Chapter 8 (Fatberg)

Chapter 8: Fatberg

Blake Rhodes

Unknown, 2029

About 7 years after outbreak

Miami

Season 3

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We couldn't pass through the city anymore, a building had collapsed and blocked the road ahead. It was getting late now and the sound of the dead near us had become louder as they began to slowly approach us from all directions. Kinglsey ran into the middle of the street and frantically threw the debris off of the manhole cover. I helped her throw the cover off to the side, the clattering sound alerted some of the dead nearby. She fished two flashlights out of her backpack and handed one to me before we climbed quickly down the ladder.

"There's probably more dead down here than up there," I said as we reached the bottom and I clicked my flashlight on.

"There are but trust me, at night it's safer down here than it is in the city. The bandits think it smells too bad in the sewer so they don't bother to go in. You already smell like shit so you shouldn't have a problem with it."

"I don't think my daughter will be down here."

"We can't get through the city from the roads. There's more than just the one building that's fallen, it only gets worse from there. This is the fastest way and you should be focused on getting out of the city because like I said before if your kid is alive she isn't here. Don't stand too close to the ladder, sometimes the dead fall."

"Is this how you've stayed alive? Traveling like this?"

"I live here. I have guns back at my camp, we need to stop there before we go further. It's only a few miles that way from here," she pointed ahead.

"Lead the way."

We walked along the side of the canal, my boots sploshed around in the shallow water. I didn't like being down here. The flashlights weren't bright enough but if they had been brighter it would have risked our lives even more. The dead were everywhere, with every door we passed I could hear more and more on the other side. Kingsley ran at one coming our way and stabbed it through the eye with her rusty knife, letting its body disappear into the polluted water.

"So why are you helping me so much? You don't seem like the type of person to do stuff for people just out of the kindness of your heart," I questioned.

"I'm not helping you, you're just tagging along. I'm not responsible for you and I won't risk my life to save yours. As far as I'm concerned you're on your own."

She turned a corner rapidly and brushed aside a sheet covering a doorway. "Make yourself at home," she said as she ran to the piles of plastic storage bins in the small room that were labeled with words like food, books, weapons.

I took a look around noticing how she had cork boards full of Polaroids from before the fall, they had splatters of bloodstains and the faces of some of the people in them were scratched out. I picked one up and read the back. It was her and an older man, Lucio, the two were smiling and holding each other close. I set the photo on her desk before she turned around to face me.

"Machete or hatchet?" She asked, holding up a machete with a grey handle and a hatchet with a L engraved into the side.

"Machete." She smiled and nodded before turning back to the other weapons she had laid out onto her bed. I pushed some of the papers on her desk aside, underneath was a pristine blue notebook, I flipped to a random page in the middle.

Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio

Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio

Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio

Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio Lucio

"Okay, I got everything!" I slammed the notebook shut. "The M16 is more your style I think, plus it's got more of a kickback, I've never really been able to use it. Our ammo's limited so don't go crazy with it," she handed me the gun and the machete along with its holster. I thanked her and walked behind her as we left. I wanted to ask her what happened, what the notebook and pictures were about, but I wasn't even sure if I wanted to go down that road myself.