Blood Must Have Blood (Part Two)

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Bright.

Bright, as all hell is what Murphy woke up to, Violet was asleep in his arms, but it was bright out now, presumably early as the sun was not too high in the sky.

Luckily enough, it was still somewhat manageable to hold onto Violet with one arm, even while she was deadweight. Murphy held onto her, walking towards a lighthouse a few hundred feet from them, as he kicked something hard and metal. He used his foot to push the sand off of it. "Stupid solar panel." He groaned.

He readjusted Violets weight, as she began to wake up. Somehow her leg was even more raw and painful than the night before.

A song began playing in the distance, seemingly triggered by the solar panel being fed sun light again, giving the abandoned beach a more eery environment.

He looked around, following the sound.
It led him only a couple dozen feet into the woods, a large metal designed building, with different designs on the metal.

The song was playing behind it.
Murphy breathed, "I'm putting you down for just a second, okay?"

He knelt down, trying to transfer Violet onto the ground as carefully as possible.
There was a seam in the metal, he pushed his fingers into the crack and pulled, as suprisingly the door opened for him.

"Easy enough." He mumbled, picking Violet up again as he walked inside. It was built just like a house, just out of insulated metal and no windows. There were lights on.

"It's like the Ark." Violet whispered.

He found a staircase, leading down where the music was louder as he followed it to what was easily a bunker, and a gaming room with a pool table and food.
Dozens of alcohol bottles lined the wall.

"Let's see if we can find any supplies." He mumbled, digging through various drawers and cabinets.
He found a loaf of bread in the kitchen, ripping a decent sized piece off of it as he shoved it his mouth.
"Promised land." He sighed.

Violet downed a bottle of water, not realizing how dehydrated she was until Murphy gave her the water.

He took a few minutes to walk around the house, grabbing plenty of snacks and water for himself and Violet, sitting her down on a leather couch, decorated with throw pillows and blankets as they started eating, starving from the near week without food.

It was nothing what like they had in the Ark, it was larger and more flat.

"Hey, there's a tv." Violet pointed to the remote on the table, as Murphy exhaled, turning it on.

A guy, young, probably around 25 appeared on the screen. He was crying.

"I tried to stop her. But I lost control. She got the launch codes. It was her. She did it. But it was my fault!" He leaned over to besides him, picking up a small revolver as he held it in his hands.
"I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry."

There was barely a second between his last 'sorry' and a gunshot, as Murphy jumped.

He stared at the screen in shock, turning his head towards Violet as he realized they were sitting on the same couch the poor guy had shot himself on.
The throw pillows were doused in blood.
Violet gasped, shoving the pillows onto the floor as Murphy stood up, moving Violet to a chair nearby, as some machinery upstairs clicked, and echoed. "Containment door sealed."

"What the hell was that?" Violet groaned.

His head turned, as he ran up the few stairs. The door he had come inside, was now sealed shut, and his efforts to open it were unsuccessful.

"Chris! Where are you man?"

"Murphy!" Violet yelled, watching the tv.

He ran back downstairs, watching the screen.

"Chris? Chris!" His friends yelled, now finding him deceased with a gunshot wound to the chest.

"I knew it! The news was wrong, it wasn't China. That stupid son of a bitch let Alie out!" One of the boys put his hands on his head, clearly stressing as the other, spoke. "Help me. The radiations coming. Unless we want to share this place with a corpse we need to get him outside!"

Murphy found himself jamming things into the door for hours, him and Violet talking to each other, having to be loud too.

He gave up, sitting on the chair with Violet. "So we're stuck down here?" She sighed.

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