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| The After; The Post-Apocalyptic Nightmare | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jul 5 2016, 11:40 AM (8 Views) | |
| Myth Archangel | Jul 5 2016, 11:40 AM Post #1 |
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Big Boss Man
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Kyle sighed, nudging the pile at his feet with the steel toe of his well-worn but very comfortable boot. The debris scattered, some of the paper getting caught by the gentle breeze that ruffled his medium-length raven locks, floating it away, while other bits turned to ash. He’d been at it for almost four hours now and hadn’t found a thing. As much as he hated to say it, he feared that the tribe might need to move on to a different city, which was unfortunate, because they’d been near Dodge City for a decade. It had provided well. He raised his blue gaze to stare out at the broken husk that had once been a city teeming with people. Well, not quite teeming. It had been about thirty thousand people. The larger cities, like Kansas City or Baltimore, were still very seriously infested, and places like New York City or Los Angeles was literally impossible because they were so thick with the dangerous creatures. Small towns tended to be ransacked by passers-by, however, so the best were small cities; enough to have gathered a few tens of thousands without being so dense that it was dangerous due to lurkers. Kyle took a deep breath and hummed to himself as he spun on his heel, making his way towards the rendezvous, his rifle slung over his shoulder. Kyle was not a large man by any means, standing just shy of six foot and a medium build to be generous. However, hard work and few creature comforts had ensured that his body was lean and well-muscled, with little fat to be found. It was the slow and the fat that’d died off first, and any who fell out of shape or out of practice were almost sure to be the first to get taken on almost any outing. Honestly, it had been like this since Kyle could remember, so this was normal for him. Humanity did not live in cities. To be more precise, they could not. Instead they lived in nomadic tribes that wandered. At best they may have a semi-permanent settlement for a decade, maybe two, before being forced to move on due to scarcity of supplies. Staying in one place for longer than a few days for most of the survivors was incredibly rare, though the Midwest seemed to have survived better than the coasts, probably due to lower population. As he arrived at the rendezvous site he immediately stopped his quiet baritone humming and unslung his rifle. Something was wrong. He couldn’t place it, but it was…off. His shockingly blue eyes darted around nervously. As a member of the Scout and Vanguard Legion, even though he was only in his late twenties he was considered among the best. His parents had been taken when he was six, and he’d been taken in by the SVL Chief, Kevin Prout. Kevin, a long-standing veteran, had immediately taken to teaching Kyle everything he needed to know to survive in the modern world, be it alone or with a group. He was a kind man, but also a vicious task-master. He was never unfair, though, realizing that Kyle had been just a boy. By age 12 he was going on scout missions, and by age 18 he’d been running his own missions. Known for his keenly developed survival senses and his crack aim—both things hammered into him by Kevin ever since he’d joined up with the Pillar of Humanity when Kevin found him half-dead—he was highly sought after for scout missions and supply runs. So when he had these gut feelings, both he and any with him knew to listen to them, because one never knew what it might lead to. As he glanced around, finding nothing he could place out of the ordinary, he gingerly crossed the street. Once he was across from the meeting place he slipped into the long-abandoned home. Like most places it had been ransacked of anything useful, but a few sad mementos of a time long-past still remained. Photos sun-bleached in their broken frames lay on the floor, a well-loved teddy bear set at a coffee table, knocked over with its stuffing since yanked out and nibbled on by insects. Kyle’s eyes rose to the narrow stairwell in front of him. He ascended with quiet grace, only a light rustling from his leather jacket making much noise. The jacket was a memory all its own, the only belonging he had from his original parents before they were taken. He’d been wrapped in it to help keep him warm, protected, and hidden. Patched dozens of times over as he grew into it, it was more leather patchwork than an actual piece of shaped leather. It was ugly as sin, but he would sooner part with his rifle than that jacket. He reached the top of the stair and headed towards the side of the house facing the street. To the left he entered what was once a little boy’s room. Faded wallpaper and posters, as well as scattered and broken toys at his feet told him so. He stopped when he saw a small figure of a superhero from long-forgotten fiction. He smiled and tucked it into his jacket pocket. Maizie would love it. He turned and moved towards the window, setting up his rifle, and then looking down the scope to gaze at where they were supposed to meet. He watched, glancing at his watch, and realized that no one else had shown, and the meeting was supposed to be five minutes ago. No one was five minutes late to a meeting, not unless they were okay with getting left behind. Especially considering what it might mean. Slowly he saw Jean enter from an alleyway. He glanced at her, memorizing her every detail. Her flaxen hair was pulled back into a no-nonsense ponytail just like before they’d parted company, and she really looked none the worse for wear. She’d always been considered ‘pretty’, though never ‘beautiful’. Why only her? Her weapons were gone, her backpack discarded too, and despite that she looked completely placidly calm. Kyle watched her through the scope a moment more, waiting to see if anyone else showed. No one did. He knew what this meant; they’d all been taken. Every last one of them…except him. Sighing he debated if it was worth it. He turned, grabbed a pillow, and put it between his rifle muzzle and the window. It would act as a buffer, dampening the sound of what he was about to do. He sighted down his rifle one last time, and then cursed loudly. Jean was staring right back at him. Slowly her eyes began to glow red, and her mouth opened, then went larger than any human’s could. Twice, then three times the size of a human mouth. Her teeth were all distended into sharp points, Her joints bent back into poses the human body could never support and she tensed. She was about to jump to his window, and he sighed, pulling the trigger. The loud report of the hunting rifle’s muzzle was met at the same moment as the rip of the concrete as the force from her limbs—exceeding anything she should normally be able to produce—propelled her upwards like a rocket towards his window. Had she gone straight up he would have missed. She went towards him though, and so the armor-piercing round went straight through her skull and caused her body to spin in a morbid ballet in the sky before slamming unceremoniously back onto the concrete at the foot of the house. Immediately the corpse began to dissolve into acid, and as a certain organ that had come to be called the caller melted, it unleashed a horrifying noise. As one might expect, it called for reinforcements. With irritated anger—he’d been hoping she’d not been so changed that the caller had developed in her yet—he stood upright and ran downstairs. He took the back door and bolted, full-speed, away from the gristly scene. Others would be showing up soon, and he wanted to be nowhere near them when they did. His only choice was to go back to the Pillar of Humanity and tell the entire tribe that he’d lost his entire team on a supply run. It had been over a year since Kyle had lost anyone, and now he had to tell them all how he failed. All six of his team members were dead, and to add insult to injury, he returned with nothing. It was time to move on from Dodge City. The question was, where would the Pillar go? It had been a long time Since Kyle had lost anyone. As he creeped out of the main section of city and into the outskirts he knew he hadn’t been followed, so relaxed a bit and meandered his way back to where the Pillar was camped. As he traveled he mused on the last time he’d lost anyone. It had been just over a year ago. They’d been several sightings of a group of those morbidly dubbed “The Returned”. There are those that are taken and never seen again, then there are those returned, usually to cause murder and havoc to the remaining human populace. Kyle had led a team to investigate reports of them reaching the outskirts of the city. It turned out that it was a trick. A smaller nearby tribe known as Survivors United had been constantly harrying the Pillar of Humanity for some time. They refused to take them head on because the Pillar was one of the largest tribes east of the Rockies and west of the Mississippi River. A head-on confrontation with the Pillar was usually likely to end in death for any of the lesser tribes. The Survivors had been leaving signs and setting up tricks to make it look like some of the returned were venturing that direction. The goal was to lure a scout party out, and they succeeded. It had taken months to set it up, as evidenced by the traps laid everywhere. Mines, tripwires, razor wire, and even guerrilla assault tactics boxed the team of seven in, against an overwhelming force of fifty of the Survivors’ best. Kyle was good though. His ability to rely on his gut had allowed them to survive for several days against the Survivors’ trap, and every time they took down one of his soldiers, they paid with at least seven of their own. His gut was constantly warning him and he had never relied upon it more heavily. Somehow, Kyle was sure he’d contracted some sort of illness as they progressed, because he started growing weak, was throwing up, sweating profusely, sleeping too heavily, and even had constant nosebleeds. On the last day his ears were even bleeding, but in his final moments he managed to lure the remaining forces of the Survivors into one of their own traps, wiping out their entire number. Only himself and one of his best friends, Pete Roosevelt, had survived. Shortly after, he passed out. Pete had carried Kyle out on his back and hefted him all the way back to the Pillar’s base camp, where he’d been in the medical tent for a week solid, unconscious. They’d been forced to use some of their preciously rare IV fluids on him, but the tribe’s Elder Council agreed it was a worthwhile move, because one of Kyle was worth almost a dozen other soldiers. Ever since then he’d felt that it was his duty to prove to everyone he was worth the cost they’d spent to nurse him back to health, as he tried to live for those who died so he might live. He was not a martyr seeking death, rather he was one who sought to justify the sacrifice others paid for him to live. And now here he’d lost yet another group of worthwhile men. Statistics showed that out of every thirty sorties, at least half the team will usually wind up dead or taken. Since then Kyle had run about a sortie a day, which meant his numbered at over three hundred fifty, without a single loss. Here was his record, completely reset. It was not ego that drove that into his skull, but sorrow at feeling that yet again he’d proven himself inept. As he made his way back to the tribe, providing the necessary sign and countersign to the nearby watchmen, he entered the camp proper. Made up of dozens of tents styled to match their surrounding environment, the Pillar of Humanity numbered at over a thousand. The Pillar was lead by the Elder Council, twelve of the wisest and most respected men of the tribe. Originally it had been named such because it was mostly the older members of the tribe that sat upon it, but as decades wore on, those who were seen as particularly wise or skilled or prestigious were given a seat regardless of their age. As such, a few men whose hair had not even begun to gray held residence on the Council, but they were loyal and trusted beyond contestation. The Council is led by its thirteenth official member, The Tribal Chief, Known only to the people as Touchstone…Though many just call him Stone. His real name had long-since been forgotten, but his morals, judgment, character, and loyalty to his people were the standard by which all others were held to, thus why he had garnered the nickname. He’d been Chief of the SVL originally, before he took the place of the previous Tribal Chief. He’d appointed Kevin as the new SVL Chief in his stead, and the two were very close, and because of that Kyle and Stone had been close as well, Kyle even having grown up calling him Uncle Stone. Rather than go to drop off his gear at his own tent, Kyle instead went straight to the SVL Tent to report to Kevin. As he arrived he set his gear down in the corner, turning to face Kevin. With a sigh he slumped down, burying his head in his hands, and took several long, slow, deep breaths. “I failed,” he spoke, his voice hardly a whisper. Kevin, who was reading a report, said nothing at first. He knew the boy. He’d continue when he was ready, so he gave his adoptive child a moment. Kevin was an imposing black man who stood at six-foot-five and was a wall of muscle with a well-manicured goatee and a bald head. Long ago he’d taken some severe damage to his left arm, making it all but unusable outside of basic tasks, so instead he’s mostly forced to run things from the tent. It frustrated him more often than not, but he’d learned to turn that into a sort of hyper-focus for his work, which allowed him to excel even more at his duties. “I’m sorry, Dad…I lost them all. They were taken.” Kevin took in a large breath and blew it out slow before starting his reply in his usual deep bass voice. “You’re not gonna win every battle, son. A good leader remembers his defeats and the lives he’s lost, because that’s how he stops it from happening in the future.” Kyle leaned backwards, staring up at his second father with sorrowful blue eyes. “I know that. Lord knows you beat it into my brain.” Kevin’s eyes narrowed harshly. “Use the good Lord’s name in vein again and I will surely make you wish you’d been taken with your team.” Kyle put up his hands defensively, smiling a weak, sheepish smile that always managed to soften Kevin’s demeanor. “Look, I know it’s not easy to take. But it will happen. Tell me everything, then go get some sleep. You look like you just went ten rounds with a pack-truck and lost, as exhausted as you seem.” Kyle proceeded to tell him everything, leaving out nothing, having temporarily put his emotions aside as he’d been taught when undergoing debriefing. Once he was done Kevin shook his head agitatedly. “The hell you expect, son? You weren’t with them. Your job is not to babysit, it’s to lead. Part of leading is knowing when to trust your men to do their job. That’s what you were doing. It’s not anything you had any control over or could have fixed in any way.” Kyle shook his head obstinately. “I’ve had a crappy feeling about this mission from the get-go, Dad. You know that. If I’d trusted my gut and watched them closer, I might have prevented this whole thing!“ Kevin shook his head. “No. You couldn’t have. You did everything right. If you’dve hovered over their shoulders like you wanted to even if they came back safe I’dve been all over you for it, and you know it. You did things right. Now stop feeling sorry for yourself, and go get a stupid nap.” Kyle sighed and shook his head as he stood, moving to pick up his pack and put it away, but Kevin stopped him with a gesture. “I’ve got this. Go get some rest, son.” Kyle nodded, turning on his heel and heading towards the tent he shared with several other members of the SVL. On his way a man of smaller stature, not even five-and-a-half feet, moved to intercept him with a welcome smile on his face. His temples were iron gray in spite of the dark black hair on his head, the faint outline of a mustache and stubble on his face making it clear it had been a bit since he’d shaved. He was of a diminutive build but very wiry, and the wrinkles around his face show that he’d both laughed and cried his fare share in life. He was dressed well, and had a way about him that seemed to put all those around him at ease. “How’d it go, Kyle?” Kyle couldn’t help but smile sadly. “Horrible, Stone. I lost everyone.” Stone’s face was immediately receptive and supportive of the boy. He’d never once doubted Kyle’s loyalty or capability, so if something went wrong, he had absolutely no doubt that it was something beyond the lad’s control. “Everything seems worse that day, kiddo. Get some rest. A fresh day, some good sleep, and a hot meal should give you a bit of perspective. We’ll talk then, I promise, but I want you to have had time to process it.” Kyle nodded as Stone put an appreciative hand on his shoulder, then went his separate way as he noticed Stone headed for the SVL tent. Probably to talk to Kevin. Just as well, Kyle was past able to discuss it for the day. He barely had enough time to strip down before he collapsed in bed, and let the sweet, blissful release of sleep take him. |
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2:33 AM Jul 11
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2:33 AM Jul 11