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Jason stared down at the growling, teeming mass below his feet, and tried to muster up… something. Sadness, at the inevitability of what was coming. Anger, at the pointlessness of it all. Fear, at his own fast approaching end.
But he couldn't. All he could feel was… tired. Tired, and exhausted, and maybe… maybe even a bit of relief.
Holding his hand out, he let the blood from his torn-up arm drop down, chuckling quietly as the growling grew louder, as the horde started tearing at itself in an attempt to get to the few droplets.
The bastards were probably starving; Gotham had been abandoned shortly after the first outbreak, with too many dangers -aka too many potential hostiles -and very little in the way of resources. It'd never been an overly prosperous city to begin with, and the outbreak killing almost forty percent of those it infected hadn't done anything to help its prospects. Anybody who could had bolted away from the cities like rats outrunning water.
Jason had been scavenging for medical supplies for more than a week, before all of… this. Other than him and his crew, he hadn't seen a single still-living person, hadn't even seen signs that there might be anyone still left alive in the city.
Hell, by tomorrow, there wouldn't be anyone left alive any way. Not unless Roy and Tim had somehow survived, and managed to make it out.
He doubted they had. He only barely made it out, and even then… He hadn't gotten very far. Maybe a block or two
They'd spotted it yesterday, when they'd first rolled into this section of Little Italy. An old section of the sewage drain-off, that either hadn't been placed or had been torn out to make room for something new. Hard to tell. But the thirty foot section of pipe was sloped at enough of an angle that it made a… okay-ish safe spot.
'Okay-ish' because… well, there wasn't really anywhere else to go. Jason had managed to haul himself up the almost 45 degree angle to the top, but…
There wasn't anywhere to go from here. There were buildings across the street, sure. Not ones Jason would be able to get to. Not that he'd be able to jump the gap, and haul himself up the side of the building. And where the pipe was leaning on was just… sand and construction debris, piles of bricks and piping and concrete bags.
Eventually… Jason would bleed out, or starve to death. Or pass out from exhaustion and blood loss.
And either way, when that happened? Jason would fall. He'd either pitch straight forward, a thirty foot drop onto concrete, or he'd slide down the back. No matter which…
He would be worm food before tomorrow morning.
Heh. Dick was gonna be so pissed. He hadn't wanted them to go to Gotham, hadn't wanted them to take the risk. And ever since Bruce died, Dick had been running himself ragged trying to make sure everybody was safe.
But they needed the medical supplies. All there was to it. They had about a dozen brats they'd managed to pick up in the last four years since everything went to shit, and kids, apparently, get sick all the time. Need antibiotics, and bandages, and medicine all the time.
Hopefully Roy or Tim made it out. Jason had seen Tim run off towards the bridge, while Roy had run south, each with their own packs.
Jason chuckled quietly. Poor Roy had never had a good sense of direction. And Gotham was a goddamn maze before all this shit.
But hopefully… At least one of them made it out. Made it back. They divided all the medical supplies into thirds, to increase the odds of at least some of it getting back. So if at least one of them, Roy or Tim, managed to get out, the group would have antibiotics and fever reducers and cough medicine. Enough to make sure at least a few of the kids survived.
Tim and Roy weren't bleeding, when Jason last saw them. That gave them an advantage at least, since the suckers were basically blood-hounds. Jason's torn up arm might as well be a lighthouse, and hopefully it'll be enough to maybe clear a path for one of the two.
Maybe… Jason should probably throw his backpack. It's pretty friggin' obvious he's not getting out of this one alive, and… well, hell, maybe the next idiot scavenger coming through, desperate and hungry, can get some use out of it. Not like anything in there is gonna do Jason any good; just be a waste of supplies, even if he wasn't currently stuck in the middle of a horde.
Plus… better for him to keep bleeding. The more blood there was, the more of the bastards he'll pull towards him. The less running around to chase after Roy and Tim.
Presuming they made it out. Presuming they weren't cornered up in the metaphorical tree like Jason was. That they didn't get eaten around a corner somewhere, and Jason was staring at the thing that ate them.
No way of knowing. Nothing to do about it anyway, even if he did know.
It was almost dusk. Would be dusk soon. Not that that would change a damn thing for him. Sure, the things seemed to go… almost dormant at night, but they were still capable of reacting if something woke 'em up. And there were enough of 'em around that Jason wasn't going to be able to sneak through… Even if he wasn't cut up like a Thanksgiving turkey.
Nope. Better to just… stay where he was. To keep drawing more in, try and give Roy and Tim a better chance. Maybe, if Jason was lucky, he'd still be conscious enough to see the sunrise in the morning. About the only thing he had any hope for, and even that was stretching it.
He ignored the growling below, as he tried to get in a more comfortable position, one that would maybe help him stay up on top of the pipe, instead of him trying to cling like a dying spider-monkey.
Anything was better'n nothing. And honestly… it'd be nice to see just one more sunrise before he bit the bullet.