The Light in the Dark

Chapter 2: A Familiar Road

Swallowing dryly he went back down the steps before going back to the cell to round up his things. The sooner he got out of there the better it would be for him. Pulling back on his bloodstained coat he made sure that his gun was loaded before grabbing whatever materials he could in the medical bag, which was now surprisingly empty. Whoever was in the prison that took everything must've saw him since they took the remaining supplies from the bag and either assumed he was dead or left him for dead.

Stuffing a small pillow, a blanket, and a jacket that he found that just happened to be his size into the bag he went right to the cell block's door. Glancing through the bars to see nothing he pried it open as it squeaked loudly on its hinges. Pushing it open as he coughed now the aching pain that ran through him stopped him dead in his tracks for a moment. Breathing heavily as it passed he began to walk once again. Philip knew that his best bet was for the back of the prison as the view of the front of the prison from C block looked rather crowded, but the only other problem that he would have to face was not knowing how crowded the halls were. He had no flashlight, and if he could find one he could only assume that whoever came back into the building had taken them along with all of the batteries. Getting to the next door he was about to look through the bars once more when a decayed hand reached through causing the man to stumble back.

Almost loosing his footing he had to steady himself quickly before pulling out his knife. Grabbing the dead arm he reached over to plunge the knife in its head. A wet cracking sound was made as it entered the skull before he let the body drop to the ground with a thud. Cringing at the noise he could only hope that the sound didn't attract any of its friends. Staying silent for a moment he waited for any signs of approaching dead before pulling open the door. Looking to his left and right he decided to head for the back of the prison now. It may have not been his best bet, but at the moment it was his best option.

Walking carefully down the halls the only sounds he could hear was his own breathing, every footstep he took, and the distant feral growling of the dead. With his fingers laced tightly around his knife he remained alert and cautious. It was the only thing he could do as he blindly stumbled down the dark walkways. Matters were then made worse as he came up to an intersection. It broke off into left and right halves now as well as a straightaway. Philip was clueless about getting out of the building which caused it to be a guess and check. Letting out a sigh an immediate growl sounded to his blinded right side. With a gasp he turned on his heel before lifting up his knife to jam it into the next skull. The sound as the biters weren't to far off from his own location now began to ring in his ears. Feeling his jaw tighten he pulled the knife free before making a left as he dragged along the body. He could only hope that the body would cover his scent now as he did his best to hurry down the hall.

The process continued with him putting down any biter that he came across, and sometimes there would be three or four at a time. It only got harder on him as his body was still too weak and sore to fight them all. Dropping the limp body that he had been carrying around now for what felt like hours he pressed his back up into a corner before collapsing onto his backside. Heavy breaths continued to be taken as he listened carefully. The drone of the dead never ceased, but now there was something new. It was the sound of bugs out in the woods. This was familiar especially after all of the times he spent outside as a kid and even in the apocalypse. Feeling a faint smile hinting at the corners of his lips he hauled himself up off of the ground before finishing his trek to the closest door.

Now it was time to hope that whatever was on the other side wasn't to much to handle. Pulling out his knife and positioning his hands into a ready position with his gun now being held above his knife he shoved open the door. An automatic reaction from the dead standing by with their teeth exposed caused Philip to fire his first shot into the cranium not to far from him. As soon as he fired he watched the thing collapse before making a dash for an opening. He hadn't made it to the back, but instead he had managed to find his way out from the side. The dead were piling up quickly and his dash was slowing as more pain took over. With more shots fired to clear a path he ran in the direction that he knew the bus had went in. It was his best shot. In fact it was his only shot.