The Last Man: Part Eight

John and I left the family once my strength had returned. We followed utility tunnels and sewers; the viscera of the Corporation, running far below city streets. They were low forcing us to bend a bit. Not much but enough to slow our progress. There was no light, but for the murky yellow Kinetic lamps that came on overhead as we passed. The oval lamps, affixed at inrevals at the top of the sewers, flickered to the point of failure, their haphazard rhythm conspiring with the pain in my head to make me queasy and unsteady. It was like trudging through a diseased mind, or the fading memories of a dying soul.

I could discern no true direction, and had the impression of winding and doubling back numerous times. Our feet splashed through ankle deep water and muck. The scented sea was a distant memory here, replaced by the pungent bite of human waste and general decay. I tripped, slid and stumbled past dark and lifeless shapes that I preferred not to think too much about. The walls and ceiling pressed in upon me, their crushing weight felt fully in my chest. One hand strained to the wall, the other reassured my latent terrors upon John Brown’s shoulder.

In time we came upon the stinking fetid carcass of a wild dog. I might have missed it, as my eyes, unaccustomed to the quality of darkness here, were all but useless. John stopped suddenly before the carcass, catching me before I spilled forward into the mess. He reached down and lifted the dripping mess with a frown. The flesh had been picked from the head and neck. The naked skull dangled by sinewy strands. Fat white maggots boiled and dripped in clumps from beneath the matted brown fur.

“No good,” he said, keeping his voice at barely a whisper. Even still the sound carried a great distance. “Makes for good warm coverings. Better for a fresh kill.”

“You kill them?”

“It’s them or us. Mangy things hunt in packs. When they have got the hunger I seen these take down a big strong fellow once.”

“We won’t see any?” I asked. Suddenly even the tiniest sound became ravenous dog packs. I wished for a weapon, while looking continuously over my shoulder.

“Who can say?”

“A disgusting mess,” I remarked, the acidic bite of bile rising in my throat.

“This one still good for something.”

He carried it little farther on where milky-gray daylight flooded into the sewer from a drainage pipe. City sounds roared from the hole, familiar sounds that, after the sea, now seemed wholly obscene and abusive. The shadows from an heavy iron grate covering the opening were etched upon the gray-green concrete walls, and across the rust colored sludge flowing at the bottom of the sewer.

John motioned for me to remain behind. Suddenly he ran towards the hole, holding the carcass out to one side, his arm cocked back and ready. His strides were calculated and powerful. Each footfall came down hard, splashing loudly. Just shy of the hole his arm drew back farther, the skull bouncing wildly. With a mighty groan John flung the carcass up onto a high ledge within the hole. Without losing stride he dodged into the shadows at the far side of the hole and turned with a satisfied expression.

My eyes rose to the dripping carcass. The skull and one leg were draped over the edge. The remains were quickly set upon by a slimy fat brown rats seeming to materialize from nowhere. With that John Brown quickly waved me over. I hurried past the hole, but slipped. He reached out and caught me, drawing us both to the shadows beside the hole.

“I don’t understand?’

“Come,” he said, leading me cautiously to the hole. Just above our heads the swarming rats fought over the rotting flesh, angrily glaring swiping and hissing at one another. A little higher I could make out the blue light of Sentinel. John Brown pulled me back away from the hole.

“Sentinel not so smarts as it like to thinks. The primitive thoughts of them rats confuses Sentinel. Just hears all sorts of gibberish.”

“Clever,” I remarked, as we moved deeper into the bowels of the city.

The sewer narrowed. The ceiling was much lower than before. It is impossible to tell where or how far we had gone. The pain had returned to my head with a fury. Not as bad as before, but enough to become a burden and cause John Brown to wait for me to rally myself several times. I was reaching the limits of my endurance. The throbbing pain drove my head down almost rhythmically. I groaned and told John Brown I could go no farther.

“Please, I am begging,” I moaned, falling against the cold, moss-slicked wall. He came over as I slid to my knees. My eyes searched his for a moment. “Forgive me. I’m still not so strong.”

I fought for breath in that transient grave. My eyes turned upwards, my mouth agape in a silent scream. I would have scratched and dug my way to daylight. A cold sweat ran in rivers down my body.

John could see that I was struggling. He laid a hand on my shoulder. “Pull yourself together.”

I could have died there. I could have stopped my heart simply by wishing it so. What life remained in me seemed intent on pulling itself free from the world. I held tight to his strong arm, staring deeply into his eyes, begging silently for rescue. Life and death were equal agents, both fighting in every cell of my weary being for ultimate victory. As for my part I was entirely undecided.

“I wasn’t… I am not prepared…” I stammered.

“No worries, this is the place we were arriving at.”

“Where?”

“Come, for to see.”

I could see nothing but the endless dark, and the sewer running off into that nothingness. I managed to reach my feet, still using the walls for support. John started off again, but I refused to move at first. He paused and turned, an odd grin betraying a certain strain to his patience. I looked up and back through the passage and, seeing nothing still, believed that one or both of us had lost his mind.

There was a sudden sound from behind. It was far away, but closing quickly. Not the splashing of water, like footfalls, but a swishing sort of sound. It was the sound of something large moving quick and effortless through the sewer.

John stood and drew a long knife hidden in his clothing. There were more sounds now, the same sounds coming straight at us from the opposite direction. John moved to the middle of the sewer, turning his body to meet whichever threat reached him first.

His eyes widened at something terrifying and unseen. The knife dropped from his hand into the muck, as though any resistance was a futile and ridiculous gesture. He stumbled back, turned and was quickly engulfed in darkness. A muffled cry went out, but was quickly cut short.

Alone, I turned. All thoughts disappeared in a fog of terror, replaced by terrible and desperate visions of all manner of horrors. The sounds were much closer now. My hands clenched instinctively, the blood running from them, turning the knuckles cold. I resolved to fight, and fight until the last breath and last drop of blood left my body.

Two great beasts emerged from the dark, rising on two legs. Their mouths were open revealing huge razor sharp teeth. Their eyes were cold and as black, perhaps blacker, than the tunnel itself. They were covered in long thick fur in patches of beige and brown and black. A moment later I felt a knife point at my back.