An Atomic Nightmare
"I remember the screams. The warning siren blaring away as loud as possible. People were running as fast as they could, tripping others up and stamping on them, showing no remorse. Only terror and the want to survive.
"I saw a mother get separated from her daughter. The mother turned and fought the seemingly endless stream of people to try and find her child. She sought safety in a shop door way near where her daughter was. She was hiding next to a mail box, her tiny frame being only just sheltered from the boots, the sneakers and high heels of the hive of people. She got kicked once or twice while attempting to reach her sole parent and you could see that her mother was in tears at the sight of her little girl being trapped by the animalistic wall of former co-workers and family friends, alongside strangers and vagrants.
"Once the crowd thinned into almost non-existence, they scurry to each other and held each other, happy to be together again. Then the flash came, and for a moment, total and complete silence fills the air. The very earth rumbles beneath them as they protect their eyes from the blinding light. The brightest light they have ever seen. It would be the last thing they saw.
"The rumble became a shudder, then a shake and then the full force of the nearest bomb hits them. They hold each other as close as possible, for they know that if they run, they won't escape. Words of love and care are traded as the blast burns their very souls into oblivion. All that was left of their final moments were the shadows burned into the concrete. I will never forget what I witnessed that day, for it changed my live forever. As I sat in my observation room at the security company I once worked for, I watched my own family be destroyed by those Communist meatbags. A war over oil and the right to use it has resulted in my own family being ripped asunder, all while I watch it on a flickering TV screen. It is now I wish I had never put forth the idea to upgrade the cameras to withstand a nuclear blast. I thought it would help us maintain order if the worst ever happened. It only caused me to witness an event that has sent many into a horrible depression. My name is Charles Francis, and I write this journal as a way of keeping my family alive."
Charles' handwriting had steadily became harder and harder to read and his tears soaked the pages, every one of them sadder than the last. He slams his journal shut and throws it at the wall while painfully howling into the deafening silence that shrouded the canteen. He calms down and looks at his wrists which still bear the scars of his recent suicide attempt. He only wanted to be re-united with them.
After hours of rummaging, searching, scanning and exploring around the whole of his impromptu shelter, his old workplace, Charles realised that he has only 2 Blamco Mac and Cheeses and one bottle of Nuka Cola left. "I guess this was going to have to happen sometime," he muttered to himself. While wondering about, Charles had found a .44 Magnum revolver with 12 bullets and had ripped a lead pipe from the wall. His wind up radio had been tuned to GNR, where they updated the few listeners left on how high the radiation was. In the 6 months since the bombs fell, the levels had died down to the point where it was relatively safe to go out into the open and not be poisoned instantly. Charles wrapped up in a thick jacket just so he knew he'd be warm and picked up an old rucksack he found.
After consulting the map of the nearby area, he discovered that there were at least 5 shops within running distance of his haven. He chose to scavenge in Derek's Market first, because it was only half a block away. He loaded his Magnum, keeping the 6 spare bullets tucked into his glove and shoved the pipe into his pocket. As he opened the front door of the lobby, the first thing his eyes rest upon were some words written in red spray paint. It read "Pull the trigger and the nightmare stops." Charles recognised it from a song Coheed and Cambria used to play. He yearned for the simple pleasure of hearing it once more. As he wondered through the streets to get to Derek's, he found various potential weapons that could come in handy, but he felt safe enough with his magnum. He had always laughed at his best friend Anthony for keeping it in his desk drawer. Now he was happy that Tony had never listened to him when he told him to take it home. He finally reached the market and slowly opened the door and stepped inside, trying to remain as quiet as possible, just in case there were any hostile creatures lurking about inside. After making sure all the rooms were clear, he set about collecting as much food and drink as he could feasibly care back. Nearly falling over with this massive haul, Charles made for the door. He rests his hand on the handle and starts to pull it open when it is violently forced into his head. Charles flies backwards and lands on his back, craning his neck trying to see what caused the door to open so quickly. His worst fears have been realised as three Raiders stand in the doorway, their silhouettes contrasting the bright outside. He scrambles to his feet and reaches for his gun, but before he can grasp the handle, a baseball bat connects with the side of his head. He falls to the ground, knocked out and is dragged out the shop by the Raiders to their hideout.
