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[font size=1" color="#FF0000]LAST EDITED ON Aug-01-01 AT 10:08AM (GMT)[p][font size=1" color="#FF0000]LAST EDITED ON Aug-01-01 AT 09:51 AM (GMT)
It's obvious that the Wasteland is cruel and it's definately not a place for children. But the children that learned how to survive, would make the Lord of the Flies look like Disneyland.
The boy, who was young in body, but mature in mind, had used his seemingly innocent demeanor to survive for most of his life. Today was the first time his starving child ploy didn't work.
The man must have been some kind of marauder or robber. The boy had been sitting in a small, rocky cave that was next to an old asphalt highway whe he spotted the lone man. He had the bearing of someone cautious, probably a scout for a larger force. He wore light, dirt colored clothing, obviously to blend in to the desert when need be, and carried a Baretta 9mm in his vest pocket.
The boy watched the man walk by, constantly on the alert for something that resembled a potential victim. The boy stepped out of his cave to try to talk to the man, who froze unsure what to do for a moment.
The boy tried to start a conversation, "Hey, there mister! My name's Ward and I don't know where my parents are."
The scout stared blankly for a moment before the child continued, "Do you have any food?" The child sounded hopeful, which made the scout's decision even harder. He pulled his hand-held radio from his pocket and clicked it on. "Uh... Sir, I've got a child here, please advise." Ward couldn't hear the garbled response from where he was standing (about 20 feet away). "Are you sure sir? He doesn't seem to have anything... christ... yes, sir..." He clicked off the radio and sighed.
Ward had a pretty good idea of what was about to happen, so he acted almost as fast as his mind worked. He quickly bent down and grabbed a rock small enough for throwing as the man reached for his pistol.
The small rock flew straight at the scout... and hit him right in the temple just as he was about to turn his head. The man fell on his back and dropped his pistol, stunned at the unexpected blow. That was all the time Ward needed to charge at the stunned man and grab his gun.
It felt awkward in his small hands, but numerous encounters with gun-toting men and women had left him some knowledge of weapon handling. The man got up slowly, rubbing the side of his head and groaning when he saw the bit of blood on his fingers. Then he saw the child with his gun pointed right at his chest. "Put the gun down... I won't hurt you." He said slowly, trying to hide the shaking in his voice. The little bastard looked really serious.
"No! You were gonna kill me!" The child shouted, his voice not faultering one bit.
"Put it down, I swear I won't hurt you." The man raised his right hand, as if it would help the situation.
"No way!! Stay away from me!!"
"Look, give me the goddamn gun!! I'm not gonna hurt you!!" he persisted, reaching slowly behind his back for his back-up .22 caliber revolver.
"Fuck you." The bullet entered his brain before he could even blink in astonishment.
The recoil almost knocked the gun out of Ward's hands, something he'd have to get used to. The shell dropped onto the asphalt with a small, metallic *clink*. He looked at the body of the man he'd just shot. The adrenaline coursing through his small body dulled any thoughts of sorrow or regret that he had looking at the corpse.
He searched the dead man's pockets, not paying any mind to the pieces of skull and brain that oozed out on the ground. He'd seen things that were much worse happen to his former traveling companions.
Ward waited in the cave until night fall, then set off down the road with two weapons, three extra clips for the 9mm, some jerky, and a leather water skin, almost full. He'd fashioned a holster from strips of the dead scout's clothes which he had also wrapped his bare feet in to protect them from the hot road and the various bits of debris that always cut his feet. He'd managed to roll the body off the road and into a ditch by using a strong branch from a near-dead tree. He was strong for his age, toughened by a life in the wastes.
As dawn broke, he sat alone on the roadside in a lean-to that he had made from the dead trees and sticks around him. He nibbled on some of the jerky but saved it for a later occasion, knowing to preserve his food. Before he got ready to rest for the hot day, he reflected on his encounter with the man.
He was glad he did what he did. He could have been lying dead on the road, instead he had food, water and a way to defend himself.
He smiled for the first time since the death of his companions. Life was surely going to be better now. And all from one simple squeeze on a metal trigger.
It's obvious that the Wasteland is cruel and it's definately not a place for children. But the children that learned how to survive, would make the Lord of the Flies look like Disneyland.
The boy, who was young in body, but mature in mind, had used his seemingly innocent demeanor to survive for most of his life. Today was the first time his starving child ploy didn't work.
The man must have been some kind of marauder or robber. The boy had been sitting in a small, rocky cave that was next to an old asphalt highway whe he spotted the lone man. He had the bearing of someone cautious, probably a scout for a larger force. He wore light, dirt colored clothing, obviously to blend in to the desert when need be, and carried a Baretta 9mm in his vest pocket.
The boy watched the man walk by, constantly on the alert for something that resembled a potential victim. The boy stepped out of his cave to try to talk to the man, who froze unsure what to do for a moment.
The boy tried to start a conversation, "Hey, there mister! My name's Ward and I don't know where my parents are."
The scout stared blankly for a moment before the child continued, "Do you have any food?" The child sounded hopeful, which made the scout's decision even harder. He pulled his hand-held radio from his pocket and clicked it on. "Uh... Sir, I've got a child here, please advise." Ward couldn't hear the garbled response from where he was standing (about 20 feet away). "Are you sure sir? He doesn't seem to have anything... christ... yes, sir..." He clicked off the radio and sighed.
Ward had a pretty good idea of what was about to happen, so he acted almost as fast as his mind worked. He quickly bent down and grabbed a rock small enough for throwing as the man reached for his pistol.
The small rock flew straight at the scout... and hit him right in the temple just as he was about to turn his head. The man fell on his back and dropped his pistol, stunned at the unexpected blow. That was all the time Ward needed to charge at the stunned man and grab his gun.
It felt awkward in his small hands, but numerous encounters with gun-toting men and women had left him some knowledge of weapon handling. The man got up slowly, rubbing the side of his head and groaning when he saw the bit of blood on his fingers. Then he saw the child with his gun pointed right at his chest. "Put the gun down... I won't hurt you." He said slowly, trying to hide the shaking in his voice. The little bastard looked really serious.
"No! You were gonna kill me!" The child shouted, his voice not faultering one bit.
"Put it down, I swear I won't hurt you." The man raised his right hand, as if it would help the situation.
"No way!! Stay away from me!!"
"Look, give me the goddamn gun!! I'm not gonna hurt you!!" he persisted, reaching slowly behind his back for his back-up .22 caliber revolver.
"Fuck you." The bullet entered his brain before he could even blink in astonishment.
The recoil almost knocked the gun out of Ward's hands, something he'd have to get used to. The shell dropped onto the asphalt with a small, metallic *clink*. He looked at the body of the man he'd just shot. The adrenaline coursing through his small body dulled any thoughts of sorrow or regret that he had looking at the corpse.
He searched the dead man's pockets, not paying any mind to the pieces of skull and brain that oozed out on the ground. He'd seen things that were much worse happen to his former traveling companions.
Ward waited in the cave until night fall, then set off down the road with two weapons, three extra clips for the 9mm, some jerky, and a leather water skin, almost full. He'd fashioned a holster from strips of the dead scout's clothes which he had also wrapped his bare feet in to protect them from the hot road and the various bits of debris that always cut his feet. He'd managed to roll the body off the road and into a ditch by using a strong branch from a near-dead tree. He was strong for his age, toughened by a life in the wastes.
As dawn broke, he sat alone on the roadside in a lean-to that he had made from the dead trees and sticks around him. He nibbled on some of the jerky but saved it for a later occasion, knowing to preserve his food. Before he got ready to rest for the hot day, he reflected on his encounter with the man.
He was glad he did what he did. He could have been lying dead on the road, instead he had food, water and a way to defend himself.
He smiled for the first time since the death of his companions. Life was surely going to be better now. And all from one simple squeeze on a metal trigger.
