Nuclear Winter: Prologue

• Posted by Todd June 24, 2015 - Filed in TSC: Fallout - 1,273 views

  

   

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  A voice grumbles in front of me. A hand presses the cold barrel of a revolver into my forehead. "You know too much, we can't just let y'go. Y'know that." As I move my hands, the rope that's binding them cuts into my wrists. I can smell the whiskey on my executioner's breath. My senses are heightened. I'm afraid.I hear movement coming from the grass to my right. Something's there, but I don't know what. The revolver's hammer clicks into place. Sweat beads on my forehead. "Sorry Reed, this is just the way it's gotta be." He prepares to fire. I feel the gun press further into my skin as he prepares to pull the trigger.

  Movement to my right. My executioner sees it too. His head turns away from me, giving me all the time I need. Quickly, I move my head to the side. The gun goes off, fired into the air where my head just was. Something leaps out of the grass. Wolves, a pack of them. My would-be executioner takes aim at one and fires, shooting off its lower leg. I kick him in the side of the knee, knocking him over. His bandito hat falls off his head and he grumbles in pain. He points the revolver at me again. "You son of a..!" The jaws of a wolf clamp down on his arm. I got lucky twice, let's hope this streak continues.

  I try to stand, but lose my balance. I come crashing down on the dented hood of an old destroyed car. A sharp piece of the car's hood cuts my arm. I look forward, watching as the pack of wolves encircles my former friends. My would-be executioner lies on the ground, and I see his breath rising in the cold January air. His arm and one of his legs have been badly bitten, and he's losing a lot of blood.

  I move, and the sharp metal cuts me again. Warm blood runs down my arm, its warmth is oddly welcomed. The blood starts to pool around the rope binding my hands. I feel behind me for the sharp piece of metal, and then I start using it to cut through the rope. Another gunshot rings out, and I hear a loud snarl as one of the wolves dives after the gunman. I need to hurry before they come for me.

  I free my hands, and then stand. The world goes fuzzy for a moment, but I steady myself. I turn, and then I try to run. Another gunshot rings out. Somehow I know that this one is meant for me. I feel a sharp pain in my right leg, and then the world goes black. My luck's run out.

  
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  My eyes shoot open, and I immediately close them. The bright white snow hurts to look at, but it doesn't hurt nearly as much as my leg. I stand, but I feel weak. What happened? What can I remember? The cold, gunshots, wolves, and the pain. So much pain. I turn around, looking for any signs of what happened.

  Bright red pools of blood stain the ground. People died here last night. I limp forward, looking at the carnage. The bodies of four or five wolves are splattered across the ground, mostly in pieces. Bloody footsteps lead off into the distance. Which direction are they going? North? South? A thought explodes into my head like a grenade: "This is just the way its gotta be."

  Last night, I was supposed to die here. I remember. I look around to see who's still here. Aside from the wolves, I can only see one other bloody mass. My would-be executioner. His chest rises and falls sporadically. Somehow he hasn't bled out.

  I limp to him, and his eyes dart toward me. His gun is still clenched in his hand, but I know he won't be able to move it in my direction. He's lost too much blood. I lean over, and pain shoots up my leg. I wrench the revolver from his hands. Fear shoots across his face. He knows what's going to happen. I look down at him and aim the revolver between his eyes. "Sorry hoss, this is just the way its gotta be."

  The gunshot echoes. Damn, I don't wanna attract any more wolves. I look down at my former friend, who's now no more than a bloody mess. His bandito hat lies next to him in the snow. I've always liked this hat. I pick it up and put it on my head. It's a little loose, but it'll do.

  I look back at the bloody footprints. Wherever they were going, I want to be far away. I turn around and limp forward. I need to get somewhere safe. If this gunshot doesn't kill me, the radioactive snow will. Let's just hope my luck isn't completely gone. I reach into my duster's pocket. Great, they're still here. I pull out one of my Big Boss cigarettes and stick it in my mouth. My luck hasn't run out just yet.