Last Dawn of a Horde

Chapter Eight: The Cure ~2 Jules

~Jules~            

              Lunch came.

            If you’ve never eaten underground before, it’s good. So I’m warning you not to try.

            Imagine eating cold, gross food while occasionally, I notice dirt from the ceiling falls to my classmates’ plates. They take a spoonful of groggy rice, and utter how good it still tastes. Yum.

            Bridge was still talking to John about his plans of placing ammunition and boosters and some kind of weaponry on our truck at the surface, and I can’t believe John had let him. Ugh.

            Stanley, to my surprise, was eating his lunch happily, like food is given to him once in a year. Seeing the others, no one was complaining since we don’t have another choice. To top all of that, we didn’t complain just not to hurt the cooking girls’ feelings.

            We’re done eating, but Bridge said we should drop all our plates and utensils on the cremation box. Fire quickly came, and he pressed a button to weaken or strengthen it. After one drops his plate, he should close the door immediately, if he doesn’t want to incinerate all of us here.

            Mister Carson took us to the weaponry development station, and we see a lot of torture devices only terrorists can have the evilest idea to make. There are several hats that Bridge said will shred your head to pieces once you wore it on full diameter. There’s an exploding wallet that triggers once you open it full. Few more shelves of torture apparatus, we get to see amazing guns that can fire kilometers away.

            “The terrorists must have developed these, but sometimes they fail,” says Bridge. “When they realized their physical plans fail, they must have thought of the best way to cull human population by using humans as well.”

            I gave a curt nod, and I roll my eyes.

            One section was full of Florence flasks. I thought they got no harm, but when Geno was about to lift a cork, Bridge opposed.

            “No! Those are poison gases!” he shrieks. “One flask open and we’re dead in sixty seconds!”

            That struck me. Geno set it down, and I had pondered about one thought: If this guy plot to kill us, then why entertain us? Seeing those gases of different colors swirling slowly inside their canisters gives me dread. If these can kill us in a minute, why doesn’t he killed us already?

            I promise that I hate slow death.

            We passed by the gases station, and we’re on the place labeled on the wall as BIOLOGICAL CATASTROPHE SECTION and I instantly feel my goose bumps.

            Inside the glass walls, were animals separated by thick titanium cages. They look cute, especially those squirrels colored white (why do they have to be white, anyway?) that patiently sits on their cage.

            I was wrong.

            The time my index finger tapped the glass, all animals squealed and they all shook their cages, fangs bearing at me. I backed off, as I thought that adorable squirrel can escape of its cage and jump in front of me.

            “Don’t worry, that titanium will need seventeen horsepower to be ripped open,” says Bridge, sounding like as-a-matter-of-fact.

            After recovering from those rabid creatures, I can’t help asking Bridge questions.

            “Why are we here? Look, one good error here and we’ll die faster than the zombies can,” I say.