"Metro 2033 - Voices of the survivors" a post apocalyptic Anthology

The story

(written by adruh)

Chapter I - Fort Perch Rock

"Don't you have the thought too of just sitting down for a few minutes and enjoying the view?", she asks me, while at the same time the uncomfortable silence between us happily disappears since West Kirby. Or was it just uncom-fortable for me? Nonetheless, we seem to have been thinking about the same thing.

We've been roaming the wide, snow-white coast at a steady pace for an hour and a half. More than twenty years ago, besides the breaking waves, you would probably hear the children playing, the worried mothers who call those playing children out of the sea, fathers grilling, and also seagulls stealing the sausages from the grilling fathers. There's something atmospheric about it and I just can't get enough of it. In addition, the view of the sea distracts me from my tiredness and makes my worries disappear, even if for a brief moment.

"Absolutely, I would spend another hour and a half here," I reply, not mentioning my tiredness and although I would happily agree and hopping around for the same thought, I remain calm instead to hide my childishness from the tense and serious crew.

Divided into four groups, we run in pairs, one behind the other - On an order from my brother, who runs at the top. He's one of those daredevils who do surface sightseeing to find ammunition, fuel, or other valuable items that they sold on the subway or keep for themselves. Holding his light machine gun ready he looks around like a tiger watching the deer, in our case we are maybe the deer. What is there to see anyway? On our left the radiant radioactive sea rushes over the frozen sand, to our right is a hill and behind it wide, wide snow meadows. Our guide was at his side; A former tourist guide who has aged surprisingly well considering he is almost in his late forties living his "best" days. He hardly speaks, only when he must. He doesn't ask questions either. A mysterious man. Following her steps, she, and I, the youngest in the crew, occupy the third row. The third row is taken place by the Swabian mechanic and his assistant, although I'm not sure whether they have a romantic relationship or whether there is a purely professional work-ing atmosphere among them. And not to forget the two soldiers who are marching right behind us.

It looks like we're almost there. In the distance there a lighthouse which has lost a third of its dome, possibly due to the pressure wave of the explosion. To his right, about a hundred meters away, is a ...

"A castle?" Asks the Swabian, dancing completely out of line. The soldiers stop talking and do the same out of curiosity. It actually looks like a castle. It is flat and only has a not so high tower on the right flank. "No castle, a defensive system from the 1820s...", the guide shitting wisely. So, while we are still laying the last hundred meters behind us, our former tourist guide is holding a small monologue about the defence system.

"... The facility was used to defend the port of Liverpool. Liverpool merchants, worried about a possible French invasion during the Napoleonic Wars, came up with the idea of building a fort in New Brighton. The lighthouse that you see next to the fort,", he turns to us and points to it with his outstretched arm "... they wanted it to be attached to the fort, but the idea was rejected, and a separate lighthouse was built for it. The Fort itself was two hundred years later converted into a tourist attraction and a museum..."

Everyone listens eagerly, including me, to listen carefully to any insider information or details that may become important.

"... and today, there is a meeting taking place there," he adds after a short pause, smiling after his last sentence.

The entrance to the fort is possible through a coastal reclamation, which we pass as quickly as possible. A small inner courtyard awaits us that looks like a very small city with small rooms that are as if planted in the thick walls. The inner courtyard has two floors, which is also equipped with small rooms. To the right of the entrance to the inner courtyard, stairs lead down, which arouses the curiosity of many of us to judge by the looks of the crew. The guide also seems to have noticed our looks.

"You won't find anything there, let's not waste our time and let's concentrate on how we are going to proceed in a moment."

"First let's all sit down together and take a short breath, then we will discuss the next steps, it will take a while for the others to come.", suggests my brother.

The guide scratches his goatee for a while before nodding. We then slowly walk into a room, the floor of which is painted blue, with a couple of crooked shelves on the walls with pictures from the time when the fortress was still active. An atmosphere from a previous ship deck should possibly be emitted here. In the middle there is a large ship engine as an attraction for visitors at the time. Everyone puts their backpacks and tools - but not their weapons - on the floor and sinks into the seats that are tied to the walls. Breathing and relieving the weightless back underline the tiredness of the team. I start to massage my tense neck. I see the assistant start doing some stretches while moaning and then saying "yoga". Whatever that means. Through the window of their respirators, I can see the unnaturally exotic scene attracting the eyes of the two soldiers. The assistant doesn't seem to mind, but maybe the Swabian?

The guide and my brother go to the corner and start talking to each other in a whisper, so that the crew cannot hear anything. The guide, whose name he only told my brother, is uncertain to me, or has just nobody asked him about it? Is he shy or is something just wrong with us? I notice that he registers my observation and then looks deep into my eyes through the mask. For fear of being spoken to, I let my eyes wander with the thought of who he really is.

to be continued...