I froze, assessing the Clickers. All of them were heavily overtaken by the fungus. They weren't in the final stage yet, so their echolocation worked worse than it could. I had run small experiments more than once, recording the infected's behavior. Want it or not it's the foundation of survival. Without practice, it's impossible to predict their reactions and behavior.
chik-chkk
Their rattling echoed again. I counted two seconds in my head and then rose, taking about ten quick steps before freezing by the passage, pressing myself to the wall. The clicking grew sharper I passed close by two of them. He never told me there would be infected here, though, to be honest, nothing stays constant.
chik-chkk
A Clicker was approaching me. I held my breath and tried to calm down, so my heart wouldn't beat so loud. He let out short, trembling clicks and slowly passed, literally just a couple of steps away. Up close, they looked even worse like the human body had finally stopped being human. Growths all over the skin, a face torn open from the inside, and teeth protruding outward.
*image*
Their clothing bothered me clearly military uniforms. Soldiers. But they were in a late mutated stage, and in a place like this. How did they get here? Unless someone brought them here intentionally. Maybe they were used to prevent unauthorized entry into the camp? I'll have to ask Erik and squeeze the latest news out of him.
Finally, the infected passed by. For a second, I allowed myself to break free from the tension and realized how weakly I was breathing, how quietly my heart was beating. Rising, I moved in a soft, muffled pace around the area, trying not to disturb any of the infected. Only a little remained, and I noted with relief that the spot I needed was close. The hatch had to be somewhere here.
After pushing aside a layer of debris, I finally found it. I lifted the lid, wedged it carefully, and climbed down the narrow shaft, then gently set the hatch back in place.
As soon as I got down into the channel, the horrifying smell hit me. It was impossible to even understand what it smelled like so sharp it seeped through the fabric. Like rats, we always find a way to adapt and survive; despite the tragedy, humanity didn't die it only fell into stagnation for a while.
At the end of the tunnel, I was met by a heavy iron grate with a door. On the other side, it was locked with a padlock.
I removed my backpack and pulled out a thin metal plate I'd made from a simple tin sheet. Nothing special, but for locks like this, it was almost ideal. I carefully slid the plate into the gap between the casing and the mechanism, felt for the retaining clip, nudged it and heard a quiet click. The lock gave in.
Before leaving, I made sure to close everything back exactly the same. Reaching the ladder, I started climbing up. Lifting the hatch slightly, I carefully scanned the area through the narrow gap. It was loud the noise came from somewhere outside. No one nearby. I climbed out fully and closed the hatch behind me. I was in a small room, without windows or doors. I noticed a low opening at the base of the wall.
When I got outside, I was surprised by the structures around me low, made from different materials, built in a rush. The streets were packed with similar houses, forming an unusual sight. I stopped, surveying the surroundings. People were thin, exhausted, with eyes full of fatigue and quiet hopelessness. An atmosphere of decline and despair.
There were too many people here… too many. Some, it seemed, didn't even have anywhere to stay they sat and lay wherever they could. Many begged for charity. Was the situation in the camp really this bad?
I always thought the situation was difficult, but not critical. That FEDRA still had resources and strength to maintain at least the safe zones. Looks like I was very wrong.
It was enough to remember those fields they burned… The picture came together immediately: a severe food shortage. The crops destroyed or infected, the storage units no guarantee they even survived. I'd come across half-collapsed stores after the bombings, and all that was left of food there were scraps.
A food crisis that's what awaits everyone. Me included. The only reason I'm not starving yet is because I'm alone. But even my supplies are slowly thinning. Despite my constant outings, I never had large reserves. What I feared far more was dying from the parasite.
"I need to get to the public cafeteria… do you know where it is?" I asked, crouching down beside a boy of about ten. I handed him a bar. His eyes lit up instantly, he nodded quickly and grabbed it, hiding it under his clothes.
In this world, the innocent suffer the most. And it seems no one will ever be able to change that again. Maybe one day, my search for a vaccine will lead somewhere to at least some chance. The best thing I can do is throw everything I have into that.
The boy led me through the crowd quickly. Despite the harshness of life, there was still some faint spark of movement here, unlike the dead zones outside.
"Did you arrive recently?" he asked without turning.
"Yes. Yesterday," I answered.
"Did you get your cards? To eat at the cafeteria, you need a card. Soldiers give them out," the boy explained, with a seriousness that didn't match his age.
"Don't worry, I have everything," I said. "How is life here?"
"Not bad," he said, though his voice dimmed. "Mom works in manufacturing. She gets cards every day, and we use them to get food."
Should I even be helping the Resistance… the "Fireflies"? They could turn out far worse than FEDRA. Their claim about some medicine could just be convenient pretty words to draw people in. I need to find everything out myself and decide.
Ahead stretched a huge line to a booth with a simple sign: food distribution point.
"Here," the boy said, pointing to the end of the line.
"Thank you. Here hide it well," I said, giving him another bar. For me, it was nothing, but for him it was joy.
"Thank you! Goodbye!" he said, quickly stashing the bar under his clothes and, smiling, he ran off.
Somewhere around here Eric should be working, he mentioned it once. I looked around the street: FEDRA soldiers guarded the area and kept order. Sometimes they stopped people and demanded documents. I had none. I couldn't let them notice me.
I didn't have any food cards either, but I got in line anyway. At the counter I could ask if they knew Eric. If I walked up without waiting, people would complain and that would draw the soldiers' attention.
I had to stand in line for almost an hour before I finally reached the counter. Bread on the table, a thin soup in a large pot, and some porridge. A poor selection, but it looked like that was all they had.
"Your card," the woman at the counter asked without even looking at me.
"I'm looking for Eric," I said quietly.
"Sorry, we don't know anyone by that name. Give your card and take your food. Or leave and don't hold up the line," she said coldly. But I noticed how her eyebrow twitched slightly, and how her finger rubbed against her thumb. She knew Eric.
"I'm a friend of his. Tell him Victor was looking for him," I said, and stepped away immediately, not waiting for a reaction. Someone behind me was already growing angry, and I couldn't draw attention.
Walking away, I stopped in an alley from where the counter was still visible and began to watch. But no one came out. I didn't see Eric among the workers. It seemed contacting him would be harder than I thought.
"You're the one looking for Eric?" I heard behind me.
A man in his thirties approached. Simple clothes a dark gray hoodie, jeans, confident stride.
"Yes," I answered, watching him carefully.
"Come," he said shortly.
He led me away from the square where the cafeteria was, and my guard rose immediately. We approached a building, and at the entrance there was another man. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. When he saw us, he barely reacted. His eyes hidden under a cap. Doubt crawled inside me.
My "guide" opened the door. I stepped in, noticing the observer following behind us.