Sparks in the Darkness

Ignition

Propping his gun against a wall and tossing down his bag, Ish heaved in a long, somewhat pungent breath and tumbled onto his mattress.

Instantly regretting it as a sharp stab of pain pierced through his side where a bullet had grazed him last week - despite his best efforts, that was still sore - he winced, one hand temporarily twitching to hold the injury before falling back to rest over his stomach. His other arm propped up behind his head as a sort of pillow, blue-grey eyes sought out the ceiling and stared.

The silence stared back uncomfortably.

"So," Ish said to no one in particular. "Nice place you've got here."

No one replied.

Now that's just rude, he thought wryly to himself with a small smirk. Didn't your mother ever tell you that ignoring people is frowned upon? Not that I'm sure how many ceilings actually have mothers, but...

"This is getting ridiculous." Interrupting himself and sitting up, one arm slung around a knee, the tall man sighed. "People like me aren't meant to be in apocalypses, you know. We start going crazy."

More silence. Another sigh. "Shouldn't complain too much though," he admitted to an empty set of shelves that had somehow made its way into the sewers before he'd shown up. "This place is pretty roomy. No one gets in here that I can't outrun. No neighbors to try and kill me like everyone seems so interested in doing so these days." A pause. "Got the whole sewer to myself!" The walls threw his words back loud enough to be startling. Maybe yelling isn't the best method of alleviating boredom in small rooms where you're hiding from a bunch of insane Infected and equally insane non-Infected. The small smirk that had crawled onto his face faded away.

It had been two months since he'd left the Antananorivo to rest on a beach which had somehow wound up being fairly close to his current abode. One month since he'd stumbled across these sewers, which seemed to spawn for miles with unlimited exits, dim natural lighting, and labyrinthine walls that were usually covered in some sort of thankfully unidentifiable slime. Three weeks since he'd decided that they were exactly the place he needed to hide in until the situation with the cordyceps sorted itself out. Since then, he'd only ventured out on occasion to find some supplies and food. Every time he'd gotten out, it had been a nerve wracking experience which had made him eager to go back into his hiding place. Fighting had never been his strong point, and running could only do so much for him without anywhere to hide. Interactions with any of the other survivors never failed to force him into one or the other.

It was safer here than out there, admittedly. But it was also boring as hell, way too damn empty, and, depending on location, smelled like shit.

Not quite the Hotel Ritz, he told himself, but I suppose it could be worse. Somehow. I think.

"I get it," he muttered to the walls and shelves around him. "You want me to stop whining, don't you?" A pause. "Sorry, but I don't think that's going to happen." Silence. "Oh, don't be like that. Look on the bright side - you'll be rid of me for a couple hours tomorrow. I have to go find food again, because that went so well the last time." More silence. "Yeah, well, hello to you, too. Asshole."

Great. Now I'm not just talking to the walls, I'm insulting them. Maybe I really am the crazy one.

Rather than following that train of thought, Ish shook his head, closed his eyes against the light, and smiled gently, humming some song he'd long since forgotten the name to under his breath until he fell asleep.

~O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O~