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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1832680-Eleutheria--Chapter-3
by JJP
Rated: 13+ · Chapter · War · #1832680
After the attack the colony have to move using the sewers
Inside


I am safe. But I am bleeding. Jordan tells me I have to hold my breath in really tight. At first I am not sure why he asks me to so I do it. Then I realise it is because he is going to pull the big shard of glass out of me. I open my mouth and begin to protest when he tugs it out. I scream. I shouldn’t scream. It’s too loud. The control tower will have people on the way. Jordan knows this too. I am still screaming and whimpering. He shoves his hand roughly over my mouth to keep me quiet. He rests his knees on my shins so I can’t squirm about. I see blackness and welcome it, it is silky and warm and comforting. I slip into it.

My eyes are sticky when I open them. I am lying on a pile of clothes. I lazily turn my head to study the wound. It is covered in bandaging and medical tape. They must have used up the whole supply box. There is a cup of water next to me. I try to sit up a bit but I gasp with the pain. Noreen walks towards me. I am round a corner where I cannot see the rest of the Colony. She looks exhausted. She is still in her outside clothes and is holding a box full of random supplies.

‘We have maybe 30 minutes. Georgia packed your things for you.’ Noreen says and then walks away. She looks irritated and tired and generally angry with life. I think she is angry with me too. Georgia walks past with a bundle of clothes and notices I am awake. She scuttles over to me and strokes my face. She is only 14, and has soft red hair and little freckles.

‘I packed your things,’ she whispers warmly, tears springing in her eyes.
‘Thank you Georgia. I’ll get up and help.’ I start to heave myself up and refuse to let the pain affect me.
‘No, no you mustn’t,’ Georgia says with a horrified expression. ‘Jordan will shout at you.’
‘I’m not scared of Jordan.’ I scoff.
‘I am,’ she admits with a slightly embarrassed expression. ‘He’s terrifying when he shouts. I think even Noreen was scared.’
‘Jordan shouted at Noreen?’ I ask, surprised. No one shouts at Noreen.
‘He looked like he was going to kill her. Theresa had to stand between them. Noreen hit him round the face and he almost raised his hands to strangle her. Theresa jumped in the middle and threw Noreen back. I think she meant to throw Jordan back,’ she giggled. ‘No one can throw Jordan back.’
I wish I had seen this display.

‘Does he not want to leave?’ I asked. I know Jordan loves this Church. It makes him feel peaceful and more at home. He was raised a Catholic and had to go to Church every Sunday with his parents when he was young.
‘Oh no he wants to leave. He was furious with Noreen for letting you go. The whole time you were gone he was disgusting to everyone. In the end we left him to sulk in a corner by himself. Then Noreen shouted over the Walkie-talkie that Theresa was holding and said one of you were being shot at. Theresa didn’t know what to say so she asked who it was and Noreen said your name. We didn’t even see Jordan leave. Then when you got back and you’d been bandaged up he let rip at Noreen. I’ve never seen anyone so angry. He looked like he could really kill a person.’ Georgia loves stories like this. I could see her teenage eyes light up in wonder. It’s a movie for her. I didn’t want to tell Georgia that Jordan had killed a person before. A few actually. Before he joined the colony he had been outside by himself. He was a soldier for a matter of days and had no training. Then the bombs landed and the Yanks invaded and it was pointless being a soldier. Jordan broke off and fought off stray Yanks he found. He killed any of the Starving that came across his path too. I love his stories, but he only talks about them when he’s had a drink. That’s one thing we don’t lack in. Alcohol is free-flowing. We have a whole room filled with bottles of spirits.
‘Anyway,’ Georgia says hastily. ‘I better let you get some rest before we start moving.’

The move is unpleasant. We have to go by foot. I can’t walk so I am held by Daniel, who struggles a little. Jordan is at the front holding one of the big machine guns. We get to the same manhole we used to move to the Church. I watch from the back of the line and see Noreen pulling out the crowbar. She opens up the manhole and ushers the first in the line through. Georgia is at the front. So are Sadie and Olivia and Dawn. They all feed into the little hole and disappear from the earth. The line trickles down until Daniel is at the front. He rests me down, still supporting my weight. Jordan climbs down into the hole and waits at the bottom. I take my last look of sunlight for a while and Daniel lowers me into the hole. Jordan’s strong arms are waiting to receive me. He holds me up and lowers me to the ground. Daniel fumbles down the tiny rails and his foot slips on one. He is too fat to climb down them with ease. He has lost a lot of weight since the first day, but he is still fat. Noreen comes down last, and pulls the cover over the top of the manhole.

I remember this stench. It is almost unbearable. I wait awkwardly for a moment as Daniel walks past. He is refusing without speaking to carry me again. Jordan pulls him by his shoulder and grips his fingers into Daniel’s fleshy arm. Daniel mutters something that sounds rude. Jordan looks furious again. It is an expression he wears often. He shoves Daniel by his back cruelly. I am getting tired of Jordan’s unbearable moodiness. Noreen is about to pick a fight with him, but changes her mind. She walks past us and runs to the front of the line to lead the trail. Jordan and I are left behind for a moment.
‘Thank you for saving me,’ I say.
‘Don’t mention it,’ Jordan mutters. He lifts me roughly and starts on our journey.

After a significant time passes, I am glad I am not walking. Jordan shows no signs of tiring, and I am exhausted just because of how long we have been underground. Just when I am about to open my mouth and complain colourfully about the journey, the train of migrates comes to a halt. We all look filthy and sweaty and disgusting. All apart from Jordan, who glistens in a god-like manner. It suits him. Bastard. Jordan sets me down and barks at Daniel to hold me up. He then pushes to the front of our queue and jumps up the rails towards the outside. Noreen follows shortly after him. I think she was waiting for the sound of gunfire.

It’s no good. There’s either nothing up there, or it’s too dangerous. I know this when Noreen comes back down into the sewer, trying not to look beaten. A wave of disappointment hits the colony. We have been walking for what seems like years. It always feels like this. The trudging pace is unbearable, and I don’t even have to walk it.

Georgia splashes to the back of the queue to talk to me. Her straight red hair looks near black with grime and damp, and hangs like spider-webs, all tangled together in matted strings.
‘What was that song you taught me?’ She asks hopefully. The question is a little ambiguous. I’ve taught Georgia so many songs I can hardly remember them all myself.
‘Which one?’
‘The one about the pantomime,’ Georgia says, trying to stay patient. I remember the song she is referring to. I see why it came to mind- it fits the situation.

Another hero, another mindless crime
Behind the curtain, in the pantomime.
On and on, does anybody know what we are living for?
Whatever happened, we leave it all to chance
Another heartache, another failed romance.
On and on, does anybody know what we are living for?
The show must go on.
The show must go on.
Outside the dawn is breaking, on the stage that holds our final destiny.
The show must go on.
The show must go on.
Inside my heart is breaking, my make-up may be flaking
But my smile still stays on.
The show must go on.
The show must go on.
I’ll top the bill, I’ll earn the kill, I have to find the will to carry on with the…
On with the, on with the show.


‘Do you know what we’re living for?’ Georgia looks up at me, her big eyes filled with tears. Jordan begins to barge through the line towards us.
‘Of course I do Georgia, what a silly question.’ I decide not to expand. I realise with horror that I can’t explain it to her. She is too young to understand. I know what I am living for. I don’t live for the hope that I’ll find my loved ones. I know that ship sailed a long time ago. I live for myself. One day to the next. I will be a Survivor. I’ll be the best Survivor. I’ll top the bill. I’ll earn the kill. I have to find the will to carry on with the show.

I’ve discovered a cool trick about the mind. Every so often, when it panics it is forgetting something, the thing will spring to mind randomly. It’ll only come when you’re not searching for it. I had grown up in two ages- I was born when computers were new. Households were only just getting them as a normal addition, small offices were just getting them installed, and people were just starting to be trained on them for jobs. Game consoles and slender mobile phones followed. Then it was touch screen, HD, 3D, any other kind of D you could think of. And then it all stopped. I was at the point where I couldn’t picture life without my phone or a computer. What did people do without Google? We weren’t allowed to use Google at first. In fact, we weren’t really allowed to use anything. No more Facebook. No more American websites. No more American products. Everything stopped. Britain came to a halt overnight. It really was practically overnight. No one really knows what happened. One minute we had a special relationship, the next we didn’t. I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall of The White House or 10 Downing Street. The sad thing is, if we’d still had Blair, I don’t think any of it would have happened. I might not be in a sewer. I might not have a broken leg and a wound in the side of my body. I might be able to walk. I might have a house and a bed and family.

Our new home is a shithole. We stopped by a reservoir, and our new home is the abandoned works building next to it. It’s pretty much an empty warehouse with pipes running through it and one section that has a dip in the concrete and a pool ladder going down underground. I know it’ll lead to the reservoir. I have an irrational fear of reservoirs. The water sits too still, vacant and dormant and just waiting in a massive concrete cube in the ground. It just sits on the surface of the earth. Who knows how far deep it goes. Is there anything under there? Just black empty water. Still. Terrifying.

Feel the night air in perfect darkness
Perfect darkness is all I can see
Deep water, stay under, see it rolling,
Over your head and just,
Roll with it, till it’s all good yeah.
Deep water, a little deeper and you don’t,
feel it going, over the edge and just,
Go with it, till it’s all good yeah.


‘Hey,’ Jordan jiggles me awake. I am sleeping on freezing cold concrete. This building is even colder than the Church. At least the Church had doors.
‘Hey,’ I murmur. The pain feels worse now I have woken up. It was unbearable before I collapsed in an exhausted heap on the ground, but I was so tired it was almost like it wasn’t happening. I am now very aware of what is happening.
‘Get up, come outside.’ Jordan orders in what is supposed to be a whisper. Jordan cannot whisper. His voice is so deep and almost hoarse, so a whisper is ineffective on him.
‘Are you crazy? I’ve probably got pneumonia already, why would I go outside?’
‘You need to see something.’
© Copyright 2011 JJP (jessxjordan at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1832680-Eleutheria--Chapter-3