The young man scanned the ruinous city from the small overlook on the western fringe. His scoped .30-.06 semi-automatic rifle gave him the power to kill almost anything but it.
He spotted the small encampment from a campfire's smoke. His reticle moved over the fire and his eye searched for movement from potential occupants.
Nothing. Time to move in.
The young man moved quietly but quickly down the path to the back alleyway. From there, he slung his rifle across his back and pulled his revolver from his belt loop. As he advanced on the camp, he felt the wind pulling at his hair and cutting through his black tank top.
He stopped just outside of the camp and peered behind him, making sure nothing was following him. All clear.
Despite the chill of the evening, the young man wiped sweat from his brow as he sighted the revolver on the makeshift tarpaulin tent. The hard ground made no noise as he maneuvered to the entrance and pulled the flap away, still aiming his .44.
Empty. Perfect.
He released the overlap and exhaled, not realizing he had held his breath. The camp would work for a time, as he still had to search this sector for a real prize: an Iapetus war machine.
YOU ARE READING
The Collapse
Science FictionLong ago, humanity ruined its home world of Gaia with quantum weapon fire and synthetic production of soldiers. High-ranking officials were able to board battleships and disappear into the stars, but the rest of the population were left to fend for...
