New York City was once beautiful. Huge glass skyscrapers glistened in the bright sunlight where thousands of people looked over the view, as they worked quietly in there offices. The 8 million citizens of this amazing place lived happily as American life was the charm in that peaceful age. But happiness never lasts. China ruined it, started a war. Us Americans fought at our best, wiping out the Chinese troops left and right. But we just weren’t good enough; in the last stand China used a nuke, the one weapon in which we destroyed in a matter of peace just 10 years ago. The nuke was dropped, and it destroyed Pennsylvania, part of Canada. And NYC. So in this year of 2055 I now have to survive. Alone.
I stand where my apartment used to be, which is now just a pile of rubble; decorated by random pieces of furniture and clothes that were once owned by some poor soul. The view that I can see is not tall buildings anymore, its fires, falling structures, rubble and death. I don’t see a single soul, only bodies. Not even birds fly across the sky anymore. I can’t be the only survivor can I? Not even my family can be seen, I’m the only lucky one. But then footsteps, close but echoing, drain away my thoughts. They’re like someone’s walking in some sort of tunnel or alleyway. My first instinct is to run towards the footsteps, thinking the person may be able to help me or give me some information. But then I think, no one should be trusted, not in this wasteland. I hide behind a low wall, one of the only ones that are left standing. Peking over the wall I see the person, a man about 5’7 tall strolling along with an assault rifle in hand. He’s wearing a uniform that’s completely black with a red berry hat on his head. A Chinese soldier. At that very moment the first soul I’ve seen to date came out of hiding, running towards the soldier like he was the best thing he had ever seen in his life. As he drew close, he started yelling at the army personnel. “HELP” he cried “My wife! It’s my wife, she’s trapped! Under some stupid piece of fucking rubble, she’s bleeding. Needs medical attention. NOW!” The soldier stepped to the side, now facing the screaming man. He lifted his rifle, and shot. 30 odd bullets sprayed over the helpless man. Killing him in seconds. His lifeless body fell to the ground, his eyes wide but emotionless. The soldier steps close to the man, sending just one more bullet straight through the centre of his skull. I can’t take it. I press my back against the wall hunching down into a small ball, resting my head into my knees. No tear drops from my eyes but only pure shock and terror runs through my body. I sit there shaking, in disbelief of the entire situation. My ears are ringing, not only due to the loud rifle but that my emotions overcome me. I look up and my world is spinning, dizziness controls me as I drop to the side. Still hidden, but unconscious.
Sunlight gleams on the side of my face, awakening me from what seems an eternity. Wiping my eyes I sit up, only to almost fall back down again with the shock of waking up oh so quickly. My eyes feel heavy, and it’s hard to move my arms with the enormous weight which seems to be pulling them down. My head lifts just slightly as I see the sun being earlier into the day then before, I wonder how long I was out. I rub my thumping head and suddenly realise something very different. I’m bald. Why would someone do this? What is the pure point they are trying to prove? I look to see the man, which was shot just meters away from my eyes. And he as well, has a bald head. What is this? Some type of old Chinese tradition? I don’t think so, it’s something more. Something more intense. I remember what the man said beforehand, about his wife. My stomach rumbles with a true hatred of myself not eating, but someone else than myself is more important. Trying my best to stand up I stumble, tip and fall multiple times with just finally standing as I almost gave up. Staggering along I head the direction that the man came, towards the south. I travel carefully but quickly, only after 10 minutes to arrive at what seemed to be a camp site. But now looks looted and destroyed and all of the residents gone. I see a pile of rubble which seems to be at the man description, this must have been his home. I expect to find a woman trapped, alive but hurt. But I under estimated the power of death. I see her, skinny with blood marks almost all over her body. She looks alive, but this I cannot be sure of. Walking to the other side of her I realise why she isn’t moving, her foot that once must have been stuck under that large amount of rubble has been tore off, probably with her own force. It now looks to have been poorly wrapped, with the woman’s last amount of strength. I realise her bald head and see that she can’t have died of blood loss after all. With full disrespect I turn over the body so I can see her face, she’s shot, right in the middle of the chest. But with and arrow this time. What came over them to use such old tools? Something of which that hasn’t been used a lot since 2020? Just over 30 years ago. I shut her eyes and decide that I should leave their stuff here, realising that I don’t want to be the bad guy in this occasion.
Going through my knowledge of this general area I know that a large supermarket lays just a few blocks away, I just need to find out if I am able to get there. I used to walk in this recently built tunnel called the Underground Path. This was built as so many people were getting killed in a car –pedestrian accident, which basically means cars running over people. It was finished just barely a year ago and I figure that it must still be up and standing and I know it’s the quickest way to the supermarket. Finding the nearest entry I look at the once LED screen that lies on its back showing the words ‘broken, needing assistance’ I guess they were right, it really does have a mind of its own. I step down the first few stairs and see a rucksack in fairly good condition. Stepping towards it I see it can’t really belong to anyone as no sign of life is around me. I pick the bag up and notice just how light it looked but just how heavy it is. It’s a blue and grey bag, large like the ones me and my dad used to use as climbing ruck sacks. It’s got two shoulder straps that are thick and seem to carry the weight effortlessly, with 2 extra straps to fit around your waist and chest. With over 6 pockets to place other things and a sealable pocket at the top to stop from the contents being ruined. It even has the new water proof seal which means the bag basically has its own rain coat so nothing can get wet. Perfect. Opening the top I see what’s really inside this mysterious bag, a large rain coat sits on the top, removing it I see it’s over 5 sizes too big for me, but oh well. I then take the next object out which is a portable stove, not knowing if there’s any gas for it though. The stove is small but the brand means it’s powerful, its round and has 3 parts to it, the stand, the small square box for the fluid and the bowl and lid for the cooking itself. Very handy. The next thing is a book, useless. And at the bottom lays just a pillow and blanket which is ultimately one of the best things yet. I clear out the over few pockets finding a flint, a flashlight, a blunt knife, some pens and an empty water bottle. But no gas canister for the stove, that’s unfortunate. But overall, I became real lucky finding all this.
Swinging the rucksack onto my back I notice the pure quality of the bag. It’s comfy, and the weight spreads nicely across my body. Leaving my weak figure some way of carrying this seemingly heavy bag. Turning on my flashlight I see down the tunnel entrance. Collapsed. ‘Damn’ I think to myself ‘It was my only way through’ Turning around I make my way back up the steps. The sunlight blinds my eyes, leaving me dazed and dizzy for several seconds. When I regain my senses I see a dog. Sitting just a few feet in front of me. It raises its paw almost like its begging. But what does it need?
It’s a small dog, its fur grey but some of the natural white burns through, trying to escape the dust and ash that covers the dogs’ body. It ears point high but one twitching back as it tries to beg and send some sort of message to me. Its muzzle is fairly long but still sits quite close to the dogs’ brown, pearl like eyes. The dogs’ long strands of fur seem to stand to attention as I take a step closer. I know this breed; it’s an American Eskimo, miniature of course. I bend down reaching my hand out to the poor animal which lies in front of me. ‘Here dog’ I call out in an attempt to start to gain its trust ‘Here doggy doggy’ the dog then rests its’ paw and takes a step towards me. But then a bullet whizzes in front of me. Hitting it’s victim…
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