Nuclear Winter: Count

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    Gunshots ring out from all sides. Where am I? Bullets ricochet off of steel beams and shatter the remains of windows. Tall buildings, coun'less cars. Detroit? I don't know. I peer out over the side of the overturned desk that I've taken shelter behind. Just had to walk into a firefight, didncha? Two gangs, presumably raiders, are firing at each other just ahead of me. Two fallen buildings turned this area into an arena-like pit, and they brought the fight right into the center. 

    How many are there? Ten? Fifteen? Can't see 'em all. More gunshots. Must've stopped to reload. One of them turns in my direction, I duck down to avoid being seen. I hear screams as the first raiders begin to fall. Count 'em. One. Two. Three. The ground shakes beneath me and I hear a loud explosion. Missile launcher. Four. Five. More shots ring out, but soon fall silent. Out of ammo? I hear muttered curses as they rush at each other, soon followed by a few dull thuds. Six. Seven. Eight.

    The noises stop and I peer over the desk once more. One man is standing in the center of the pit. Last one, eh? He takes out a revolver and loads it. Six shots, .44 Magnum. He walks over to one of the fallen raiders and points the revolver at her head. Count 'em. The shot rings out. One. I look around for another hiding place. The front door to one of the fallen houses swings freely on one remaining hinge. Another shot rings out. Two. I hear the door to the other house open. Must've been a sniper in there. I look again and the man is gone. Staying low and staying quiet, I dart to the other house. 

    The inside of the house is ruined. Broken cabinets and overturned furniture are scattered everywhere. The floorboards are weak and I can see down into the cellar at times. I hear something move on the floor above me, which is odd. Thought that story was destroyed? I take out my revolver and look at the chamber. Only two shots. Shit. I look for a stairway, but all I find is a collapsed stairwell and pieces of broken steps. Today is not my lucky day... The second story is just out of reach. Maybe if I jump... Ah, Hell with it... I jump, and just barely catch myself on the edge of the top step. Let's hope it holds. It takes a lot out of me, but I'm able to pull myself into what remains of the second story hallway. Another shot rings out. Three. I stay crouched, hoping to spot the source of the noise. 

    I hear it again, immediately to my left. I turn and see the remains of half of a door still latched in its frame. I peer over it. Just inside the door, with its legs pinned beneath a fallen beam, is the ugliest feral ghoul I have ever seen. Mother fu.... A nearby gunshot makes me lose focus for a moment. Four. I turn back to the ghoul and aim my revolver at it. I cock back the hammer and take aim. He'll hear me, no doubt. I can't take the shot. I lower the gun and put it back in its holster, then turn back for the stairs. Two more shots, both nearby. He's out. Gotta be. I step out into the house, making sure not to make too much noise. The ghoul room's right above me. I keep my hand over my revolver, just in case. I hear what I think to be a footstep and I freeze. No, not a footstep. Crackin' wood. The floorboard beneath my left leg snaps, and my foot falls through the floor. I grab a nearby support beam to try and catch myself, but it's loose and almost gives way. I fall to the floor, my gun falls out of the holster. Shit. The ceiling sags in a noticeable amount, but doesn't give. Yet. The only cover I have is the overturned sofa to my left.

    I hear footsteps running toward me as I reach for my gun. Just when my fingertips graze the bottom of the handle I hear a voice scream at me. "You move and I'll blow your fucking head off of your shoulders!" I turn my head towards the raider but I stay quiet. Ideas rush into my head. Gun. Ammo. Foot. Beam. Ceiling. Ghoul. Might be m'lucky day after all.

    I reach for the gun again and he cocks back the hammer on his empty gun. "I fuckin' mean it!" I look up at him. "Ya got me hoss. But I always got an ace up my sleeve." He looks confused for a moment, but by the time my elbow knocks the support beam out of place he knows what's happening. The ceiling collapses on us, and I duck beneath the overturned sofa. I hear the ghoul cry out in surprise and the raider scream in pain, but then all I can hear is a loud ringing as the house collapses on top of me.

     

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    Thank fuckin' God for sofas. I'm able to break away the floorboard that trapped my foot, but digging my way out of the rest of the ceiling takes me a while. Fortunately I was able to find my gun in the process. By the time I finally get out, most of the dust is settled. How long's it been? An hour? Two? My entire body aches, but I'm alive. I crack my neck and look around. To my surprise, both the ghoul and the raider are still alive. The ghoul must've landed right close to him, because he's hurt pretty badly. He's still conscious, for now. I click the hammer of my revolver into place as I walk closer. 

    "Ple..please don't kill me...." He's stammering and afraid. I know that feeling all too well. I look around. "Where are we hoss?" I take out a cigarette and light it. Big Boss always did make my hand steadier. He stammers again. "Mo...Motor City...Detroit."  I nod. "Thought so." I look at the ghoul, which is trying to claw its way over to me. Damn thing still wants to get out. I take out my revolver and look the raider in the eyes. 

    Count 'em. One. Two. 

Comments

10 Comments
  • Sotek
    Sotek   ·  July 2, 2015
    Writing in present tense is hard? You want to try to write from a dogs perspective'
    It's quite simple to write without using profanities but there comes a time in everyone's stories when only Fu*k You will suffice. Nicely done Emer.
    Being curi...  more
  • Saryn
    Saryn   ·  June 25, 2015
    Well done that man!
  • FishDout
    FishDout   ·  June 25, 2015
  • The Long-Chapper
    The Long-Chapper   ·  June 25, 2015
    Haha, that would be funny. A fallout blog from the gun's perspective. 
    I don't have an editor either. :P Well, that's not true I have sister who likes to demean me as she points out my typos on my blog and laughs at me. 
  • Saryn
    Saryn   ·  June 25, 2015
    His gun is a mercenary, and only works for pay, not for free.
  • Todd
    Todd   ·  June 25, 2015
    Oh shush, I don't have an editor! :P
  • The Long-Chapper
    The Long-Chapper   ·  June 25, 2015
    I am enjoying this as well and I think present tense really suits this narrative very well. I don't know how you are with typos? I found one. 
    Fortunately I was able to fund my gun in the process.

    fund = find?
    Looking forward to t...  more
  • Saryn
    Saryn   ·  June 25, 2015
    It's more difficult to accomplish, but it's well worth it because you can get more insight into what a character is thinking right in that moment. 
    I really enjoy this, boss. Can't wait to see where it goes!
  • Todd
    Todd   ·  June 25, 2015
    I don't see many blogs that write in present-tense. I wanted to try it. I like it so far!
  • FishDout
    FishDout   ·  June 25, 2015
    Present-tense? You're a brave man.