Revolution

Ch.1

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     The gentle crunch of the broken glass under my boot was the only sound in this toxic wawasteland known as America. I lived in this wasteland. Just last month. But it felt like they invaded years ago. One normal afternoon, came an army right into New York. The army consisted of both North and South Koreans. They slaughtered thousands of people. After taking a large toll of lives they bombed it. Exploding every miserable standing building to a pile of rubble. But it didn't end there. In multiple towns, citys, and airports near America stepped in our thought-to-be retreated enemies, ISIS. The fucking little own, illegal Islamic state itself, came in along with China murdering everyone sparing not a single soul. The militarily tried, so did Russia, they tried to rid of the evil beings. Obviously failing. So here I am now, New York. Where it all began. The war is mainly in Wisconsin right now, yet many enemy soilders patrolled this area. Me, 31 year old James Harvord, going in alone to look for surviving Russians and Americans, in a post-pocalyptic New York.
 
     The old angelic buildings crumbled to rubble and dust around me. I scavenged through the piles, looking for anyone alive. The cold wind bites at my face, it reminded me it was August. Winter was soon. I pull up a piece of wood from the ground. As it implanted a small splinter into my finger I heard a gentle metallic sounding shake. I whip around to see a small face beaded sweat stamped to his long, black hair. A small drizzzle of sweat drips down the left of his temple, his hand held a 50. Cal. Pistol, his hand fiddled and danced finding the trigger. He aimed the dark barrel of the small weapon on level with my temple. His heavy armour and strong M16 slung around his back made it obvious he was Korean.

     The sound of an explosion stopped our small staring encounter. We both look behind me revealing half of an already destroyed building getting blown out from the side. Brilliant flashes of yellow and orange fill the air. Chunks of stone ripping down from the air. Broken pieces of marble litter the dusty ground. The young solider in front of me had a look of confusion and lost thought as the explosion cominced. Giving me the upper hand of surprise. I charged him. Ripping my large metal sharp peice with tape as a grip on it to act as a knife from my pocket. As his shock turned to fear, seeing me he shot. Luckily only piercing thin air as the bullet wizzed past my ear I found my knife has found a new home in the right crook of his neck. He screamed in agony shooting randomly at the ground multible times before falling, limp. I knew his friends would be on the way so I grabbed his gun from the trash littered, broken road. And ran inside an old Dunkin' Doughnuts.

     It turns out I was just in time as, as soon I slid inside the spikey, broken, glass door three soldiers appeared around the block, speaking Koren and looking around frantically for me. I should have grabbed his M16 I thought. And what was that explosion?

     Just to my luck, a dumb, oblivious solider neared the old window of the store. I reach out, spilling red blood to my hands and knife, the liquid obviously meaning i've slit his neck. I pulled his body inside. Taking his pistol as well, tucking it in my jeans with the other one. I rip the M16 off his back. Whilst doing so I felt a drip above me. It was already dark and the air was dusty from the building falling. This would make it harder to see, yet easier to escape. I slip outside the window myself, letting my brown leather jacket get wet as the slips of water slide down my shoulders I can make out another soldier in the deep moonlight. I slip past him, only then noticing I was nearing the explosion site. I hear multiple boots clumping around on the destroyed floor levels above me.

     I gasp feeling a bare hand sling around my mouth. I whip around silently slashing the knife towards thin air. The man jumped back, and I'm glad he did. It wasn't a Korean. It was an American.

     "Woah, calm down" He said silently. I nodded my head, not wanting to make a sound. He wispered, "I found a group of people. C'mon." He led me around the building. He opened a door reveling a bathroom with a broken wall. He led me left, through one of New York's few parks. We slide past it's brown, rotten grass and slippery, dead trees, everything wet from the lush rain-forest like storm. Lightning zipped across the skies. And the howling wind rattled the trees. We came across a relatively small yet safe and standing building.

The windows were shattered, the tan paint was torn. In the back there was a hole in the wall, but this one particular building held somthing others didn't, light shone through every crack, making me smile at the thought of safety. I instantly held regret. As soon as I walked inside the door, both the man and I were hit to the ground with the butt of guns. Blood trickled down my fore-head passing my eyes, making my visions blurry. Though, this made me angered the thing that made me pissed, angry, and full of rage were the people. There were about 20 civilians lying dead on the floor. Bullet holes littered their bodies and blood was splattered everywhere. We were too late. The Koreans found them before us. The man next to me groaned. As soon as he looked up I noticed tears welted up in his eyes. Then his face turned red, red as fire. He shot up, ripping a pistol from his holster, popping a shot into a soliders temple.

I hop up ripping my M16 from my back. Bullets fly, bodies drop in the end, the man had a shot leg, but 8 Koreans lay dead, lead filled, lifeless. We found a first-aid kit and patched up his leg, but he had a limp.

"They will pay, y'know that right?" He askes out of the blue.

"Hells yeah." I agree

1074 Words

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