Decay

Chapter One: The Underground

I awoke to a slow knock on the metal door, followed with a slight creeking as it opened.
"Travis? Are you awake yet?" Whisered, Becca. I rolled over in my bed trying to catch my thoughts. I seen the flame on the candle that was lighting the small grey room waver from the cool breeze that followed behind her.
"He's out scavenging, I think he left about an hour ago." I muttered in a groggy, sleep filled tone.
"Damn, I thought I was gonna catch him this time." She sighed, "Are you getting up anytime soon?"
"Yeah, has the wall been checked?" I asked.
"Triple checked, just like you would have wanted." She said with excitement.
"Perfect, I'll be out in a minute or so."
Becca left the room, the cool breeze died down. I swung my feet out of the makeshift bunk and laid them on the cold cement floor. How I wish I could feel carpet between my toes again.

I yawned from a long night on patrol mixed with little sleep. I got up off of the rusty framed bunk bed and approached the table at the end of my bed. I put on my old pair of military fatigues. I walked over to the mirror in the small janitorial like room and brushed my hair back. Grabbed my satchel with my 9mm and combat knife. Finally, I slipped on my old boots and stepped towards the door, shit, I thought. I almost forgot my watch. I picked up the old silver watch and heard the faint but alive ticking. Behind the dusty cracked glass lived a beautifully working machine. It was quarter to 8, I had to hurry or I was going to be late.

As I took my first steps out of the one of many dainty living quarters I was greeted with a musty, and moldy smell. And the sight of an old Jazz musician on a torn poster. Down the hall were barrels concealing fire for light. The subway station we lived in always seemed so dark. I was honestly getting sick of it.

Down the hall I went, with my steel toed boots leaving a just, "clack" on the floor as I walked. I could hear the people in the market around the corner in the main hall of the station.

I entered the market area, wooden and scrap metal shacks were built along the walls. Not for living, but for the merchants to store their goods. Their old recycled wooden walls were mismatched and rotting. The bent and twisted hunks of steel were flickering in the fire lit room. But in the underground looks couldn't couldn't be everything.
"Alex! My man, what kind of good are looking for today?" A man inside one of the shacks asked.
"Nothing today Rico, we've got a meeting today. I don't want to miss it." I replied.
Rico nodded in agreement and started calling to the people around me. I continued towards the entrance of the station. Pushing through the small crowd of people as I caught a glimpse of a young boy being shook down by one of the guards. I approached and the guard stood to attention.
"Sir, this boy was caught stealing bread." He saluted.
"The boy is hungry then, these are our people cadet. Don't forget that." I said.
"Sir, yes sir!" He shouted and left to leave me with the boy. I crouched down to eye level with the brown eyed boy.
"If you ever need food for you or your family, come see me. Just tell the guards the General said it's okay."
"Are you sure?" The boy paused, as I nodded my head. "Thank you." He finished and ran off. That left a smile on my face. It reminded me of why I took this position.

I continued out of the market passing by the same faces I see day in, and day out. I reached the stairs where two cadets with stern faces and a sturdy posture stood saluting.
"They're waiting, Sir. Good luck." The one on the right said. I nodded and ascended to the head quarters.

The HQ was at the top of the subway tunnel on the surface. It was in an old brick building which crumbled after years of decay leaving a scattered mess within the city street and concealing the subway entrance. A mess which we were able to rebuild up and around the entrance with a sturdy perimeter and a solid tactical defense against outsiders and other militias. It was as if we built our own little courtyard around the subway entrance, complete with a training yard which was in part of the street and a barracks. This was truly the metropolis of our dark times. Along the walls on my ascent were eight paragraphs in our Declarition of Law and Peace.