Tale of The Broken Sword

Chapter Thirty Two : The Former City

17th February, AD 2057

Washington, D.C. – Former City

Eight hours, stuck in an oversized truck heading for an abandoned city. Those times were the worst. Pure silence fills the air around me and I glared at almost everyone. Warren kept his eyes glued to his e-pad screen, Janice was sharpening and examining her knife –badass, seriously– and Simmons peered through the window while keeping his firm grip on the steering wheel.

With radiation levels in the city reducing to safe limits, a detachment was sent by the Commission to investigate the spires located deep in the heart of Washington D.C. Simmons was leading the team, and dragging all three of us into it. Never knew why he’d loved to recruit kids but he took in another two of the Commission’s personnel.

Aaron and Caryn, both of them no older than I am, joined us in the end. Perhaps, like us, they were forced to join in the expedition too. Or perhaps they volunteered for the job, which was most unlikely for me.

After eight hours of driving over relentless potholes and broken highways, our truck slows to a stop. I hear footsteps approach outside, then a soft muttering coming out from one of them. I peered out from the window and saw several guards stood near to the driver’s window. After a brief moment of conversation between Simmons and the guards and some moment of consideration, they raised the barrier and waved back at him, then to us.

“Control Posts,” Simmons said, already knowing what we’ll ask when the truck had stopped moments ago. “Worst place to end up in when you’re a refugee.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Warren said, still looking at his e-pad. “The governments’ going hard on immigrant issues, considering that living space is now scarce.”

“We’re entering the former city region,” Simmons turned around to look at us. “The city should be just around the corner.”

“You know,” Warren started. “The destruction brought about by the Bombings was questionable. All of the six cities are not really fully destroyed by the blast at all.”

“True,” I said, turning to Simmons. “Are the Bombings really caused by nuclear warheads?”

“To be honest,” Simmons paused, looking around the side of the truck before continuing. “I have no idea. They say it was. Actually, the government wanted to salvage what’s left of the cities right after the Bombings. But, extreme levels of radiation concentrations kept them from it. So they’d just leave it be. Besides, with that level of radiation, people would’ve died instantly. So why all the trouble?”

“Either they die instantly or they mutate.” Warren winked, making a scary face.

I choked, trying to imagine the world if the radiation would’ve turned people into monsters. I guess the instant death would be a better option than losing control of our human instincts.

“Keep those thoughts to yourself, Warren,” Janice said, obviously annoyed by the mad scientist’s behaviour. “You’re making him wanting to puke.”

“Yes, dear.” Warren joked, trying to mimic my voice.

I glared at him, my face bristles. He shrugs it off and ignores me. Knowing that the situation in the truck is gonna get worse. Simmons half-heartedly pointed something outside of the window. “We’re here,”

“Where?” I asked, searching outside.

“There, Kelson,” Aaron jerked his head towards the sign that reads Washngtn D.C., though it’s clear some of the letter are obviously knocked away. Just beyond that sign, lay a desolate city, abandoned for eighteen years already.