Christian didn't know how long they dragged him through the darkness of the streets for, it seemed like eternity, but he had long since given up on trusting his own perception of these things. It only seemed like such a long time because everything looked the same. Dark shapes around him, the fog around them, more dark shapes in that fog. Everything was gray and black, hazy and unidentifiable. To Christian it almost felt like he had fallen into a movie from the fifties, only it had sound instead of subtitles.
That's what mixed up the monotony the sound, some times it was an unwavering never ending moan, other times it was a never ending unwavering moan. Ahh blissful variety. Every now and then the soldier's would stop, rasp out some orders, and kill a few zombies. But by and large they seemed content to leave the zombies be; but even more surprising, the zombies seemed content to leave them alone.
As they were carried through the streets Christian kept reaching for Blues hand, just to touch it, to make sure she was still there, still beside him. As long as she was alive he had purpose, and as long as he had some sort of purpose he would find a way out of here, not for himself, but for her. He was going to save her. God he could use a smoke.