By the Water's Side || Melissa Feb 10, 2013 17:23:33 GMT
Post by SILAS MITCHELL HAYES on Feb 10, 2013 17:23:33 GMT
8.41amSunlight reflecting from the 'Bubble Wrap' aviator sunglasses that he had come across in his searches, Silas slowly waked along the water's edge, making his way into town. The water sloshed gently against the stonework below him, moved by the light winter wind in the air. It had been over a year and some months since the outbreak; Silas had found a calendar and marked the days as they passed. But the calendar had run out of months. Now Silas, like a prisoner, was simply chalking lines on the wall every time the sun set.
At first, it had been counting the days, trying to predict the arrival of help. But after several months, it was just simply to keep up with the season. They hadn't been forgotten, thought the optimistic Silas. The world was simply trying to gauge the best way to handle the situation. But even that hopeful thought was beginning to slowly diminish. Perhaps prisoner was a fitting term, after all; they were trapped with no way to go - unless someone wanted a nice, long swim in the Channel. But even then, who's to say there weren't armed patrols on the far shore to prevent the disease from spreading?
Stopping to look out into the water, he shook his head. It had once been bustling with boats, moving to and fro. Why had he had not simply jumped aboard one when the outbreak had started? Silas could have been back in Miami to warmer beaches... and Maria.
A sudden burst of wind knocked him back to his senses, and Silas continued moving on again, pulling his suit jacket tighter around himself. The backpack on his back sat softly, its only contents being cloth, his last piece of jerky, and a crowbar - the last of which jutted out, staying just within his reach.
Not that it really mattered, it seemed. The creepers rarely strayed so closely to the water, anyway - Silas supposed it was because there wasn't much food to be found. Once the boats were all gone, and people realized it, they tended to stay away from the water. It was similar to having your back against a wall, after all, and - unless you wanted to swim - one could easily have gotten cornered.
Silas took this path almost daily - just to reassure himself that there were no boats traveling through the Thames - when going deeper into the city. Running low on food, it was a trip of necessity. He had even took a long look at an unopened can of dog food; but that was a desperation that the former architect hadn't quite yet reached. And, hopefully, he never would.
Movement ahead brought him once again to his senses, making Silas's slow pace quicken as he rushed into a nearby alleyway to hide himself. Had it been a creeper? A raider? Silas hadn't taken long of enough look to tell; pausing too long could mean the difference between living to fight another day or being shot - mistaken for one of the undead. Ever so slowly, Silas - with his back pressed against the alley wall - peeked his head around the corner again.