Apocalypse, Part 7
Title: Apocalypse [7/?]
Disclaimer: Don't own Heroes. Don't claim to own Heroes. But I sure do love Heroes.
Main Characters: Matt Parkman, Mohinder Suresh, Molly Walker
Rating: This chapter is rated M for violence.
Genre: General/Drama/ZOMBIE.
Notes: Dur, what's it been, four months since the last chapter? LAME. At least I have a passable excuse: I moved to England and have had a whirlwind life for the past four months. That, and I don't have a computer of my own. Hopefully I can get back into a rhythm of writing soon so it doesn't take so long. Major props go out to my beloved tawabids for being my excellent and supportive beta. Love!
Since it took so long for this to come out, here are the links to the previous chapters... just in case you forgot what it was all about ;)
|| Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 ||
Matt let the vehicle roll to a slow stop, bits of gravel and shattered glass crunching beneath the tires of his dented and worn patrol car. The entrance to the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel, that all important gateway, lay ahead. The interior was cast in deep, ominous shadows with only the first few feet of roadway visible before it disappeared into blackness. Behind them, a writhing hoard of undead shambled ever closer.
"How's Molly?" Matt asked as he stared unflinchingly at the dark tunnel before them.
"Asleep," Mohinder replied grumpily.
Of course Matt knew that, but it still made him feel a little better having asked. If he was being honest, it had come as somewhat of a relief when Molly's grief-induced exhaustion had silenced her dark thoughts of being a murderer and a monster, a villain. It was breaking his heart and he needed to remain focused. All that he had wanted to do since they made their escape was gather Molly in his arms and cast away any new demons that may have sprouted from her wounded conscience. Instead, he had been forced to offer only a quick hug and an aching apology before making herswitch positions with Holly. He needed somebody up front with him who could navigate with a map and easily spot any hazards.
With Holly's help, their voyage to the tunnel had been uneventful, in the most absurd sense of the word. Now that they were here, however, Matt began to hesitate. They had fought so hard to get here and now he wasn't sure if it was the right choice after all. What if whatever was waiting for them on the other side was worse than the situation in Brooklyn? What if the tunnel was blocked half way through? There were so many 'what if's' that he began to wonder if he had just doomed them all with an ill conceived plan.
"We can't turn back now," Holly said in a hushed tone beside him, her thoughts evidently following the same path as his own. "Even if we wanted to."
A glance in his rear-view mirror confirmed this; behind them, advancing at a slow yet terrifying rate, was a writhing hoard of ruthless cadavers. He knew that the mass was too thick to try and force their way back through so Matt conceded that the blackness ahead was truly their only option. He only prayed it led to some sort of salvation. With a deep, calming breath, Matt let the car roll forward into the shadows of the tunnel.
How on Earth did she get here? A week ago she was nothing more than a New York beat cop with a shitty apartment and an attentive cat (was Knobby even still alive?). She hadn't been surrounded by beautiful people or beautiful things, but she was doing what she loved: laying down the law. It wasn't so much the service of helping people that gave her enjoyment, although she certainly did like helping people, it was the feeling of dominance that she had over people. It was being a woman and having the ability to take down a 250lb mass of angry muscle with little more than her words and an appropriately aimed gun.
She had had a lot of time to reflect over the past week and a half. Too much time. She had come to a lot of conclusions about herself that she didn't find entirely appealing. For one, she realized that she wasn't exactly a people person. She thought she was, hoped she was, but there was a reason she lived alone with a cat. She knew that the reason she was so crass and straight talking was to keep people a safe distance away from her. Nobody wants to get close to a woman who swears, smokes and isn't afraid to tell you that you have a giant zit on your nose.
But things were changing. The entire world was changing. She was changing. She had been thrown into a situation with two people she didn't know and somebody who was only an acquaintance and she was thriving. Her cussing had diminished significantly, she wasn't afraid of a real conversation (however few and far between they were) and she hadn't had a cigarette since the outbreak (to be fair, she hadn't had any cigarettes to smoke, but it was the absence of need that made her proud). More than that, she was beginning to care. Living alone with a cat offered little opportunity for her to form any sort of bond with somebody else. She had never really invested her emotions into somebody as anything more than an acquaintance. Except Knobby, of course.
But now she cared. She had formed a bond with the practical and sometimes pretentious Indian doctor. She could say, with something more than a mere inaugural oath, that she would lay her life down for a precocious, shattered and unbelievably tough little girl. And, if she was being honest with herself, she cared for her loyal, protective, affable friend in a way that was both frightening and exhilarating. She never knew that the way somebody tilted their head when they were thinking could be so interesting. She had no idea that a soft snore could be anything but annoying. She was surprised to find that even a furrow of his brow could make her heart sink.
She looked over and watched as Matt's concerned face fell into shadows and then disappeared completely in the unlit tunnel. She turned back to the blackness before them and couldn't help but let an almost unnoticeable smirk touch the corner of her lips.
She was floating. Through crowded streets and past familiar buildings, she was floating. The Chrysler Building loomed high overhead, set against a dreary, overcast sky. Through her passed the empty shells of men in suits, women in skirts and children still trailing backpacks. Their faces were empty, if they had a face at all, and bits and pieces of bodies were smeared into the ground under their shuffling feet.
Ahead she could see a particular thickness in the crowd, an excited congregation approaching a single entity: a man with a face of stony certainty. The man removed his tie, slid his jacket off and left them in a heap by his feet. She floated nearer. Only after she had whisked through the hungry mob did she see the weariness in the man's eyes. He was giving up. He stood and watched as his death approached, bravely, albeit sadly, taking matters into his own hands. The undead descended on him, grabbed him, sunk their teeth into his flesh. He fought, of course; it was only natural. He punched and screamed and kicked until he was dead. Molly watched on with mournful acceptance as they feasted on his body, mercilessly tearing his skin and chewing his muscle. Then she floated off, the grizzly memory packed away with the others that still haunted her.
At first she thought that these experiences were dreams, but she had come to realize that they were all too real. She couldn't say why she was certain; just that she was. Maybe it was because dreams never offered choice. They whisked you off into an uncertain and abstract world where streams of unconscious thought carried you wherever they pleased. Here, though, she had free will. She chose to watch that poor man face his death, just as she chose to float away afterwards. But what was this, if not a dream? And how could she end it?
She recalled that, when she thought that these experiences were dreams, a moment of terror usually reunited her with her body. Problem was, she wasn't so terrified anymore. She knew what these things were capable of, but the shock of what they did to people had worn away. She also didn't feel like she was in any kind of real danger in this state, whatever it was. The zombies took no notice of her and she seemed to pass right through them, should she choose.
And then it dawned on her: choice. She knew that these weren't dreams because she had choice. Could the answer be as simple as choosing to stop that would reunite her with her body? She decided to give it a try. She closed her eyes, chose to stop, and felt an odd sort of tug in her chest. In a moment Manhattan was gone.
***
When she awoke, she was surrounded by a gentle, echoing rumble that came from the blackness all around her. Beneath her head, Mohinder's legs were keeping her face warm. She groaned and lifted herself up, rubbing her eyes and stretching her arms high above her head. Immediately, she felt Mohinder touch her arm.
"Molly...how are you feeling?" His voice was thick with concern, no doubt due to the embarrassing display of waterworks she had graced them with before she fell asleep.
"I'm fine...I'm okay," she lied, eager to change the subject. "Where are we?"
"We're almost halfway through the tunnel," Mohinder replied, letting his hand drop from her arm. "It should only be a few minutes before we're in Manhattan."
Molly nodded and looked through the metal mesh, out the front window of the car. The only light in the dark tunnel was coming from the one headlamp left on the patrol car, illuminating only a few feet of pavement ahead. "Mohinder..." she began almost thoughtlessly, somewhat hypnotized by the passing road lines, "can I talk to you about something?"
"Of course, sweetheart," he replied eagerly, turning his entire frame to face hers. "Anything."
"I've kind of been having these weird dreams lately..."
"You mean your nightmares? Yes I know."
"Yeah...except I don't really think they're dreams..." She twisted her fingers into one another, as if she was guilty of something, and kept her eyes fixed on the road ahead. It was then that she spotted something in the dim circle of light that lit their way. It was gone in an instant, but she was sure she had seen it; a shoe, a sneaker, that disappeared as they zipped by.
"Yes?" Mohinder prompted after Molly's silence.
Molly ignored Mohinder and leaned forward against the mesh. "Hey Matt? I think I saw something."
"What?"
Before she could reply, a snarling face on a bloodied body was illuminated in front of them for a brief second before they slammed into it, smashing the windshield and sending a spray of blood across the windows. The car began to swerve, darting from one side of the road to the other. Matt swore as he attempted to regain control, trying to peer through the smashed and bloodied windshield. But it was too late. The car was spinning and the last thing Molly remembered seeing was the wall of the tunnel racing towards the front of the car.
There was silence. Except for the relentless pounding in his head, there was silence. Mohinder opened his eyes and surveyed the damage in a haze, acknowledging facts without realizing the implications.
The car was ruined, that much he knew. There was steam seeping out of the wrecked engine, all windows except the back one had been shattered and the car had sunk forward, as if the tires were missing. Beside him, Molly lay across the seat and looked like she was going to be nauseous. She had a nasty scrape on her cheek, and when he looked closely he could see blood smeared in the mesh that separated the front seats from the back. In the driver's seat, Matt lay slumped over the wheel. He was unconscious and a gash on his brow was dripping blood down the side of his face.
"Mohinder! Mohinder, are you okay?" Holly appeared in the window beside him, shining a flashlight around the backseat
Mohinder stared blankly at Holly for a few moments, still dazed, before checking his limbs. One of his knees was causing him pain, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. "Yes, I think I'm alright." He crawled over to Molly and checked her for lacerations, bruises or limbs at the wrong angles. There was a lump on her head and a scrape on her cheek, but she otherwise seemed in good health. "Are you okay, Molly?"
"I feel sick."
"That will go away. Just rest for a minute." He turned back to Holly. "We're fine. Molly has a bump on the head and a scrape on her cheek, but she doesn't have any broken bones or injuries that I can see."
"Good, good. Listen, I need your help. Matt's stuck and he's too heavy for me to move."
Mohinder nodded and instantly regretted the motion; it felt like his head was splitting in two. Holly opened the door and helped him to his feet. "What about you? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. I think I got lucky. Help me."
Together, Mohinder and Holly managed to pry open Matt's door and pull him from the wreckage, careful to avoid touching any of the infected blood that was splashed across the car. They worked in silent unison, doing what needed to be done with all practicality and without distraction. They dragged Matt a few feet from the wrecked car and propped Matt up against the wall, delicately extracted Molly, who wrapped her arms around his neck, and took stock of what supplies they had left at their disposal.
"Half of our food is ruined," Holly said with dismay as she plucked leaking tote bags from the trunk. "And the other half must have flew out of the trunk when we crashed."
"Take what is salvageable and hurry up. If we hit one of those things, there is bound to be more around," Mohinder replied as he huddled over Matt and Molly. They managed to find the first aid kit and Mohinder took it upon himself to tend to their wounds. With a second flashlight held between his teeth, Mohinder dabbed Molly's cheek with disinfectant. Almost immediately, she began to whine and lean away from the stinging liquid.
"Ow..." she moaned, keeping her eyes closed against the light shining in her face.
Knowing how vulnerable and exposed they were, Mohinder didn't bother with pleasantries. He simply turned her face back and continued to dab the wound, placing a large bandage across her cheek when he was satisfied. Only then did he take a moment to explain what had happened.
"Molly, we've been in an accident. Everybody is alright, but we need to move quickly. Can you walk?"
Molly took a few moments to collect herself before nodding.
"Good. I need you to go and help Holly sort through our supplies while I tend to Matt."
"I want to stay with Matt. You and Matt."
"This isn't open for debate, Molly," Mohinder said, perhaps a bit curtly. "You need to help Holly so we can leave as quickly as possible. Do I make myself clear?"
Without further debate, indeed without another word, Molly stood and shuffled over to the trunk of the car and began to sort through supplies.
Mohinder huffed out a sigh and turned his attention to Matt. The cut on his brow was deep, almost to the bone, but he seemed otherwise uninjured.
"She doesn't like it when you talk to her like that," Matt mumbled as Mohinder splashed some water on his wound.
"You're awake. How are you feeling, Matt?"
"She doesn't like to be bossed around."
"Of course not. Every child balks at authority. How are you feeling?"
"She's not every child, Mohinder."
"Regardless," Mohinder replied impatiently, "we're in a dangerous situation and I needed her to help speed things along. You can't always bend to her will, Matt. Sometimes you're too soft with her. She's still a child and she still needs to be told what to do. Now, how are you feeling?"
"Fine. I'm fine. Bit of a headache, little lightheaded. Everybody else is okay?"
"Molly has a lump on the head and Holly has a few scratches, but I'm afraid you might have a concussion. Sit still, this is going to sting."
Matt hissed as Mohinder pressed the disinfectant against his wound. "And you? You're okay?"
"I think I may have twisted my knee, but I'm otherwise fine. Do you think you can stand?"
"Give me a minute, I'm still a little dizzy."
After cleaning the wound as thoroughly as possible, Mohinder pressed a fresh piece of gauze against the cut. "Hold it there, keep pressure. I'm going to help the girls. If you need anything just call."
"Can do, doc."
Mohinder left Matt with the flashlight and dashed over to the trunk of the car. There, Holly had separated their rations into two piles; one gooey and sticky, the other neatly stacked and orderly.
Holly huffed out a brief sigh and planted a hand on her hips. "We're all sorted here. We lost some soup, beans and most of the cereal. The fruit was too bruised to save, but the potatoes are okay. Still, I think we might have actually have too much food."
"What do you mean?"
"We can't take all this. We only have Molly's backpack and you, Matt and I need our hands free."
"So what do you sugge-"
"Shh!" Molly warned from beside them, peering keenly into the darkness. "Listen..."
Whatever it was that Molly heard, Matt heard it too. The sound of stepping, shuffling, punctuated by soft grunts and a slight squishing sound. They all knew what kind of creature those sounds belonged to. Despite the magnifying effect of the empty tunnel, Matt guessed that there was only one of them - or at least one of them close by. Although he was still slightly dizzy, he pushed himself off of the wall and stood, still pressing the gauze to his wounded brow. Cautiously, swinging his flashlight through the darkness, Matt made his way over to his comrades. Holly, too, was pointing her flashlight into the darkness, her pistol perched on top, ready to fire.
"Put the gun down," Matt said quietly, still searching the inky blackness. Unfortunately the echo in the tunnel made the source of the sound impossible to trace.
"Uhm, no." Holly replied simply.
"Think about it. We just made a loud ruckus in a big, empty tunnel with, most likely, zombies on each side. We really don't need to make any more noise and give away our position any more than we already have." Matt replied with urgency. He turned to Mohinder. "Where's my bat? That's just as easy to use and it won't make as much sound."
Just then, a figure wandered into Holly's light. It was a man, pale, bloodied, lurching, and wearing the clothes of a construction worker. His mouth was dripping blood and half of his face was mangled beyond recognition. He was about thirty feet away, but shambled closer every second.
"I...I don't know. I don't recall seeing it," Mohinder sputtered, now panicked.
"Well, find it fast or I'm going to shoot this fucker," Holly replied, keeping her trained eyes fixed on the approaching corpse.
"I had it with me in the front seat before we crashed. Help me find it," Matt said urgently and rounded the car, Mohinder on his heels. Together they searched through the rubble of the front seat for the bat, but it was nowhere to be found. Behind them, Holly started swearing.
"Shit! Guys, there's two of them now!"
Matt swore under his breath and got down on his knees, peering under the car. There, tucked where the front tire once was, was his bat. It must have rolled under when Mohinder and Holly dragged him from the car. He made a noise of triumph and popped back up to see panic in Mohinder's eyes. The two zombies were much closer now, the second one just a few feet behind the first. Like the first, it was a man in his construction uniform, his lips peeled back in hunger.
"Matt, we're going to have to shoot one of them," Mohinder said, urgency keen in his voice.
"No, we don't," Matt replied calmly.
"I'm shooting them! I'm going to shoot them!" Holly cried, fixing her aim from zombie to zombie.
"Don't! Just hold on!"
"What the hell do you want us to do?" Mohinder exclaimed incredulously.
"Improvise, Mohinder!" Matt hissed and darted forward with his bat. Not giving himself the time to second guess himself, Matt rushed at the first of the two bodies, striking at its head just as it turned to face him.
"He's wearing a hardhat, dummy!" Molly screeched unhelpfully from behind.
For a terrifying moment, Matt thought that little oversight would cost him everything. The first zombie, knocked to the ground but still squirming, was reaching out a hand to grasp Matt's ankle, while the second was almost close enough to touch. Panicked, Matt froze, unsure which of them he should attack first. A cold, firm grip on his ankle made the choice for him. Matt shamefully closed his eyes and swung down, feeling the skull collapse as he made contact with his bat. Then there was a metallic clink, a sickening crunch and the sound of a body hitting the floor. Matt opened his eyes to see Mohinder standing over the second body, a car jack gripped between his clenched hands.
"Mohinder...thank you," Matt said as he kicked the hand off his ankle.
Mohinder nodded, a few drops of blood dripping down his cheek. He lifted his arm and wiped them off immediately.
"Where did they come from?" Holly asked, lowering her pistol but keeping her light shining forward.
"They were construction workers," Matt replied, studying their uniforms. "They must have been working on the tunnel when the outbreak happened."
"Do you think there's more?" Molly chirped, stepping out from behind Holly.
As if in answer, a series of grunts, or more like gurgles, echoed around them, punctuated by the sound of several sets of feet shuffling. Holly swung her flashlight through the darkness and caught the orange vests of at least five more undead, their faces hanging and their skin broken.
"I want to go now," Molly whispered, her face alight with fright. "Can we please go?"
"There's too many to fight with just hand weapons," Holly said, fixing her gun on the closest threat. "Should we shoot them?" Just then, from out of the darkness beside her, a pair of jaws and milky eyes rushed forward and began snapping at Holly. Thanks to her training, she was quick to react and hit it on the side of its head with the butt of her pistol. It fell to the ground and immediately began to squirm back to its feet.
"Shit! We need to leave now!" Matt said and scooped Molly into his arms.
"What about the food?" Mohinder asked, reaching into the trunk and extracting Estelle's blood sample.
"Forget the food and run!"
With that command, Mohinder and Holly abandoned the car and chased after Matt, leaving all of their supplies behind to those who had no use for it. Together they ran through the darkness, shining their flashlights in all directions as they ran, trying to distinguish between the sound of shuffling and their own pattering feet. As they ran, they passed by some abandoned construction machinery, surely the source of those wayward zombies. After some time, Matt, out of breathe, urged them all to stop.
"I think we're okay...I think we can slow down," he said, placing his hands on his knees and bending over, chest heaving. Other than the sound of their ragged breathing, the tunnel was silent. No shuffling feet, no squishing steps, no hungry groans.
Far ahead of them, too distant to even get excited about, was a light. Not that of a car or a flashlight, but the golden glow of the sun getting ready to set. They had survived the tunnel. Now they had to survive Manhattan.
Disclaimer: Don't own Heroes. Don't claim to own Heroes. But I sure do love Heroes.
Main Characters: Matt Parkman, Mohinder Suresh, Molly Walker
Rating: This chapter is rated M for violence.
Genre: General/Drama/ZOMBIE.
Notes: Dur, what's it been, four months since the last chapter? LAME. At least I have a passable excuse: I moved to England and have had a whirlwind life for the past four months. That, and I don't have a computer of my own. Hopefully I can get back into a rhythm of writing soon so it doesn't take so long. Major props go out to my beloved tawabids for being my excellent and supportive beta. Love!
Since it took so long for this to come out, here are the links to the previous chapters... just in case you forgot what it was all about ;)
|| Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 ||
Matt let the vehicle roll to a slow stop, bits of gravel and shattered glass crunching beneath the tires of his dented and worn patrol car. The entrance to the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel, that all important gateway, lay ahead. The interior was cast in deep, ominous shadows with only the first few feet of roadway visible before it disappeared into blackness. Behind them, a writhing hoard of undead shambled ever closer.
"How's Molly?" Matt asked as he stared unflinchingly at the dark tunnel before them.
"Asleep," Mohinder replied grumpily.
Of course Matt knew that, but it still made him feel a little better having asked. If he was being honest, it had come as somewhat of a relief when Molly's grief-induced exhaustion had silenced her dark thoughts of being a murderer and a monster, a villain. It was breaking his heart and he needed to remain focused. All that he had wanted to do since they made their escape was gather Molly in his arms and cast away any new demons that may have sprouted from her wounded conscience. Instead, he had been forced to offer only a quick hug and an aching apology before making herswitch positions with Holly. He needed somebody up front with him who could navigate with a map and easily spot any hazards.
With Holly's help, their voyage to the tunnel had been uneventful, in the most absurd sense of the word. Now that they were here, however, Matt began to hesitate. They had fought so hard to get here and now he wasn't sure if it was the right choice after all. What if whatever was waiting for them on the other side was worse than the situation in Brooklyn? What if the tunnel was blocked half way through? There were so many 'what if's' that he began to wonder if he had just doomed them all with an ill conceived plan.
"We can't turn back now," Holly said in a hushed tone beside him, her thoughts evidently following the same path as his own. "Even if we wanted to."
A glance in his rear-view mirror confirmed this; behind them, advancing at a slow yet terrifying rate, was a writhing hoard of ruthless cadavers. He knew that the mass was too thick to try and force their way back through so Matt conceded that the blackness ahead was truly their only option. He only prayed it led to some sort of salvation. With a deep, calming breath, Matt let the car roll forward into the shadows of the tunnel.
How on Earth did she get here? A week ago she was nothing more than a New York beat cop with a shitty apartment and an attentive cat (was Knobby even still alive?). She hadn't been surrounded by beautiful people or beautiful things, but she was doing what she loved: laying down the law. It wasn't so much the service of helping people that gave her enjoyment, although she certainly did like helping people, it was the feeling of dominance that she had over people. It was being a woman and having the ability to take down a 250lb mass of angry muscle with little more than her words and an appropriately aimed gun.
She had had a lot of time to reflect over the past week and a half. Too much time. She had come to a lot of conclusions about herself that she didn't find entirely appealing. For one, she realized that she wasn't exactly a people person. She thought she was, hoped she was, but there was a reason she lived alone with a cat. She knew that the reason she was so crass and straight talking was to keep people a safe distance away from her. Nobody wants to get close to a woman who swears, smokes and isn't afraid to tell you that you have a giant zit on your nose.
But things were changing. The entire world was changing. She was changing. She had been thrown into a situation with two people she didn't know and somebody who was only an acquaintance and she was thriving. Her cussing had diminished significantly, she wasn't afraid of a real conversation (however few and far between they were) and she hadn't had a cigarette since the outbreak (to be fair, she hadn't had any cigarettes to smoke, but it was the absence of need that made her proud). More than that, she was beginning to care. Living alone with a cat offered little opportunity for her to form any sort of bond with somebody else. She had never really invested her emotions into somebody as anything more than an acquaintance. Except Knobby, of course.
But now she cared. She had formed a bond with the practical and sometimes pretentious Indian doctor. She could say, with something more than a mere inaugural oath, that she would lay her life down for a precocious, shattered and unbelievably tough little girl. And, if she was being honest with herself, she cared for her loyal, protective, affable friend in a way that was both frightening and exhilarating. She never knew that the way somebody tilted their head when they were thinking could be so interesting. She had no idea that a soft snore could be anything but annoying. She was surprised to find that even a furrow of his brow could make her heart sink.
She looked over and watched as Matt's concerned face fell into shadows and then disappeared completely in the unlit tunnel. She turned back to the blackness before them and couldn't help but let an almost unnoticeable smirk touch the corner of her lips.
She was floating. Through crowded streets and past familiar buildings, she was floating. The Chrysler Building loomed high overhead, set against a dreary, overcast sky. Through her passed the empty shells of men in suits, women in skirts and children still trailing backpacks. Their faces were empty, if they had a face at all, and bits and pieces of bodies were smeared into the ground under their shuffling feet.
Ahead she could see a particular thickness in the crowd, an excited congregation approaching a single entity: a man with a face of stony certainty. The man removed his tie, slid his jacket off and left them in a heap by his feet. She floated nearer. Only after she had whisked through the hungry mob did she see the weariness in the man's eyes. He was giving up. He stood and watched as his death approached, bravely, albeit sadly, taking matters into his own hands. The undead descended on him, grabbed him, sunk their teeth into his flesh. He fought, of course; it was only natural. He punched and screamed and kicked until he was dead. Molly watched on with mournful acceptance as they feasted on his body, mercilessly tearing his skin and chewing his muscle. Then she floated off, the grizzly memory packed away with the others that still haunted her.
At first she thought that these experiences were dreams, but she had come to realize that they were all too real. She couldn't say why she was certain; just that she was. Maybe it was because dreams never offered choice. They whisked you off into an uncertain and abstract world where streams of unconscious thought carried you wherever they pleased. Here, though, she had free will. She chose to watch that poor man face his death, just as she chose to float away afterwards. But what was this, if not a dream? And how could she end it?
She recalled that, when she thought that these experiences were dreams, a moment of terror usually reunited her with her body. Problem was, she wasn't so terrified anymore. She knew what these things were capable of, but the shock of what they did to people had worn away. She also didn't feel like she was in any kind of real danger in this state, whatever it was. The zombies took no notice of her and she seemed to pass right through them, should she choose.
And then it dawned on her: choice. She knew that these weren't dreams because she had choice. Could the answer be as simple as choosing to stop that would reunite her with her body? She decided to give it a try. She closed her eyes, chose to stop, and felt an odd sort of tug in her chest. In a moment Manhattan was gone.
***
When she awoke, she was surrounded by a gentle, echoing rumble that came from the blackness all around her. Beneath her head, Mohinder's legs were keeping her face warm. She groaned and lifted herself up, rubbing her eyes and stretching her arms high above her head. Immediately, she felt Mohinder touch her arm.
"Molly...how are you feeling?" His voice was thick with concern, no doubt due to the embarrassing display of waterworks she had graced them with before she fell asleep.
"I'm fine...I'm okay," she lied, eager to change the subject. "Where are we?"
"We're almost halfway through the tunnel," Mohinder replied, letting his hand drop from her arm. "It should only be a few minutes before we're in Manhattan."
Molly nodded and looked through the metal mesh, out the front window of the car. The only light in the dark tunnel was coming from the one headlamp left on the patrol car, illuminating only a few feet of pavement ahead. "Mohinder..." she began almost thoughtlessly, somewhat hypnotized by the passing road lines, "can I talk to you about something?"
"Of course, sweetheart," he replied eagerly, turning his entire frame to face hers. "Anything."
"I've kind of been having these weird dreams lately..."
"You mean your nightmares? Yes I know."
"Yeah...except I don't really think they're dreams..." She twisted her fingers into one another, as if she was guilty of something, and kept her eyes fixed on the road ahead. It was then that she spotted something in the dim circle of light that lit their way. It was gone in an instant, but she was sure she had seen it; a shoe, a sneaker, that disappeared as they zipped by.
"Yes?" Mohinder prompted after Molly's silence.
Molly ignored Mohinder and leaned forward against the mesh. "Hey Matt? I think I saw something."
"What?"
Before she could reply, a snarling face on a bloodied body was illuminated in front of them for a brief second before they slammed into it, smashing the windshield and sending a spray of blood across the windows. The car began to swerve, darting from one side of the road to the other. Matt swore as he attempted to regain control, trying to peer through the smashed and bloodied windshield. But it was too late. The car was spinning and the last thing Molly remembered seeing was the wall of the tunnel racing towards the front of the car.
There was silence. Except for the relentless pounding in his head, there was silence. Mohinder opened his eyes and surveyed the damage in a haze, acknowledging facts without realizing the implications.
The car was ruined, that much he knew. There was steam seeping out of the wrecked engine, all windows except the back one had been shattered and the car had sunk forward, as if the tires were missing. Beside him, Molly lay across the seat and looked like she was going to be nauseous. She had a nasty scrape on her cheek, and when he looked closely he could see blood smeared in the mesh that separated the front seats from the back. In the driver's seat, Matt lay slumped over the wheel. He was unconscious and a gash on his brow was dripping blood down the side of his face.
"Mohinder! Mohinder, are you okay?" Holly appeared in the window beside him, shining a flashlight around the backseat
Mohinder stared blankly at Holly for a few moments, still dazed, before checking his limbs. One of his knees was causing him pain, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. "Yes, I think I'm alright." He crawled over to Molly and checked her for lacerations, bruises or limbs at the wrong angles. There was a lump on her head and a scrape on her cheek, but she otherwise seemed in good health. "Are you okay, Molly?"
"I feel sick."
"That will go away. Just rest for a minute." He turned back to Holly. "We're fine. Molly has a bump on the head and a scrape on her cheek, but she doesn't have any broken bones or injuries that I can see."
"Good, good. Listen, I need your help. Matt's stuck and he's too heavy for me to move."
Mohinder nodded and instantly regretted the motion; it felt like his head was splitting in two. Holly opened the door and helped him to his feet. "What about you? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. I think I got lucky. Help me."
Together, Mohinder and Holly managed to pry open Matt's door and pull him from the wreckage, careful to avoid touching any of the infected blood that was splashed across the car. They worked in silent unison, doing what needed to be done with all practicality and without distraction. They dragged Matt a few feet from the wrecked car and propped Matt up against the wall, delicately extracted Molly, who wrapped her arms around his neck, and took stock of what supplies they had left at their disposal.
"Half of our food is ruined," Holly said with dismay as she plucked leaking tote bags from the trunk. "And the other half must have flew out of the trunk when we crashed."
"Take what is salvageable and hurry up. If we hit one of those things, there is bound to be more around," Mohinder replied as he huddled over Matt and Molly. They managed to find the first aid kit and Mohinder took it upon himself to tend to their wounds. With a second flashlight held between his teeth, Mohinder dabbed Molly's cheek with disinfectant. Almost immediately, she began to whine and lean away from the stinging liquid.
"Ow..." she moaned, keeping her eyes closed against the light shining in her face.
Knowing how vulnerable and exposed they were, Mohinder didn't bother with pleasantries. He simply turned her face back and continued to dab the wound, placing a large bandage across her cheek when he was satisfied. Only then did he take a moment to explain what had happened.
"Molly, we've been in an accident. Everybody is alright, but we need to move quickly. Can you walk?"
Molly took a few moments to collect herself before nodding.
"Good. I need you to go and help Holly sort through our supplies while I tend to Matt."
"I want to stay with Matt. You and Matt."
"This isn't open for debate, Molly," Mohinder said, perhaps a bit curtly. "You need to help Holly so we can leave as quickly as possible. Do I make myself clear?"
Without further debate, indeed without another word, Molly stood and shuffled over to the trunk of the car and began to sort through supplies.
Mohinder huffed out a sigh and turned his attention to Matt. The cut on his brow was deep, almost to the bone, but he seemed otherwise uninjured.
"She doesn't like it when you talk to her like that," Matt mumbled as Mohinder splashed some water on his wound.
"You're awake. How are you feeling, Matt?"
"She doesn't like to be bossed around."
"Of course not. Every child balks at authority. How are you feeling?"
"She's not every child, Mohinder."
"Regardless," Mohinder replied impatiently, "we're in a dangerous situation and I needed her to help speed things along. You can't always bend to her will, Matt. Sometimes you're too soft with her. She's still a child and she still needs to be told what to do. Now, how are you feeling?"
"Fine. I'm fine. Bit of a headache, little lightheaded. Everybody else is okay?"
"Molly has a lump on the head and Holly has a few scratches, but I'm afraid you might have a concussion. Sit still, this is going to sting."
Matt hissed as Mohinder pressed the disinfectant against his wound. "And you? You're okay?"
"I think I may have twisted my knee, but I'm otherwise fine. Do you think you can stand?"
"Give me a minute, I'm still a little dizzy."
After cleaning the wound as thoroughly as possible, Mohinder pressed a fresh piece of gauze against the cut. "Hold it there, keep pressure. I'm going to help the girls. If you need anything just call."
"Can do, doc."
Mohinder left Matt with the flashlight and dashed over to the trunk of the car. There, Holly had separated their rations into two piles; one gooey and sticky, the other neatly stacked and orderly.
Holly huffed out a brief sigh and planted a hand on her hips. "We're all sorted here. We lost some soup, beans and most of the cereal. The fruit was too bruised to save, but the potatoes are okay. Still, I think we might have actually have too much food."
"What do you mean?"
"We can't take all this. We only have Molly's backpack and you, Matt and I need our hands free."
"So what do you sugge-"
"Shh!" Molly warned from beside them, peering keenly into the darkness. "Listen..."
Whatever it was that Molly heard, Matt heard it too. The sound of stepping, shuffling, punctuated by soft grunts and a slight squishing sound. They all knew what kind of creature those sounds belonged to. Despite the magnifying effect of the empty tunnel, Matt guessed that there was only one of them - or at least one of them close by. Although he was still slightly dizzy, he pushed himself off of the wall and stood, still pressing the gauze to his wounded brow. Cautiously, swinging his flashlight through the darkness, Matt made his way over to his comrades. Holly, too, was pointing her flashlight into the darkness, her pistol perched on top, ready to fire.
"Put the gun down," Matt said quietly, still searching the inky blackness. Unfortunately the echo in the tunnel made the source of the sound impossible to trace.
"Uhm, no." Holly replied simply.
"Think about it. We just made a loud ruckus in a big, empty tunnel with, most likely, zombies on each side. We really don't need to make any more noise and give away our position any more than we already have." Matt replied with urgency. He turned to Mohinder. "Where's my bat? That's just as easy to use and it won't make as much sound."
Just then, a figure wandered into Holly's light. It was a man, pale, bloodied, lurching, and wearing the clothes of a construction worker. His mouth was dripping blood and half of his face was mangled beyond recognition. He was about thirty feet away, but shambled closer every second.
"I...I don't know. I don't recall seeing it," Mohinder sputtered, now panicked.
"Well, find it fast or I'm going to shoot this fucker," Holly replied, keeping her trained eyes fixed on the approaching corpse.
"I had it with me in the front seat before we crashed. Help me find it," Matt said urgently and rounded the car, Mohinder on his heels. Together they searched through the rubble of the front seat for the bat, but it was nowhere to be found. Behind them, Holly started swearing.
"Shit! Guys, there's two of them now!"
Matt swore under his breath and got down on his knees, peering under the car. There, tucked where the front tire once was, was his bat. It must have rolled under when Mohinder and Holly dragged him from the car. He made a noise of triumph and popped back up to see panic in Mohinder's eyes. The two zombies were much closer now, the second one just a few feet behind the first. Like the first, it was a man in his construction uniform, his lips peeled back in hunger.
"Matt, we're going to have to shoot one of them," Mohinder said, urgency keen in his voice.
"No, we don't," Matt replied calmly.
"I'm shooting them! I'm going to shoot them!" Holly cried, fixing her aim from zombie to zombie.
"Don't! Just hold on!"
"What the hell do you want us to do?" Mohinder exclaimed incredulously.
"Improvise, Mohinder!" Matt hissed and darted forward with his bat. Not giving himself the time to second guess himself, Matt rushed at the first of the two bodies, striking at its head just as it turned to face him.
"He's wearing a hardhat, dummy!" Molly screeched unhelpfully from behind.
For a terrifying moment, Matt thought that little oversight would cost him everything. The first zombie, knocked to the ground but still squirming, was reaching out a hand to grasp Matt's ankle, while the second was almost close enough to touch. Panicked, Matt froze, unsure which of them he should attack first. A cold, firm grip on his ankle made the choice for him. Matt shamefully closed his eyes and swung down, feeling the skull collapse as he made contact with his bat. Then there was a metallic clink, a sickening crunch and the sound of a body hitting the floor. Matt opened his eyes to see Mohinder standing over the second body, a car jack gripped between his clenched hands.
"Mohinder...thank you," Matt said as he kicked the hand off his ankle.
Mohinder nodded, a few drops of blood dripping down his cheek. He lifted his arm and wiped them off immediately.
"Where did they come from?" Holly asked, lowering her pistol but keeping her light shining forward.
"They were construction workers," Matt replied, studying their uniforms. "They must have been working on the tunnel when the outbreak happened."
"Do you think there's more?" Molly chirped, stepping out from behind Holly.
As if in answer, a series of grunts, or more like gurgles, echoed around them, punctuated by the sound of several sets of feet shuffling. Holly swung her flashlight through the darkness and caught the orange vests of at least five more undead, their faces hanging and their skin broken.
"I want to go now," Molly whispered, her face alight with fright. "Can we please go?"
"There's too many to fight with just hand weapons," Holly said, fixing her gun on the closest threat. "Should we shoot them?" Just then, from out of the darkness beside her, a pair of jaws and milky eyes rushed forward and began snapping at Holly. Thanks to her training, she was quick to react and hit it on the side of its head with the butt of her pistol. It fell to the ground and immediately began to squirm back to its feet.
"Shit! We need to leave now!" Matt said and scooped Molly into his arms.
"What about the food?" Mohinder asked, reaching into the trunk and extracting Estelle's blood sample.
"Forget the food and run!"
With that command, Mohinder and Holly abandoned the car and chased after Matt, leaving all of their supplies behind to those who had no use for it. Together they ran through the darkness, shining their flashlights in all directions as they ran, trying to distinguish between the sound of shuffling and their own pattering feet. As they ran, they passed by some abandoned construction machinery, surely the source of those wayward zombies. After some time, Matt, out of breathe, urged them all to stop.
"I think we're okay...I think we can slow down," he said, placing his hands on his knees and bending over, chest heaving. Other than the sound of their ragged breathing, the tunnel was silent. No shuffling feet, no squishing steps, no hungry groans.
Far ahead of them, too distant to even get excited about, was a light. Not that of a car or a flashlight, but the golden glow of the sun getting ready to set. They had survived the tunnel. Now they had to survive Manhattan.