Chapter 15 – Sanctuary
Janik wasn’t sure why they had picked this place to hole up in. Sure the church was in good shape but it had only one entrance, which would be a problem if they were ever overrun by the infected. Janik didn’t feel it was his place to complain though, he was just glad to have found the Survivors as his situation was looking bleak until then. Although he missed his bike he didn’t really feel like he could say no when they asked to use it.
He rubbed his ankle, it was bandaged up and he didn’t feel any pain. That was due to the miracle of morphine that one of the Survivors had injected him with. He could now walk on the leg and didn’t feel a thing, although he had no idea how long that morphine would last - he hoped forever.
They were all from the ship, and almost all of them were armed. Some with pistols, some with axes and the lucky few with shotguns or rifles. Nobody walked around without a weapon by their side. It was an NRA wet dream - no one debated the right to bear arms, they all just did.
Janik examined them as the story was told, the men finding catharsis by recounting the tale. Some of them had the same hollowed-out look that Janik saw in his own reflection, the look of a survivor who had secretly wished he hadn’t survived. And this was only after a day – what would they be like in a week, and how many of them would make it that long?
Everyone was amicable, sharing what they found and ensuring there was enough food and water to go around. They were coming and going with no real leader and no order to it. He saw this as weakness and noticed that some of the others were already hoarding food and ammunition. Yeah this little hippy commune wouldn’t last very long, Janik thought as he made the decision to grab what he could and get out as soon as his bike had been returned.
Janik had swapped his Lee Enfield rifle for Alfie's crossbow. Alfie had acted as though he’d won the lottery but Janik valued silence over firepower, and was happy with the trade. He speculated about how long trading would last before people decided it was just easier to take, rather than to trade. What would happen when ammo got scarce? He didn’t have a lot of faith in himself and therefore not a lot of faith in humanity. He wanted to be well on his way before things really became desperate.
Instead, he planned to skulk away in the night and find his own little hole to hide in and ride out the shit-storm. By himself - that’s how he’d survived so far and that’s how he would continue. His mind tactfully ignored the whole broken-ankle-and-the-need-for-morphine-provided-by-someone-else-thing. Janik would provide what help he could, so long as it didn’t get in the way of his survival. So he’d decided to stay with them for as long as he benefited - when that changed, he was off.
The smoke was starting to get thick in the church. “We need to get this smoke out,” he told no one in particular and, in return, no one paid him any attention. Janik looked up at the roof and took note of the high stained glass windows. They were too high for an infected to get in but high enough to let the smoke out. “These windows up here, we should break them to let the smoke out.”
Some of the others looked around but they didn't react so Janik grabbed some rocks and began to throw them at the windows. He felt a slight twang of guilt as he threw the rock but soon he wouldn’t care less about stuff like that as things became more desperate.
As he sat on the floor eating boar around the campfire, the talk of tactics and the infected died down and everyone just ate while watching the fire. It felt normal, and for now, that feeling, was a scarce and highly valuable commodity.