Author Topic: Wasteland  (Read 1252 times)

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Offline Little

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« on: March 28, 2008, 08:43:44 pm »
Jake casually climbed over the torched car in the middle of the freeway, his girlfriend in front of him. The shotgun slung to his back felt lighters, as if he was getting fitter. Hell, the shotgun was high quality, too. Three thousand dollar price tag, and he had just walked into the store and taken.

No alarms, nothing. They had seen other survivors, but had not gotten too close. Some of them looked rather dangerous, like that group of people in combat fatigues, gas masks,carrying assualt rifles and had a group of women chained in the middle.

Rachel,my girlfriend, wanted to go after them, but I convinced her not too. No point in getting killed.

We were trying to get away from the cities, in case there were still missiles left. I highly doubted it, judging by the display of fireworks a few weeks ago. At the moment, we were going through a city that had a direct hit. F**king corpses everywhere. Smelled awful, too. Odd how when the government finally perfects radiation free weapons, the first thing they do is fire them off.

F**k it. Eric was dead. Burned alive in his own car. His own brother! He had remained calm on the outside for Rachel's benefit, but he was crumbling down inside. The Army was being deserted on a massive scale, and judging on how the radio stations were being 'censored' some very bad things were happening. There were rumors of diseases being released, but Jake doubted that.

What's the point when every major city on Earth is fried, torched, and torched again. There were burned wrecks of cars everywhere, especially on routes out of the big cities. Mass panic had occurred when the first launch was detected. Missiles were still crashing down, although farther away and with much less frequency.

Jake didn't see the point of getting a car, as the roads were fairly blocked up, and Rachel never learned how to ride a bike. She always took a taxi instead.

So they were stuck, traveling on foot through the burned landscape. Everything was black or grey, and ash rained down constantly.

The world was turning into a wasteland.


Three days later...

No doubt about it, the world was going to hell. Some stupid bastard had lit half the city on fire somehow. I was on top of a radio tower,sniper cradled in my hand, some distant blocks of the city blazing on the horizon. My name is Eric Sharp, and I was doing fine until a few weeks ago, when I was at the football stadium. I saw one of the missile fly up. I actually saw one go up into the sky!

I got in my car and drove home with my son, who was at the game with me. I picked up my two daughters, and we started driving...I couldn't get my wife....I couldn't get to her. My son keeps trying to persuade me she's fine, but she worked about a block from where the first missile hit. Luckily, my son told my daughters and I to get out of the car and into the houses when we saw the missile,still a dot, in the sky above us. We went in,and to our amazement, the paranoid son of a b*tch who lived there had a bomb shelter! He wasn't home, luckily, judging by the weapons he had stashed in there. That's where my sniper came from. He had almost everything we needed in there. Food, medical supplies, weapons.

We hid in there for a few days, then we came out...right into a group of soldiers. The bastards took my daughter, and shot my son, and knocked me out! THEY TOOK MY DAUGHTERS!

I woke up a short time later and went back inside and got my son some bandages and a first aid kit. I stopped the bleeding and used disinfectant on his arm. He let out a string of obscenities I didn't think he even knew. I bandaged up his arm and we started searching for the f**kers.

Me and my beloved son Richard finally found them, patrolling the city.

I'm cooped up on top of the tower,holding my gun, looking at their party through the scope. About thirty well armed troops, and about twenty women, looking from ages 12 to ages 30. My daughters were down there, my loving daughters. Those crude sons of a b*tches had put signs around the women's necks. Each sign had the captive names on it, I presume, as my daughters signs did.

I'm going to make their captor's pay with their lives, and it will hopefully be a slow and painful death for all the evil f**kers.


Tylor crouched behind the burned out car husk, stolen assault rifle clenched tightly in his hands. He could see Jake, a good twenty feet away, an expression of anger etched on his face that Tylor didn't think was possible. Jake had the shotgun clenched in his palms, looking ready to free Rachel or die trying.

Tylor had first met Jake a short distance outside the city, curled up in a ball, clutching his knee(which had a small sized bullet hole in it) crying his eyes out. Tylor had gotten his first aid kit out of his backpack and bandaged up Jake's knee. Jake seemed delirious and kept mumbling things like: 'They took her!' and 'I'll kill them!', which Tylor found quite creepy. Jake went to sleep, and about two hours later, after taking a leak and taking a drink of bottled water, told Tylor what happened.

Jake and his girlfriend,Rachel, had been leaving the city when they walked right into a patrol of soldiers. They shot Eric in the knee and took Rachel, and that's where Ty6lor found him six hours later.

Now, they had followed the group(which weren't the best at concealing their path, or maybe they didn't care) back into the city, outside what looked like and empty radio tower. They were going to attack the group once all of them had gone to sleep, but Eric thought that wasn't good enough. He figured that the soldiers would rape the group of captive women, and he did not want to hear that happen to Rachel. Plus, what would happen if they were found? he wanted to attack as quickly as possible.

Tylor wasn't sure what was going to happen and what they were going to do, but he had his thinking interrupted by a loud gunshot a wet,splattering sound, and a cry of surprise. Somebody was attacking the soldiers, and now was a better time then never. He looked to Jake, nodded once, and stood up.

He was still mostly covered by the car, and so was Jake, judging by a quick glance. He thought as he started to fire: 'I might die out here, but I'm going to take down some of those bastards with me.'

The assault rifle spat out lead into the crowd of soldiers, who were starting to stand up and reach for their guns. The women were starting to run.

Tylor smiled as he saw a soldier's head blow apart.

Someone up there was helping them, using hot bullets as their tool....


I smiled as I reloaded my sniper. I saw a couple of the soldiers look up and raise their rifles, then I heard two loud BOOMS and a few of them crumpled. My son, my beloved son, aimed his rifle and fired. The shot hit one of them in the chest, blowing a nice hole in the bastard. My son had finally been allowed to use heavier guns in Cadets this year, and it was coming in handy now.

I looked through my scope and fired again, hitting another troop in the leg. I saw a spray of red, then I heard screams of agony. I felt a smile on my lips. They were going to pay.

There were about ten soldiers left, and they were retreating, which was surprising. I took my eyes away from the scope and surveyed the street below me. Some crazy bastard with a assault rifle of some sort was firing at them, along with a guy with a shotgun.

And then I saw my daughters, running from their captors. I saw one of them turn around, scream: "Run, b*tches!" and whip out a magnum. I was shifting my sights to him, fear gripping my stomach. I saw him shoot apart my eldest daughter, only to be mowed down by rifle fire a second later.

I started to cry. My son looked up at me and said: "Dad, what's wrong?" He looked back and saw his sister, lying on the pavement with a dark stain spreading from her chest.

He began to cry. The remaining soldiers were fleeing now. The guy that was fighting the soldiers with a shotgun was clutching his shoulder and crying, while his friend was still firing at the retreating figures. The cars they were using for cover had bullet holes in them in several spots.

I could see the former captives, hiding in cars, on the sides of the streets, and a few in an alley. A second later, my thoughts were swept aside by a wave of grief..and joy, joy that one of my daughters was still alive through this hellhole, and a wave of grief that one of them was dead.

My son was crying, I could hear him. I put down my rifle and hugged him, while in the background, the rifle was still blazing after using several clips and the man was screaming obscenities at the fleeing deserters.


One year later...

The road ahead of me was mostly clear of cars, due to the cleaning up done at Gaiten. Gaiten was a small village of about a hundred people that had banded together for survival. There were small farms, a couple engineers to set up power....It was ideal for me and my group!

Jake was in the seat beside me, riding shotgun literally and figuratively. My son was in the seat beside him, and my was in the seat behind me. My beautiful daughter, age eleven. Tylor(crazy bastard) and Marcus(the newest edition to our group, he seemed to know Tylor somehow, he'd been with us for a few months) were sharing the back two seats in this cramped minivan. at the back of the minivan, and near our feet were some pipes, going to upgrade the irrigation system.

We were driving steadily along the cleared road, through the burned landscape. Tylor kept flicking with Marcus's god d**ned lighter in the backseat, and it was starting to annoy me, although I didn't show it.

We arrived at the village and drove in. Everyone seemed happy at the pipes, and the engineers took them away right away, along with the farmers.

I went to sleep, job well done. I lived in a small condo with my son and daughter, Tylor and Marcus were in the condo beside us.

My head hit the pillow and I went to sleep almost immediately after. Finding irrigation pipes is hard work.

I woke up to the smell of smoke.


I was having the time of my life. I could feel the heat through my thin T-shirt, and it was only going to get a helluva lot hotter. I was in the town's pathetic town hall,with my good friend Marcus's lighter, and I had already started a fairly large fire on the upper story, and a really small gas fire on the bottom.

That was going to change for the better.

I had several cans of the town's gas heaped on a pile, along with a stick of dynamite from the quarry two hundred miles away. I had been saving it for a big bang, and that big bang was here.

I laughed and I noticed I sounded a little crazy. Ah, well. Can't be helped when your a pyro, I guess.

I threw in the stick of dynamite and threw in a couple more gas cans on top. This place had a lot of gas, due to having to use generators before the power plant was back online. It was a pyro's dream.

I began to walk towards the door, pouring a trail of gas on my way out. At the door, I bent down and lit the path of fuel. It burned my fingers a bit as it burst into flames and began following it's destiny. I began to run.


 was running my d**n hardest to get out and see what the smoke was. Judging how my lighter was missing, and was last seen in the hands of my good friend Tylor, I had a good idea that something BIG was on fire. I mean, it was MY lighter! He was probably burning down a building....Hopefully, it didn't involve the White Toyota or it was likely everyone in this tiny town was going to be dead within the next thirty seconds.

Hell, Tylor wasn't THAT stupid. Sure, his best friend was me, a former terrorist. Sure, he had a habit of lighting large fires, and finding the things the make them explo-

I heard a gigantic THWUMP! followed about three seconds later by CRWBSSS!. I had time to duck down and start softly praying before I heard a loud splintering noise, and a large crash.

Oh hell, Tylor, you've done it AGAIN! I rushed outside of the small house I was staying in, and saw Tylor staggering away from the massive blaze where the town hall had been yesterday. His shirt was on fire, and the bastard was laughing manically while tears ran down his face.

I sprinted up to him and tore the burning, ragged shirt off him, quickly throwing it to the ground.


I let go of him. He seemed dazed, and his skin was a bright pink, probably due to burns. That didn't stop me from punching him in the face.

He fell to the ground, clutching his nose. I could see blood on his hand.

I yelled: "Did you tell the kid what may be the most important thing in our G*DD*MNED LIVES? DID YOU?!"

He stammered out a quiet: "Yes...."

I stomped away, heading to the last White Toyota that needed to be placed. I opened the car door, climbed into the driver's seat and slammed the door behind me. While swearing under my breath, Eric's kid popped out of the back, making me jump and swear loudly.

He grinned: "Hi, Mr.Marcus. Jake is back here, too. I told him, figuring we'd need some extra firepower."

I grinned: "Thanks, Eric's son. Did you tell your dad? He knows where your going, and he approves?"

He looked guilty for a moment, enough to tell me he hadn't. He smiled a split second after the frown and said: "Yes, sir! He fully agreed!"

I started the White Toyota, it's load bouncing heavily in the trunk, and began to drive. I wondered how big the trunk was. Probably big enough to fit a few hundred pounds of the required objects.

I smiled to myself. There was no way out now, but I was going to clear my conscience and erase my mistakes.


One year later....

Tylor sighed, holding back a urge to scream. The plan between him and Marcus had gone well, now Jake, Marcus and Eric's boy were more than likely ash. The positive thing was that the terrorist cell that haunted his past was ash, along with half of the city. It had been a large, carefully planned explosion. Marcus had taken the pains to get the trucks(fairly easy after the Armageddon), get the explosives, drive them to the city without being detected, and arrange them carefully.

All he had needed to do was hit the button when the kid pressed a button on the walkie-talkie. It had exploded, and the entire group of the crazy bastards Marcus and him had called friends were gone.

Eric was about twenty feet away from him, still searching frantically. It had been like this for three hundred sixty two days, and Tylor decided it was time for Eric to get the f**king message, that the kid was dead.

Just as Tylor was going to deliver this message to Eric by walking up to him, turning him around and screaming it into his face, he hard a voice behind him yell: "Dad! Tylor! Is that you!?"

Tylor spun around and the kid was there, looking like a orphan from an old war movie, but there he was.

Eric screamed: "EDWARD! THANK GOD!" and ran towards his son, hugging him tightly when he reached him.

Tylor smiled awkwardly, looking at the two.


6 hours later....

A small mini-van drove down the highway, speed limits be d**ned, into the sunset. If one were to listen closely, one could hear a voice talking about how he hid in the subway station, and someone else laughing.

The small van drove into the sunset....

The best person ever.  She should have won the Peace Prize.

What? No full control over children? You do realize that some of us have particular plans for those children.