THE PATHS WE TRAVEL
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Title : The Paths We Travel
Author : Enflope
Disclaimer : I do not own Dragon Ball Z nor any recognizable characters they are in all their magnificence the private property of Akira Toriyama
Rating : PG-13
Summary : When the androids have attacked. And the world's only hope is Trunks.
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Chapter One: Nothing to Lose
Most people in their lifetimes would never get to experience it, those who did would never know how to describe it. Pain? Could it be? Not physical, although he had felt his body easily give in, his feet not able to resist what had felt like twice the gravitational force, yet only for him. Could it be... that it was only him, all the suffering in the word... yet he felt it was only him. How could it not only be him... no one should ever get the slightest glimpse of what he was suffering. No one. He slowly lifted his head, which had been resting between his knees. His back curled as he was pained him. He must have been lying there for some hours now, not that it mattered. Nothing mattered anymore. Despite of the small pain in his back, he uncurled himself in a straight position. What had seemed for him an uninhabited, ghost wasteland was realized to be a living ocean of the dead. He could hear cries and the mad outcries of those who knew their death was close. People bent down holding their long gone loved ones in their arms, desperately yelling and begging for help. He realized his position was not much different from all those other people.
Most people would never get to experience it in their lifetimes...
He wished he could still say that. But glancing again in all directions, and watching the pained expressions of those who would suffer only for moments now, since their death was nearer than the Moon was to the Earth, he regretted it. All should stuffer what he had! And he was pleased to find that most were. He was pleased...
The man chuckled, his aged features clearly evident in his face. The body of his only daughter still lying lifelessly on the street pavement, now soaked in red.
Yes, she was released now, and he was doomed to continue, sentenced to no other choice but to go on. Go on... To continue...
...To continue what? To endure the pain that living had become... To live and see how all is lost...
No....
He was pulled out of his thoughts by a woman's voice. And he came back to reality. Screams of agony floating in the air. His ears capable of hearing again, the endless torture of Death in the atmosphere.
"Sir! Please! Can you hear me?" Her old hands grasping his clothes as if afraid he would go.
"Sorry madam, this is a mistake. Would you be kind enough to let go." He was amazed he was still able to be courteous.
"Yes! Yes! This is a mistake," her voice trembling with every word she spoke. She must have been older than eighty the man figured. "My son, he... help him! Please!" her index finger was raised, with difficulty because of her shaky hands, towards the direction in which the body of a man lay.
As the man approached his eyes shifted from the face of the man's body to his legs, or rather his leg, discovering he had lost his leg by the blast.
Giving a loud sigh, the man returned to face the old woman.
"May your son be at peace."
"Oh! Oh, no, no. My son is quite well, he just received some injury..."
"Madam—"
"Yes! Tomorrow we were... we are going to... he's quite well. Yes, he's just—"
"Madam! He is lifeless, inanimate. Dead," he said in a vehement outcry. His legs not able to support him, he felt to his knees with a cry of utter emptiness and helplessness.
The sobs of the old woman suddenly became far and distant until it was heard no more. All became tranquil and passive.
Dead... dead... dead...
To live and see the destruction of us all...
To live in total helplessness as I see all my world ripped from me... All what I have lived to see, and watched how days became into years as all this was created...
All this which took centuries to be created...
...to be destroyed with a single blast. With a single pointed finger form the monsters' hand.
I will not live to see such an end.
This time the cries did not come back. All was quiet. The man reached out to a girl's dead body. She had been holding a gun.
The man laughed as he took it. This world was mad. As so would he if he chose to stay in it. A huge wave of air threw him back just as he had been holding the gun to his head, sending the gun flying to his left. As he looked up he found a boy land on, not farther than six feet away, in front of him.
The man recognized the boy, for it had been known that a young adult of lavender colored hair had been fighting to protect the people when the androids attacked.
And just as the man managed to compose himself he heard the boy mutter under his breath, "I was late again."
Late! The boy had been late! My daughter could have been alive!
"You were LATE? Was it that?" the man yelled, "you... were... late." Sarcasm filled his voice and he started laughing.
"Late! Hundreds died! ...and you were..." he no longer laughed but screamed in anger.
"...LATE!" he grabbed the biggest rock he was able to lift, and threw it at the young man with all his strength.
The boy did nothing to evade it. He stood there unharmed facing to see the mad man, his eyes emitting a wave of hurt ?
No! He would NOT be pitied.
The man turned to his left, took the gun in his hands. Raised it to his head.
His lips curled into an insane grin. "Next time try not to be late."
And he knew no more.