I moved as quietly as I could through the rubble strewn streets of what used to be New York. The silent cries for help were there all around me, the once tall and proudly standing buildings were now aflame and crumbling. The fighting was everywhere but it was no longer to destroy the enemy, but merely to see the next day. The sun was an orange glow as it dipped below the horizon, tormenting me about the cold and restless night to come.
A high pitched scream broke the silence and froze me to the spot that I was standing in. I could feel the color drain from my face as I heard the horrific cry. I felt myself racing towards the sound before I actually processed what was happening. The crack of rifle shots sent echos down the desolate streets; that was when I saw what looked to be a trash truck ahead with people in dark hazmat suits wielding flamethrowers. Cleaners shit; I thought to myself as I took cover by the stairs to one of the apartments, raising my custom-made MK14 EBR to my shoulder as I did so.
Division Agent Jhonathan Preston tried to regain his breath as he aimed through the 15x scope towards one of the figures ahead. He could hear someone cry out for help a moment before fire started jetting towards the car they were in. As Jhon breathed out, he pulled the trigger; sending a 7.62mm Full Metal Jacket round straight towards one of the cleaner's heads. The loud crack of the rifle echoed down the street after the bullet meet it's mark. The other three turned around to see their friend laying on the ground, not moving. Unsure of where the shot came from they took cover from behind the trash truck in hopes that it would block any incoming fire. A blood-hurtling scream filled the air as the fire engulfed the vehicle along with the person inside.
Now fueled with hatred, Jhon rushed to the side of the truck, slowly making his way to where he saw them take cover. He turned the corner with his weapon raised to see them peaking around for the shooter. Jhon sent loose another three rounds, each one hitting their intended target. When he finally turned to save the person from the burning wreck the screams had already died down; it was too late.
Jhon cursed himself quietly. The lives that were lost when he could've saved them was clearly starting to weigh on him. But he didn't have the time to grieve for those individuals now; he had bigger problems. The JTF had told him that the rest of his squad seemingly vanished in Sector Six of the Dark Zone. Things were looking grim but, there was still a chance that they could be alive; and with everything else going on it was a chance he had to take.
His eyelids were starting to grow heavy as his body called out for food and rest from the last 36 hours of running and fighting. One of the apartments near by didn't look to be boarded up but as he tried to open it something was blocking the way. He let his weapon fall to his side as he reached around and grabbed the crowbar off the side of his Paramedic bag. He slipped the crowbar in and eventually forced the door open after the wood boards covering it, came off. He shut the door behind him and made a pile of debris in front so that he'll at least know if someone tries to get in. After he cleared the two story building he settled on a room at the end of the hallway on the first floor. Plastic tarp covered the windows looking outside and most importantly; it wasn't contaminated.
Jhon took off his mask, taking in a deep breath of air as he did so. He un-clipped his pack and it fell heavily to the floor as he made his way to a bed in the small studio. Placing his weapons beside the bed; he laid down, exhausted. His energy no longer there to keep his eyes open as he drifted to sleep.