Teardrop [2]

19.44 pm.


It wasn't dark; it wasn't bright either. Twilight, it created an eerie atmosphere, made his skin crawl. The nagging fact that he was alone yet not really alone bugged him. He could smell them, hear them, faintly, not distinct enough to divert his attention. But he knew, they were somewhere.

It was somewhat like witching hour, a long shadow here and there, threatening to hide the deadliest of threats, them. No bag with him. He carried tons of pouches, packs, they gave him pockets aplenty for anything, everything. The heavy piece of technological metal felt good, suprisingly warm to the touch. It was most probably from his tension, alertness. The dual vests he wore clamped tight to his chest, his every breath lifting it slightly, steady breathing.

The walk was tormenting, 15 clicks to nowhere. He just walked. He knoew the streets well, though it differed from the view in a vehicle.
He wondered.....

"Are they alright?"
"Are they, alive?!"

Pray. Mind open. There!

He dropped to the ground. Slowly he moved, crawled. Alert. Position?

"It's ok, covered."

He counted them...

"1. 4. 15....32, 33."

33 in all. Could he? He looked at his surroundings, there were none he could see, but they could very well, be all over the place. After all, who survived this hell? No one he knew. No one.
Could he? Should he? He had tons of magazines, he just might be able to.....

Fuck it.

Cock. Safety off. Fine tuning. Goggles down. Equipment check. Turned on the scope. Breathed slowly. Fingered the trigger, power. In position, slowly, slowly, confidently, then......

They sounded horrible when they began to die. They couldn't see him of course. The moved around in crazed circles, he just took them out one by one. Take your time, focus, watch your back, watch your back. Steady, concentrate, back, front, back, front.
They saw him. They weren't brought back to life for nothing, they could just sense it. He steadily slung the rifle. Got up to kneeling, reached for the other. Plenty of mags left, but no hero here. Take it easy. Steady.

Cock. Safety off. No need tuning, just look, aim and wait for beauty.

It sickened him, but he didn't really have a choice.


What's next?