We, or rather Fred, had been walking underground for several days now. Most of which was about as inspiring as watching grass grow. You know, that often overlooked miracle of nature, where carbon dioxide, water and sunlight are transformed into energy and oxygen for the use of the various critters nearby. Which would in turn feed others bigger and bigger in a curious circle of life.
Needless to say I was enthralled.
The various dead bodies in particular were of great interest to me. Each and every one of them told its own tale of where who and how, but not why. It was a fun mental exercise to try and figure out the why from the details provided. Some where simple; like a gaping wound in their head, so much consumed that there was nothing to reanimate. Or burn wounds, bullet wounds and other, bigger weapons. There were apparently still explosives about and they left nasty results. I suppose it was lucky that those, who were once assigned to clean the corridors, were long dead. It would have taken them days.
Anyway, to get to the interesting part, the one I wanted to write about, we got attacked today. In a fashion which was, in all honesty, a bit uncomfortable for the both of us. See, when walking underground, even in large corridors, there is very little room for hiding, or taking shelter when attacked. Since Fred is a zombie this is usually in his favor, as he is the attacker, rather than the attackee. However, the humans, sparse though they were, often fought furiously for their survival, as demonstrated today.
A sniper, the worst kind.
It came as a bit of a surprise, actually. They usually avoided places where it was so dark that they couldn't really see. But, considering the accuracy displayed, he must have had some help somehow. He was still a long way off, but Fred and I were the only ones stumbling about. And unfortunately his occasional groans were a dead-giveaway in the otherwise silent corridors.
One of the bullets whizzed by me, chipping away some of Fred's ear. Another one was a lot more dangerous, piercing and removing a large chunk of his right upper arm, enough for the rest of the arm to fall off. He did not use the arm that much (he was more of a biter), but the loss of symmetry did not improve his already questionable silhouette.
A side corridor was our rescue from any more unfortunate hits to Fred's body. I was lucky enough to escape unscathed from this hairy situation. Bullets through my glasses give me such a migraine. I hope we won't be in this odd maze below the ground for much longer. If humans have a settlement here, it is bad news for the two of us.
Here's to hoping we went the right way.