Preparation - 5/24

Rain drizzles down onto the rubble around me. It is the first time it has rained since leaving my apartment, and calling it relieving would be an understatement.

Our designer clothing change came nearly a week ago, removing the blood and dust-caked remnants. Since then, I have worn the same two outfits the entire time, only removing them for what little of a hand bath we could obtain with the unclean water.

Now, as the cool drops cover every inch of my body, all I feel is bliss.

The bliss only lasts a few more seconds until I look at the pile of bodies in front of me, their bloating decay sloughing off along with the water hitting them.

Well, this is grisly.

“Think I found him, just a little further,” Marcos replies while reaching into the pile of congealed flesh that used to be my neighbors.

“Why didn’t you take it then?”

“Was before the announcement. We weren’t really in the looting corpses stage yet. Especially weren’t looking for weapons. Crazy what a week can do to you.”

I sit next to him, leaning against a chunk of rubble as he sorted his way through the pile and keeping my eyes peeled to the horizon of the street for anything moving. I told him not to bring me along for a variety of reasons, but he “needed a lookout”. It surely wasn’t worth the effort of dragging me by my armpits across an entire park.

The rumors he had heard yesterday really spooked him.

I am glad the rain is dampening the smell of the pile in front of us; just a few hours ago, it would have been nearly impossible to breathe this close to it.

“Crap,” Marcos says, pulling a flesh-covered police belt from the pile. Attached to it are the remnants of what used to be a gun, before a large object must have fallen on top of it.

“Is that going to work?”

“Doubt it. Still might be useful as a bluff,” he decides, pulling a few more items from the police belt, none of which looked to be in good shape.

“Alright, let's get you back to the hideout,” Marcos says, standing up from the pile. His hands are covered in a substance I hoped to never see, but he just wipes them off onto one of the wet shirts in the pile, unfazed.

He walks over and lifts me to my feet by my good arm, dragging me backwards again out of the corner where the bodies were piled.

We make our way slowly down what used to be a busy street, flanked on both sides by skeletal buildings and destroyed cars. Our entire city had reverted to a six-story pile of rubble for the most part, with only the occasional spared building still holding on for dear life. Our pace was abysmal, with Marcos dragging me steadily between obstacles. It made it all the more clear why I had been left behind by the rest of the group.

And why I need to leave so he can survive.

Marcos had spent last night moving the remaining three of us into what seemed to be a small convenience store a little down the road from our tent. I’d never seen someone carry a body over their shoulder in real life, but I had to admit that I was very impressed when he did it with the other two.

“Why in here instead of the tent?” I had asked him.

“One good shake and this might come down. No reason they should check it.”

Our old tent had the strategic advantage of not being near any unstable buildings, with the trade-off of being it was easily visible from all over the park. Half the reason I lay in the street the first day was the responders finding that location and deeming it safe. Now we had to abandon it because of some hooligans.

The other half of our group didn’t seem to mind the change in scenery too much, and the girl even seemed to be responding more to Marcos than she had been previously, maybe due to the change in scenery. She was still far from being anything but coma girl to me. Lan, for his part, stayed almost silent the whole time, only letting out a few groans when I was able to see him being carried.

Marcos had picked this location because it was more hidden, but also because it only had one exit, with the back of the building being crushed by the remains of its neighbor.

“Good chance they still search it,” he told me, “Jasper and I looked in anything still standing during our runs, so we have to assume they are doing the same. This place was already ransacked, but they don’t know that.”

As we reached the entrance of the store, Marcos let out a small sigh of annoyance.

“Of course, it finally rains the moment I have more pressing matters.”

He had placed some cans in the street nearby to catch water. Hopefully, they would blend in enough amongst the garbage to not catch anyone's eye.

He turns me around, lifting my body onto the slab of concrete that partially blocks the still-standing door frame. I have to try and hold on with my bent arm to the now slick rock while he holds my other hand for support, lowering me down the other side. How he managed to safely get the other two in here alone is beyond me.

I reach the bottom and he releases my hand, allowing me to crumple against the slab the rest of the way to the floor. I push myself backwards from the wall to give Marcos space to get inside. He doesn’t need me to watch him climb down, but I can’t pretend I don’t like watching his athleticism.

Let him go before he dies.

Just as I get back out of view of the entrance, I feel something hard jam into the small of my back. It had to be a gun. I don’t have the time to turn around and see what it is before a deep voice whispers,

“Don’t turn around or you’re dead.”

I freeze, unable to make a sound. Marcos slides swiftly down the slab into the opening in front of me. He brushes himself off and turns, looking up at me and whoever stands behind me, his face immediately dropping as his fist tightened onto the belt in his hand.

“Drop the belt. One wrong move and I make sure this guy doesn’t walk again,” the voice says from right next to my ear, the object pushing further into my back.

I half expected Marcos to inform him that I already couldn’t walk, but he remains silent, proceeding to do as he is told. Very carefully, while keeping his hands in view the whole time, he unlatches the belt and lets it fall to the ground.

“Kick it to the side and keep your hands up,” my captor says.

Marcos kicked the belt to his left, a couple of feet away from him. There was some murmuring behind me from others that I couldn’t see. Whatever they were saying, the blood pounding in my head drowned them out.

“Alright. Now we can do this properly,” the voice says.