I may be lost. Shit. With no light, it’s impossible to tell where I’m at and where I’m going. I’m pretty sure the figure went this way. I’ve been following him for a while now.

It’s been a week since the last time I heard someone’s voice. Partly because I’ve stayed away from people and stayed hidden in the store’s basement. Mostly because there are so few of us left, and those who survived are looking out for themselves and no one else. It’s not worth denying it: I’m like that too. However, I don’t go around killing people. It’s been a week since the trio who tried to loot the convenience store turned out to be ruthless killers and turned on their friend.

It took a little over a day for the dead guy they left behind to start smelling. The rain and the humidity may have helped a bit. Even after I dragged him away from the store, I could still smell him. Hell, I think I still do. I can’t go back there. Not to mention he has attracted every dog in the area.

There! The silhouette moved. Did he climb down? Where to? In a sewer? Surely people don’t live there. Why not the subway?

There’s a large manhole cover. I’m pretty sure this is where he went down. When I lift the cover, hot air rushes up. And a lot of stench. A wave of nausea washes over me. How can anyone live down here? I know the risks for what I’m about to do. It’s madness, but I don’t think I can make it on my own. No one has come to help. I doubt there’s anyone left. If there are people, even if it’s just one person, I have to take my chances. I’d give anything to hear people talking. This silence drives me nuts.

I climb down one step at a time, until I reach the bottom. The smell makes my eyes water. I gag at the stench even though I’m trying to hold it back.

“Who’s there?” a disembodied voice asks. It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve heard in ages.

“You’re real! Where are you?”

“What do you want?”

“Easy, easy. I’m not going to hurt you. I just wanted to hear someone else’s voice. The world above is full of living things, but not a single manmade sound. I could use a place to stay. There’s nothing for me up there.”

“If you can stand the smell,” another voice says from my right and sends my heart racing in alarm, “you’re welcome here. We share what food we scavenge. If you keep food for yourself,” he says and claps me on my back, “we throw you out. To the light.”

“Is it true then? Was it the light that did this?”

The man guides me deeper into the sewers. Another set of feet echoes next to me. Must be the owner of the second voice. “I believe so,” he says. “I don’t know what caused it, if it’s local or not. It doesn’t matter anymore. What’s done is done. We’re here,” he says. “This is where we live.”

The darkness is so dense and absolute that if I used my knife, I could carve a slice off it. My eyes keep blinking, as my mind tries to make sense of the sounds around me. Water plops in a puddle up ahead. People murmur to my right and left. Some cough. I gently prod around with my foot to find a spot to sit.

“Why down here?” I ask. “Why not an apartment or any other building?”

“That’s where I was hiding,” a woman somewhere to my left says. “But there are gangs in this part of the city. They raid and steal. They beat people up and leave them out to the light.” Her voice broke and she sniffled. “Or worse. The first night, they … they killed my son for his watch. I hid. I hid and I abandoned my boy to those monsters. Ricky. Oh, Ricky. I’m so sorry.”

“Everyone here has lost someone. We’re trying to keep each other safe. We’ve all sworn to share what we find,” the man from before says. “Especially food.”

“I say, we start fightin’ back,” another woman says. Her voice is strident, and the way it bounces against the walls makes her sound like a cackling witch straight out of a bedtime story. “We fight back, and we use ‘em for our survival.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“The way I see it,” she says, “soon there ain’t gonna be much food left. No one’s comin’ to help us. It’s been a week already since the end of the world, and each day food’s gettin’ harder to come by.”

“So, how can we use those raiders?” What she says makes no sense. “Follow them and steal the food they stole from someone else? We can’t even see who’s here with us. How can we possibly track them?”

“Not their food,” she says. I have a feeling she’s staring right at me through this impenetrable darkness. The thought chills my spine. “Use them as food.”

“What are you—”

“No way in hell I’m ever—”

“I guess if we must—”

“We should consider it at least,” she screams over the others.

A raucous cacophony echoes through the concrete walls. Soon, arguments erupt.

“Enough,” the man who guided me cries. “For all we know, we may be the last civilised humans left on this world. I will not have what’s left of humanity turn to cannibalism. You want to be an animal, be my guest. But you’re no longer part of this group. Leave.”

“Fuck you, Jackson,” the woman yells. “I’m hungry. You and your food-sharin’ system is shit. I haven’t eaten anything in days, and I’m starvin’! This is survival of the fittest, and I will survive, you hear? Anyone who wants to follow me, now’s the time,” she says and sloshes through shit-filled water. At least two or three more follow her through the sewage.

Cannibalism. That’s what it comes down to at the end. Glorious, civilised individuals. I don’t know if I can ever go this far or if I’d let myself die instead. It’s not like I haven’t thought of ending my life in the past week. I haven’t been able to do it. Hope hasn’t abandoned me yet. I wonder what will I do if it comes down to it. If I can’t put an end to my own misery. Would I … eat the person across me?

What will these people do once food really becomes an issue?

I try to make as little noise as possible. There’s got to be a way out to the world above here somewhere. I told them a lie, that we couldn’t stay in that part of the sewer much longer, not with all the methane building up. I told them I would find another place for us to live, one with better ventilation perhaps. I think I fooled them. There’s no way I’m coming back to these nutjobs. No way. After Jackson, the self-proclaimed leader, fell and broke his leg, the others have been arguing about two things: putting him out of his misery, and eating him afterwards. I still can’t believe these are the same people who shunned one of their own for speaking in favour of cannibalism. I guess after a week in the sewers with practically nothing to eat, it’s strange it took them this long. It’s been two weeks since our civilisation ended. Two weeks since the sewer people had very little to eat. I’d rather not be around to find out what they’ll decide next or who their next meal will be.

What’s this? At last! A manhole leading up. And it’s night outside. Thank God!

Once up, I marvel at the crispness and freshness of the air, despite the noticeable rotten smell from the decomposing bodies. I’m filled with hope as I gaze at the vastness of space around me. Especially when I look up at the stars. The end of the world has made me appreciate the simple and small things. I take a deep breath and savour it for a moment. It’s time to find a new shelter for myself. A subway station perhaps. Never again in a sewer. No way. Not to mention subway stations used to have a lot of fast food joints adjacent to them. There’s got to be some food there.

I take the rat’s leftover out of my pocket and nibble on it. I don’t like it, but it’s all I could find in the sewers. Those bravest from Jackson’s group decided to try roaches. My stomach jumps at the thought. Deep breaths. I must keep everything down. I can’t afford to waste food anymore. Even this raw rat.

It’s almost dawn. At last. A subway station. To my right is a garbage can. It seems undisturbed. Like the dead bodies strewn all over the place, it has attracted a swarm of flies. I wave my hand to shoo as many as I can but it doesn’t work. It’s almost as if they know I’m the only living human in the area and they’ve come to witness the rare sight. I rummage through it.

My fingers touch something gooey and sticky. It smells like … chocolate? Can it be? I’ll be damned! It’s a chocolate bar. I’ll save it for later. Pretty soon, I’ll be in need of energy, and this treat will do just fine. My search yields a half-empty bag of chips. They’re soggy, but the preservatives must have kept them mostly intact.

The subway stinks but not as bad as the sewers, and it’s more spacious. Surely I can find a spot to crawl and sleep. Tomorrow, I’ll search the nearby places for food. As I climb down the steps, I can’t help but pause and gaze for a brief moment at the awakening sky. The clouds to the east have taken a deep cobalt colour, and the horizon line has started turning gold. It’s so unfair to have to trade all that for darkness. But light kills, and what’s left of humanity can now only survive at the darkest places.

When I reach the bottom of the stairs leading to the platforms, all I can think of is the predawn light the world above gets to view without fear of death. There’s tightness at my chest just by being in this dark hellhole. “Hello? Any survivors?” I hope not.

“Some. What do you want?” a woman’s voice calls from my left, then coughs violently. I’m pretty sure I’ve heard her voice before, but I can’t quite place it. It almost reminds me of a witch’s voice.

“Shelter. They say light kills.”

Silence. I have a nagging feeling at the base of my stomach that something’s wrong. “I can help you with food,” I hurry to add. I can’t afford to have them throw me out. I wanted the place for myself, but deep down, I don’t mind. And yet, the little voice in my head insists something’s not right.

She doesn’t answer. I don’t know why, but I feel the need to run away. I take a step back and avoid making any sound.

“Oh, I’m sure you can,” the woman says from behind me.

I gasp and nearly jump out of my clothes.

“In fact,” she says, “you already have.”

Something clicks inside my head. It’s her. The woman who left the sewers. My throat cinches. The one who spoke in favour of cannibalism. Feet shuffle from every direction.

“I-I have a bag of chips.” My voice sounds broken. “And some chocolate. We can help each other.” I step back and trip over someone standing there. They grab me. “Let go of me! Let me go!”

“It’s dawn outside,” she says. “You’ll spend the day with us. And as you said, you’ll help us with our food problem.” She grabs my mouth. I can feel her hot and putrid stench of her breath on my face. “Scrawny, but we’ll make do with you.”

I try to reach for the gun in my pocket or my knife, but hands grab me. They throw me to the ground. Someone straddles me. I can’t move. They feel my body with their hands.

“Breakfast is served, boys.”

I scream. Knifing sharp pain stabs my chest. Another in my gut. I’m … dying.

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Unfortunately, your character died. You made the wrong choice. This time, it wasn’t The Darkening itself, but its aftermath and how it affected people’s behaviour. It was the survivors. Those who chose to stay in the cities. With nothing other than steel, concrete, and glass, the handful of people who survived the apocalypse turned to cannibalism. Of course, your character could have become a cannibal himself. I took the liberty of not making him into one simply because most of us would find the thought appalling. It would make more sense for the character to behave this way during the early days, to hold on to the things that our current society deems as acceptable and define humanity as we understand it. At least for the early days of the apocalypse. Also, since this story dealt with one main character (intentionally left unnamed so you can identify with him/her easier), it would make more sense to have groups of people prey on loners. I urge you to play again, but this time make a different choice. Keep in mind that only one string of choices will lead your character to a situation where he/she will have a greater potential to survive a little longer. There is no end to this story. Only higher chances for survival. Nothing is certain in the world of The Darkening.

     

 

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