Burning Skies

Chapter 2 - The Reset

14th January, 2016.

Stanley was still grieving. Yvonne, his lover, his wife, was dead. It wasn't exactly a pretty death either. Quite gruesome. He couldn't get that image out of his head, of when the plane crashed. Stanley was exceptionally lucky. He came through with just minor injuries, but others didn't come out so lucky. In his personal opinion, Yvonne came out worse. That might be biased, as they were lovers, but still. Yvonne, bless her, wasn't exactly a strong girl. She was gentle, but mentally strong. In terms of physique, she couldn't hurt a fly. Oh Christ, the sight was horrible. After being beaten around by the roughly landed plane in a Spanish farmer's farm, a long cylindrical piece of fuselage went straight through her chest.

Seconds passed. Then minutes. Hours. Days. Stanley still couldn't get the bloody thought out of his head. The worst thing? They were supposed to be getting married today. January 14th, her birthday. He was going to propose to her. His depressing train of thought was interrupted by a light knock on the door. They were in an isolation chamber. Half of Europe was declared a no-go zone. People who had escaped reported lava bursting through solid concrete and meteorite showers consisting of asteroids as big as houses in some cases. He was in Tartu, Estonia. The soviet countries were declared temporarily safe by the EU. The isolation chamber was effectively an underground bunker used by the USSR in WWII. Primitive, yet secured. Again, a knock. Stanley regained himself and shouted for them to come in. It was Kristjan. Probably the only person who kept by Stanley during his grief.

"Hey Stanley, Jaan wants to see you, ASAP."

And with a graceful nod, Kristjan left. Stanley was a little confused. Why would Jaan want to see him? Jaan was the General of the Estonian Armed Forces. Build like a boulder and a heart of steel. Not exactly someone who'd like to come in for a cuppa, to be honest. Stanley went up toJaan, who was requesting people to go out on a scouting mission. But there was a problem. There would be great reward for anyone who returned back. Alive. Turns out that their little huddle of plane survivors weren't the only ones who survived in West Europe. Turns about Britain came out unscathed, but with the natural rivalry between Britain and France, they broke out in war. Turns out the French were easily defeated, but with half the nation seeking refuge in central Europe, things started getting rough. Things were only gradually heating up, but soon enough factions would form. These people were violent though. There were reports of innocent survivors in Prague, and they needed to be brought back. As the Czech were in a Civil War however, things could go easily, or rough.

Stanley went back to his room to recollect himself. Recollection. Stanley's being doing a lot of that lately. He decided he needed the time to think. Not just about Yvonne, though. Stanley had an iron fist. He needed to move on, to newer, better things. In a post apocalypse, you rule with an iron fist, not a heart of gold. He took the deal with Jaan, and headed to the armory. The armory wasn't something of a magnificence, to be honest. It was a mess of hand-me-down bulletproof vests, blunt knives and the odd sub machine gun salvaged from the now flattened base in Tallinn. Other than that, there wasn't much else there, if any. Anything that could be classified lethal was scarce. In addition to this, food and water wasn't exactly abundant either. Things were rough in Estonia.

March 15th, 2016

Stanley was packed. He had a hand-me-down bullet proof vest, a lightweight MP5K with quite a few rounds, a knife and his trusty MP3, set on shuffle. He set it to play as he was transported to the Czech border by a beaten pickup. It would take a long time, maybe 2 to 3 days. Then he and 10 other similarly equipped burly men and women would trek across the no man's land that is was previously the Czech Republic. Which would then take another few days, maybe even a week, if they'd stealth it. Of course, they would get there much quicker going in gun's blazing, but frankly that would be suicide. Days passed with no change. Entertainment was un-heard of at some points. Mary, a tomboy-ish22 year farmer from Ireland amused herself by shooting at random billboards. We tried telling her that the noise would alarm and rogues, but she pretended not to hear. May as well leave her be.

Stanley was almost in a daze when they finally arrived at the Czech border. They could hear screams and gunfire across the horizon. And just for that special touch, there was lava coming out of the pissing walls. Stanley highly doubted his bulletproof vest would protect him against molten rock. Despite this, they had trained to avoid such natural things and focus their attention at any human threats, even though the heat was excruciating. They were specially trained other the 2 months to focus and stealth, and how to fire a gun without blowing your shoulder into next week. After creeping through building after building, they finally managed to get halfway into Ostrava. However, it was here where they encountered their first rogue.

He wasn't exactly a handsome fellow. He seemed to take the standard cliched post-apocalyptic clothing of loose leather unprofessionally and clumsily sewed together along with a few scattered animal skulls as a weak attempt to intimidate anyone. He ran around the corner, seemingly rushed. He couldn't have been more than 19 years old. He froze when he saw us and shouted something in German. 5 seconds later I was cleaning blood off my vest. Stanley was quite proud of that, taking him out calmly and neatly. By doing this he failed to notice some other more burly Germans running towards them with some very nasty looking weapons.

"Son of a bitch!" shouted Kristjan.

As the others took notice, they crowd dispersed into cover across the building floor. Abandoned, and crumbling. 310,000 people used to live in Ostrava. Now its a ghost town. Stanley shook himself out of another daydream. Now really wasn't the time! Bullets starting filing out the walls, like destructive pepper spray. Kristjan and Mary started picking them off, with such precision and accuracy it slightly to a point where it slightly worried Stanley. Good thing they're on our side. Stanley then heard sizzling, and looked behind him to react in shock

"Jesus Christ there's jam coming out of the god damn walls!" Stanley exclaimed.

This brought funny looks from both sides as Stanley dashed to new cover. After taking another look, he realised how stupid he sounded. It was lava, not jam. Jam. Seriously? The more sensible part of the group took the opportunity to pick off the last of the threats, but not before Dominik was shot in the shoulder. Not fatal, not even hurtful. On close inspection, these bullets were crudely made out of metal. Dominik would have a nasty bruise, but that's about it.

3 days later

Its been three days since they infiltrated Ostrava. I think it's about time you met the 10 people who took on this scouting trip. First off, we have Stanley, a half Welsh, half Danish man with a quiet background. Then, we have Dominik. Polish, and extremely good at technical things. Next, we have Mary. An Irish farmer with an unusual attitude towards rough and tough. Then, we have Kristjan. Kristjan, Stanley's close friend, originates from Estonia and specialises in police forces. Halfway through the group, we have Delila. An American tourist who visited Mallorca with Stanley. Unaware of each other's presence until after the apocalypse. Vladmir. Russian chef who has a decent knowledge of stealth, oddly enough. Each to their own, I suppose. Next up, we have Chloe. Your usual girly-girl, but with developed skills. Ish. Then we have Dylan. Also Welsh, quite young. Has an unhealthy obsession with fire and guns. Next up, Vaa. A Moldovan priest. Don't ask how he got here, long story. 

This cheerful group of 9 were stalking through what they presumed was Prague, and hopefully not Berlin. Dominik called the people to a stop

"Hang on, I'm picking up something, lots of static, but there's something vague."

Dominik had crafted an amazingly crude audio tracker. There was indeed a lot of static. And it didn't help that it was in Czech. But, they picked up something called 'The Nest' and 'The Rebellion'. The group shared looks and silent conversations. The hostages, or captured, or whatever will most probably be in The Nest. Stanley looked at Kristjan, who seemed to be the decided leader, and they made an agreement. Kristjan turned to the group and announced:

"We're turning back. We aren't equipped enough to take on a mass of rogues."

The escort was called, the rendezvous point was at Krakow, Poland. Operation Prague, was called off.

After returning to base ,Jaan wasn't exactly pleased. But he seemed to understand. But then again, there didn't seem to be something natural about Jaan. He seemed different, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Stanley was wondering if he'd gone mad. And those thoughts were pretty much confirmed when he saw a random person nailed to wall. Thud. Stanley fell over, shrouded in flashbacks, aghast as he remembered the scene at the aeroplane crash. The fuselage going straight through Yvonne's skull. This was followed by a graceful puddle of sick on Jaan's floor and a trip to the healing ward.