CHAPTER TWO! Jack is stuck in a city overrun by machines. Let's see what happens... R&R please!
Character List [Note: Dead characters will be on the list for the next chapter with the status "deceased."]
Jack- The protagonist.- Status: Alive
Callie- A girl who went to Jack's school and Marcus' ex-girlfriend.- Status: Unknown
Marcus- The bully who put Jack in the hospital.- Status: Unknown
(?'s POV)
-Elsewhere-
I awoke strapped to a chair. There was a distinct mechanical hum all around. The chair was reclined, so I was flat on my back. There was a small panel with an array of hellish tools that looked like surgical instruments, if your surgeon was also a serial killer. I glanced out the one window, and saw "CYBERDYNE SYSTEMS RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENTAL TEST AREA: PROJECT ANGEL." I had no time to ponder the meaning of this, as just then a glowing red eye dropped down from the ceiling.
"SUBJECT IS AWAKE," said the eye. "PREPARE FOR UPGRADE."
The panel with the tools moved closer, and the instruments were lifted off it with robotic arms. As the first one cut my arm, I screamed. Then darkness overcame me.
(Jack's POV)
The street was dirty and covered in rubble. I guess it was to be expected, with the apocalypse and all. There was a pistol-grip shotgun slung across my back, and my assault rifle was hanging on my other shoulder. My trusty magnum .44 revolver was drawn and ready. I never missed a target, especially with the revolver. The sound of crashing behind me jolted me back to reality. I guessed the robot that had attacked me wasn't dead, but was struggling to get free of the fishing display I had knocked it into. My best course of action was to find another survivor, as my chances of surviving were currently around zero.
Then I heard a noise, and it crawled over the top of a building. It was a huge, spiderlike metal beast with machine guns for hands. It was clear that this thing took no prisoners. I knew I was dead. I was hidden behind a car, but it was closing in fast. And then it was shredded to bits.
The Survivors' four wheel drive rounded the corner at high speed. It had been modified, and had a chaingun in the back. It slowed to a stop, and a man in the back of the truck reached out a hand to me. He had blonde hair and a black bandanna wrapped around his head.
"I'm Kyle," he said, "Come with me if you want to live."
"These things are Terminators, or Hunter-Killer units. Their only purpose is to kill people."
"Gee, thanks, Captain Obvious," I said to Kyle, "I had no idea."
Kyle rolled his eyes, then continued. " We're the Survivors, a small group of around fifteen people dedicated to surviving the machine uprising. Right now, we're headed four our base downtown."
The rest of the ride was uneventful. The Survivors' current base was a small building in the downtown area that was partially sunken into the ground. There were around ten people loading vehicles, checking weapons, and a guy who was presumably a lookout.
"We're getting ready to leave," Kyle explained. "The whole city is crawling with Terminators. If we don't get the hell out of dodge, we have two choices: join the Resistance, or die. And we don't want to join the resistance because of their suicidal devotion to saving all of humanity, and the rest of that crap. We just want to survive."
Although this idea was sort of self-destructive, (if we're the only ones who survive, how will we get ammunition, food, and other resources?) it made sense at the time. The truck rolled to a stop, and we got off. Someone wearing a motorcycle helmet glanced at us, stopped, and then ran over. The person was a girl, who was wearing a black, form-fitting suit with some kind of metal plates attached to the outside. It looked like something out of a sci-fi movie. She pulled off her helmet, and I recognized her immediately. She had the same brown hair, the same perfect face, the same impossible blue-green eyes that drove me insane. It was Callie.
"Oh my God, JACK," she cried, "You're alive!"
My only response was, "Uh... yeah, I guess so."
"I thought you were dead. At first it seemed like Marcus killed you, and I almost killed him, but you were both in the hospital, and you were in a coma, and THEN the stupid apocalypse happened and, like, EVERYBODY died, but Kyle saved me, and now you!"
"What about Marcus?" I asked, mostly because it was the only coherent sentence that my brain could put together.
"We don't know," Callie replied, "we THINK he died, but a Harvester may have gotten him."
"How long was I out?" was the next thing I could say.
"About two weeks."
This was a huge shock. In two weeks these things had killed thousands, maybe millions, reduced cities to rubble, and managed to drive humans to forming a resistance, instead of a normal military. Things were bad. Very bad. I was so stunned by this that when someone said "Hi" to me I replied "Fine, thanks."
The leader was a very loud older gentleman with an eyepatch and a mustache. His name was Jake.
"So you're the kid Kyle dragged in off the streets," he growled. "He does this all the time. Pulls in every last damn kid with a gun. You're the third this week. Well, I suppose you could be of some help."
His second in command was a tall African-American dude named John. He looked like an athlete. He had a .60 caliber machine gun slung over one shoulder.
"Sir, John said, "we're ready to move out."
"Good," said Jake. "ALL RIGHT EVERYBODY, GET TO THE CARS! WE'RE LEAVING IN FIVE MINUTES, AND I DON'T REALLY CARE IF YOU'RE WITH US OR NOT!" He turned to me. "Go in Kyle's truck. Once we're out of the city, you'll get a bunk in the transporter." He gestured to a big truck that presumably had bunks in the back.
I got in the back of the truck that Kyle was in. Callie was also in the back, and a guy named Nick was driving. Nick was a pretty normal-looking guy, and seemed nice. The truck began to move, and then we were off.