Regret
1
Adrian woke all
at once, not sure what had disturbed him. Eyes still closed, he listened, and
heard nothing.
His head ached
with a fierce throbbing and though he knew he was in his on cot, he didn’t know
how he’d gotten there. He opened his eyes to look at the alarm clock and
frowned, listening harder. 9 a.m. He had slept till nine and yet, there was no
noise from his camp.
He buttoned
jeans he didn’t remember putting on and sat up, aware of the very bright light
seeping through the shades. He pulled on his boots, stuffing the laces inside
and still, silence. Alarm bells were going off in his head and he quickly
strapped on his gun.
“Angela.” He called for her silently, pulling on
his jacket and stepping to the door. The air was chilly as the camper door
swung open…
Adrian sucked in
a painful breath. He grabbed the door frame for support, horrified to feel
sharp pains radiate from his chest. It was gone. All of it.
Abandoned, torn
up, rusted campers sat on flat tires without windows or doors, and the sickly
weeds were growing up over the wheels. The air smelled sour, though the sky was
finally clear of the sky grit, but there were no people here.
From the doorway
he could see the Mess and the parking area, and although everything was there,
it was like the campers; broken, rusty, and charred, with weeds starting to
take over the tires.
He stepped
slowly down into ankle high greenish plants that seemed to gravitate towards
him, brushing, caressing. He turned, and was stunned to see that his camper now
looked like the rest of the camp - old, over. There was even a huge hole in the
rusted-out bottom stair that should have tripped him and broken his ankle.
His 9mm was in
his hand now, the survivor inside coming forward, moving his feet. It was all
gone here, all wrong. Charred personal items and bloodstains were on steps,
walls, vehicles, and the ground, but they looked faded, frozen in time.
His heart
pounded irregularly and he winced this time at the terrifying feeling.
Panicking blue eyes found his shiny semi nearby, but he ignored the instinct
screaming at him to get in it and run, sensing the trap that might lie hidden
there.
He called for
Angela again and his heart grew cold when she still didn’t answer. He turned to
find her camper, but was drawn to the sight of the crosses on an edge of the
cracked pavement.
They were made
of wood and scraps, a graveyard of roughly fifty, over-grown and neglected. He
knew who they were before he started reading the names... his army.
(800
pages, $4.99-EPUB/PDF)
Release Date: Feb, 2012
