Bone Dry

As Planet Earth's resources begin to wear thin,
humanity turns to its a favorite hobby.

A story about a soldier trapped in the concrete graveyard of 2040's New York

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3. Ground Zero

 

Corporal Reiss hurriedly sank out of sight.. I  scrambled after him, but unseen piece of debris slammed into the back of my head, sending me tumbling of off the tank and onto the street, hitting what felt like every bump on the way down.  My ears were ringing. The cacophony of fire and screams was muted. Blood trickled from the gash in my side.  I coughed painfully and tried to stand, but my injured gut protested. bullets pinged against the concrete, felling the fleeing men in droves.

"Reiss.." I gurgled, as a hand grabbed the collar of my shirt, hauling my to my feet.

"No hope for Reiss now, son" sighed the Captain, dusting me off. With his help, I limped across the road to a ruined cafe were several men were hiding. We hunched behind an upturned table,and I was handed a tablet with a crack in the screen. Now I'm no front line soldier, but I was a tactician. It was nice to be back in my comfort zone. If flicked a finger across the dusty screen and it lit up.

"How many men standing?" asked the captain.

I looked at the count for vital signs near us.

"Four,Sir" I concluded, desperately searching for someone else to resurrect in our minds.

"Just four" I looked up and found that the four standing accounted for the captain, the two soldiers in the opposite corner and myself. One by one, we all began to realize the implications of that. The men that drove us here, the Lieutenant that had called me up to the front, without whom I would have been in the first truck to be lost. Reiss. If losing people I barley knew hurt like this, I sure as hell wasn't going to anyone else die for this mission.

The plane had moved onto another unfortunate party now.

 

 

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