London.
It never changed, even if the world had practically ended for the British Isles.
The eternal smog of London, kept its eerily grey overcast even on a bright day when the sun attempted to shine through the man made darkness. The fifth story window of the apartment complex overlooking Elephant and Castle's main roundabout and the stairwell entrance into Elephant and Castle's Underground Station, had been long since shattered, allowing a cold breeze to whisk through the tight space of the three roomed apartment.
One bedroom. One bathroom. One kitchen. And one narrow hallway, connecting them together.
A very basic living space, which was thrown into chaos by upturned furniture, a broken toilet and bath, a ruined kitchen where the cupboards barely clung to the walls, and a non-existent kitchen sink that had long since collapsed through the floor, releasing a small but constant stream of tainted water from broken pipes, which had flooded the apartment below.
It was not luxurious to live in, but it was a secure roof over Marianne's head for the time being. The front door was barricaded " nailed shut with planks of wood crisscrossing the entrance, while stacked up in that narrow hallway was a single large cupboard, a couch and whatever else she could use to bar the entrance against the snarling beasts that feebly struck against the door on the opposite side with a constant, useless thud of their rotting limbs.
Her only means of entering and departing this death trap, was that hole in the kitchen floor.
She knew the mutated could not climb through the hole, but she knew full well more intelligent creatures such as humans, could easily make their entrance into her haven. That was probably why she scattered broken glass all across the kitchen floor, for no matter how light of foot you were, the glass would crunch and make enough noise to alert her of an intruder.
If not that' Then the series of tripwires strewn across the hallway leading to the bedroom, connecting to hanging empty tins of food above, would surely do the job. For the hallway was dark and visibility was quite low. Seeing the thin fishing wire in such a situation would had been nigh on impossible, if not lucky.
Inside that solitary bedroom of the apartment, Marianne stood before the broken window garbed in her raincoat, and protective gear she had salvaged from the corpses of the military, and from shops that once sold outdoor sporting equipment.
With the stock of her prized weapon " the PSG-1A1 Sniper Rifle, pressed firmly to her shoulder, she stared down the optical zoom lens of German ingenuity, at the obvious movement occurring across the other side of the roundabout.
In her cross-hairs, she could see plain as day, several survivors moving in loose formation, holding a series of differing weapons from baseball bats, to crowbars and hammers. The leading survivor of the group " a man in a tattered business suit, held what appeared to be a crossbow that was used in sports, rather than hunting.
However, a weapon was a weapon. It could do fatal damage if shot in the right place. This group could be dangerous. Fortunately, they were not coming in her direction.
With her finger gently resting upon the trigger, Marianne swung her sights in the general direction to which they were walking. They appeared to be heading towards New Kent Road, which meant only one thing. They were probably heading for the ruined supermarket ten minutes down the road, opposite the old fire station.
But that was suicide, and Marianne knew it. For New Kent Road, leading onto Old Kent Road where the supermarket stood, was swarming with the mutated. And worse still, the supermarket was already inhabited by another group. A savage group of survivors who were far better equipped than this sorry lot.
Marianne knew they were going to die.
If they had scouted the area properly, they would had realized their mistake. Or maybe, perhaps they already knew" Perhaps they were desperate enough for food to warrant a daring attack" Either way, it was stupid. The probability of their success, was low " even before they got to the supermarket.
Biting her lower lip, she lowered the weapon from the window, and turned away from it. As she made for the door, she moved to use the custom-made shoulder strap of the rifle, and hung it on her left shoulder.
Carefully, she stepped over the tripwires in the hallway " memorizing exactly where they were, and headed for the kitchen. Once there, her booted feet crunched over the glass as she approached the hole in the ground.
She ceased her movements, and stared down into the apartment below while contemplating her actions. What was she going to do" Let those people die" Or allow them to get to the supermarket, and attempt their foolish attack" Or was she going to help them?
Pulling the hood of her raincoat over her, chin length blonde head of hair, she silently made her decision, and dropped down into the apartment below.
It never changed, even if the world had practically ended for the British Isles.
The eternal smog of London, kept its eerily grey overcast even on a bright day when the sun attempted to shine through the man made darkness. The fifth story window of the apartment complex overlooking Elephant and Castle's main roundabout and the stairwell entrance into Elephant and Castle's Underground Station, had been long since shattered, allowing a cold breeze to whisk through the tight space of the three roomed apartment.
One bedroom. One bathroom. One kitchen. And one narrow hallway, connecting them together.
A very basic living space, which was thrown into chaos by upturned furniture, a broken toilet and bath, a ruined kitchen where the cupboards barely clung to the walls, and a non-existent kitchen sink that had long since collapsed through the floor, releasing a small but constant stream of tainted water from broken pipes, which had flooded the apartment below.
It was not luxurious to live in, but it was a secure roof over Marianne's head for the time being. The front door was barricaded " nailed shut with planks of wood crisscrossing the entrance, while stacked up in that narrow hallway was a single large cupboard, a couch and whatever else she could use to bar the entrance against the snarling beasts that feebly struck against the door on the opposite side with a constant, useless thud of their rotting limbs.
Her only means of entering and departing this death trap, was that hole in the kitchen floor.
She knew the mutated could not climb through the hole, but she knew full well more intelligent creatures such as humans, could easily make their entrance into her haven. That was probably why she scattered broken glass all across the kitchen floor, for no matter how light of foot you were, the glass would crunch and make enough noise to alert her of an intruder.
If not that' Then the series of tripwires strewn across the hallway leading to the bedroom, connecting to hanging empty tins of food above, would surely do the job. For the hallway was dark and visibility was quite low. Seeing the thin fishing wire in such a situation would had been nigh on impossible, if not lucky.
Inside that solitary bedroom of the apartment, Marianne stood before the broken window garbed in her raincoat, and protective gear she had salvaged from the corpses of the military, and from shops that once sold outdoor sporting equipment.
With the stock of her prized weapon " the PSG-1A1 Sniper Rifle, pressed firmly to her shoulder, she stared down the optical zoom lens of German ingenuity, at the obvious movement occurring across the other side of the roundabout.
In her cross-hairs, she could see plain as day, several survivors moving in loose formation, holding a series of differing weapons from baseball bats, to crowbars and hammers. The leading survivor of the group " a man in a tattered business suit, held what appeared to be a crossbow that was used in sports, rather than hunting.
However, a weapon was a weapon. It could do fatal damage if shot in the right place. This group could be dangerous. Fortunately, they were not coming in her direction.
With her finger gently resting upon the trigger, Marianne swung her sights in the general direction to which they were walking. They appeared to be heading towards New Kent Road, which meant only one thing. They were probably heading for the ruined supermarket ten minutes down the road, opposite the old fire station.
But that was suicide, and Marianne knew it. For New Kent Road, leading onto Old Kent Road where the supermarket stood, was swarming with the mutated. And worse still, the supermarket was already inhabited by another group. A savage group of survivors who were far better equipped than this sorry lot.
Marianne knew they were going to die.
If they had scouted the area properly, they would had realized their mistake. Or maybe, perhaps they already knew" Perhaps they were desperate enough for food to warrant a daring attack" Either way, it was stupid. The probability of their success, was low " even before they got to the supermarket.
Biting her lower lip, she lowered the weapon from the window, and turned away from it. As she made for the door, she moved to use the custom-made shoulder strap of the rifle, and hung it on her left shoulder.
Carefully, she stepped over the tripwires in the hallway " memorizing exactly where they were, and headed for the kitchen. Once there, her booted feet crunched over the glass as she approached the hole in the ground.
She ceased her movements, and stared down into the apartment below while contemplating her actions. What was she going to do" Let those people die" Or allow them to get to the supermarket, and attempt their foolish attack" Or was she going to help them?
Pulling the hood of her raincoat over her, chin length blonde head of hair, she silently made her decision, and dropped down into the apartment below.