» Sun Dec 20, 2009 7:12 am Prologue:
Sunlight shone down on my head, forcing me to crack an eye open. I sat up and realized I was in a sleeping bag, though I didn't remember getting one. In fact I didn't remember anything, and clutched my head as thoughts buzzed around like angry wasps.
Who I'm I? Where I'm I? Why don't I remember anything?
My stomach growled and I realized how hungry I. Forced into action, I looked around and found a backpack laying on the ground beside me, I quickly rummaged through it, scattering the contents on the ground. I took no notice of the material that I was throwing and eventually came to a red and white package, that smelled delicious. I quickly tore the wrapper away and was soon holding a hunk of raw meat. The fact that I didn't know what it was or that it was raw, didn't bother me. I tore into the meat like a wild animal, within a few minutes it was gone. I licked the bloodstained wrapper, then crumpled it up and threw it on the ground, thirst now held me, but there was water at the bottom of the pack. After finishing the irradiated water, I wiped my face and began piling everything back in the bag, stopping when I came across a leather bound journal.
I opened it up to the middle and found it was blank, only one entry was held here, the first page, it read:
6/3/2292
My name is Walker Marvin. I write this down for fear I forget. I've forgotten most things, everything personal has disappeared, I don't know why, all I know is that every time I fall asleep I lose part of my memories. I have started this journal late, but it still can help, I need to travel to a town called Old Loamspoint and talk to a man named Dennis. I've packed a map in the pack, the town is marked on it, it's close by. I fear I shall forget this come morn, but I hope this will help.
When I read the name, my mind just clicked and I instantly recognized it as mine.
Walker, that's me.
This overjoyed me and I quickly began looking for the map, I found it and spread it out on the ground. It wasn't that large, slightly bigger than an open book and it was drawn on yellow parchment. From the looks of it, I was in the Forest of Kre, why it was named so, I have no idea. Old Loamspoint was just outside of the forest and seemed to be a route often traveled upon. The trail I had camp next to was well worn and dusty, surrounding it where trees. Some had lots of leaves, some had none. It varied, but there was quite a lot of them for a post-apocalyptic environment. I put on the duster that I had been using as a pillow, it was brown. I looked down at my other clothes, I had a black t-shirt and blue jeans. White socks and red sneakers adorned my feet.
I laughed because I had to check what I was wearing, and didn't remember putting them on. Next to the sleeping bag was a sword in a black leather sheath, the sword was a scimitar with a curved blade and handle, it had a rusty pommel and a small rusty hilt. I grabbed the brown handle and drew the sword soundlessly, the blade itself was in good condition and swung it around series of graceful blows.
How do I know all this?
I quickly put the thought out of my mind and focused on packing. I finished it quickly and shouldered it, hoping to be at the town by afternoon, though the trees, dead or alive, shielded me from most of the sun. I began walking, but my foot collided with the empty water bottle, it flew a couple of feet, bounced with a puff of dust, and lay still. I stood there a while and decided to fill it up, might get thirsty. I picked it up and headed back towards a pond by the side of the road. It was murky and irradiated, only four feet deep and six across. I knelt beside it and stared at my reflection. I had long brown hair, which I knew already, and it hanged in front of my face. It looked like I had green eyes and a pale complexion, uneven teeth, but white. I looked young, seventeen perhaps? I knew not, nor cared, just filled up my water bottled and continued on my way.
I was concentrating on the beat of my steady pace, but I heard the sound of breaking twigs and the cocking of guns. A man burst out of the brush, wielding a 10 mm pistol in one hand, and brandishing a wicked smile. He had long black hair and a bushy beard.
Bandits.
My brain registered this thought automatically for me and I was still thinking about bandits, when he pulled the trigger. I stepped back a little bit and arched my back, as the bullet punched a hole in my chest, on the right side, right under the nipble. The men laughed and all of them stepped out.
Six.
They abruptly stopped laughing when I arched back up, the man who shot me was very close now. They were still trying to figure out what was happening, when I drew my scimitar and loped off the black beard's head.
Five.
The move was smooth and flawless, and his body and head landed with a thump, the blood pouring into the dirt. The others had surrounded me and where now trying to back up and fire at the same time. The trail was four feet wide and they were too slow. I couldn't see the bullets, but I could predict where they would go, and with that, I was able to “doge” the bullets. There were three men to my back, now my front, and two to my sides, diagonally. I threw off the backpack and ran to the middle one, I pierced threw the middle of his chest, pinning him to a tree.
Four.
Blood darkened his shirt and quickly removed the blade, jumping back to avoid the bullets. The one to the left of the tree guy was reloading, he was close enough for me to lope off his arms, he went to his knees, screaming at his uneven, bloody stumps. The man to the right was shocked at this ferocity and agility. He fell to his knees pleading.
“Please no! Let me go! Please I beg-”
I finished his sentence by slicing his throat open, he fell to the ground gurgling, then lay still.
Three.
I whirled around and pierced the skull of the still screaming man. The tip barely pierced the brain, but it was enough, and he fell backwards, landing on his back with his legs bent. A small bloody cut on his forehead.
Two.
I stumbled forward as two shots pierced my the top of my left shouldered and the bottom of my back. The man might of kept firing, but his gun jammed, and he looked at me in fear as a turned towards him. He tried running, but I had already closed the distance and sliced the left side of his neck. He went down into the dirt, with his head hanging, as if it was on a hinge.
One.
The other man was already running down the trail, like he was fleeing from the devil, dust rose up behind him . He was a good distance away, but the trail was straight, I cocked my arm back and threw the sword with all my might. It revolved twice, than buried itself in his back, he fell to the ground twitching and screaming, halfway towards him, the screaming stopped.
Zero.
I drew my sword out of him with a sickly sound and wiped the blood on a clean spot of his shirt. I then checked my sword and found it hardly even damaged. Looking down at myself, I traced the bullet wounds, the hole in clothes actually, the wounds had been healed, only dried blood remained.
What I'm I?
I just stood there breathing heavily, wondering why I wasn't dead, when hunger pangs made me double over. Suddenly ravenous, I rummaged threw their stuff, any food I found was quickly torn and devoured. After I was able to control myself, I grabbed one of their pistols and ammunition, a guy with just a sword was sure to attract attention. I rummaged through my pack, the bullet hole had only pierced some clothes, nothing big, the water was at the top and I drank it all.
“I knew I would need it,” I said to myself.
I shouldered the pack and looked up at the sun, still morning, the fray had set me back, but I still would be there by noon. I walked towards Old Loamspoint, all my questions would be answered, hopefully.
*If people would like me to continue, please say so.
