A Dark and Watery Stroll

Tristan Harlow:

Rubbing the nose, I look at the blood running all over it. Shaking the blood from my hand, I then look at Rebecca. Wanting to punch Rebecca back, I stop and lower my hands.

"Deals like the one I've just offered you are about as rare as an apple these days," Rebecca says, letting down her fist. "Come on, Drifter. You're planning to get out of here soon, right? Well, can't you use one last payday before you go? One massive payday? With all the ration cards you have coming, you can buy whatever the hell you'll need and want: food, water, gas filters, bullets, and guns. The list goes on and on."

"A lot like this," I say, crossing my arms. "Fine. I'll go on your damn suicide mission."

A smile growing across Rebecca's face, she nudges her head and begins walking. Following behind her, she fills me in on some missing details.

"The warehouse is in Zone 10, so we'll have to go through a few checkpoints to reach it. Still got that fake ID I got you on day one?"

"Right here," I reply, pulling the ID from my pocket. "Tristan Harlow, resident of Zone 6."

"Awesome. Maybe this won't be so bad after all."

Letting out a puff of air, I shake my head.

"When shit can hit the fan," I say, "It will."

The sound of a bell echoes throughout the bunker, signaling morning. Very soon, people start waking up, their makeshift stores and stalls opening up with them.

"Hey," I hear someone scream, "I was here first! Get behind me!"

"Piss off you son of a bitch," someone yells back.

"Shut up both of you," the stall owner shouts. "I have plenty of fry rats to go around. Just make sure you have something to trade."

Seeing a customer trade a pair of old boots for two fry rats, he starts eating his breakfast.

"Come on," another stall owner screams, walking around with his arms spread out. "Come on! I got weapons for sale! Pipe! Wooden plank! Even a few shives! Who wants one? Come on! I'll take anything!"

Making our way through the crowded marketplace, we find ourselves in front of a heavily guarded chain link fence. At least 20 feet tall, soldiers in pale blue uniforms surround it, a few armed with pistols and a few others armed with assault rifles. Hanging above the gate is a massive sign that says Zone 7.

Walking up to the fence, a soldier with tired, dead eyes stops us.

"Passport and reason for visit, please," he says.

Pulling out our IDs, we hand them over. Taking them, the soldier did a quick check.

"We have some business with some soldiers in Zone 9," Rebecca says, "Recruitment."

The soldier's eyes go wide and he gives us our IDs back. Turning around, he waves his hand.

"Let them through," he orders, the chain-link gate slowly opening.

"Thanks," Rebecca says, the soldiers stepping aside and letting us pass through. The gate closes as we go back to walking.

"A bunker soldier's favorite word is recruitment," Rebecca says, laughing a little. "It means less for him to do."

"You think that will work on three more checkpoints," I ask, pushing some guy aside.

"Probably," Rebecca answers. "I made a few deals with soldiers in the past, and from what I heard from them, they don't get much rest."

"Hmm," I reply.

Finding ourselves in another marketplace, we cut through a narrow alley and reach the second checkpoint.

"Hey, hey, hey," a soldier in a similar uniform screams. Aiming his gun at us, we stop and raise our hands. "Get back! Get back now! That is an order!"

Backing away, we pull out our IDs.

"No," the soldier screams. "Our gate is under construction due to a Rebels' attack. No one is allowed through."

"A Rebels' attack," I repeat, now noticing a bunch of trucks and engineers fixing a giant hole in the fence.

"Fuck," Rebecca whispers, putting away our IDs. Having to walk away, I turn back to the fence.

"So much for a stroll through the checkpoints," I say. "Don't suppose you have another way through?"

"Yeah," Rebecca answers, "But I'm not a big fan of it. Come on Drifter. It's this way."

Bumping me in the arm, she leads me to this small, wooden, one-story house. Stepping onto the front porch, the whole house creaking as we do, Rebecca knocks on the door.

"Fuck off," a voice on the inside screams. "I ain't got nothing worth stealing!"

"I know you don't you old fuck," Rebecca screams back. "Now let us in!"

"Oh sorry about that Rebecca," the voice says, the sound of the door unlocking before it opens and reveals a tall man with a cap and an orange shirt.

"Hey," she says, shooting the guy a quick wave. "We need to access Zone 10, but the checkpoint is closed. We need to use the sewer way."

Nodding his head, he steps aside and lets the two of us in. Once in, he closes the door and motions for us to follow with a wave of his hand. He leads us to a small living room, a sofa against one wall, a stain-covered rug on the ground, and an empty TV stand opposite the sofa, the man pulls up against the empty TV stand and reveals a hidden pathway behind it.

"Thanks," Rebecca says, reaching into her pocket and pulling out some ration cards. Taking them, he waves back and watches as we enter the pathway. Closing it back up as soon as we enter, I reach into my pack and pull out a small lighter. Barely lighting the literal hole in the wall, we have to crouch-walk through it, stopping only when Rebecca points to a small hole in the ground. Climbing into it, I reluctantly follow after.

"Holy hell," I cry as my feet hit the freezing cold water. The blood in my feet turning into ice, I put my lighter away and immediately start blowing into my hands. "Rebecca, what the hell is this place?"

"This is one of the bunker's sewer lines," Rebecca replies. "It should lead to the main sewer line which connects to all the zones. Come on. Oh and be careful, because the rats here are hungry."

Rebecca:

Holding back a laugh when I see Drifter pull out his pistol, I begin leading the way through the cramp, dark sewer line. Having to mostly feel my way around, my fingers constantly on the cold, wet, wall, I am more than glad to hear the sound of running water. Following it, Drifter and I reach the main sewer line.

Water pouring down at a rapid speed, I look at the opposite wall, a bunch of other sewer lines in it. Counting the sewer lines, I guess which one is the one for Zone 10 and bump Drifter in the head.

"That one," I say, pointing at a sewer line further up the wall. "That's the one we need to climb into."

"And that's what's in our way," Drifter says, pointing at the running water.

"It's not as deep as it seems," I say, jumping right in. Hitting the bottom, the water only going as high as my chest, I still had to struggle against the speed. Climbing up against the rushing water, I carefully walk toward the other wall. Slipping a dozen times, I finally reach the other wall and grab onto a sewer line.

"Your turn Drifter," I say, spitting out sewer water.

Tristan:

"It's not too late to turn around," I think. About to turn around, I stop when I hear rats squeaking. Jumping in, I slip on something and fall right into the freezing cold water!