A Friend In The Wastes: The encounter
#1 of A Friend In The Wastes
A Friend In The Wastes: The Encounter
The husky walked into the room, a musty smell assaulting his nostrils. The room is dark and decrepit, the cement walls starting to crumble. He leaps back through the doorway as he sees movement in one of the corners. He barely avoids a hail of gunfire, aimed at where he had been standing. He glanced down at his AK-47, making sure it was cocked.
He dove back through the door opening fire into the corner but only hitting the bare wall. He glanced around the room, searching for his attacker, but only seeing an empty room. He barely saw the creature crawling along the ceiling, just in time to dive aside as it pounced at his. Its razor sharp claws digging into the cement floor as it landed.
He looked over the creature taking in every detail he could while it struggled to free its claws. It looked like some kind of reptile, its scales were a mottled gray that blended in with the aging cement building. It claws were about six inches long and curved into barbed tips. Foot long spines jutted out of its back and continued all the way down its tail.
He took aim and fired a single shot into the creatures head, it slumped to the ground as blood poured from the wound. He put a few extra rounds into its chest, just to make sure. He walked over to the creature and began his least favorite thing, looting the body. The only useful things he found were a few cans food and its M4, along with a few spare clips.
He made his way back out the door and outside, he scanned the area making sure the gunfire hadn't attracted any unwanted attention. He grabbed his pack from beside the door and threw in his new supplies, strapping the M4 to his back after donning his pack. He started the long walk back to his hideout praying he made it before dark.
After several hours of walking across the desolate wasteland the sun was edging down against the horizon. "Fuck." The single word summed it up. He needed to find a place to take shelter for the night, and fast. He headed toward the nearest small building, it may have been a gas station before but all that was left now was a pile of rubble and mangled wreckage. It looked like a jumbo jet had landed right on it and set fire to the underground tanks.
Lucky for him the back of the building was still intact. As he edged up to the doorway he shouldered his rifle, glancing around the corner and stepping carefully over the threshold. He walked down the short hallway and stepped though another small doorway. He was surprised to find what looked like a bedroom.
Somebody had managed to get a decent bed into the room along with a small dresser, footlocker, and a gun cabinet with a small pile of ammo boxes. As he stood looking over this goldmine he forgot his most important rule, never let your guard down. The butt of a rifle slammed into the back of his head, his vision blurred and started to fade as he fell to his knees. He started to turn his head only to see the rifle but heading strait for his head. The second blow knocked him out cold.
As he awoke he shook his head a bit groggily, he looked around and realized that he was sitting, facing into the corner of the room. He tried to stand but felt that he had been tied to wooden chair. He looked around the room as much as he could and saw his gear sitting just out of reach along the wall to he left. A shiver ran down his spine as he heard footsteps behind him.
A voice came from behind him, sounding almost robotic, as if it had said these words many times. "What you say next will decide weather you live or die."