A New Type of Realism

(14) This Is The Place

So, a basic run down of my situation was;

1. I'd run into a public toilet facility,

2. I'd gotten stuck,

3. I'd climbed onto the roof,

4. I'd become surrounded by the infected and was consequently,

5. Stuck.

Making a list of the events that had taken place only announce to me the arrival of hysteria. I would not be getting out of this. I was going to die.

I couldn't help it, but when my life flashed before me, a life spent sat on the couch, watching TV, taking everyone and everything for granted, wishing for something exciting to happen, but never really wanting it to. A life I'd wasted. I found it ironic that I'd be dying in this way.

I laughed.

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My laughter faded and died like a failed firework, as the sounds of the fast approaching infected fired through the nearly empty field. I weakly turned my head to the side, this torment must end soon!

Yet, as I waited for the end, even hoping for it out of exhaustion, it danced just out of my grip. The infected had followed me through the toilet block and had attempted to climb out of the incredibly small window that I shouldn't have been able to get through without the use of a wand.

It was in this small gap to the outside that the infected had encountered their problem. It was here, in the route that had postponed my inevitable death, that their sheer numbers had become a disadvantage. They had all tried to squeeze through at once, and had become trapped.

It was comical in the way that their limbs waved out at different angles as they grunted in frustration and discomfort. One had managed to fit its head through the gap, and glared up at me as its skin was scraped and pulled by the limbs of the others. Its mouth flapped open and closed repeatedly, like a fish out of water.

At least I wasn't alone in my predicament.

I turned my head back to face the sky. In this position I remained, waiting for the threat to end, or for me, myself to be ended, which was probably more likely. Life wasn't a game after all, no matter how many times I had pretended that it was.

To pass the time, I counted the number of clouds in the sky.

One...

Well, that was fun...

I started again...

The sun hovered just a few inches above the line of trees in the horizon. I had no idea how long I had been lying on the roof of the toilets, counting the one, grey cloud that stretched from above me, to the far east, but I had passed through some of the most extreme mood swings that I had ever had. I had gone from feeling panic and fear, to intense anger, then a staggering mood of depression, and finally acceptance.

The infected that had not followed me into the toilets stood in a ring around the building, glaring in my general direction, like they were vultures and I was the next meal.

At first, the slightest movement they made would set me on edge. I would flinch and stare at them with wide, wild eyes, trying to use my gaze to keep them away from me. Obviously, I wasn't superman, and couldn't glare them into backing down, but it was reassuring that when I looked, they didn't move.

Wasn't there a Doctor Who monster like that? Not that I'm into that kid's programme anyway, but I remember catching a few minutes of that one episode.

In the end, I'd get bored and look back at the sky, ready to stare at them again if I caught movement in the corner of my eye, but this had happened so many times now, that I no longer paid them any heed. I had begun to notice their movements becoming more frequent, and if I looked at the image of them from the edges of my vision, they could be mistaken for human beings who had had a particularly bad day at the office.

The whispering of the dark was interrupted by a fierce growling. I hit my stomach in reply. "I know, I'm hungry too..." I spoke to it.

It wasn't fair. I'd always imagined myself dying after eating a particularly large meal and fallen asleep peacefully. I didn't want to die whilst the mere thought of a live chicken would make me salivate.

I sat up and looked again, towards the sun. It perched on the top of one of the tallest trees, waving its last goodbye to me. We were dying together, though I, unlike it, would not rise again (unless I was, without knowing it, the son of a God I didn't believe in).

Finally, the faint glow of the rapidly sinking sun, disappeared. The death of the star gave birth to a wave of defiance in me. I scanned the area around me for a weapon of some sort, yet I, not being Bruce Willis in one of his action films, couldn't find one handy.

I slumped back down onto the roof, my back hitting it with a satisfying 'flump'.

From the corner of my eye, I saw a small group approaching from the east. The middle figure looked somewhat familiar to me, but I couldn't place my finger on it.

There were about four of them in this slowly approaching group, two stood on either side of the central one. The third walked ahead of the three, and was at least a head shorter than the others. The central one was significantly taller than its companions, and walked with a lopsided shuffle.

The cloud above me seemed to release its heavy load in response to their arrival, and rain drops battered the surrounding area. I quickly brought my hand in, to my chest to protect it. I used my other hand to rub the soft skin where the harsh rain drop left a sting of echoing pain. I took off my jacket and pulled it over my head, though the thin fabric provided little protection from the fury of nature.

I squinted through the wall of rain at the now blurry figures. As I looked, I could make out more of their features, they became increasingly more familiar to me, but I couldn't think, the hours of running and hiding had finally gotten to me. My brain refused to work.

As they came closer, I noticed that the central figure was carrying something that appeared to be a long and heavy pipe. It was broken sharply at one end, and thinned into a long handle at the other. The figure dragged it through the wet grass with one hand, leaving a small but lengthy dirt trench behind it.

I waited for them to approach further.

The three who accompanied the central figure, when they were close enough to the building, began to walk around it, and each took its position of guard. I was surrounded.

I looked in what I hoped was defiance and irony at the remaining figure.

I smiled.

A sharp glare was all I got in return.

I whispered to myself, knowing that he probably couldn't decipher what I was saying.

"We meet again, Cloud."

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Re-written: 28th May 2016