Salvation

Chapter 1

Once upon a time, there was humanity.

Aiden wiped his sweaty hands on his faded jeans, sidestepping a small pile of broken rubble on the streets. He covered his face with the collar of his shirt, guarding against the gritty wind as he walked the town square. It was near deserted, only a few stragglers picking through piles of trash for any salvageable produce or other items that may be of use, and the occasional haggler at one of the three stores that still opened in the Central Bazaar. He kicked at a rock on the ground, shooting over to the other side of the road. He'd been sent on a supply run and had to walk so far that his legs ached and his throat was scratchy and dry.

Aiden slipped through the side entrance to the mostly abandoned supermarket outlet, hoping he'd have the funds for everything he needed, as well as water for his dry throat. And possible a fair for the carriage that took travelers to and from the city, just so he wouldn't have to walk back. This was the only part of town that still functioned relatively normally, with shops and currency, although there wasn't a whole lot of supplies left to purchase. Of the three stalls that still remained one sold produce; the barrels lined with bruised apples and oranges and the occasional skinny carrot, one sold medical supplies; bandages, sticky plasters and paper bags with a meager assortment of painkillers, and one sold clothing.

Aiden approached the medical supplies stall first, happy when he beat the rest of the stragglers to the line. It was first come, first serve in these parts and when supplies ran out, many people were disappointed. He handed over three silver coins and one bronze, a hefty dent in his allocated funds, and was handed a small medical package. Inside were a thin wad of bandages, a cardboard box of sticky plasters, a small paper bag with an assortment of pills, a small pair of handmade metal tweezers and a small plastic container that seemed to contain peroxide or another similar disinfectant liquid. The supplies were scarce and sectioned out in small rations so that more might have access, but they always helped to top up the resources that were already had back at the camp.

He nodded a thanks at the stall tender, a weathered man who had definitely seen better days. He glazed over the produce section; there was nothing of interest for him there, and the camp had their own vegetable patch that was carefully tended by all the residents. Occasionally there was livestock, particularly in the way of rabbits and wild game, but also sometimes chickens or sheep when a resident found them and lead them back to camp. He paused at the clothing stall. He did have clean clothes back at camp, a few pairs of everything, but he would have liked a new coat. He decided he'd save the remaining coins for carriage fair as close to the camp as he could get.

The camp itself was surrounded by a large, razor wire fence. It had been fashioned out of an old prison, most of the furniture pillaged long since before they arrived. Most of the mattresses and metal bed frames remained as did some of the tables and chairs and bookcases. The kitchen and cafeteria also remained, being metal. They were lucky enough to have two carpenters amongst them, who'd fashioned most of the furniture that was inside the camp. They also had an engineer who had managed to start up a generator so that they could get power occasionally. There was water, but only when it was collected from streams and rivers, and even rainwater that collected on roofs. He couldn't wait for that, the heat had made his skin sticky and uncomfortable.

On the way to his room he swung by the storage room, where he set the medical pack down into a basket half filled with the supplies already. The storage room was fashioned out of a linen closet, though there had been no linen inside when the camp was started. It now held different sized plastic tubs and buckets they'd scavenged, filled with different sorts of supplies. "Aiden, you're back." He whirled around, finding the majority elected camp leader; Oliver. He was older than Aiden, thirty to Aiden's twenty one, and had worked at a law firm prior to the infection. It was a no brainer that they'd elect him for leader, he had prior law knowledge and had even gone as far as to draft a brief set of laws. They were nothing major, mostly things like stealing was forbidden as were the same crimes that would have been forbidden before the infection. Aiden had never seen someone exiled for disobeying the laws, and was told there'd only been one occasion in the camps history.

"Yup. I only managed to get one medical pack, but I figured we could use it anyway. There wasn't any produce that we didn't already have and no seeds this time. I'll go out and scavenge some stuff later if you like" He offered, scratching behind his neck. He never really knew what to say to Oliver. The man was only nine years older than Aiden himself, but he'd always seemed much older. Weathered, in a way. Like he'd seen a lot of things. Aiden never really knew how to speak to adults, despite now being one himself.

"No. No, that's okay. Clara and Andie are making a roast for tonight. I'd only come to see if you would be back in time. Don't worry about scavenging tonight" Aiden gave Oliver a stilted nod, before hurrying from the room. He sucked in a deep breath, picking at the material on his gloves as he willed his fingers to stop trembling. It wasn't that Oliver was untrustworthy, he'd always looked out for Aiden and all the others in the camp, but he'd been plagued with excessive anxiety since the beginning of the infection. He raked a hand through his curls.

First step was a shower. The shower block was communal, though Aiden found that he didn't much care about that. He was lucky enough to be in a place with electricity and water — even if they only worked some of the time — that he didn't mind even if he had to shower with three other men at the same time. There were four separate shower stalls, four sinks, and in a room next door; three urinals and a toilet cubicle. There was a separate shower block on the other side of the compound for women, more so because of anyone who may have been uncomfortable than for any real fear of showering with the opposite sex.

The water, thankfully, had enough in the tank for him to shower and it came out mildly warm. He scrubbed his body with a bar of soap—everyone in the compound kept their own—and finally felt the grime and the dirt wash away. He wished he was able to shave, and made a silent promise to himself as he scratched at the stubble on his jaw. Next time he went out on a supply run, he would try to find some razors. He stared down at the tattoo on his hip; a small black anchor. You are my anchor, in the waves and the wind. He turned the water off, plunging himself into the cold air. The temperature always dropped quite considerably at nighttime.

Back in his room, he dressed in a dark green sweater and a pair of plaid linen pants before tugging on some socks and his gloves. He wore the gloves whenever he was in the public eye, no matter who was there to see him. The skin around his hands was scarred and thick, and had less feeling than other, non scarred parts of his body. His fingers were painted with chipped black nail polish, a rare treat out there these days. Before he left the room he slipped a pair of house slippers on his feet. They were flimsy and had been left behind by the prison before the infection started. They'd been left in a bucket in what was now the storage room, and they were dusty and smelled of mildew. But they worked well enough.

Dinner was already in motion when Aiden entered the cafeteria, grabbing a tray onto which Clara and Andie placed a plate of shredded chicken, fresh grown potatoes and carrots. They'd even managed to make a gravy, though it was watery and a little bland. He never ate in the cafeteria, he didn't like being around that many people if he could help it. Instead, he took his food outside. There was a brick wall just outside the compound that used to have the remnants of a long faded facility sign. He supposed it was the name of the prison once, but it was long gone now. He jumped up on the brick wall, plate on his lap as he speared a potato on his fork.

Some movement caught his eye at the border of the compound. There was the woods at the front, full of thick trees. It was the only place with vegetation, besides the camp's vegetable patch. The rest of the grounds were dry and dusty, and the patch and greenhouse took a lot of water and regularly maintained upkeep. He set his plate down on the wall and jumped down. "Hello?" He called. "Who's out there?"

A flash of movement caught his eye once more, before somebody came stumbling out of the woods, practically collapsing at his feet.

It was a boy who looked to be around Aiden's age. Certainly not more than a year or two older. He had mess of blonde hair, dark and matted with blood. His eyes, or the glimpse of them that Aiden had seen before he passed out, were a brilliant honey and warm like the sun. He had a few freckles spread across his nose and cheeks, which were bright red with fever. There was blood smeared across his plump bottom lip, and a weeping rash had already begun to spread down his neck.

He was clearly infected. And he'd just collapsed at Aiden's feet.