Chapter Text
Silence.
Just Silence, in a city so used to the noise of the cars and bustle of people, so many people.
Not anymore.
It stretched on and on and on. Just the constant low buzzing of the street lights, not yet run out of power and the occasional scurry of a rat, or cat scavenging for scraps.
James would say it was almost peaceful, without the constant threat of the Diseased.
In the early stages of the downfall of civilisation (a pet name James had dubbed the last days of normality) the infected were called people, patients but as time went on they mutated into something vastly alien, vastly foreign to anything James had known.
They had taken over, destroyed everything he knew and held dear. It wasn't just them, it was the panic they created, James would be lying if he said it didn't feel euphoric. Governments that society had spent centuries perfecting torn down in days, scientific breakthroughs lost in time, gone. And the feeling, the buzz of mass panic, the burning of his car on the first day, portrayed the burning of society he poetically thought.
He was foolish then, he thought it would be over, the government, the army, someone would sort it out. Nobody came, it was small village officials in the countryside, trying to work out a way to keep their friends and family safe. It was Mayors and police in towns, trying to stop riots from spreading. He knew it was awful, people fighting one another when they should be working together. But It felt amazing, society tearing itself apart. He guessed that's how they got to you. Made you feel gleeful, when all you knew burnt to dust.
It was a grimy place, dirty, dusty. the place where you'd find hookers outside every bar and druggies passed out on every pavement. It was a city though, with food and shelter, that's what mattered. The sprawling metropolis, filled with empty offices, empty flats. Filled with junk that would never be important ever again, never mean anything to anyone ever again. James was like that, alone. nothing to do except survive till he keeled over and died.
He spent most of his days walking from building to building, scavenging for food, fuel for his motorbike, got to keep on moving, gotta keep on running cause that's when they get to you, when you're not looking, when you're not focused.
Paranoid, Will always said he was paranoid, whenever he introduced James to new people, or when they would go on long walks at night. Will would say he would look over his shoulder far too much, in case somebody was there, waiting for them, waiting to stab them, waiting to kill them……..
"Who'd commit crimes in this crappy place anyway?" Will would shout to him laughing far too loudly. He’d then walk up to random strangers and talk to them, ask them for directions, ask them for food, ask them for a kiss on the cheek……
Will was dead.
Along with the rest of them. All dead, just James.
Just James in this city, just him and the monsters that lurked in the shadows, watching.
He trudged on.
.--- .- -- . ... / -- .- .-. .-. .. --- - - .----. ... / .- .-.. .-.. / --- -. / .... .. ... / --- .-- -.
James had been travelling for a while, a few hours, sometimes riding his motorbike, sometimes walking trailing it along. He had found a few food stores, nothing special.
He sighed, one more building to go, one more building and then he would’ve completed a block.
As he approached the ominous building James caught himself in the glass. He looked like a mess.
His beard was overgrown and scraggly and his mullet had grown out into a wild bush. His sunken eyes reminded him unfortunately of the Diseased. His glasses were cracked and his clothes were torn. He needed a wash and a good night's sleep, without worrying whether monsters would come knocking.
He was a broken man compared to who he was 5 months ago.
Don’t look at yourself, don’t feel anything.
That’s how they get you. That’s how they get you. That’s how they get you.
Whispers swirled around in James’s head.
They’re here. They’re gonna find him, kill him.
His figure stared back at him.
Sunken eyes, shaggy hair, lifeless face.
James saw the monster in front of him and panicking, he attacked.
The glass in front of him shattered. His knuckles started bleeding, a deep crimson red dripped down his arm, like paint, slowly covering his arm, his tattoos. He stared at it, admiring it in the evening light, it was……..fascinating. He was enthralled.
The constant monotonous drip of the blood, splattering on the ground.
It was like his senses had been washed away in the rush of blood. All he could do was watch.
Then the stream stopped, and he started to move again. Blinking and shaking his head he realised that he had an open wound just…….. there. If he didn’t do anything he’d die of blood loss.
Alarmed, he grabbed a grubby bandage from his bag, which was once a stark white but had changed shade from the dust and grime James had been living in for months.
“Shit,”
James muttered and started to quickly wrap his bandage around his hand, tightly.
“fucking idiot,”
He looked down at the shattered glass reflecting in the light of the sunset and resented what he saw.
Kicking dirt over the glass he strode into the building.
One more building.
One more building, then he could sleep.