Muted footsteps moved closer. The sound of heavy breathing followed. I couldn’t move. Every muscle in my body ached and screamed in pain. I could feel the presence of people around me, but I still couldn’t find enough strength in me to open my eyes.
How bad?
Bad.
Something pried my eyelids open. I could see the dark sky above me. Nothing but black dust. Four large people sat around my body. All were dressed in bulky white suits so that they weren’t exposed to the outside air. And here I was lying in the dirt vulnerable and hurt. I couldn’t see their eyes through the helmets they wore, but I knew they were all looking at me. Suddenly, there was a flash of white light; then I was plunged back into the dark. My eyes had fallen closed again.
What do we do?
There’s no room left in the truck for the half dead. We need to find survivors. Leave her. It doesn’t look like it has much longer anyway. The voice held authority.
What about the boy?
Been dead for days. Let’s go.
Their footsteps moved away, but there was still a presence left behind. It was eerily silent other than my ragged breathing. Then came the sound of a gun loading, and cocking. Slowly, I found it in me to open my eyes. With my eyes half open, I stared at the man above me. The white suit he wore reminded me of a spaceman.
He had a gun in his hand, and it was pointed down at me.
He was a soldier. Working for what government was left after the apocalypse of WW3.
I was a survivor, a part of a resistance group, living in the destroyed remains of the city. We stood against everything they stood for and for that we had become a problem.
We should have shot each other dead on sight...but fate had other plans for us...
