After the Great Upheaval, hope is all that is left. (Flash Fiction) |
Written for the Daily Flash Fiction Challenge with a word limit of 300. The prompts: This story must contain the words: code, scream and tent Hope The town was empty as expected. The drone floated down the street. Its sensors looking for sounds, heat or unnatural movement; any evidence that life had returned to normal. It was looking for hope. In the early days after the Great Upheaval, this is what we did. The bio-habitats were filled with wanna-be prophets. They preached that breaking the genetic code had opened Pandora’s Box. Genetic engineering had become “The Devil’s Tool”. “God is punishing us.” That’s what they said. Looking back, I’d have to reluctantly agree with them. Sure, we found new cures and extended lives and all that good stuff. But in the end, we killed ourselves. We were like children with loaded weapons. We playfully pointed our genetic manipulations at each other and then pulled the trigger – so to speak. The drone whipped quickly to the right. It had sensed a motion somewhere deep inside the giant warehouse store. Hope… The building had several large portions of its front torn down. The gene-ogres never used a door when tearing down a wall would do just as well. Their violent nature was mankind’s best hope. Maybe they would kill each other off. Not much of a strategy; hoping the enemy would self destruct. But we could hope. The drone floated into the building. It was dark but not perfectly so. Images were sent back to the controllers who saw isle after isle of destruction. No one was surprised. The drone picked up a heat signature and tracked it to a tent in the sporting goods department. Maybe they would find someone here not infected. Hope… A scream, a flash of a horribly disfigured face and a view of a swinging hammer ended the mission abruptly. They would try again tomorrow. They had to. It was their only hope. Word count 300 |