About the Author: Nic likes making people laugh and having a good time.
Thirst
The outline of someone's shadow remained burnt into the wall beside me. The fallout of society occurred so long ago that I can't even remember my own name. When the first nuclear warhead was launched, billions of innocent civilians had died. But those who survived either converted to bloodthirsty raiders or survivors.
I am a survivor and part of a group assigned to an outpost set up just outside of the city. I was sent into the city on a supply run but I lost my way while trying to leave the city. I began pushing heaps of charred metal and cement off of the rusty hood of what used to be a truck to make room for my torn map.
As I made my way down the street I spotted a pump house covered in fading green paint. Fearing dehydration I ventured inside. It was locked. Breaking in might not have been worth the energy but clean water was rare and was getting rarer everyday. Grabbing a pipe off the ground, I hit the lock with all of my remaining strength. The lock clicked and fell to the floor.
Two feet through the door was a rusty crank that I assumed was attached to the main water supply. Slowly dying of thirst, I bent my head underneath the faucet and tugged at the heavy crank only to be greeted with a mouth full of dirt and grime with an overpowering stench. This only worsened the situation.
While spitting out the last of the dirt onto the cracking concrete floor, I saw a strange pattern in the light on the ground. I directed my sight towards a window, and I was greeted with the sight of two old milk jugs full of water. They were surrounded by empty cans that were all missing their labels. It was a tight squeeze but I made my way through the pipes and just managed to grab the rations by the window.
Gazing out of the pumphouse having filled up on water and back to full strength, I set my eyes on the moon and realized just how long I had been in here. The worst mistake that anyone could make in this city was to go outside at night.
After I had unfolded my sleeping bag and layed down, I stared at the door until my eyes got heavy and I could allow myself to drift away.
Suddenly my eyes opened and I could hear two voices outside.
“I can hear him in there!”
Sensing the danger, I immediately flung on my clothes and slipped out the back window.
As I ran away I heard a loud noise and felt a small stinging pain in the back of my right leg.
“That’s what you get for stealing from us!” One of them bellowed.
I realized the food and water in the pump house was theirs but giving them an empty container of water wouldn't help so I started to run as fast as I ever ran.
Caught up in the moment, I thought nothing of the increasingly painful sting in the back of my leg, so I continued to sprint to safety.
“I need to get back to the outpost.” I whispered to myself.
Wheezing and sweating, I followed a path of caution tape and construction signs. The path took me too a construction site, and I decided to stay there and lay low incase those tyrants were still chasing me.
My exhaustion forced me to collapse onto the pavement.
While reaching down my pants to grab my map out of my back pocket, I saw that my clothes were drenched in blood. As I removed my jeans to get a closer look, I knew now that the sting was a bullet. I quickly checked the other side of my leg for the bullet’s exit point, I didn’t see it and I knew that the bullet was still inside of me.
I was losing blood and fast! Without a surgeon or medical tools I would have to remove the bullet myself. After fumbling around in my backpack while fearing a slow death I grabbed a blowtorch and a pair of metal cooking tongs out of my backpack.
I quivered as I set the blowtorch on high and stood it up next to a loose piece of rebar to heat it up until it was glowing red.
I held the tongs up to the wound fearing the pain. I knew that if I didn't do it now, then I would die and I didnt want this to be the way I went out.
I was ready.
I picked the tongs up while my fear for survival suddenly took over me, and adrenaline started to pump through my veins.
As quick as I picked it up I shot it down into the wound and let out a screech of agony. I missed the bullet and grabbed an exposed vaine inside of my leg. Blood escaped the hole in my leg much faster now. It hurt so much but it would only stop if I got the bullet. I dug around in my leg until I finally found the bullet. Pulling it out hurt more than it did going in.
My own screaming started to terrify me. Finally I squeezed the bullet out of my skin.
Blood burst into my face. I was starting to get tired, which meant I was close to death. I threw the tongs onto the cement. The wound had to be cauterized or I would bleed out. I grabbed the red hot rebar, flew it above my head and plunged it into my leg.
Red steam lifted out of my wound with a slight whistling sound. I tried to scream but the pain was too much. Instead, all I could let out was one last wheezing breath expressing my horror. Then I was swiftly silenced by the pain and everything went black.
My head felt like it was being torn in half.
My body didn't want me to move. Every time I tried to get up the pain in my leg pushed me down again. I layed on the hot cement of that construction site.
Once I finally got motivation, I hoisted myself up with the tire of a forklift.
I could barely walk.
I grabbed the now bloody piece of rebar I used to cauterize my wound and used it as a makeshift cane. If I didn't get to the outpost now then I would surely die.
As I finished limping desperately down the street I came to a dusty, dry, clearing outside of the city. I recognized this place.
The outpost looked more appealing to me than it ever had before. I tried to run to it but was quickly reminded of my injury. A large shock ran up my spine, making me bite my lip to avoid yelling. I clenched the rebar and tried to limp in the Outpost direction.
The heat waves bounced off the ground and created a swarm of heat that engulfed my broken body. One straight line from where I stood back to society. I was drenched in sweat and thought about stopping to take a swig of my second jug of now very warm water.
I was now within four hundred feet of the rusty creaking front gate.
I creeped closer and closer, until I could almost feel the chipping red paint that was poorly painted onto the stone walls when my group first discovered it.
The gate clanked in the dusty wind.
I reached into my back pocket to find my key. I shoved it into the lock with all of my remaining strength. The lock snapped open. I removed it from the gate, letting the chain slither off of the gate bars onto the ground. I was exhausted and could barely keep my eyes open but I was too close to give up. I forced myself to grab onto a bar of the gate and push it open. I was so happy that I was here. One step and I would be home. I closed my eyes so that when I entered I would be met only with what was inside the outpost.
CHANK
“What was that?” I whispered.
Except I really didn't want to know. I tried to run in before I could find out but something kept me from going in. I tried but I couldn't move.
I tried opening my eyes but one wouldn't open. A new shade of red was now painted on the gate that I was left to stare at.
I had seen that color before all to recently and knew what it meant. My blood now stained the outpost. In that moment I sall the hole in the wall of the outpost where the bullet that caused my death had landed.
THUD
I fell to the ground just managing to turn my head back and see a scruffy man carrying the gun that had shot me.
I lay there dying until my killer got to me only to take the half empty jug of water out of my bloody backpack.
At that moment I knew he was the raider that had shot me the first time. I tried to curse his name but I could only let out a soft grunt. He looked at me to see that I was still alive. He kneeled down to put the cold dark muzzle of his gun to my forehead. I couldn't believe that this entire journey was for nothing.
I clenched my teeth and stared into the barrel of the gun then at the trigger that was covered by the finger of my killer. I was ready to leave this hell on earth knowing that something better was waiting for me.
CLANK
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