Molly - Part 1

Chapter 17

Pete ran across shaking ground, leaning against a wall and spinning around only to see the fog following him. He ran, faster now and lo he could see that he just wasn't fast enough and soon he would die to the culling. Every part of him was scrapped; he was a survivor but his survival came at the cost of a thousand cuts, those same cuts now threatening to overtake him.

He sank into trash and breathed sharply; something stabbed at his side but he didn't care. They were coming for him, to take him away.

"Shit," he said, fumbling back through corridors unending. But nothing he could do could dissuade the smoke so he fell and closed his eyes and waited.

Time slowed. A dog came forward, maw bloodied. More, great and terrible, eyes small in their heads. And now the monsieurs. Pete trembled; there was nothing he could do.

The guy fell, so stiff Urn figured he died on the way down.

"We have to watch our ammo," Surj rasped.

"How the fuck does Tes think we can keep killing these people withought guns?"

"She'll figure it out."

"She better. Only reason I'm still here is because I don't want to mess with the military."

Surj snorted. "If the military gave half a shit about you, Urn, you'd be long dead."

"Cowards," Urn spat, kicking the dead man with his shoe. "People are all weak and the sun never shows."

Yes it was true. It was the truth each time Urn opened his eyes. Nothing--not even a hint of sunlight. It had been getting worse. Soon, he thought, they'd forget what it was like to know warmth.

He dug a tube into the man's arm and waited. One of the dogs snarled at Surj. Surj lifted his gun to strike it, but Urn told him not to. Enough noise already.

He spied something in the man's coat. He dug his hand in, then drew back, his gloves dusted with a foreign substance. He dug deeper, finding a rectangle covered in what looked like foil.

"Military," Urn mumbled.

"So what?"

Urn tore off the foil and balled up some of the bar, tossing it to the dog. The dog caught it, then growled again, going silent as Urn lifted some of the foodstuff, watching it crumble in his hands.

"Don't feed them," Surj said. "It just makes them follow you."

"They're already following us. Maybe we can make them listen to us."

"Can we just go?"

Urn tapped the tube, then exhaled. "Not a lot. Our prey grows ever-weaker."

"Just makes it easier to kill them."

Urn got up, shaking his head. "We're going to have to follow the walkers."

"Tes said no."

"Tes isn't going to have a say, eventually."

Surj coughed, then sighed.

"You were always a fucking downer Urn."

Surj walked on, picking up and throwing a rock at one of the dogs, the animal yipping as it trailed off.

They came over to a dirty pale of water some unknown was using, Surj taking it and throwing off the mask. One of the few women monsieurs, though her hair was so short and her temper so flared no one ever mentioned the fact.

"Cover me, asshole."

Urn stepped in front of her. Above what used to be a corridor leading from one building to the next had been taken over by black rags and graffiti. The corridor was made of reinforced glass so that Urn could see dark splotches piling up at the bottom. Bodies, probably. Something had gone wrong in the better apartments.