This is a new FF I'm working on, and I want to write it while I can keep the inspiration ebbing. It's going to follow a mid-thirties officer and his life as the bombs fall. I don't want to give much more away as it'd ruin the plotline.


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Chapter 1: The Tranquil Life

October 23, 2077
6:30 A.M.
Saturday

The dawning sun peered through the window of the suburban home in D.C., the weather was perfect, the air was pleasant to inhale with the light chill of fall. Jack Royal had come downstairs, his gun in his holster, his uniform perfectly in order, and his hair combed in a neat clean cut style, his hat under his arm. “Morning sweetheart,” he kissed his wife Emma on the cheek as he sat down to a breakfast of toast and bacon with a side of orange juice, “You bring in the paper yet? I want to read it a bit before I get to work. Where’s Timothy? He should be getting ready for his field trip to Little Lamplight Caverns.” Emma said in an unworried tone, “Oh, Timmy’s upstairs getting dressed, he’ll be down in a minute.” She pulled down a box of Sugar Bombs and grabbed a glass of milk from the fridge, pouring a bowl of cereal for Timothy. “Timmy, time for breakfast!” Emma had shouted up the staircase, within a minute loud thumping as their son, who just turned ten two days ago, came racing down the stairs making loud car noises as he came rushing in with his toy Corvega. “Morning Mom, Morning Dad!” He said cheerily as he plopped down next to his dad, and started eating his cereal. “Morning Timmy, you excited about your field trip?” Jack asked Timmy, his face unmoving from behind ‘The Capitol Post’. Before he could answer his father, his dad sighed in annoyance. “Those darn Chinese are still causing problems, but it’s okay, we beat their buts in Anchorage, we sure as heck can beat them up the Yangtze.” He got up and put on his cap and ruffled his son’s hair. “See you kiddo, I’m off to work.” He adjusted the silver badge on his briast that said ‘D.C. Metro Police’ and walked out the door waving to his family goodbye as he reached the squad car parked out in the driveway, heading for Downtown D.C.

Chapter 2: Care to clock in one last time?

7:45 A.M.

Jack pulled in to the police station in the heart of D.C., the roads were largely empty, so he didn’t have too much trouble getting to work. “Morning Will, how’s it going?” He nodded to his fellow officer. Will, a man who was roughly 6’2 and red, oiled back hair, sighed a little, “Not to good, the wife left me and went off with her rich parents to some Vault. I told her that nonsense about a war happening was ridiculous, and she just said ‘suit yourself’. Not used to an empty house Jack.” Jack’s heart pulsed in pity a little, “I’m sorry to hear that Will, you’re a good guy, and for what it’s worth, I think this war nonsense is foolish too.” They walked in together, the highly polished floor of the lobby had the crest of the city of D.C. was in the center. He walked past the front desk, where the elder secretary named Christine was typing away at the RobCo computer, likely the day’s newest announcements. Finally reaching the staff rooms, he punched in his time card and walked over to office where his cubicle was. “Morning Alan.” He said happily to his partner. “How’s it going?” Alan looked up from a report and said in an impassive tone, “Alright I suppose, filing reports. How was the way in?” Jack gave a half laugh, “Well, with how high gas prices are, not to many people driving these days, and since the city pays for the squad cars gas, I don’t pay for it, so traffic was pretty light, got stuck for a minute in a car crash.” Alan raised his eyebrows. “No kidding? I’m working on that report right now. “Speaking of reports, guess what you get to do today.” He grinned and pointed his pencil as a woman came by and put around thirty reports on his desk, “Ah geez, I have to fill all these out?” He grumbled a bit as he pulled out a pencil and started on the stack of reports.

6:00 P.M.

Jack, who was alone as Alan had left three hours earlier, was glad his reports were finished, as this gave him the last thirty minutes of his shift to clean and polish his gun. He cleared out each of the chambers for the bullets, and wiped down the outsides. Without hearing him, his chief came in and stopped in front of Jack. “Evening Royal, can you put your gun down a moment?” Jack put his pistol down. “Er, yes sir, Chief Willow. Sorry, my wife doesn’t like me having my gun out around Timmy.” The chief waved a dismissing hand, “It’s alright, look, Jack, I need you and a few others out on evening patrol, got word of a possible Chinese terrorist attack tonight, we need the police out in force.” Jack looked a little uncomfortable. “But, sir, I have church in the morning, can’t we get someone else?” Chief Willow looked at him understandingly, “Look, it’s alright Jack, you’ll be paid double overtime for this.”
Jack gave a sigh, “Well, I DO need the money. Alright sir, I’ll go.” He put his hat on and holstered his pistol.

8:28 P.M.

Jack walked down the street, his feet aching from two and a half hours on foot patrol. He stopped in front of the Radiation King shop and watched a little of the nightly news. He folded his arms and stood to watch, listening to the voices through the window. He tilted his head left to scratch his ear, and saw a young man running down the street. “HEY YOU! STOP IN THE NAME OF THE LAW!” He boiled with anger as he saw why he was running; the young kid had written ‘Long live the people’s revolution! Long live Chairman Cheng!’. He chased the young man down an alley, corned; the kid put his hands up in surrender. As he inched closer, his small six shooter pistol pointed at the young man, the kid couldn’t have been older than nineteen. “Alright kid, why are you spray painting that commie crap on walls? Those Chinese are merciless kid; I had a friend who saw how ‘friendly’ they were back in Anchorage. They’re merciless, kill without hesitation. If it was legal, I’d shoot you here and now, but I can arrest you for the graffiti.” He put the kid on his stomach and hand cuffed him. He then patted the kid down, finding a pamphlet called ‘The glories of communism America won’t tell you about.’ He picked the young man and walked him towards the direction of the station. He looked at his watch and saw it was already 11:30. He walked behind the kid and was about to talk to him, but as he opened his mouth; he heard a roaring scream, the sound of air raid sirens. He started to run, but being a conscientious person; he ran back and uncuffed the young man and said urgently, “Listen, don’t play around, something’s wrong, go for cover, in the sewer, in a basemant, I don’t care, just get to safety kid.” With that, Jack ran back to the police station, knowing he’d be needed soon.

I like it so far, can't wait for more.