Chapter 9

"as if everything that exists, aromas, light, metals, were little boats that sail toward those isles of yours that wait for me. " -Pablo Neruda, if you forget me

Drip, drip, drip
Chilo’s eyes were closed, her back against the wall of the tunnel.
As the stories go, large thin trains used to zoom down tunnels like these carrying people or cargo from one place to another. They called it a subway system. Or maybe this was just a tunnel where trains would go through. There were mixed stories. Not many people know too much about the world pre-Mara.
She heard a strange small sound of air wooshing, and something hitting a puddle near her, and her eyes shot open, still mostly unused to the darkness. Her ears perked, her eyes darted, but her body stayed still. Chances were, whatever was living here couldn’t see her either.
After a very long time without any noise, she realized it was probably just a drop of water falling to the ground from the ceiling, and let out an audible sigh.
In response, she heard a loud shriek, and saw something lunge at her. She swatted it away. It was the size of a cat, but it had a weird body type. It shrieked again as it hit the opposite tunnel wall and grunted. Chilo quickly got out her gun and shot it, letting out another bullet for save measures.
She reached around her bag and got out a flashlight, and turned it on, shining on the creature.
“What…The hell…?” She looked at the grotesque being in confusion and awe.
It was small, and fish-like, with tiny claws and feet. It was about 3 ft long, and it had small bat wings. It was a pale blue color, and small jagged teeth, and despite such a thin body, it’s gut was large and swollen.
Chilo’s mind flashed to the radio Orson was listening to, about the “Mara”…
It had two bullet holes in it, one in the fleshy part of its wing, and one in its chest. It suddenly breathed to life again and lunged again, but Chilo pressed it against the wall again with her boot to its neck, and pressed until the shrieking stopped with a satisfying series of small crunches.
And then it’s body went limp. She removed her foot and watched as the creature slid to the floor, lifeless as any other animal when it’s shot twice and had it’s neck stomped on, but just in case…
She got out her knife and slid it into the creature’s skull, a remarkably soft skull. She saw the creature’s stomach start to shudder, and she slid the knife into that as well. She cleaned the pale blue blood off of the knife, and watched as the shuddering stopped. The bodily fluids pouring out of the creature filled the tunnel with a bitter, yet sour smell.
She sighed, realizing she had gotten all the sleep she would get this day. She continued moving further into the tunnel.

Orson looked at the large, scrappy gate and wall that surrounded large structures.
He heard voices talking behind the gate, and then rustling and some thudding as well.
“Hey, you!” Someone called from the top of the wall, there was someone else with the man as well.
“Who are you!” They called down.
“My name is Orson!” He called back up as loud as he could. He was not used to shouting.
“What do you want!” The other man called down in response.
“I’m looking for my friend! I was thinking maybe she was in here!” He called back up.
The two men looked at eachother and whispered to eachother.
“Okay, we’ll let you in! But, first, we need the entry tax!” The first man called.
“I don’t...I don’t know what that means!” Orson called back up.
“Here’s the thing, kid, if we let people into our town, we need something of worth so we know you’re serious!”
“Oh, that makes sense.” Orson said to himself. He slid off his bag and began searching his bag for something of worth. After he had laid out a few things, the two men opened the gate just enough to come out and see.
“What is all this stuff?” The second man asked in kind of a disgusted tone.
“Well, this is a notebook, and a pen. You can use it to write stuff down and draw, or, uh…This is a can of bread crumbs, this is a scrap of metal I found on the way here, and…” He searched his bag desperately for something else. The men did not seem satisfied.
“Oh, two bottles of water.” He placed that in the pile.
The two men looked at eachother.
“How much, uh, water do you have in that bag of yours?” One of them asked.
“Uh, I packed a lot to travel, like an entire pack. I drank a lot on the way here, but, I have like, 5 left.” He said, looking at them.
“…Throw in those extra bottles of water, and uh, those empty bottle too.” The two men looked at eachother, nodding.
‘Well, if it means finding Chilo, then…’ He began going through his stuff when someone else came through the gate.
“Hey, you two! What’s going on!” Another man walked out.
“Oh, we were just uh,” He looked to his partner.
“Making sure this person’s stuff checks out!” The nodded at the man.
“Sure. Go back to your posts.” He said. They book walked quickly back into the gate.
“Hey,” The man crouched to be on the ground with Orson.
“Put your stuff up, there’s no such thing as an entry tax.” He said.
Orson felt his cheeks flush. He was embarrassed.
“Oh, alright.” He began putting his stuff back into his bag.
“So just anyone can go in there?” He looked at the gate.
“Pretty much. For a few days everyone watches you, and if the community thinks you’re a threat, we kick you out. If you stay too long, you do have to get a job though.” He said, getting up, then helping him up.
“Are you…In charge?” Orson asked the man.
He stifled a laugh.
“Me? No, I’m not in charge.” He seemed amused by the comment. They walked past the gate, and he closed it behind him.
Orson looked at the place.

 

Large buildings and small buildings, some made entirely out of scrap, and some made out of weathered concrete and wood.
There were a good amount of people, the place had to have been around 5 times bigger than the bunker.
“Welcome to Uypra.” The man said.
“Refuge to all survivors.” He said.
“Let me show you around.”

 

The town of Uypra had a large garden, with strange looking vegetation Orson had never seen or read about before.
According to the man, the place had about 200 people in living in it. With homemade and already built houses everywhere. There were bars and a small building where they taught children about the world. It was like a downgraded, bigger version of the bunker, except with no library, and no specific place to use the bathroom, and very sketchy looking showers.
“Okay, you can stay here for now, if you want to get a better place you need to find a job. My name is Rigel if you need me. You can usually find me somewhere by the gate, my job is to keep gang members out of the place.” He said. They were outside some kind of apartment complex.
Rigel was tall, with a golden brown tint to his skin and eyes. His hair was black, and very curly. He was wearing large, heavy looking brown pants, and a black sleeveless shirt. He had a belt holding a few miscellaneous objects and also a gun.
“So you haven’t seen my friend?” Orson asked one more time.
“Nah, man, I haven’t seen no one matching what your friend looks like, but I’ll ask around.” He said, walking away.
There were so many people here. Orson grabbed the bars on the railing which lined the walkway outside all the doors. There were people talking in the rooms near him, people on the streets. So much was happening at once.
This is what the world was like. The color of the sky didn’t change the world, people still interacted with eachother like it was normal, because it was.
200 people in this town and it felt like 2000 to him. He knew that the world used to have 6 billion people inhabiting it, and before bunkers and the Mara, that many people interacted with eachother each day?
There was so much to do.