"What the fuck is in there?" Sol whispered to himself.
Before long, he'd have his answer. The Enforcers returned to the street dragging several Infected along with them. The people in the slum had been keeping their loved ones hidden to avoid losing them. One of the men radioed in and soon a large truck appeared in the middle of the street. Some of the guards began sweeping the area, checking for more Carriers. Sol, not seeing another option, took the stairs in the back room up to the roof and blocked the door behind him. When he reached the ledge and peered over, a hazmat team armed with torches had already exited the truck and were prepping to dispose of The Infected. Sol watched in horror as the bodies were burned one by one. This was complete madness.
"Oi! Gerry!" A voice called out from one of the shops.
An Enforcer had found more Carriers, but this time he had been alone, and the moment his back had been turned, they had attacked. The Infected tore through the man's armor, biting and punching at him violently. Other guards had started firing, but the bullets went ignored by the group. As long as they were still breathing, they'd keep fighting. Sol, who had noticed another group of Carriers break through a door nearby, called out to The Enforcers, but it was already too late. It took only three minutes for the virus to either infect or kill every single Enforcer in the street, leaving Sol alone on the roof above with no exit. The mass of Carriers, which was now somewhere around thirty, stormed off in different directions. Most of them headed towards downtown London, but others scurried away in the direction of Camden. Only a few remained in the street below, grunting and still beating on the people that hadn't survived. Sol slide down the wall behind him and placed his head in his hands. What was going to happen now? Those things had destroyed an entire squad of troops, and he was just one man. A scared old man armed with a broken chair leg. If there was a time Sol believed in a higher power, it was right now... Because no one else was there to listen...
Tom knew they were infected before they even got close simply by the way they walked, a sort of hunched over stance with no real rythm or pace. There was around ten of them approaching the packed platform from the outside after probably having climbed over a fence to get there or taking over another station further down the line. He looked around and noticed that the other pedestrians had seen them too and within seconds they were running in the opposite direction owards the exit to street level. This only excited the infected, the 10 distant figures picking up their pace towards their new victims.
Tom stood still, analysing his options before he acted but pulling out his pistol anyway and checking it was loaded. The old man at the gate was struggling to open the gate under the press of terrified people trying to get through it, but ironicaly the second he did a single infected jumped on him and tore him from the ground. He didn't see where the thing had come from and guessed it had probably come down from street level and was waiting for such an opportunity. The effect was instantanious, the old man rising from the ground in mere seconds to drag down a nearby woman holding onto her toddler son while the other infected who looked as though he was until recently a middle aged and physicaly fit business man began tearing into the packed crowd. The ten infected were almost there, with the lone armed policeman on the platform bravely stepping forward and gunning three of them down before he too was tackled and his throat torn out with an agonised gurgling.
Tom had made up his mind. He sprinted towards the tracks, pushing past several terrified people to do so and hopped onto the line. Without a backward glance he began running headlong down into the dark london underground, its dark forboding depths looming ahead infront of him. His chances of survival were now extremely slim, but staying on a platform with an expontential number of infected was simply suicide. After a minute he became vaguely aware that he was not alone and several other form were running closely behind him. Without pausing to think he spun round and put three rounds into the nearest vaguely seen form, its sillouette outlined against the now fairly distant daylight they had left. The person fell to the ground dead and he was about to fire blindly at the one coming up on his left before it was too late.
"Stop! Wait! Not infected!" the person screamed, and Tom released some pressure from the trigger but kept it firmly aimed at where he thought was the persons chest. The one who had spoken turned on a flashlight, brielfy illuminating another two forms standing nearby who did not appear to be infected either, one holding a baseball bat and another with what looked like a double barreled shotgun. "You killed her!" The one with the light said, looking from the reflected illuminations like a young asian male in a chef's outfit. The body on the floor was of a woman in her mid to late thirties, with pale skin and a good body. He had shot her three times in and around the chest so now her lifeless eyes stared at the ceiling, a large automatic pistol clutched in her dead hands. The young man reached down and took it, standing up to glare at Thomas.
"She was one of us, you prick. Her name was Bridg-"
"Don't give a shit. Now turn off the light and run, unless you want those freaks back there to see us" Tom said, not bothering to wait for him to do so and snatching the torch from his hands and pocketing it whilst turning it off in one move. As if they were waitng for thier cue they heard a blood curdling screaming coming from down the line where they cad just been. In the distance there were an indeterminate ammount of forms heading in their direction and undoubtably all infected. Their only chance was to run and hopefully lose them in the long dark of the underground.
"Run" Tom said with a cold calm, and sprinted off into the darkness. He heard the three men following behind not long after...
"I'm not dyin' on this fucking roof" He mumbled, hoping the gap to the next building.
Sol passed over the streets quietly and quickly, stopping after about four minutes when he heard The Infected smash onto the rooftop he'd fortified. He glanced back and ducked down into the shadows, hoping to avoid contact with the beasts. They sniffed around a little, grunting all the while, then finally returned into the shop when they could find no trace of Sol. He sighed, the panic present before melting away slowly, though not completely. He'd still have to get off of the roofs and find shelter.
Further down the line, he stopped when he noticed less Infected in the streets below. This new area seemed somewhat clear of chaos, so he took his chances and climbed down a fire escape. When his feet hit the pavement, he followed some signs of Enforcer presence, even though he wasn't looking to ask them for assistance. What he needed was a proper weapon and this chair leg wasn't going to cut it. The trail led him to an Enforcer encampment that had been overrun and abandoned. To his dismay, he found no firearms or radio. As Sol stalked through the phantom station, the sound of running footsteps caused him to spin around. Luckily, he was able to catch the boy before he could attack him and tossed him to the floor. The Carrier, a child no older than 10, thrashed and cried out under Sol's shoe. He attempted to reason with the boy several times, even though he knew it was a lost cause. With a heavy heart, Sol did what had to be done and brought his heel down upon the boy's face several times until the Carrier stopped moving. He stood silently over the child for several minutes, wondering if he had done the right thing, but decided to continue when he realized it couldn't have been any different.
At the back of the camp, Sol found an old service entrance into the tram tunnels. Since The Infected had been walking the streets, and since he had luck sticking to the shadows, he made his way into London's lower levels. The darkened tracks were lit only by a flashing red warning light on the ceiling, which gave him enough line of sight to keep himself safe. He walked sometime before hearing several gunshots and yelling in the distance. Perhaps some survivors had taken to the tunnels as well? His better judgment told him to stick this out alone, but the idea of firearm protection outweighed his worries. He began to follow the ruckus until he could see a figure running towards him. It moved different than The Infected, and didn't carry the bulk of an Enforcer. Sol figured this was his chance to find some help and he called out to the shadowy figure.
"Oi! You ain't Infected, are ya? You got weapons?" Sol called to what he could now see was a man.
As the man got closer, Sol was shocked at how irony could show itself, even in these situations. Trotting towards him was Thomas West, the man he'd met in the back of the police van. He hoped their brief encounter would be enough for a possible alliance.
She looked over at Elise, the girl seemed to be in conflict with herself, well, she seemed to look sad. Avery sighed and went over to her. "But look, I'll watch your back if you watch mine. I'm not about to give up without a fight and you seem like the type that's not about to either." She smiled comfortingly at the girl but froze when she heard thumping at the door that followed with strained words about death.
"Fuck," She muttered under her breath and looked over at Elise who seemed to look worried. She heard some more bangs at the door and watched in horror as small indentations started to form in the door. It wouldn't be long until they would be able to get through the door; Avery gave them a half an hour. She grabbed the girls arm and dragged her to the back door and started to unlock it, it would probably be their best chance at escape. Though she stopped unlocking it when she heard groaning on the other side of the door and small shuffling noises as the infected shuffled themselves around. She locked it back up hastily, making sure that they wouldn’t just be able to twist the knob and come inside and sighed, her eyes wide open with fear.
She looked over at Elise with a frown. The doors were surrounded by zombies, they were both screwed. They had nowhere out, the building had no fire escape stairs like some did; they either had to fight their way out or die trying, though she didn’t voice that because the other girl already seemed scared enough. But then, despite herself, Avery’s face lit up with a grin. "The vents, I completely forgot about them. The buildings are all connected with vents; we can crawl through them to the end of the street and then make a run for it." She told Elise as she scrambled over to the ventilation system and tried pulling off the cover. With a small groaning noise the cover fell off and Avery threw it to the floor.
"Ladies first," She said, gesturing to the vent with a wink for Elise to get inside.
Ira slowly picked himself up from the roof talking careful steps to look down below. The streets were infected and ridden with innocents, men, women and children. The smell of smoke and ash become the air of this new age. Ira took in the sight of London wondering why God bothered to save him from the infected, why he should even stay alive if he were to live in a world such as this, and die in it. Would God send him to hell for suicide? Only he and everyone else can understand the magnitude of dread that had swept the city. Perhaps I should talk to him myself... He reached into his chest pocket pulling out the black snub nose revolver.
He looked at the gun as it lay on his hand, running the fingers from the other hand through it's cold steel skin. It felt heavy as it weighed and the grip was slightly worn out. He wrapped all his index fingers around it, all but the index which was on the trigger and raised the revolver into his mouth. His hands were shaky and uncertain as his head was in cold heat covered by his sweat. He closed his eyes deciding to leave London, forever, pulling the trigger and braced himself for his brains to be blown. But no, the .357 ammunition didn't go through his brain, didn't penetrate his skull, didn't fly through his mouth, it didn't even leave the barrel. As rare as the chances of a snub nose misfiring, it did and as it did Ira pulled the gun out of his mouth gasping for air, cursing God under his breath why he bothered to keep him alive, why he didn't do the same for Lara.
Ira looked to the left side towards the locked door leading down the building and tried to remember why the squad never came up the roof to finish him, even though he already knew the answer to that question. He walked over to his right side where a ladder hanged down into the apartments fire escape and he slowly climbed down, talking to himself from the eight stories down. "...Let the lord be my shepard, without failure, and with love, let him be my shepard, for I am a sheep just with one purpose but the lord treat me like the rest, free to my own will, for I shall be guided by Our Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit. These steps however are still mine." Ira dropped down onto the alleyway from the ladder elevated a couple of metres off the floor, his knees absorbing the impact quite well, while his hands were covered in little bits of rust from the ladders.
"For it was He that gave me gun with no bullets, for He as well give me life with no air." Ira said to himself once more, grabbing the gun he put back in his chest pocket, and reached next to it to grab the bible, placing it just by his side. He creeped along the shadows, till he reached the streets watching as armoured soldiers gun down, unarmed civilians running away.
Blood. The streets were covered with it.
For Ira this world was already gone, there was no hope for salvation, but for Ira God had to be keeping him alive for a reason. He just had to?
Quick steps, running, no sprinting. Lots of sprinting, multitudes of feet and persons coming. Ira looked behind him at the alley watching the three infected sprint, watching their thrust of speed, and animal instinct. It was almost mesmerizing to watch, until the thought that they came for him, for he sprinted onto the street as the infected brought chase. Ira sprinted for the service entrance into the tram tunnels, where the crowd of innocents ran to as well and joined them. The infected chasing Ira broke up as he ran into the crowd of screaming people's switching to easier prey as they were jumped on. The bullets still flew past the crowd easily mowing down 3/4 of the of the crowd, and was abrubtly stopped. Ira turned his head back for a quick glance watching the infected clash with the armoured soldiers. Ira turned his head back in front of him and entered the darkness along with the 7 people from the crowd and abruptly stopped in place hands over his knees, back hunched, gasping for air.
There was fork in the dark tunnels where it's only illumination was the red flashing lights, a choice between left and right. The crowd as panicked as it was ran left, where their were already survivors escaping from that direction to come to this fork. Ira didn't go anywhere, instead he sat down and started reading the bible because right now he had his afternoon prayers but secretly wanted to die. He sat down on the dusty floor, cross legged reading the old testament and new testament, contemplating the events that unfolded, running his hands through his robes, feeling the holes that simlply passed through his clothing and hit others. He read the last words of his book out loud even though no-one was around. "The grace of the Lord Jesus be with all. Amen" The grace...the grace of the Lord No man or woman couldn't help but stifle a laugh as Ira did.