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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1206483-a-long-journey
by aero86
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Action/Adventure · #1206483
the intro of an action/adventure about a post-nuclear war struggle of a "boy" and his dog.
1


He trudged through the rusted shells of cars in the crowd lanes that lead to the city. At his heels was the only living thing he still had. His brown Labrador was just a puppy when he found him abandon by its mother after everything had happened. All the man carried was a hiking bag packed full of dried meat, fruits and vegetables. In it he also carried ammunition for his rifle, which was slung over his shoulder. His tough hide skin clothes kept him warm and dry on cold, wet days. His most dear item was kept in his jacket pocket, a picture of his family that he was so desperately trying to find.

When he had found his dog, he was under nourished, and on the verge of death. The puppy was barely 6 weeks old, but, with some persistence, the man was able to nurse him back to health. Now the puppy was a full grown dog, with a white spot on his chest, between his front legs. It was hard to believe that the dog was only just a couple years old, after someone saw him, although still beautiful, they would think he was much older. He was covered with old scars from many fights. Through his muzzle on one side many teeth showed, one ear was half missing. On his left hind leg, a patch of fur was missing that would never grow back. But, through all this, his coat still shown like when he was a puppy.

The man this dog followed, did not look much better. He looked as if he were much older than he really was. Although he was only in his twenty’s, the events had changed everything in everyone. He was a tall, broad shouldered slim man, but no less formidable than someone 80lbs heavier. His curly, shoulder length red hair was topped with a wide brimmed hat. Even though his skin was pale, he never seemed to sunburn. Seemed to be one of the side effects that he enjoyed after surviving the events. He to was covered in scars, although, not as many as his companion. His arms were the only skin that showed the scars that he had. Various, jagged scars criss-crossed the forearms of both arms.

Along the way to the city, the sun was getting closer to the horizon. He commented to his dog, that they had better find a place to sleep. So they stepped off of the motor way into the few stands of trees still standing. As he set to work making a place to rest, noticing he wont have to use his tarp, he thought to himself, I wish I didn’t have to sleep.

Every night, he knew, he would have the same dream. He was in the lab in a college in New York when it all happened. That papers had been saying for weeks that an all out war was on the horizon. Fighting had broken out in Iran, North Korea, Iraq, and various other place. Tensions between countries had been ever tightening for years. Iran had fired a nuclear warhead at Israel, not caring about the fellow people that this country also had in it. This war head missed the capital, but still exploded in the country. Israel fired all its stock at all its threatening countries, even Russia and China. Russia and China both fired on Israel. The country was destroyed, but the U.S. fired back at both large countries and they retaliated. ¾ of the worlds population died that day and the following weeks.

He would dream every time of what happened. He was working on a cell renewing formula when he saw the bright flash. With the vial still in his hand, he ran towards the window and peered out. Shielding his eyes, he knew what had happened. NYC had just been attacked. He knew that ever major city would be attacked. The next second all the glass, including the vial in his hand was blown away. His last though was, This can’t be, I’ve got to see my family one last time!


2

He awoke to a gently pawing at his leg. This was his hairy alarm clock. He could always count on him to wake him just before sunrise. He knew there was nothing wrong, because if so, there would be lots more urgency than just a gentle pawing. His dog had saved his life many times by waking him in his sleep.

Even though he always seemed to have a restless nights sleep, he always awoke, refreshed. His vivid dreams now slipping away as they continued on towards the city.
Walking towards the city, he casually noticed that this one, like all others looked like the rest he had been through. The cars and their owners lay dead and rusted where they had come to rest. Here and there, huge pileups made it impossible to continue straight, so they had to detour around.

The buildings all looked like a stand of trees that had been broken in half. Some of the buildings, lone walls continued up for many floors. Others, a single piece of metal still tried to stand tall, as if the building was trying to retain the tall glory it once had. None of the buildings glass windows where intact.

Finally, he came up to a massive pileup that he knew was from the shock wave of the bombs. Cars were piled many feet high upon one another, smashed, crumpled, crushed. Remains of the occupants had long been picked at, although the smell was something he still had not gotten used to.

As he passed over the massive pileup, he came up an almost clear stretch of road. Only the heavier vehicles, which looked like they had been rolled to where they stopped, dotted the roadways now. The vegetation looked as if it were trying to come back, although it had to cope with less than half of the amount of sun they normal would receive. Cloud cover still covered most of the globe.

Every now and then, he would see smoke. But, he would not stop, he would continue forward. As he stepped onto the bridge he noticed that it would probably never hold a 1/20 of its original capacity. Its support and main structure were both heavily damage. Huge pieces of concrete were missing or dangling from the rebar that gave it its strength and flexibility.

As he came into the city, he would see people scurry here and there. Dressed in old, ragged patched-up clothing, they seemed like mice. Running along walls, then darting around a corner to get away from this stranger. He had also noticed a few dead slumped against a wall or lying were they fell in the street. These were not dead from the bomb, they would be further out. He would examine these few. Most looked malnourished. But, some, showed the signs that the sickness had gotten to them.

The bombs used in these attacks and used against the enemy were a low radiation type, very high yield explosive. Only 1-2 were needed for major cities. The idea was, that you wanted to teach your enemy a lesson, not deprive him of land. While, this sounded good when it was told to our civilians, but the real idea was, that, after the initial explosions, any radiation would be gone within 2-3 days. That way a military taskforce could come in and take over.

How the people that survived the blast, we will never know, but they couldn’t escape from the small doses of radiation that still stayed around. The one laying in the street had a horrible look of pain etched onto their face. It was hard to tell if the person was a man or woman, the disfigurement was so sever. The skin seemed to have shrunken around the skull, pulling the nose up into a sort of pug nose. No hair was visible anywhere on the head, except for a few stray strands here and there. The teeth had long fallen out.

After a quick examination, he continued. He had seen this dozens of times before. He chose to stay on the main highway, it offered him a slight protection. He could see all around him for 40 or 50 feet. He could see if he were going to be attacked. In all the other cities, he always had been and, he thought to himself, I will probably be attacked here, too. He noticed the buildings missing roofs, walls, even some with just the windows blown out. Here and there some buildings had a car or two shoved into a wall or all the way inside the building. Also, he noticed a few sound buildings with boarded up windows, buildings he wanted to stay away from.

He stopped for a minute after finding a indication of what city he was in, and made sure that he was going the correct way. He took out a weathered and worn looking road atlas out of his leather pack and flipped through the pages. He was still more than a 1000 miles from home. It slows you down walking, but he could average 2-3 miles an hour.
“Oh man, still a while to go Max…” he said to his Lab as he patted the sitting dogs head then scratched behind his half ear. He looked up from where they were stopped and took a long look at the jagged and busted skyline of a once sprawling city. Now it dangled on the edge of oblivion as the wilderness encroached upon it everywhere. Trees not pruned since the war grew everywhere, though stunted like most plants. Grass was sometimes as tall as 3 feet. Wild animals roamed through city streets.

Most of the animals escaped the radiation damage and the fall out. They where out of the city mostly anyway. But a few were affected by the radiation. But, they didn’t die, they just mutated. A few rabbits and raccoons and such spawned babies with odd variations. Elongated limbs, abnormal coloring. Some benefited, some where hampered. Luckily, the ones that were debilitated will die off quickly, and not affect the rest of the breeding population. In a husky, hesitant tone, he said, “Well, boy, lets get home now…”

3.

The four that were left out of the group of attackers circled around a man that held a stick in both hands. He was about average height for a man, but thickly built. Not fat on this man at all. Years of hard life had gotten rid of any traces of that. His already strong body was perfectly adapted to this new life style. Harshness, hard work, and fighting was what he was used to now. Fighting is what he did best. He would even be hired for it from time to time. The guys around him all wore some kind of armor. One had on football shoulder pads and a helmet, the other 3 various kinds of body armor, all of them with holes from gun battles. All four were tough looking men, and they misjudged this single man already. Not this time.

They all got closer and closer, swinging chains with weights on the end. Clubbing bats into their hands menacingly. One had a pair of brass knuckles. The one swinging the chain yelled loudly then charged forward, the others waited a second, cautious of the swinging chain, then followed suit. The encircled man, with a slight smirk and look of amusement, ducked low, and stuck up one of the billie-clubs that he had in his hand. The chain missed its mark, but wrapped itself tight around the club. He got up quickly and pulled hard. The sudden forward pull brought the chain man closer, but threw him off balance. He tripped and fell forward.




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