Taking Chances

One Good Thing Leads To A Bad One

I just want to start off the book by saying that this is my first book viewed by anyone other than my close friends, so I want to dedicate this to awesome4evah, my only real friend on the site so far...please vote and comment!

Cbear :p

Prologue

     I hear a victory bell telling me that the war is over and that we have won.  A dreary time has just passed.

     I just hope I can make it back to Sarah with my leg in this condition, with the bullet wound.

     Within my earshot I hear footsteps slowly approaching me.  My head automaticly lifts and my hand go to my gun, gatting it ready in case it is needed.

     Someone comes around the corner, into my dark corner, into my view.  He is holding something, and when it gleams in the darkening sun, I recognize it as a dagger.

  The war may be over, but this man looks like he has one more deadly task to preform for his side, the last kill of the war.

     He walks up to me, and looks at my leg.  "I've found you at last."

    His tone of voice is not the one of a murderer, and yet I sense he has confidence in himself and in what he is doing.  But then again, some people have the tendancy to believe everything their Commander tells them to...

   I am jerked back to the present time as his dagger pierces my heart.

     "Sarah," I mumble, "Sarah save me. Sarah, Sarah I love you. Sarah..."

~Taking Chances~

     I walk into the Commanders chambers, muddy and covered with blood.

     "Speak, Soldier Jones," the Comander berks at me.

     I look him in the eye. "Yes sir!  As you requiered, the one with the bullet wound in his leg was killed, sir."

     "By you?"

     "Yes sir."

     "Good.  You must be here at 2000 sharp tonight to recieve a medal of honor for your bravery."

     I turned away with the memory of what happened earlier glued in my mind, showing me thing that I never thought I would have to witness. Is a medal of honor really worth killing someone?

~Taking Chances~

     When I got the letter all official looking, I knew that something was wrong.  In the outskirts of the Center you recieve no mail, and you don't communicate with anyone unless you are neighbours.

     In our house, mine and Clark's, everything is old-fashioned. This letter must be from one of the Cheifs, because the fancy Center seal and tidy handwriting is of no one I know, but then again, I do not know many people.

     I peal off the intertwined G and C seal, and read what lays inside the envelope.  The first thing it says is that the war is over.  I read on, holding my releif incase something IS wrong.

    But my fears are right, and I am filled with dread.

     He is dead.  I can't believe it.  Clark is dead.