The Human Condition

you?'

    `I was with a few others. Got themselves into a scrap and I took the chance to duck out and get away.'

    `What's happening?'

    `We're waiting to die, didn't you know?' Wright replied, his voice drained of all emotion. `Place is falling apart. Fucking people are falling apart. Half the people left down here are already dead, and most of them killed themselves.'

    Carlton was silent for a moment as he took in Wright's words. None of it had come as a surprise.

    `So what are you going to do now?'

    The other solider shrugged his shoulders.

    `No bloody idea,' he admitted. `Not a lot I can do really, is there?'

    Carlton didn't answer.

    The awkward conversation was interrupted by the sounds of more scuffles and fights taking place deeper within the base. Wright peered out into the corridor again, then quickly drew his head back inside.

    `Anything?' Carlton asked.

    `Nothing,' Wright replied, `but it's just a matter of time. Won't be long before this whole fucking place goes up in smoke.'

    `You reckon?'

    `Absolutely.'

    More noise. Getting closer. Wright started to shuffle uncomfortably.

    `Where you been hiding?' he asked, the desperation very evident his voice. Carlton thought for a moment before answering. What did he say? He didn't want to tell him. `Come on, man,' he begged as the noise in the corridor continued to increase in volume. `Let me come with you. I won't do anything to get you found, I promise. I just want to find somewhere safe where I can...'

    Soldiers appeared at the end of the corridor. More gunshots. A figure collapsed in a hail of bullets. More troops trampled the body as they ran for shelter.

    `Christ,' Carlton mumbled under his breath. He wanted to turn and run back to the service tunnel, but Wright would follow and he knew that he couldn't afford to let him. No matter what the other man said, having him with him would increase the risk dramatically. He had to find a way of getting rid of him, and quickly.

    `Come on,' Wright pleaded. `Fucking show me!'

    In desperation Wright whipped a knife out from his belt and held it to Carlton's neck. Christ, thought Carlton, not the suit. Cut me but don't cut the bloody suit.

    `I can't...' Carlton began to protest. `Show me where you're hiding or I'll do it,' Wright threatened, his face now close to the other man's. Carlton recoiled at the noxious smell of Wright's acrid breath.

    `I can't,' he said again, bringing his pistol slowly up from his side. Before Wright had realised what he was doing Carlton fired a single shot, ripping a bloody hole through his chest cavity and lungs. Wright collapsed to the ground and Carlton stepped over him, wiping dribbles of blood from his precious suit.

    He was about to step into the corridor when another group of soldiers thundered past the mess hall doorway, this time moving in the opposite direction to the first, moving back deeper into the base. More followed, then more. One of the soldiers straggling at the back of the pack tried to grab hold of Carlton and drag him along with him. Carlton instinctively recoiled and squirmed free from the soldier's grip.

    `Get yourself out of here,' the soldier in the corridor screamed. `Get out of here now. The fucking idiots are trying to open the bloody doors!'

    He couldn't afford to wait. Not caring who saw him Carlton turned and ran back through the mess hall and clambered quickly through the serving hatch and into the kitchen. Behind him a constant stream of desperate, terrified troops fled deeper into the bunker.

    Carlton ran back to his hideout as quickly as his tired, under-exercised legs would carry him. He threw himself into the service tunnel and scrambled around furiously in the darkness for his breathing apparatus. With hands trembling with nervous fear he put on his kit and melted back into the darkness and waited...

    At the entrance to the bunker a group of soldiers had fought their way through into the decontamination chambers. Their minds twisted and deluded as a result of weeks of hopeless isolation, two of them struggled to open the sealed doors while another three held off more troops who fought to prevent the base being compromised. Risks, priorities and perspectives had been distorted after spending months buried underground without hope. Perhaps the infection had finally passed? The men now struggling to open the doors and get outside genuinely believed that this was their last chance for freedom and life.

    The soldiers at the doors were