The Prophecy (Watty Awards 2013)

Chapter 12

XII

They had desperately found refuge underground; a fissure decades ago had left scars in the landscape and the group had discovered a small bunker. It was confined and it was just an underground shelter but it was 5* to them. Anything was. In a few months the world had become a sinister and cursed place. People became bitter and egotistical; well the people left anyway. It had become a cannibalistic world nigh-impossible to survive in.

Lozada and Eva woke up to a sweltering atmosphere; a debris stricken world full of hate and self-centredness. A slight wind seeped through the holes in their clothes. Nobody had an idea of the date or time; these words had escaped their minds long ago. A pack of Vultures shrieking awoke the fatigued Blake, Tyson, and Logan; much to their dismay.  They surfaced and adjusted to the sun’s intense rays; the sun had slowly been creeping towards the earth, since the apocalypse all planets had. It was almost like they wanted to see humanity’s consequences so moved closer for a better look.

“Going by my supernatural navigational system we are near Wembley, it should take me about 4hours to walk to Alexandra Palace, in an Easterly direction.” Lozada said melancholically.

“You don’t seriously think you’re travelling alone do you? Who’s gonna keep you sane? I’m coming!” Eva charmingly stated.

“And me!” The rest said after one another.

“We move swiftly! The Jackal’s hitmen will be on our tails and the future of civilisation counts on us! ” Lozada hurriedly instructed; the pressure on his shoulders was almost unbearable. They had no experience and knew there was a high chance of death but something had pushed them on this far, and they knew this just had to be done. And so they set off, the apocalyptic London was a labyrinth of nothingness, uncomfortable skeleton structures lost in time. Christianity had contorted since the disaster but Lozada knew God was guiding the valiant.

The sun had ‘travelled’ fourty-five degrees clockwise and this was the way the survivors calculated time. They had almost reached Brent Cross, a small suburbia area. Resources were despicably low and death had almost consumed the five. They were weak. In contrast The Jackal’s Frenzy had adapted to survive without food and water for days, they didn’t sleep, they didn’t feel emotions, they were heartless mercenaries, assassins, murderers. They had better navigational skills as the Frenzy had been around London and other European capitals such as Moscow, Belgrade, Bucharest, Copenhagen, Budapest, and Stockholm for centuries, they were experts in routing. However the protagonists had a vast head start, the Frenzy left as the sun was at 90o, signifying midday, the heat was intense and wind was absent, no signs of life. The Frenzy stayed underground as that way they were shielded by the sun’s concentration. They already had their young exuberant scavengers desperately searching for The Prophecy at Alexandra palace but with no food or drink most had died and the most common thing they found was dead bodies and excretion. It was no use, if The Frenzy wanted a job done they would do it themselves. They made their way through the Network, gradually lessening the distance between them and the five.

The Network, fantastical, vast system of mazes sewers, channels, tunnels, caves, and subterranean complexities. It was complex and infinite, sprawling from country to country, continent to continent.   Structurally it was unsafe, and prone to collapses, the network was inhabitable.

Due to factions including the Frenzy and the Collective fighting for control of these subterranean settlements, massive gunfights occurred in the tunnels, their corpses falling to the ground and infusing with the dust into which they were trod. Currently nobody is in control of the network. There were once devious rumours in certain settlements that 'monsters' dwell within certain areas. Whether this is a species of mutated creatures, or a Frenzy trick to scare off attackers, is unknown. Twenty years ago, a huge section of the network collapsed, killing thousands. These casualties, however, we're not underground. They were in a settlement in a ruined city that fell miles below ground due to the collapse. Some say the wreckages of skyscrapers, cars and planes are haunted by the souls of the deceased. The network was truly a fascinating place, but Lozada had no time to admire its long history, or beautifully destroyed architecture, he was intent on just making it through alive.

The sun was three-quarters the way round the sky and the group could see the ruins of Alexandra Palace in the distance; the post-card beauty had been stolen and covered by the omnipresent sandstorms, only the faded roof was distinguishable, it had all been swallowed by the sand. Tyson wondered if it was a mirage but annoyingly it was just the intense heat rays from the sun producing a distorted image of the Palace. There were a dozen or so lean, young children working as if their lives depended on it, they wondered if the lives did depend on t. The jackal’s ways were unorthodox and he was known to be ruthless and heartless but murdering hopeless children in point-blank range was just sickening. The Frenzy on the other hand were just on Fortis Green, a passageway roughly two-miles from the once spectacular Alexandra Palace, it would take them roughly an hour to eventually get there, the leader, Cross, was nearly as cold-blooded as The Jackal but inside he craved power and wanted, almost needed, to dominate, they had swiftly reduced the distance between the Frenzy and the five, if they caught up to them they would kill them instantly