A young boy named Marlowe is forced to travel through a sadistic post-apocalyptic Washington DC in an effort to save his younger brother from kidnappers. Marlowe's world is brimming with horror and with every hill that is overcome, there is only mor...
The day passed, but Marlow was not swayed. He continued walking toward the garage into the night, passing over the bridge with the landmines, and the small town of Spring Vale. But there was no other choice for Marlow, as there was no other meaning in his life greater than his brother. The stars in the sky were bright, Marlow watched them slide overhead as he traversed the irradiated landscape.
It was dark when Marlow arrived at the garage. There was a single light outside the front door, which illuminated the lone guard, who stood twitching due to the drugs they had taken. Marlow lowered himself to a crouch and continued toward the garage, his pistol drawn and aimed at the guard. Despite Marlow's new confidence in killing, he was not without flaws. In his approach, he stepped on a strip of rusted sheet metal that bent and wrapped loudly.
Marlow's hand was forced. The guard looked in his direction, unable to see into the dark. Marlow fired, shooting the man in the chest. The guard falls to the ground, coughing and gargling as Marlow runs to the door.
Before he pushed the door open, Marlow listened, and heard two more men inside scampering around.
"Hey! You hear that?" One of the men inside said.
"Shut the hell up!" Another said.
Marlow looked to his right—to the twitching and dying guard laying on the ground. Marlow feels nothing. No pity, no remorse.
Marlow turns the handle and rushes the room.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Inside, the garage was dark, but Marlow was able to make out the first shifting figure of a raider. He fires—misses. His shot ricochets off something metal on the other side of the room, possibly a toolbox.
The raider fires back, nearly hitting Marlow. The figure moves from its cover—Marlow fires and hits the man, who falls somewhere out of sight.
"Jerry?" The other raider calls from to left.
Marlow fires, killing this man instantly.
Then another figure shows—It moves quickly across the room. A third guard, Marlow concludes. He fires as the figure moves into view from behind a metal support column, but as this man goes down, Marlow hears a familiar moan.
"Harry?" Marlow said.
Marlow rushes the last man he had shot. In the darkness, it was hard to see, but Marlow knew it was his brother. A ray of moonlight found its way through a breach in the roof and beamed directly onto Harry's red hair.
Marlow had seen enough. He left the garage and never looked back.
Three years later, Marlow was killed while trying to rob a traveling merchant caravan. The caravan guard who killed him muttered "what a sorry sack of shit," after leaving Marlow's corpse in a pool of radioactive waste.
