0800 Hours [slash]

0800 Hours: Recording #021

Click.

"0800 hours, nine days since we set sail – well, foot, I guess – for the mystical land of Beith. I can see the gates from here, I think. Are you sure this is it? I'm kind of underwhelmed."

"...I'm sure."

"Well, it's, um... it's... grey?"

A small, derisive wheeze of laughter.

"In fairness, it wasn't surrounded by three fifteen foot barbed wire fences before."

"Oh. Makes sense. Basically like Cye said, there are three large barbed wire fences around the perimeter as far as I can see. There's a pretty big gate on the first fence, with what looks like a hut... thing? I'm assuming that's for making sure that any new arrivals aren't trailing in a fatal Infection or anything. Usual stuff."

Shoes thump against concrete.

"It looks very secure. Are you sure that they'll let you in, Cye? I mean, not that I'm worried or anything, but I don't really see any gaps in the fence that you could crawl under..."

"The guards should be able to take off this fucking tag. How much booze do we still have? Our trolley has got significantly lighter since we discovered what a lush you are."

"Hey!" – clink, clink, clink – "We've got loads of wine left, and a good few crates of beer. Only one vodka, but that was entirely your fault, Mr Shots-Are-A-Great-Idea-Let's-Do-Shots-Until-Cam-Projectile-Vomits."

"It was a life experience that I wanted you to have."

"Oh, of course, I could tell you were just looking out for my welfare. Hey, is it just me or is it really quiet around here?"

The two pause to listen: the grass brushes languidly against the fence; the wire rattles; the wind is shrill. There are no voices to be heard.

"They'll probably be further in.What's the point of having three fences if you're only going to use one of them?"

"Ah. I see. Fair enough."

There's an amicable silence between the two, the only sound the crunch of old leaves underfoot.

"Your dad might be here, you know."

"Shit. I never even thought of that."

"My parents might be too."

"You've got parents?"

"No, I was grown in a lab and then released to the world when I hit sixteen. Of course I've got parents, you halfwit."

"That would explain a lot, to be honest. What'll you do if they're here?"

"Avoid them, just like I did before the Infection. What about you? What will you do?"

Along, thoughtful pause reaches between question and answer.

"...Talk to him, I guess. If he's not still all fucked up. I hope he isn't. I've kind of missed pre-Infection dad. Or pre-dead-mam dad. Y'know? Shit, sorry. Forgot for a second that you... yeah."

The trolley rattles as it is pushed over uneven ground.

"Cam, the wheel on this trolley's stuck."

"Oh, hang on –"

Clatter.

"Thanks."

"So, uh, should we knock on the door or something? I don't see a bell or anything..."

"They probably weren't expecting any visitors. You don't just pop down for tea from another Sanctuary."

"Shut up, Cye."

Knock. Knock.

Nothing.

"Hello? Anyone here?"

"Try knocking again?"

The third knock is louder, more definitive.

"Hey, um, we're a couple of teenagers from up north, and we're hoping you could help us...?"

"Tch. Is the door open?"

A shriek of hinges – a door? A gate?

"Earth to Beith, come in Beith?"

Silence greets them.

"There's no one here, Cam."

"We should still take a look around. They might just be on their lunch break or something."

The crunch of gravel fades to soft padding against a reinforced floor.Another rusty squeal, and –

"Why did you shut the door?"

"I didn't, hang on... Fuck, this thing's heavy."

A wheeze, a grunt – the two strain to push the door open again.

"...It must lock automatically."

"Yeah...There's a back door, maybe we should try that."

"Good call."

A shaky sigh escapes someone's lips, making the microphone whistle slightly.

"Oh, wait a minute, I think there's someone asleep in that chair –holy shit!"

"Cam!"

"There's...there's a fucking body in that chair, Cye."

Their voice is hoarse with panic.

"Have you touched anything?"

"What?"

"Have you touched anything, Cameron?"

"N-no, only the door."

"Good. We need to get out of here. Now."

Their footsteps are loud and rushed. There's a reluctant groan of tired wood as it is forced open for the first time in a while.

"Jesus Christ. That's the first time I've seen a body in a while. D'you think the other guards know she's dead, and that's why they've left?"

"...Did you see her face?"

"What? No, no, I didn't get the time to look at her properly. We need to hurry to the next fence and tell the other guards what's happened. C'mon Cye, let's go and –"

"Cam–"

"–find the other guards. There's a hut on the second fence a bit to the left, look. Plus we need to find some disinfectant. I know we only touched the door –"

"Cam–"

"–but you can never be too sure. That'd be fucking ironic, wouldn't it? Get all the way to Beith and we get fucking Infected at the first gate, ha ha h–"

"Cameron!"

"What is it? Are you ok? You didn't touch anything, did you?"

Someone swallows loudly.

"Did you see her face?"

The speaker is gentle, timid, voice soft like the first rays of sunlight after a storm.

"...No."

"...It was decayed."

"What?"

"She's been dead a long time, Cam."

The world crunches to a halt, the words a minor chord, an interrupted cadence. An unexpected end.

"Shit."

Click.