The Reclamation [NOT FINISHED]

Chapter 1.2

Just thinking of that encounter, I could feel my pulse beginning to increase rapidly; I began to feel faint and my knees had began to tremble. I steadied myself against an old, rusty forklift as I attempted to regain my breath and gather my thoughts. After pulling myself together I made my way up the long, tiring steps to the third floor of the warehouse.

When the world went to shit, the Government set up encampments for survivors; from what I know there were four successful camps scattered throughout the country, each with fortified walls, guarded with 24 hour surveillance by broad men with heavy machinery, presumably soldiers.

Luckily for me, my family and I were rushed into one of these sanctuaries when the outbreak occurred, which probably meant the difference between life and death for us. Unfortunately not all of us were so lucky.

As I heaved open the large iron fire door, I removed a small wind up flashlight from the large pocket in the centre of my tattered hoodie. It gave off little to no light but it was enough to help me make my way around the familiar space.

As I climbed up the buildings first flight of stairs, I then made my way past aged, damp packaging and felt my way past the fifth row of metal shelving. I felt around the floor with my foot, pressing different planks of wood- when one creaked.

"There you are," I murmured, a sigh of relief escaped my dry lips. I began to pull up the damp plank of wood and felt beneath the floorboards.

After rummaging around for a few seconds finding nothing but cobwebs I removed a small package. I peeled back the cloth I had carefully wrapped it in to reveal the old nine-millimetre handgun that my father had given me some time ago.

When I first made it into the encampment my family and I were led into large quarantine zones; each section was mapped with large iron bars where people were herded in together like cattle. I was the first to be searched; they had begun to shine torches in my eyes and thoroughly checked my arms and legs, I remember my father asked what he was looking for, he did not get a response, it was just followed by another aggressive gesture to either raise your arms or proceed.

My father's frustration had began to show across his face, the lack of answers had begun to irritate everyone, but my mother remained silent and proceeded to grip my sister and I tightly. Guns of all kinds and potentially dangerous objects were being flung into large containers which were then carted off, never to be seen again.

It wasn't long before the quarantine zone grew overwhelmed with more and more panicked people flooding in by the second. A quarrel had begun in the sector on my right which quickly developed into a fight.

Our inspector left his assigned post in the attempt to break up the tussle, this enabled my family and I to slip through the last stage of quarantine unnoticed without having to give up our belongings, including my father's old nine-millimetre handgun.