Wither With Me

CHAPTER 22 - DEFIANCE

The rays of sunlight that showered the group of survivors came down like a blessing, right out of heaven itself. William squinted his eyes and covered his face with his hands, not used to the brightness after spending so many hours underground. They were in some kind of underpass beneath a major street, with thin beams of light illuminating the area from both entrances. It was getting late, and thus, it wasn't particularly bright anymore; but almost everyone had to physically protect their eyes.

Not a single shambler was in sight. The nearby streets connecting to the underpass were deserted. The whistling of a slight breeze was the only perceivable sound, along with the frantic panting of the survivors. So much quietness and stillness, it almost felt safe.

"We can't stop here...! We need to keep moving!" said Marcus.

William turned around to stare at him. He was probably right. The shamblers were still on the chase, and they would sooner or later catch up to them. How many doors had they closed on their way out? He didn't bother counting them. But how many of them were still standing? Probably very few.

He noticed how Marcus was holding onto his briefcase. Had he been running around with it the whole time? It seemed like even during an extreme emergency, the briefcase was important enough to be worth the extra weight.

"W-Won't we be safe here...? They are slow out in the open, right!?" asked Claire. She looked desperate to find a moment to catch her breath.

"No, not these... These turned just a while ago, they won't settle down even in the light!" Marcus stepped out into the open, leaving the cover of the underpass, and took a look around. "Let's see... Right, there should be a safe place nearby, that penthouse... We should be able to find refuge there..."

"Wait...!" Claire flared up at William, interrupting Marcus' rambling. "What happened to Nora and Lilian...!? Oh god, do you think they...?"

Desmond, right. The sudden outbreak had taken him aback so much he had actually forgotten about Desmond entirely.

"Hey." William grabbed Marcus' attention. "One of your men, Desmond, mentioned something about retreating to the concourse..."

"Who...? The concourse, you say...? Hmm..." he grabbed his chin, thinking. "There's a safe room inside the concourse as well... We've been establishing secure areas in the vicinity, for situations like this. If they made it there..." he turned to face the group of survivors, numbering in less than ten people. "Can you guys make it to the penthouse? Old man Elliot's apartment, on top the bookstore? It's not too far from here."

"And why the fuck should we listen to you anymore!?" one man angrily barked at him, while hugging a scared-looking woman. "Look where it got us!"

"Yeah, you'll just get us all killed at this rate!" said someone else.

"You don't have to." Marcus' response was met with looks of frustration and unease. "Would you do better on your own? If you think so, you're free to do as you please. I'm just suggesting we should try and stay as a group. But at the end of the day, the choice is yours."

"Bah...! Whatever..."

The survivors looked at each other for a couple of long, uncomfortable seconds.

"...At least they won't eat us tonight if we stay at the penthouse, right...?"

"I guess so..."

"Do we have anywhere else to stay...?"

"Okay..."

With sluggish reluctance, the group slowly agreed, one person at a time. Nobody was too eager to do anything, and it was no wonder why. After the abrupt loss of the subway shelter, the moral of the remaining survivors was abysmal. Several of them looked down or hid their faces, in a futile attempt to hide their tears. Droopy arms and shoulders, lost gazes, incoherent mumbling... Within that brief moment of respite, as the sudden realization took its toll, the consequences were made clear. Loss, loss and more loss.