Transmission Lost

Chapter 2 - A six-shooter

The smoke was slowly rising. Flames ate anything wooden and turned it into a grey powder that got blown away by the wind. The scorching force of nature spread from building to building and the feeling of helplessness spread with it. People made frantic attempts to save the little they had left from the destruction the fire brought upon them. When they couldn't save their possessions, they attempted to run. They all run. And yet they miss the point. They don't realize that running only saves those who are the fastest. And bullets run faster than feet.

Aleksei stood in the street, looking at the building eaten by rot in front of him. The sign hanging above the entrance was barely readable at this point, but he could still make out the words "Chakavysk Post Office". An explosion somewhere in a distance reminded Aleksei of how little time he had and he hurried inside. Thankfully the fire hadn't spread as far to reach the post office, but it was only a matter of time before it would.

Aleksei quickly walked through the small lobby and entered the main room where the clerks used to accept the letters and parcels. Everything was empty now, only empty letters and stamps were lying scattered all over the floor. Aleksei made his way through to the very back, toward the safes. In order to reach them, one had to go through a door and down the stairs into the basement. The door used to be locked during the post's normal operating days, but during the war, especially after Judgement day, it remained open as a hideout for emergencies.

And just like during every emergency, a few survivors flocked to the stairs and hallways leading into the basement, hiding from the threat raging outside. Aleksei walked past them, looking down at their scared faces cowering on the floor. He was scared too, just like them, but he had a reason to keep moving. He had a reason to run.

The basement was a small room beneath the main area. Its walls were covered from head to toe with safes, holding valuables people left in them. Aleksei turned on an emergency flashlight that was hung on the wall next to the doorframe and started looking through the numbers on each safe. 187, 189, 191. Some had their numbers scratched over or smeared off, but most were still barely readable. 196, 198, 200. He reached the bottom row of safes which were much bigger than the other ones.

202, 204, 206. Bingo. Aleksei put down the flashlight and looked through his bag filled with canned food and tools from the garage. After a good minute of metal rattling, he pulled out a miniature chisel and jammed its pointy end into the safe door numbered 206. The door groaned as Aleksei struggled to pry it open, but the rusty hinges eventually gave out and Aleksei fell back with the safe door in his hand. He hit his head on the cold floor but quickly picked himself up and looked into the open safe.

He exhaled in relief when he saw the box was still there and carefully took it out. It had a flower pattern on the top which got a little damaged over the time it was sitting in confinement. Aleksei opened it and looked at the things as he took them out. There were several antique photographs with a group of people on each of them, a compass on a chain that could be worn as a necklace, a map that obtained a more yellowish colour than its original white, a bunch of keys, and a six-shooter revolver.

Beside the box, the safe stored an old camping rucksack. Aleksei took it out and dusted it off. It had much more space to hold the items he needed, so he took his old bag and emptied everything on the floor. The cans and tools rattled against the ground and Aleksei put them all into the backpack. When everything was packed, he put the photos, the map, and the compass into the inner pocket of his jacket and stood up with the revolver in his hands. There were already six bullets in the cylinder and extra six bullets that loosely rolled around in the box. Aleksei shoved the revolver behind his belt and put the extra bullets in his pocket.

He walked out the revolving doors back on the street. As soon as he was outside, the embers falling from the sky kissed his face. They fell like snow and smeared Aleksei's face along with the ash that travelled after them. Aleksei stood amidst the chaos for a second, secretly wishing he wouldn't have to move ever again. He wanted to simply stand there and let the embers set him ablaze. Free him from the harsh journey he was about to go through. But deep down he knew how foolish his wishes were and that there was no such thing as rest. Not anymore.