by Glynn James
The bridge that had once spanned the gap, all the way to the wall, was now completely void of any of the wooden planks that would have made my escape easier. Now all that remained were some charred lumps here and there.
The scaffolding was still there, though; tall struts pointing up into the darkness, held together by cross-beams that looked as though they could collapse at any moment with the slightest disturbance.
Eventually I stopped passing out and managed to sit up. I checked what equipment I had left and discovered it was as little as I had expected. A couple of those disposable cigarette lighters, my cigarettes, this pen and the diary and a knife was the sum of my resources, and they were only there because Dha'mir hadn't ripped off my utility belt whilst he was casting every other useful thing into the darkness below, into the Zombies.
Oh, and of course, I still had the long blade. That was still there, and thankfully now no longer stuck through me.
I'm going to presume, for hope's sake, that it is still day 53, even though I know it isn't.
I examined the wound in my chest, and was relieved to see that it had sealed up. It wasn't a neat scar, and my skin was still pale and bruised. In fact, pretty much all of me is pale. My cheeks and hands tingle from the blood loss.
My mind drifted back to the moment that I pulled the blade from my chest, and it nearly caused me to throw up. I couldn't even begin to describe the horror of how the jarring of a long blade scraping across my own ribs felt. The pain hadn't been as intense as I had imagined it might be, but the grating against bone had been...I shuddered just thinking about it.
I decided that across the scaffolding was my only route of escape; there was no chance at all, not even the slightest of hopes, that I would survive a battle through the Zombies below, even if I did survive the fall to get down to them. There were just too many of them. They'd tear me apart in seconds, just as I presumed they had torn DogThing apart. Of course he could phase out, and I hoped that he had, but I wouldn't be able to do that. I would just be consumed by them. It's ironic really, when I think about it. Like all of the Resistance, I am almost immortal in the way that I can just heal over a very short period of time due to the serum in my blood, but that serum wouldn't matter in the slightest if I was munched on by Zombies. And yet here I was, fighting them yet again. We're always fighting the things that can actually kill us.
The Maw had it easy that way. They could phase out and disappear to wherever it was that they went, and just stay there until they healed. And they healed from nearly anything.
The Maw.
DogThing.
The hope that I have is that he somehow managed to phase out, like I had discovered he could in my flashbacks. I still don't remember - yet - ever having seen him or any of the other Maw do it, but when I thought of how CutterJack had killed DogThing and the other Maw on Merriwether Avenue, I couldn't deny that this strange regenerative ability that they supposedly possessed had to be true.
Or had I seen it? Hadn't one of them phased when I was in the ruined city?
My head hurts.
My mind is also spinning with confusion over Dha'mir's actions. What had he really to gain by killing me? He now had the key. But why hadn't he just taken it when we first arrived at the road station? Why had he not taken it when I was unable to even remember who he was?
I need to sleep now. Rest some more. Hopefully when I awake I will strong enough to attempt the climb across the scaffolding.
Day 54
I awoke with a cough, but this time there was no blood running down my chin. I sat up before I even thought about it, and was relieved that I didn't collapse back down to the floor in pain.
I realised then why Dha'mir had killed me. I remembered. I had seen it in his eyes as he had stood over me. He was no different to CutterJack. It was obvious to me. He had travelled with the Horde the whole time, commanded them to destroy cities, and in turn been commanded by CutterJack. He was burning with hatred for both his master and everything else. He hated us, and me, as much as he hated them.
If he managed to kill CutterJack then he would simply take his place, and he would have the key to help him. Opening doors would be much simpler with that. The Horde would have a leader that not only had the same strengths as its previous one, but one that could open doors into any world he chose.
I had to get off this rock.
I stood on the edge of the rocky outcropping, knife tucked into my belt and everything else as secure as I could make it, and reached out to the nearest scaffolding upright.
It was too far away to reach, which meant that I simply had to take a few steps back, run, and jump. It was a one-way trip. That much was obvious. When I made the leap there would be no going back and only downwards if the whole lot started to fall apart.
I moved back until I was leaning against the wall that had once held the door, took one long, deep breath and then I ran.
When I was in mid-air, about three seconds later, and half a second before I grabbed hold of the scaffolding, I regretted my choice. I hadn't seen it from the ledge; the eerie darkness played hell with my vision, especially at a distance, and as I sped through the air towards the first upright pole, I saw below.
The footings underneath the first section of scaffolding had collapsed. There was nothing below the section that I was about to land on. If the cross-beams holding the uprights together gave way - and they were rusted with age - then...
No choice.
I was already committed.
This was going to happen anyway.
The upright pole was suddenly right in my face. I grabbed hold of it and held on as tight as I could. Below me, I heard the screech of metal twisting and breaking as more of the metal poles collapsed under my weight, but the momentum of my run swung me forwards as the whole section broke away and fell to the ground below. One moment I was holding onto a metal pole and the next I was plummeting downwards with the metal uprights and steel crashing down around me, crashing down towards the mass of Zombies in the darkness below. If anything was going to wake them up then that was it.
I came down holding tightly to one of the cross-beams, slamming my legs into another beam that was a few feet below. Something snapped, and I couldn't tell if the noise had been a part of me or just another piece of wood or metal breaking.
I opened my eyes, not even sure why they had been closed, and waited for the pain.
I wasn't on the ground amongst the Zombies. I was lying on top of the broken scaffold, which in turn was crushing the mass of undead things beneath it. But they had seen me now and began moaning, clawing their way over the tops of each other and over the fallen metal structure to try to get at me. I pulled with every bit of my strength that I could summon, and hauled myself up, barely managing to drag my feet up and out of the way of the first of the reaching hands.
Then came the moans. First it was just the few that had seen me, but then the entire darkness around me began to wail and writhe. Thousands of them, all crawling over the broken scaffolding, and each other, just to get at me.
The scaffolding pole that I was clinging on to had fallen at an angle, leaning against the next section that was still standing. If I could climb up there, I might be able to keep climbing and get away.
Pain erupted again in my chest as I dragged myself one hand over the other, inch after painful inch, up the pole. I slipped a few times and had to swing back up, all of the time aware that below me the Zombies were piling on top of each other to get to me. Every foot higher that I managed to climb, they seemed to still get closer. Finally, after what seemed to be forever, I grasped hold of a crossbeam and climbed up into a standing position, out of the way of grasping hands and gnashing teeth.
But it didn't end there.
No sooner had I moved over to the section of still standing scaffolding, than the Zombies below were shaking the very footings that held it up. As quickly as I could manage, I climbed. Up and up, until I was on the top of the scaffolding again. Once ther
e I held on tight and began to make my way, crawling, across the tottering remains of the bridge.
Once I was higher up, the Zombies seemed to calm. I couldn't quite make their heads out now as I looked down into the darkness below, so maybe they couldn't sense me either. The light of the glowing rocks high up in the cave was not as bright as it had been when we had left this place before, I was sure of it. I vividly remembered seeing the mass of heads and arms swaying like a sea below as we walked across the bridge that time.
It all seemed so long ago now, even though it had only been a few weeks.
The climb across the wreckage of the bridge took so long that I couldn't even count the hours that may have passed. But the relief when I finally pulled myself on to the top of the wall was enough to make me cry out.
I collapsed onto the cold stone and lay there, breathing heavily.
I couldn't believe that I'd actually made it across, and I didn't even notice DogThing until he was standing next to me, licking the back of my head.
I rolled over and lay there looking at him, and laughed, just completely relieved to see those massive glowing eyes and the wide grin of teeth that would terrify any sane human being. I could swear that he was getting bigger. Even the row of black spines across his back somehow seemed to be sharper, and stick out further. Maybe it was my imagination.
"So we're back here again," I said, coughing again. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
Good. No blood.
DogThing snorted.
"Yes. Back here...again."
I laughed again, louder this time.
Then I realised that I could see, I mean actually see almost clearly without any torchlight. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness already.
Or something worse. Had I been in the dark for long enough for it to happen?
I felt a surge of panic. I couldn't have been. My eyes hadn't seen very well in the darkness across the bridge, or down into the Zombies.
"Have we been here long?"
"I don't know. I've phased twice already, so I don't know how long it has been."
"Twice? You mean you died twice already?"
"I don't die. I phase and then heal. And then I phase back again."
"Twice though? I saw you go into the Zombies, but twice?"
DogThing looked towards where the Zombies were, beyond the bridge and into the darkness.
"When we phase back, we are in the same place. I was still in amongst them. They hurt me again. I ran through them, but they still wounded me enough for me to need to phase again."
"Oh."
"I saw some of your stuff. It's right near them. But they moved when they chased me."
"What bits? A gun?"
Hope.
"No. I only saw your bag."
"Could we get it?"
"They would sense you and come after you."
"Hmm. There are thousands of them down there."
I sat there, still completely puzzled over why the Zombies gathered there. From what I remembered of our last visit, the Zombies travelled all the way across The Corridor to get there. What the hell was there that drew them to it? I would only find out if I killed them all, and even though I was now remembering how to be half competent fighter, I didn't fancy my chances against thousands of the creatures with just a blade.
Even if it was CutterJack's blade.
"DogThing. I think I know where there are guns. And even other equipment."
"Where?"
"Below us, right over there, in the junk on the ground. That was where CutterJack threw me the first time I was here. I ended up hidden underneath all of the junk, but he threw my kit in there. Unless someone else took it, which seems doubtful, it has to still be there."
I pulled myself up onto my feet, every part of my body screaming with aches and pains.
I stopped. If it hadn't been for the pain I would have laughed. Well, wasn't this familiar?
We made our way down the scaffold walkway until we drew level with where the door to the pocket dimension had been. I stood there, looking at the space where the door had been. It was strange to think that we had planned on using explosives to close it up, when all that was really needed was the destruction of the mirror. If only I had smashed it that first time.
A few minutes later and we were both hunting through the junk that surrounded the bottom of the platform.
"He can't have thrown it far. He was holding me with one hand, and threw my stuff into the junk. I remember that much."
"He can throw quite far."
"Yes, well, there is that."
I scrambled around, lifting bits of scrap metal and broken electronics and casting them aside, searching for anything that had once been mine. Then it occurred to me. How had all this modern junk ended up here? When we pulled the junkyard from London into The Corridor, most of what was lying here underneath me hadn't even been made yet. Was there something that we had missed with that machine? Even though it was now switched off, not even here any more, was it still somehow working? Was that what the holes that I had seen the first time I came here were?
DogThing barked at me.
"I've found where you were."
I stopped searching under the pile of electronics and ran round to where DogThing was sniffing the ground.
"Blood. Yours."
I crouched down and peered underneath the broken table next to the patch of dried blood. The table had definitely been smashed by something from above, probably me falling on it. Beyond the table I could see a gap underneath the junk, some kind of tunnel, held up on both sides by broken window frames and furniture.
I crouched down, peering underneath to see how far the tunnel went.
FLASH
I'm lying on the ground, barely conscious. My right arm and leg won't move. I look at them and can clearly see the bones jutting out at odd angles.
Broken.
I try to breathe, but my ribs explode with pain.
Also broken.
Nearby, somewhere, I can hear loud crashing noises. I look up and see that there is a struggle going on up on the platform above me.
I realise that I'm lying on the ground, where CutterJack threw me. The noise is DogThing and CutterJack fighting, but it ends quickly and I see a bundle of fur go flying off the platform into the darkness. A crash of glass and metal is followed by silence.
Heavy footfalls on the scaffold walkway.
He's coming to finish me off.
I roll off the table and look around frantically. There has to be someplace to hide, someplace where he cannot find me. Then I see it, just a few feet away, a hole in the massive pile of scrap furniture and window frames.
I crawl towards it, my limbs bellowing in protest. Broken bones crack and I can feel something inside of me shift uncomfortably.
Internal injuries.
This time it will take a while to heal. This is no overnight rest.
As I crawl through the small tunnel underneath the junk, I glance back. A shadowy figure stalks the ground near the bottom of the scaffolding. There is a loud bang as CutterJack kicks the table that I fell on.
"I know you are here, rat. You can hide, but I will find you."
Then I see it, just past his foot.
One of my guns.
It's underneath a pile of torn paper and cardboard.
I can't go back and get it. It's right next to him. I crawl onwards, silently screaming in pain with every inch that I make my way further into the darkness and safety underneath the mountain of refuse.
I pass out, but wake up a short time later. My arm is stuck, wedged between the legs of a chair and a pile of bricks. It must have straightened and healed whilst I was unconscious, my body fixing itself. I pull on it, but it's still stuck. I can't get my elbow out of the gap. It has healed in a way that makes it physically impossible to pull it out.
Only one thing for it.
I lean on the arm, throwing all of my weight on the newly re-formed bone. The pain is almost more
than I can take, but then it cracks, broken once more. I cry out, I can't stop myself. But the pain is soon gone and I pull my shattered arm out of the gap. Again, the pain is excruciating. I feel myself drifting back into unconsciousness again, but before I do so, I manage to lay my arm straight against my body. Just before the dizziness overwhelms me and I pass out, I wonder what made me think to break the arm. Why would I do that? How can I get to the hospital in central London? Where is London? What am I thinking?
Darkness.
FLASH
When I snapped back to the present I found myself sitting on the floor and holding my head.
DogThing was standing in front of me, peering at me. Then he licked the side of my face.
"Another flash? A memory?"
"Yes."
So that is how I escaped him. I crawled under the junk and lay there. How long I was there? I don't know. Long enough to heal, all but the bruises; that would take a few days. That had been the last moments before I originally woke up here in The Corridor, sharing my mind with the man from London. It was strange remembering how it felt to have two people's thoughts rammed into one head. I had almost forgotten how confusing it had been.
I crawled back out of the tunnel, looking for the table, for where CutterJack had stood. There it was, lying on its side, shattered, about ten feet away, and right in front of it, was the pile of cardboard and paper. Underneath that was where my gun should be.
I threw aside the paper and the cardboard, feeling a surge of relief as the pale shine of metal greeted me. I picked up the gun, flipped it over, examining it, looking for any damage. Every time I flicked the active switch it did the same thing, a small flash on the battery indicator and then nothing. The battery had somehow been damaged. It certainly wouldn't be empty.
But if I could get my rucksack back from where the Zombies were, then I would have a replacement battery.
"Damn."
"It is broken?"
