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Ward looked at the ROC patch on the shoulder of his heavy jacket, still trying to get used to it. It had been almost two years since he and Black first came to Longmont. Soon after their arrival they were taken in to be trained as scouts since their survival knowledge was nearly unparalleled. Ward turned his view back to the horizon, drawing his white mask down over his face to shield it from the biting cold. Winter was coming sooner that it should have been, and it was making his job harder.
Satisfied that his section of the eastern perimeter was clear, Ward kicked his ATV into gear and slowly turned back towards Longmont, checking over his shoulder one more time.
It was about an hour drive at top speed, though it should have been half that but the snow slowed his progress. The flat gray sky added to the bleak appearance of the barren landscape. Snow blanketed everything, almost completely burying the wrecked houses and rusted piles of scrap that were once cars.
Ward pulled his vehicle into the parking lot in front of the former motel turned barracks. Most of the vehicles that should have been there were gone on patrols, which had become much more frequent in the past few months. Only a few APC's and trucks were not in use, and those were the ones that needed maintainance.
Ward brushed the snow from his body as he stepped inside the building. A blast of heat greeted him through the doorway, forcing him to remove his helmet and mask. As he walked to the armory, just across the once pristine lobby, which had begun decay after custodial staff could no longer be spared, he saw Black donning his mask and helmet. Ward threw him the key to the ATV and gave a curt nod before handing his assault rifle to the weapons officer. Ward started down the hall towards the mess hall to get a hot meal before sleeping until his next patrol. He had a daily routine to adhear to, and didn't mind one bit. He was alive, he had a home, he wasn't starving, and he got paid as well. Life might not turn out so bad after all.
General Holland was an imposing figure, even in his wrinkled, white battle uniform. It looked like he hadn't slept for days; his thinning gray hair was dirty and unwashed and his eyes were bloodshot. But he was still imposing standing on a podium in front of several well dressed men. "Gentlemen. Please be seated. As you know, there have been numerous forces of an unknown origin massing to the east and south. Though there has been no move towards Longmont, there have been several attacks on our outposts in Mead and Niwot. Gentlemen, we must prepare for the worst."
A skinny man wearing thick glasses and a black suit stood. "What would you suggest we do, General?"
Holland hesitated, took a deep breath and spoke, "I think.... I think we should consider asking the Brotherhood of Steel for help in-" his voice was drowned out by outraged shouts and a sudden raising of voices. "Gentlemen!! Gentlemen, please!!" The men ignored Holland.
"The Brotherhood will ruin us!"
"I've heard about what they do to other towns!"
"They always show up AFTER something happens!"
An enormous boom cut off the yelling abruptly. Flakes of plaster and white paint drifted down in front of a middle-aged man with short brown hair, graying on the sides, holding a smoking shotgun. "I thought that would get your attention." Captain Anderson walked from the doorway of the small conference room and to the front, next to General Holland. "Sir, I have my report on the recent activity in the east and south."
"Very well, Captain, you may proceed."
The captain spoke without hesistation, "There's tanks moving up in the south, they've already taken Niwot, but they're waiting. To the east, there's some very heavily armed ground troops. They've got some really heavy firepower, the likes of which only the Brotherhood has ever seen. It doesn't look good, sir. They're coming this way, I'd give them about a day or so at the least for repairs. Our boys hit them pretty hard before falling back, but we've taken heavy losses. W haven't got much left."
The general turned to the council. "We have no choice, we have to vote on this." The vote was 15 to 1, in favor of contacting the Brotherhood of Steel.
"Who are we going to send? We don't have the man-power to spare a single soldier!" The skinny man yelled. He was the one that didn't agree.
"I've got two that are perfect, sir." Anderson said to Holland, after a slight hesitation.
After returning from the mess hall, Ward was ready for a hot shower and some sleep, but when he walked into the quarters he shared with Black, he found a folder on his bed. He looked through the contents of the folder, then swore to himself. "Suicide." he said quietly.
"Not quite." A voice said from the door. Ward immediately recognized the voice of Captain Anderson, the only father figure he'd ever had. "I'm not gonna lie to you, kid. It'll be dangerous, and the chances of you making it back here in time with some help are slim, but you're the only one we can spare." Ward wasn't convinced; he was a better shot than most of the trained soldiers. "Black is going too, only he's going a different way in case one of you.... gets killed."
Ward didn't want to lay down his life for anyone, but he gave in anyway. "It'll be better than staying here when those tanks roll in." Anderson gave him a small, but sturdy, plastic tube.
"If you're captured, destroy this message. The inside will burn if the container is exposed to direct flame."
"Got it. When do I leave?"
"Right now."
Ward pulled his ski mask over his face, strapped on his kevlar helmet and started the engine of his ATV. He waited a minute for the engine to warm up before pulling out of the lot and onto the small highway. It was dark out and the snow was falling hard, covering everything in the familiar white blanket. The sky was a warm yellow color from the lights of the city, but that faded as Ward got further from his home.
He worried. He worried about himself, he worried about Anderson, and he worried about Longmont. For the first time, he was unsure of the superiority of the Republic of Colorado and it left a foul taste in his mouth. He shivered as he pulled onto Interstate 25, going south towards what was left of Denver. He gripped the handlebars hard, and rode into the darkness, wondering if he would ever see Longmont again.
Satisfied that his section of the eastern perimeter was clear, Ward kicked his ATV into gear and slowly turned back towards Longmont, checking over his shoulder one more time.
It was about an hour drive at top speed, though it should have been half that but the snow slowed his progress. The flat gray sky added to the bleak appearance of the barren landscape. Snow blanketed everything, almost completely burying the wrecked houses and rusted piles of scrap that were once cars.
Ward pulled his vehicle into the parking lot in front of the former motel turned barracks. Most of the vehicles that should have been there were gone on patrols, which had become much more frequent in the past few months. Only a few APC's and trucks were not in use, and those were the ones that needed maintainance.
Ward brushed the snow from his body as he stepped inside the building. A blast of heat greeted him through the doorway, forcing him to remove his helmet and mask. As he walked to the armory, just across the once pristine lobby, which had begun decay after custodial staff could no longer be spared, he saw Black donning his mask and helmet. Ward threw him the key to the ATV and gave a curt nod before handing his assault rifle to the weapons officer. Ward started down the hall towards the mess hall to get a hot meal before sleeping until his next patrol. He had a daily routine to adhear to, and didn't mind one bit. He was alive, he had a home, he wasn't starving, and he got paid as well. Life might not turn out so bad after all.
General Holland was an imposing figure, even in his wrinkled, white battle uniform. It looked like he hadn't slept for days; his thinning gray hair was dirty and unwashed and his eyes were bloodshot. But he was still imposing standing on a podium in front of several well dressed men. "Gentlemen. Please be seated. As you know, there have been numerous forces of an unknown origin massing to the east and south. Though there has been no move towards Longmont, there have been several attacks on our outposts in Mead and Niwot. Gentlemen, we must prepare for the worst."
A skinny man wearing thick glasses and a black suit stood. "What would you suggest we do, General?"
Holland hesitated, took a deep breath and spoke, "I think.... I think we should consider asking the Brotherhood of Steel for help in-" his voice was drowned out by outraged shouts and a sudden raising of voices. "Gentlemen!! Gentlemen, please!!" The men ignored Holland.
"The Brotherhood will ruin us!"
"I've heard about what they do to other towns!"
"They always show up AFTER something happens!"
An enormous boom cut off the yelling abruptly. Flakes of plaster and white paint drifted down in front of a middle-aged man with short brown hair, graying on the sides, holding a smoking shotgun. "I thought that would get your attention." Captain Anderson walked from the doorway of the small conference room and to the front, next to General Holland. "Sir, I have my report on the recent activity in the east and south."
"Very well, Captain, you may proceed."
The captain spoke without hesistation, "There's tanks moving up in the south, they've already taken Niwot, but they're waiting. To the east, there's some very heavily armed ground troops. They've got some really heavy firepower, the likes of which only the Brotherhood has ever seen. It doesn't look good, sir. They're coming this way, I'd give them about a day or so at the least for repairs. Our boys hit them pretty hard before falling back, but we've taken heavy losses. W haven't got much left."
The general turned to the council. "We have no choice, we have to vote on this." The vote was 15 to 1, in favor of contacting the Brotherhood of Steel.
"Who are we going to send? We don't have the man-power to spare a single soldier!" The skinny man yelled. He was the one that didn't agree.
"I've got two that are perfect, sir." Anderson said to Holland, after a slight hesitation.
After returning from the mess hall, Ward was ready for a hot shower and some sleep, but when he walked into the quarters he shared with Black, he found a folder on his bed. He looked through the contents of the folder, then swore to himself. "Suicide." he said quietly.
"Not quite." A voice said from the door. Ward immediately recognized the voice of Captain Anderson, the only father figure he'd ever had. "I'm not gonna lie to you, kid. It'll be dangerous, and the chances of you making it back here in time with some help are slim, but you're the only one we can spare." Ward wasn't convinced; he was a better shot than most of the trained soldiers. "Black is going too, only he's going a different way in case one of you.... gets killed."
Ward didn't want to lay down his life for anyone, but he gave in anyway. "It'll be better than staying here when those tanks roll in." Anderson gave him a small, but sturdy, plastic tube.
"If you're captured, destroy this message. The inside will burn if the container is exposed to direct flame."
"Got it. When do I leave?"
"Right now."
Ward pulled his ski mask over his face, strapped on his kevlar helmet and started the engine of his ATV. He waited a minute for the engine to warm up before pulling out of the lot and onto the small highway. It was dark out and the snow was falling hard, covering everything in the familiar white blanket. The sky was a warm yellow color from the lights of the city, but that faded as Ward got further from his home.
He worried. He worried about himself, he worried about Anderson, and he worried about Longmont. For the first time, he was unsure of the superiority of the Republic of Colorado and it left a foul taste in his mouth. He shivered as he pulled onto Interstate 25, going south towards what was left of Denver. He gripped the handlebars hard, and rode into the darkness, wondering if he would ever see Longmont again.
Your fics are now definitely something I will seek out. It's crack, digital heroin.