» Fri May 27, 2011 10:15 am Chapter 1
I had to keep running. Like so many around me, if I stopped, I'd be dead. There were explosions all around me, fire engulfed anything that was still left around us. As we charged the hill we were constantly trying to evade a mixture of grenades, gunshots, and laser fire. I heard a growl far in front of me, a clink, and I saw something fly at us through the air. There was a massive bang behind me and I dropped to the ground, it felt as if my ears imploded. My vision went blurry, my hearing began to ring. All I could hear was the dull "thud, thud, thud" of shots hitting bodies. With a crack, corpse fell on top of a dead tree branch right next to me. There was a burn on the back of his head, presumably where a laser shot hit him. The poor bastard probably died before he hit the ground.
The enemy knew no fear, no mercy, followed no law. They'd go through and systematically shoot the bodies (if there was such a thing as a "system" with THEIR kind) in the zone directly after the end of the battle. I'd have no hope if I stayed there. With intense effort, I pushed myself up. My head felt like it was being crushed between a clamp, but I had to keep going. In the chaos I had lost my .30-06 rifle, so I had to resort to my 1911 .45 Springfield. I ripped it out of its holster with unnecessary force, almost causing it to fly out of my hand. Trying to kill one of them with a .45 is like trying to hunt a moose with a .22 long rifle, but it was betting than trying to use my fly swatter-like hands. Having agreed to the Terms of Honor, I was bound not to leave battle, else I risked being guilty of insubordination. Dizzy, I staggered off in a zigzagging pattern sideways to God knows where.
That's when it hit me, who the hell would care if I abandoned the army or not? The platoon was dead. If anybody was still alive it would only be a matter of time when their remains would be discovered with the heads blown clear off. I made my decision; I ran for it.
Chapter 2
The year was 2322, give or take 250 years since the bombs had fallen. Nobody cared about the exact date anymore, nobody gave a [censored] about history. Who wanted to remember the world all nice and happy-go-lucky before everything went to hell? If anything, that would just depress them. Hell, I don't think there were records left of the good old U.S. of A. before then. Yeah, the occasional piece of junk mail and and a power bill here or there in a mailbox, but most of it was gone, burned along with everything else in the blasts. The lucky few that were close enough ran in to one of the close-by Vaults, a so-called "safe haven" by the President. Pfft, that guy knew jack [censored] about anything. I guess he couldn't take into account the gas leak that would drive everybody insane, or the crazy that occupied every Vault, constantly trying to leave.
