The Grandeur

Chapter Five - Hunter

I feel trapped all the time in here; there are no windows in this ‘bunker’ built inside a hill.

After exploring some rooms I found the kitchen, and what he calls, a ‘refrigerator’. It’s a large, white metal box and it’s quite tall. It also has two doors, for the two sections: fridge and freezer. He says it keeps food cold when it’s plugged in.

      I asked him why everything is in such good condition he replies with something unexpected: “Because these rooms haven’t been exposed to air, and if you think about it, the air back then must have been more polluted than it is now, so it hasn’t deteriorated everything.” I looked shocked; he flashed his flawless teeth and said: “Got you there didn’t I, princess?”

      We also found the main power room. Wires sprawled across the floor and huge pipes interlocked with each other. When I asked whether the Metropolis would know if we used the electricity, he said no, because it says on the wall it’s independent from the electricity that supplies the Metropolis. After we turned on all the power, we went into the kitchen to see if the fridge worked. It did, but all nothing was inside. He limped over to the sink and turned on the tap. A sudden gush of water came out of the spout and sprayed his face. He screamed as he struggled to turn it off. He asked for my help – as he still only has one arm in use, and it’s his left one at that – but I just stood by the fridge, leaning against it, chuckling as I watched him thrashing about. We carried on through the rooms, until we came across the mini hospital.

      We found cupboards full of medicines and he told me to specifically look for ‘paracetamol’. I stopped, and scowled at him. He apologised and said small white pills instead.

      His thigh wound has got better and I’ve been helping him change his bandages when he wakes up and when he goes to sleep.

      I’ve become fond of the majestic room at the end. He begged me to let him sleep on the floor at the foot of the bed because he’s ‘scared of the white walls’. He’s so silly like that and I wonder how he has the energy to make jokes, but then I remember, of course, he’s had it easy his whole life. So, night-time consists with me on the amazingly comfy bed and him on the floor, complaining about how he cannot reach the itch on his back because of the bandages. I reply with the fact that the bandages are holding him together, and after a laugh he shuts up. Even though I did call dibs on the bed, I haven’t had much sleep. He sleeps soundlessly, while I lay scared of what might appear in my dreams.

      We’ve been here for two nights and I haven’t been with the wind yet. He tells me that if he’s right, there might be minefields on the surface because they wouldn’t build this without putting any defence mechanisms in place. Surprisingly it made sense. My initial thoughts of him were right. He is massively clumsy, but unexpectedly smart. When we first found the hospital room, he knew exactly which pills to take for his injuries. I ask him why he knows all this and he tapped his head and said: “It’s all in here.”

      Attached to the big room, there is an amazing bathroom. In the middle is a huge silver bathtub with silver taps to supply water to it. The walls are filled with glistening white tiles, and just half way, a strip of blue runs across. On the left is a small sink and full sized mirror, and on the right is a toilet. Inside the cupboard that’s next to the sink, loads of small toiletries are kept.

      In the hospital room, I also found some crutches, I brought one back to the big room, as he spends most of his time rummaging in the desk there. I find him buried in sheets and sheets of paper, reading all he can. Everything just looks like a bunch of letters to me.

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