Author's Note

I recently got some dental work done, and now my mouth is killing me. That, along with school work doesn’t lead to favorable writing conditions. I’m surprised I was able to get this down, but here you go. My phone hates me, so there’s probably a capitalization error somewhere in here that I missed, along with the other odds and ends that comes with my writing.

Chapter 8: Urban Brawl. Part 1

I came across the ruins of a road, which stretched off to the north and to the south. If I went south, that would lead into hostile territory. Heading east would lead back to those bodies, and west was the direction I left in, so not a good idea to keep going that way. That left north as my only option, so I began heading north up the road. It stretched out into the horizon, eventually wandering into distance hills. It was still rather barren, which would assist the enemy in locating me. Several ruined vehicles scattered the road, so I made sure to keep a bit of distance from them just in case they are IED‘s. One can never be too careful when dealing with IED’s.

Later on down the road, I came across a Humvee flipped over on its roof on the side of the road. There was also a door missing, which looked like it was ripped off. Somethings not right about this. I quickly reattached my bayonet in preparation to skewer anything that gets too close.

On the side of the Humvee was the RSDF’s insignia, two swords crossed over a blue star. That struck me as somewhat odd since not only did we rarely use Humvees, but what was a it doing with a fictional nations’ military insignia? There was blood splattered on the inside. It was mostly splattered on the seats and dashboard, meaning it was flipped after the occupants were killed. That however brings the question of what flipped it. It wasn’t an IED, since there isn’t any shrapnel damage on the underside. Laying on the inside hidden behind a seat was a helmet mounted camera, which was still recording judging by the blinking light on the side. I grabbed it and stopped the recording by pressing a button on the side near the lens. Luckily it had a small screen that could fold out, allowing me to view the recording. Checking my surroundings and seeing nothing had changed, I turned back to the camera to start the playback.

Playback start: 13/6/2035
Time: 14:00

The recoding started in the Humvee I was sitting against as it was driving down a dirt road. It was from the point of view of the driver. I skipped through the first hour or so of it, which was just the vehicle driving through the jungle. At the 16:02 time stamp, the recording became staticky before regaining its focus, showing the wasteland I found myself in now. The audio had broken, so I could only assume the driver’s reaction was that of confusion. He turned to look at the person next to him, who just shrugged. After a few minutes the Humvee started moving again, heading down the road nearby. Eventually the vehicle came across a tall dark blue pony, which had large wings and a long horn. Seconds later the blue pony vanished into thin air. They have active camouflage now?!

Something hit the Humvee, causing the driver to smash his head into wheel, knocking off the helmet. The Humvee was definitely flipped at this point. The camera had fallen in a away so that it could see the the right side of the vehicle. A little later it showed the door being ripped off by a large, bipedal bear looking creature, which messily removed the bodies from the flipped vehicle.

Playback end

So that’s what happened to the Humvee. Hopefully those guys had a quick death. Standing up, I looked around for any signs of shimmering in the air, but there was nothing. Still just empty, mostly barren wasteland.

A notification appeared in front of me. New Objective: Regroup with squad leader. However no marker appeared in my vision anywhere, but at least I know Blackjack is here... somewhere. Actually this is probably a bad thing. He’s probably leveled a city block by now, if not an entire city.

So if I was God, where would I yeet Blackjack? Besides hell that is. I’d probably yeet him into a city environment, which doesn’t help me at all. Wait... I’m an absolute idiot. I have a radio; I just hope he’s in range.

"Bravo actual, this is Hotel 1-1, do you read me, over?"

"Hotel 1-1, I’m reading you 5 by 5. Send traffic, over."

"Bravo actual, permission to cease, over?"

"Sure Hanz, glad to hear from you. Speak your mind."

"Thanks. Anyway, where the hell are you? I got dropped by a small village like area."

"I’m in the city of Manehatten, and yes you heard me right, Manehattan. No clue where that is in relevance to you, but it’s somewhere on the east coast. Any land marks from where you are?"

"Uhh... got a mountain with a pink gas falling from it to my south-west, and I think what looks like some buildings to my far north, nothing south or east."

"Alright... well don’t just wander east. It’s up to you what you do, but... bang ... Fuck, get down! Sniper!”

That was the last thing I heard before the radio went silent. Well, he’s here. But who was he yelling at? Couldn’t have been me, not near him. He’ll radio back if he survives, so I guess I’ll just head north. Just focus on staying alive Hanz. You can’t regroup of you’re dead.

Keeping in the road north, I decided to him myself a tune to keep boredom at bay. I was a Pfc on a search patrol hunting Charlie down, it was in the jungle wars of ‘65. My weapon jammed and I got stuck way out and all alone, and I could hear the enemy moving in close outside...

Arriving on the outskirts, it turned out to be an industrial town; factories towards the north and housing south side. It definitely has raiders somewhere in the city, judging by the colorful decor of skinned ponies on crosses intermingled with spiked heads. Lovely. Quickly rain started to plink onto my helmet as it started to downpour. I hate the rain, it gets you cold and wet, and it’s just awful. Though, I guess it could mask my movement a tiny bit. I advanced to a street corner, peering down the MSR with my range finder. On a distant upper factory floor I spotted movement; it was a raider sniper. Checking for range, it read three hundred eighty-four meters.

Noticing a pile of ruble just in front of me, I ran up before diving to a prone position. I rested my rifle on the rubble, ranging the scope for four hundred meters, and lined up the shot. "But be not thou far from me, O my strength, haste thee to help me." I mumbled, gently squeezing the trigger. The round connected with its skull, exploding like a grape. The shot echoed a bit before fading; the rain to take prominent again. Another raider peaked its head in the window. I cycled the bolt, then gently squeezed the trigger. The round hit just over; it ducked back before its head got blown off. Damn.

Getting up, I sprinted into a nearby alley, climbing an old fire escape to the third floor from the top. The room I entered used to be a bedroom. The old bed had the skeleton of a pony still in it, a long decayed book laying on it. The door was missing from its frame. Probably lost when the apocalypse happened. The next room was the kitchen, with most of the appliances having been rusted over. A table sat in the center of the room, but it was barely intact due to age. Finally getting to the broken window on the north side of the apartment, I set up my rifle. Three raiders were moving down the street, about two hundred meters away.

"O my God, I trust in thee: let me not be ashamed, let not mine enemies triumph over me." I took shot. It connected with the lead raider, which collapsed like a sack of bricks. The other two scattered. Cycling the bolt; the next shot flew was true as well, striking down my foe. The last raider fled out of sight. It got lucky this time. It won’t be lucky next time.