Only One Choice (Completed)

The Nightmare

«Fear is always there, watching, waiting to take hold of you when you least expect it.»

The city is burning.

Buildings around me are collapsing, metal structures blasted into fragments of shrapnel. Fires engulf buildings, turning them into unknown fiery monsters that tower over me, covered in a red aura. The intense heat suddenly hit me, and I felt as if my skin was peeling at that moment, melting like wax, although the pain fades away after a split second.

Metallic beasts stomp over to me, and I cringe at their flashing guns that stick out everywhere on their bodies, the red neon eyes that trace burning lines into trampled rubble. I throw my arms over my head, bracing myself...but they just move pass me, half a dozen even passing through me a my figure wavers like an apparition.

But its the screams...I swallow down an urge to do something, help them...but I know it's just a dream. The cries of terror and anguish...the fear and grief that pervades the air, clouding it in a fog of confusion as the world dissolves into chaos. I turn my back on them all, covering my ears with the palms of my hands, trying to forget the endless nightmare...

And then I hear a blood chilling howl and I race forward, my heart beating itself to shreds. "No!"

I run so hard that my legs burn and I fly over the ground, stumbling on bits of metal and wincing as shards of glass pierce my skin. But I don't care. I follow the voice, leaping over a flattened car, recovering my balance quickly.

The shrill screaming continues, luring me in like bait, and everything screams at me TRAP! But I can't make myself ignore it, can't stop myself from moving towards it, can't stop as fear inches itself way to me, wrapping tendrils of darkness around me, whispering ominously.

And I saw them. They crouch below in a heap of rubble, a metal beam spanning from above them, groaning under the weight of bits and pieces of shattered material. "Dad! Mom! No! NO!"

It unfolds before me again. The metallic instrument of destruction smashes its way. It doesn't even stop as I shriek out again, a merciless brutal machine that focuses its target on two innocent people that cower before it. My voice has no impact on it, no reaction. They can't hear me, can't see me, their gazes pass through me and follow the robot, terrified and paralysed with fear. They have no where to run...

And the machine rotates its guns, firing off a flood of bullets that embedded themselves on my parents. They have absolutely no time to react, as bullets slice through them and a gush of scarlet liquid oozes out...NO!

"Wake up! Wake up Fris! Wake up- "

I wake up with a shudder. A blurry figure of someone is shaking me, and I blink hard. I shove the person back, who steadied himself by pressing a hand to the floorboards. I wince and push myself up from the sleeping bag, unwrapping myself from the thin fabric. I shiver slightly as the coldness invades me. "What time is it now?"

As I ask the question, my gaze surveys the room we are in. It's a temporary hut, made of thin flimsy strips of wood. There are no windows, only a small rectangle cut into the side of a wall. It looks like its going to crumble any moment, burying us in rubble.

"Its around 7am. Sor-sorry to wake you up, but you lookd like you were having ni-nightmares."

I sigh. My younger brother, Al blushed, a little embarrassed at his stutter. He ran his hands in his wavy dark chocolate brown hair. "Sorry sis-"

"Its alright. You don't have to apologize."

I stifle a sigh. Al was kind of paranoid, worried about little things. But I form blame him. He lost his parents at the tender age of 5, and I witnessed the death of my parents at 10...its been 50 long years after the ascent of the robots, when technology started attacking us. Yet I can never get the images of war out of my head. I really can't blame Al. All this hell and trauma doesn't do a child any good.

Al nods. I know he's scared. 50 years of fighting and its still not over. After a long hard battle, technology won and enslaved us, forcing us to do things against our will or die. Do or die. And as a reminder that humans are incapable, unable, that it is impossible to win artificial technology, a game was made. It was called the Ultimate Game. Annually, one "lucky" soul is chosen to battle it out in a digital arena. Everything there is a trap, but no one knows what. Sometimes its the food or water. Other times it nature itself. But in the end, it's all a death trap.

But though it's suicidal, there's a rule: anyone who ever made it through, past all the obstacles stays alive. They return back to their normal life. But there's one flaw. No one has ever made it out alive.

There had been rebellions of course. Its expected. After all, the bravest and foolish always loved to try their luck against the most advanced technology. They were all killed. Rebels werre still fighting for our freedom, but it was a mere few and it was just impossible to win.

Still, I try. Smiling faintly at Al, trying to silently reassure him, I put a hand on his shoulder.

In the peace of the morning, we sat there, alone in the quietness of the wooden hut. Nothing disturbed us.