somewhere farther. The voices came into recognition and Sid tightened his grip on the revolver. He thought he should feel guilt for killing the men in the tunnel but the thing was he didn’t feel any emotion about it. He grew resistance to guilt, it’s the only way to survive in this husk of a world. The first man from the group approaching Sid’s hiding place was named Wallace and was the jock of the group. “Hey, think that we could find any more survivors here, Pat? We need more people. Safety in numbers my dude.” Said Wallace rather loudly.
The second man named Pat was the thinker of the group. “Maybe but we need to be careful. They would love a little snack.” Pat practically spit the last sentence. Sid snorted, the sound loud and proved to the group that there was another person here.
“Little dude come out we won’t hurt you, trust me. We wouldn’t waste our supplies.” The third woman sang her voice high pitched and motherly. Her name was Annie.
Sid crawled out and stood up still not trusting them till he saw their faces. Their faces shined with hope for human companionship; he trusted them without a doubt. “H-hi. My name is Sid Jackson. I just came from my hiding place in the rat tunnel over there under the manhole. Can I join you guys? I haven’t come across an actual human being in so long.” Sid mumbles surprised at himself for remembering how to speak. He did not speak In the tunnels. In the tunnels he was perfectly quiet. In such an echoey place sound is a risk. Sound is something that can awaken the horrors hidden in the broken world. Sid knew much too much about those horrors lurking in the dark.
“Sure!” All three of them say after what felt like forever to Sid but was really just a minute. They all congratulate him and introduce Sid to the group. Sid being quite well rounded in all aspects of the team is a great addition and makes survival seem more possible. The only thing is that Sid still seems quite young.
In that moment there is a sound resembling a roar; earth’s warning that acid rain is coming, this is unknown to Sid as he wonders the meaning of the sound. The group starts running and puts Sid in the middle. They run down what used to be south capitol street towards the old ruins of the Washington Nationals parking garage.
The signs of acid rain are quickly falling in:
Rapid temperature change
The air smelling like citrus
Little stinging droplets
As the droplets hit his skin he gritted his teeth telling his organs that they can shut down once we are safe. But then something hits Sid in the side of his ribs. Sid falls on the ground groaning. His organs gave up. They refuse to work after getting hit in the ribs by an UO(unidentified object). Sid looks to the side and sees a cam recorder. Great! JUST MY LUCK!!! His self conscious screams. And he’s picked up and moving at a faster pace. “Almost there.” Wallace grits through his teeth. “Hang in there kid. You are gonna get help.”
Sid blacks out then from the pain, dizziness, and stress. There are no images in his head as he is there in the black void. Sid isn’t sleeping, he’s in a coma of sorts so that his body can heal itself. The anxiety that would be there if he was awake was non apparent, but it resonating
No matter what happens in the world, our bodies’ coping mechanisms stay the same. Built in responses. Which was exactly what Pat was describing to everyone at that moment.
They were all in an abandoned facility off of New Jersey avenue. They had gathered ottomans, cooking materials, cleaning materials, personal protection items-pepper spray-, bedding and medical supplies. It was well furnished for being a bunker after the world ending disease struck. At least that’s what Pat thought about it.
Wallace was sitting next to the beanbag trying to sleep-he would get first watch tonight. Annie was taking care of Sid. Annie saw every kid as her kid which meant that they were safe and loved. 2 things Sid had never thought he would be again. Annie hummed a melody as she took care of Sid.
“The moon settles in the dusky sky, the gentle eyes of the North Star rest upon your sleeping face. My celestial child, my celestial child. Stay with me till morning light, sleeping in my arms.” Annie continued the light shining on her face as she looked at Sid wondering how someone like him could end up surviving these things. Sid’s body type was made for rock climbing and things. Not this. It wasn’t fair how this child could end up in this situation.
Pat cleared his throat, the sound echoing in the quiet room. Wallace snapped awake from his nap blinking wildly before waking up truly. “So,” pat began, “ we have a new member to take care of. And even though he’s young he is strong. He’s also able to kill things.”
At the mention of death Annie recoiled. “No!” She snapped. All of her compilation drained out of her body and she picked it up. “He is just a kid. A kid. Don’t fucking try anything.” Wallace stepped between them and made a distance.
Sid’s eyelashes fluttered and no one noticed. They were still arguing as he opened his eyes and a flood of anxiety and fear came to flood his brain. He looks around and strains to hear anything except for the bells and rain.
It was then that Annie turned around only to stare straight into Sid’s eyes. Annie jumped back like a cat and Sid felt a tinge of some emotion tug on him. Sid’s eyes fluttered and he fell asleep. Safe for one of the first times of his life-what he could remember- brought serenity back into his thoughts.
A fading peace surrounded the group and everyone said good night, then fell asleep.
That peace is not found less than 2 miles past them where a 19 year old is hiding in a tree trying not to get killed by the mad men at the foot of the tree. Please let Sid be alive. He can save me. She fell asleep poised in the tree, her necklace pressing into her collarbone. The name Darcy on the necklace. Dreams of better days, dreams of childish wishes. Dreams of peace.
