Either Matt’s plan worked, or they would be gunned down in the attempt, it was as simple as that. With a look of bored nonchalance masking the worry and fear that bubbled just beneath the surface, Karen walked calmly through the dim corridors to the lift. As usual, for this time of night, the lights were set to their ‘night’ setting. It was thought to give those within the underground base some semblance of the passing day. As far as Karen was concerned, it didn’t work. To her, the dimming of the lights did little but highlight the fact that they spent most of their time shut away from the world, it was a constant but subtle reminder of their shame. The very people they were meant to help had, at best, been abandoned, at worst, after the fit and healthy had forcibly been conscripted, the old and sick had been left to fend for themselves. When it became apparent the Death-walker plague wasn’t going to just run its course after a few months of bloody carnage, those in charge had decided only those who could contribute with either their mind, muscle, or in the case of women, their wombs, would be given the chance of rescue.
