HUMAN

Chapter 1 - X-R07

The silence gnawed at me. It had been days since I last saw sighting of anyone. This kind of peace never lasted.

I stood in the underground garage staring at the dirt bike barely clinging to its last rusted bolts. The red paint that I'd remembered gleaming brightly was now chipped and faded, but it still looked like freedom to me.

It had been my companion during my reconnaissance operations. Far too many times it had kept me alive, along with my father and Max. "Now to see if you'll start this morning."

I bent down to check the fuel gauge. It was almost empty, but 'almost' would have to do. I flipped the choke lever, twisted the throttle a few times, and gave the kickstarter a hard shove.

Nothing.

"Come on." I muttered, my fingers tightening around the handlebar.

I kicked again. The engine sputtered, coughed, and died.

"No, no, no! Don't do this to me now!"

Sweat dripped down my forehead as I adjusted the choke and tried again. This time, the engine growled to life with an uneven and labored roar. Relief washed over me as I twisted the throttle to even out the revs.

"Vincent, a reminder to keep it quick." My father's voice crackled over the radio strapped to my chest. "We've picked up unusual activity on the scanners. Confirm whether those signals are moving toward us. Don't engage, and don't draw attention to yourself. Understood?"

"Copy that old man."

I strapped the handgun to my holster and adjusted my gas mask. I kicked the bike into gear, the tires spun momentarily before finding traction. Moments later, I weaved out of the decrepit subway and into the wasteland.

The air outside was thick with dust, the wind biting at my skin even through the layers of my gear. I remembered when the skies weren't a perpetual orange haze, before the cities crumbled, and before survival became a daily battle

I always wonder if I'll get to see a day like that again. That was 10 years ago, and I'm beginning to forget the smell of fresh air, and the sensation of soft grass on my foot.

I navigated my way through the uneven and jagged terrain, remnants of the road barely distinguishable under layers of sand and debris. I kept the bike steady and pushed towards a scanner that was located in the easterly direction.

There was nothing. Just the same desolation that had become the backdrop of my life. I held the radio up to my mouth before I stopped and turned to the dust piling up in the distance from behind the hill.

A convoy.

Four trucks, armored and laden with scavenged military equipment, moved in formation across the plains ahead of me. Behind them two Apache helicopters hovered in the distance, their rotors slicing through the dusty air. My stomach twisted and called in my father.

"What the- we've got a convoy heading south, straight toward us. Military-grade vehicles and two Apaches in the air! How the hell did they find that?!"

Static crackled before his voice came through, sharp and urgent. "Vincent, get out of there now! Those damn things already spotted you before you know it!"

"What? I'm hidden behind dead foliage there's no way they can-" The distant whine of a drone that flew above me intervened our conversation. Red laser scanned me.

I dropped the binoculars I was holding. "Shit."

The drone lingered above momentarily before returning to the convoy. They suddenly changed directions and was now at full speed toward me, and the Apaches had found their target.