No Looking Back

Henrik

The moment I was born, my parents said they knew I was special. I was always disappointed because I never did anything special. That was until The Iron Day occurred. Humankind unleashed machines called "Irons" on each other. The luscious green fields I lived in were always beautiful, and then the Irons came in. They burnt our crops and killed our livestock. I was furious. My father tried to hold me back,but I obliged. My families hard work;all gone. My twin brother Marcö died on this farm on a hot summer day tending the crops. I never loved anyone as much as Marcö. We were closer than a pair of Siamese twins. I charged up to the hatch, ripping open the door, as tears flowed down my cheeks. "You son of a bitch! You fucking bitch! My brother died for this farm, and you desecrate it?!" I screamed. I reached in my pocket and pulled out my fathers prized possession, a 1897 22. Colt Revolver, and fired at the pilot. He was dead before he hit the ground. Blood stained the beautiful velvet seats. I ran back to the farmhouse, in shock of what I'd just done. I got some food, clothes, and a family photo, and headed out the door.

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I'd been on the run for a few days now, and I was starting to feel homesick. Suddenly, I heard a noise in the bushes. I slowly drew the revolver and waited. I didn't want to be killed, so I fired into the bush out of fear. A blonde haired man fell out;hair caked in brain matter and blood. I saw he was wearing a NWO uniform, so I hadn't killed a civilians. I gathered up my things and started on the road again. Then, I heard footsteps. A lot of them. Charging in my direction. I started to run as fast as I could, while blind firing into the NWO soldiers behind me. Loads of gunshots rang out, all equally ear piercingly loud. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my chest. I stopped in my tracks and slumped to the ground; no strength left in me. Blood was dripping over my tan skin and I knew it was the end. An NWO soldier stood over me with a gun to my head. His radio went off "Marcö, have you caught the bastard yet?!" I knew he looked familiar, blue eyes, brown hair, same scars. I tried to call out to him, but all I could muster was a grunt. Marcö suddenly turned around, and shot all 7 of the soldiers in the head, with deadly accuracy. Marcö picked me up in his arms and started to cry. I was getting fainter and fainter. I put my finger on his heart and he put his on mine. "He remembered," I thought. I finally mustered enough strength to tell him one last phrase "I love you." I said. I looked up at the stars and closed my eyes. Marcö put his gun up to my head, his body shaking violently, and pulled the trigger