(I would like to note that colony has proven to be everything I could want. Thank you.)
For eight hours I had been traveling with my 'friends' and already I had seen four people murdered. First was a woman, who had all the loot we could need and the red armbands we'd come to identify ourselves with. Second a kid with an axe – must've been crazed to think this was all a game. Third... a man who meant us no harm who was killed in the heat of the moment. There was shouting, pleas, guns waving around, and I guess it took one squeeze of the trigger to make it all go bad. Fourth was Billy, another kid, but a friend. He thought that the water could make him fly, and by that point we knew that his insanity had to be put down.
Back before all of this I would've thought murdering four people was lunacy, but now? I think that it was all worth it for a car. That was the dream, being able to go from town to town picking up survivors and trading supplies. We'd be able to hide the car at night in the woods and live happily. But this is the end of days, and I've not got the time for dreams.
The rumble in my stomach was too unbearable and we exhausted our food quickly. I was starving – my own body killing itself. I always heard my parents say 'kids in third world countries don't get this much to eat in a week.' Now I believe it and I understood why such places were so violent, because in that instant I was half tempted to murder and cook one of my own friends, but not even I'm that sick. So I decided to return back to the coast with one of them while the others rested and waited for us.
Two backpacks of gear and weaponry, full camouflage, and two crack shots side by side... I never thought what would happen would happen. We were just talking, chatting as we rushed through the hills towards the carrier. Out of no where POP! Instinctively I jumped behind the bush.
“Just run!” my friend screamed as he bolted for the hillside. I took a deep breath and ran myself, going tree to tree for cover.
“Where are you!?”
No response. He was dead, I knew it, probably a headshot. I didn't have time to stop, to think, to mourn. I only had time to run and that's what I did. I wasn't going to die. I couldn't die. I wouldn't die. POP POP POP POP POP! It was a volley that sent terror through my spine and my eyes watered with the fear of dying. Maybe it was that moment of doubt that did it, or maybe I was screwed either way, but a chunk of my leg got blown out from under me and blood began spurting.
Running was impossible and I did the only thing I could do, take cover. I hid behind a tree and looked through my bags for any medicine. Damnit... my friend had them in his pack. I looked back down the hill – but as soon as I did there it came again; POP POP POP! I raised my repeater and took a few shots, but there was no way I'd be able to kill him. I couldn't even see him. I went back into cover and tried to rip my jacket up into a rag, but it didn't work – I was took weak from the blood loss to rip it.
This couldn't be it. I couldn't die like this – not from a face I didn't even know over a fucking backpack full of broken shit.
“Come on, man! Please! You can have it all!” I tried to bargain from behind the tree, but my only outcome was POP POP POP! I took a breath, knowing now that if I fought my way out of it, I could get to the bandages. I could live. I posed in a bush the best I could and started firing my gun blindly into the wilderness – a hail marry.
POP! One last shot. I had fallen down with a bullet in my gut and black blood pooling from my liver. The only thing I could do was think of that car and my dream... and my eyes began to fade... everything went black. Death had found me.
For eight hours I had been traveling with my 'friends' and already I had seen four people murdered. First was a woman, who had all the loot we could need and the red armbands we'd come to identify ourselves with. Second a kid with an axe – must've been crazed to think this was all a game. Third... a man who meant us no harm who was killed in the heat of the moment. There was shouting, pleas, guns waving around, and I guess it took one squeeze of the trigger to make it all go bad. Fourth was Billy, another kid, but a friend. He thought that the water could make him fly, and by that point we knew that his insanity had to be put down.
Back before all of this I would've thought murdering four people was lunacy, but now? I think that it was all worth it for a car. That was the dream, being able to go from town to town picking up survivors and trading supplies. We'd be able to hide the car at night in the woods and live happily. But this is the end of days, and I've not got the time for dreams.
The rumble in my stomach was too unbearable and we exhausted our food quickly. I was starving – my own body killing itself. I always heard my parents say 'kids in third world countries don't get this much to eat in a week.' Now I believe it and I understood why such places were so violent, because in that instant I was half tempted to murder and cook one of my own friends, but not even I'm that sick. So I decided to return back to the coast with one of them while the others rested and waited for us.
Two backpacks of gear and weaponry, full camouflage, and two crack shots side by side... I never thought what would happen would happen. We were just talking, chatting as we rushed through the hills towards the carrier. Out of no where POP! Instinctively I jumped behind the bush.
“Just run!” my friend screamed as he bolted for the hillside. I took a deep breath and ran myself, going tree to tree for cover.
“Where are you!?”
No response. He was dead, I knew it, probably a headshot. I didn't have time to stop, to think, to mourn. I only had time to run and that's what I did. I wasn't going to die. I couldn't die. I wouldn't die. POP POP POP POP POP! It was a volley that sent terror through my spine and my eyes watered with the fear of dying. Maybe it was that moment of doubt that did it, or maybe I was screwed either way, but a chunk of my leg got blown out from under me and blood began spurting.
Running was impossible and I did the only thing I could do, take cover. I hid behind a tree and looked through my bags for any medicine. Damnit... my friend had them in his pack. I looked back down the hill – but as soon as I did there it came again; POP POP POP! I raised my repeater and took a few shots, but there was no way I'd be able to kill him. I couldn't even see him. I went back into cover and tried to rip my jacket up into a rag, but it didn't work – I was took weak from the blood loss to rip it.
This couldn't be it. I couldn't die like this – not from a face I didn't even know over a fucking backpack full of broken shit.
“Come on, man! Please! You can have it all!” I tried to bargain from behind the tree, but my only outcome was POP POP POP! I took a breath, knowing now that if I fought my way out of it, I could get to the bandages. I could live. I posed in a bush the best I could and started firing my gun blindly into the wilderness – a hail marry.
POP! One last shot. I had fallen down with a bullet in my gut and black blood pooling from my liver. The only thing I could do was think of that car and my dream... and my eyes began to fade... everything went black. Death had found me.
Last edited by Newman on Sun Nov 22, 2015 3:51 am, edited 1 time in total.