The 0714 Files: File #1 Inferno (Remake 2)

Chapter 18

How much time passes from that moment on, I'm unsure of. It's a concept that has managed to become a luxury for me in this place.

When I regained some sense of reality, I got up and made my way up the stairs through the shutter leading to the second floor. I stepped into the women's locker room with a gun drawn as I made sure the stalls are all empty. I lock the door the second I'm satisfied and undress in the locker room before showering. Uncaring at this point, numb to the possible enemies that could be outside and want to kill me.

I don't want to die. But knowing that we're trapped with no means of making it out of the city. I just... don't care.

The water is miraculously still working, despite the fact nobody's been in the sewers for a week now. The hot water works too, and the pressure itself remains okay. It makes me wonder how much time the backup has left before I lose all power in the station. Pressing both my hands to the wet wall, the thought is lost as I embrace the warm water removing the grime from my body. Water that I realize is too hot when I see how red my skin is and feel sick enough to pass out. I'm thankful when the thought pops into my head of how I left my toothbrush in here from the last time I was able to use it Saturday morning. I guess if I die, at least I won't completely smell like one of those corpses.

I wrap a towel around my body, eyeing the bruise on my head from Irons. It's begun to turn green now, I should be happy I suppose that it's healing at least...

Quickly brushing my teeth after inspecting other places on my body. I was fortunate enough to find a spare tube on a sink at the end on Friday morning. Even without toothpaste though, I'm glad to be able to at least brush them. The last time I went this long without proper hygiene or dental care was...

"Yes... I suppose she will need to use the restroom every so often, don't want her sitting in her own waste, do we?"

I grab the sides of the sink at the memory plaguing me. I don't want to think of that and the torture it led to a week later. Torture that makes me pull my sopping hair over one shoulder as I turn my back to the mirror and see the outer tips of dark, puffy, jagged scars peek from the towel. I look away abruptly then when the echoes of my screams from that day play in my mind.

When I'm done, I sit down on the bench. Water drips from my hair, a red blush across my skin, and droplets are scattered on my legs and back. It feels nice to bathe, to be clean of the physical evidence of what I've done. Now if only I could only find some deodorant...

Picking through one of the lockers, I manage to find deodorant along with spare clothes. I grab the thigh holster deserted inside the locker and stare at it for a moment, I suppose I'll take it.

It's then I realize I never grabbed my bag from the front desk. The one with all my clothes in it. Abandoning my old clothes and the locker room, I grip my towel, the deodorant, and the thigh holster together in one fist and with a trembling arm hold my gun up as I step through the door. I hear nothing, no growls to indicate there are any zombies in the hallway, and I run around the corner back into the main hall. Setting my gun down long enough to grab the shutter, heaving with what strength I have to pull it down, blocking another exit, but also an entrance.

I hurry to the front desk, and as I drop my towel, an ache forms in my chest at the thought of that little girl. I wished she was real...

Reaching for my duffel bag, I unzip it and pull out one of the many clean pants, underwear, socks, and shirt I'd thankfully packed away that first night. Something that feels like a lifetime ago by now.

The air in the room causes a shiver to wrack my body, the AC unit hasn't run in days and yet right now I'm freezing. I tug on the socks, underwear and pants first, the shirt is last to be put on. A black tee with short sleeves. I'm about to pull the shirt on when I feel goosebumps raise on my neck. Something's not right...