Rebecca:
"Hey," I shout, running after the little son of a bitch. The second the kid hears me, he starts to run. "You! Give me back those ration cards!"
The kid speeds up as we run through the marketplace. For once, I'm glad it's a slow day. It means there aren't any people to block me as I chase after the little thief.
"Get back here," I shout as I pick up speed and close the distance between the two of us. "Get back here now!'
Reaching out, about to grab the damn kid, he takes a sudden, sharp left turn. As he's turning, I lunge for him but miss and end up rolling onto the floor.
"Rebecca," Bailey says as she runs to help me up. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I answer, shaking some dirt from my hair. I look at the pathway the kid disappears down. I push myself up and run to it.
"Must be my lucky day," I say as I look down a narrow alleyway. The narrow alleyway leads to a trash-covered dead-end, and there, at the
Tristan: “What do infected wolves have to do with low supplies,” Bailey asks. “About six months ago,” Marcus starts, “The infected wolves got into the bunker. They somehow dug a way down until they found a pipeline. Breaking through the pipelines, the infected wolves found their way into the bunker.” “Damn,” I say. “That’s taking it lightly,” Jacob comments from the side with crossed arms. “It was late at night when those fucking wolves attacked. Half of us were asleep when they did. They slaughter dozens of us before the first shot was even fired. By the time all of us were awake, they had taken over most of the bunkers. To save what few of us were still alive, the military used explosives to seal off whole sections of the bunker.” "I guess that’s why this bunker is smaller than the other ones I’ve seen." I look toward the tiny city. “A few of the sections we had to give up were the cafeteria, the water filtering plant, and the first motor pool," Marcus says. He looks toward t
Tristan: "I can't believe this bunker had a garden," Bailey says. "I mean, an actual garden. Even we Rebels didn't have a garden." "I know," Rebecca says. "A garden. Fresh vegetables. Like, actual fresh vegetable carrots and potatoes. It's a dream." "Too much trouble," I say. I stop when I come to the end of the tunnel. Seeing the rusted ladder in front of me, I look up and see the manhole cover. "I don't hear any scratching. The wolves must have left." "Hopefully they're on the other side of the park," Rebecca says. I hold out my hand, about to grab the ladder but stop. There's still blood on the ladder. It's still dripping. Pulling my hand back, I reach into my pack and pull out an old rag. I wipe the blood on the ladder before throwing the bloody rag back into my pack. With the ladder cleaned, I grab and climb it up. Rebecca and Bailey follow me up the ladder. Once I reach the top, I place my ear against the manhole cover. I still don't hear anything. I look down at the two a
Tristan: Chris's body, at least what the infected wolves didn't chew off, is sitting against one of the walls of the ranger station. His chest is ripped open and so is his head. His left arm is missing and both his legs are nothing but bones. "Holy shit," Bailey says when she sees Chris's body herself. "The wolves really went crazy on Chris." "Poor bastard," Rebecca says. "That's not right," I say. "Yeah," Bailey goes on. "That's not right. I hope Chris was at least dead before they dug into him." "Not that," I say. Looking around some more, I then approach the front door of the ranger station. With the wooden plank ready in my hands, I peek in. "Son of a bitch," I say, lowering the plank. "I was right. Fuck. I hope I wasn't but I was right." "What," Rebecca asks. She and Bailey walk up to my side. I step aside to show them what I've found. There, in the ranger's station, is a blood-covered floo
Rebecca: Wiping the blood from Bailey, looking for the bite mark, I look up when I hear growling. "Go," Tristan says, pushing me and Bailey. "Go. Go!" Holding Bailey in my arms, I run toward the sewer. Reaching the hole, I hold her with one hand while climbing down. Tristan covers us while I climb down. The second he can, he jumps down the hole and pulls the cover over us. It's not even a full second before we hear scratching and sniffing from the other side. "Son of a bitch," Tristan says as we climb down. My foot hitting solid ground, I step back and listen as Tristan jumps down himself. I listen to Tristan as he fumbles around for his lighter. It takes him a minute or two but finally, we have light. "Hey," I say, snapping my fingers. "Bring that light down here. Come on. Come on!" Tristan drops to his knee and shines the light in front of me. It's a small light but it's better than nothing. Digging through my pack,
Marcus Fellow: "Hello," I say, shooting a civilian a quick wave. The civilian nods his head back as I continue my daily patrol. Walking through the marketplace, and then through the housing section, I finally stop at the motor pool. The same two guards from before see and immediately drop their weapons. They open the gate for me and I walk right through. "Thank you," I say with a salute. Once through, they close the gate and go back to guarding. I walk through the mostly empty motor pool before finding Jacob. At least, half of him. "Hey," I say, tapping the side of the military jeep. "You busy?" "Yeah," Jacob says, pulling himself out from underneath the jeep's hood. "Kind of. We have three jeeps but only one of them barely worked. This one is close but I'm still missing a few parts." "Too bad you couldn't have talked to that Tristan guy before he and his family left," I say. "What? They're gone? Wonderful." "Not exactly. They've gone to the other sections of the bunker." "Th
Marcus Fellow: "What's going on," I yell as I enter the marketplace. No one answers me. Instead, everyone seems more focused on what is happening in the center. The people of the bunker have left their stalls and all are crowded around something. "Excuse me," I say, pushing my way through. "Excuse me. Move!" Grabbing two people by their shoulders, I push them aside and come face-to-face with Jim standing on a person. The man Jim is standing on had bruises on his face. His nose is bleeding and he's moaning weakly. He tries to push himself up but Jim stomps on him, slamming him back down. "Stay down," he shouts. In Jim's hand is what looks like a bottle of water. He rises the bottle of water above his head like it's some sort of trophy before drinking the whole thing. He then throws the empty bottle at the man. "Jim," I shout, running up to him. Before he can notice me, I tackle and push him off the man. While he screams and fal
Tristan Harlow: Climbing up onto the roof of the command office, I crouch down and look around. I think about which directions the wolves ran and which directions the noise came from. I see some nearby wolves running through a line of destroyed buildings. "They seem to be heading to the west side of the bunker," I think. "That must be where Rebecca and Bailey are. Son of a bitch." As I watch the wolves run for a few seconds, I see them group up with some more wolves in what looks like a rundown hut. The pack grows bigger, and from where I'm crouching, I count at least ten wolves in total. "Fuck," I cry. "10 wolves. 10 infected wolves. All heading to Rebecca and Bailey." My instinct is telling me to run. Every bone in my body is telling me to just turn around and run. I see myself leaving this death trap, getting back in the car, and driving the hell out of here. However, despite all the voices turning me to l
Rebecca: "Rebecca," Tristan yells. "Rebecca!" I stop running and turn around. Looking up, I see Tristan shouting my name. "Rebecca," he yells. "Section 7! Section 7! The garden!" "The garden," I repeat. "Where is it!" Tristan points to his left. I nod my head and run down an empty street. When I stopped running, I accidentally gave the infected wolves time to catch up with me, but with Tristan covering me and Bailey from on tops of the buildings, we somehow managed to make it to Section 7. Running through the broken gate and underneath Section 7's sign, I see the garden immediately. Giving it everything I have, I break through the iron double doors before slamming them shut. The infected wolves jump onto the iron doors, but thankfully, they stay closed. My lungs are on fire. My legs and arms are sore. I'm choking on my breath. I swallow my spit to dampen my sandy, dry throat. Falling onto the floor, I stay there for a