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The last minutes of PaST Agent Gerge

July 2, 2015

Gerge ran as if the demons from the shenghi fire-pits were at his heels.

The package he held tightly in his left hand felt heavier than it actually was. He had to find a terminal, but where would he find one out here? All he could see was the dirt road ahead.

The smell of ozone permeated the area along with iron and burnt timber. A glance over his shoulder showed no one behind him, but he could feel them gaining ground. It was only a matter of time before they caught up with him. He’d never find a terminal. Not out here. Not in the time remaining.

Gerge felt that time slipping away. They were getting closer.

Ahead, a shadow in the dark began to take shape. As he ran, the shadow became a car, then another. Rundown, burnt-out remains of cars and trucks were scattered along the deserted country-side. They looked as though they’d been used for target practice. The heat of the metal disk in his hand told him they had been.

Soon he was running down a street full of barely standing buildings and shops and was that… a playground? He’d finally reached the outskirts of the broken city. Maybe somewhere here amongst the ruins of a once vibrant metropolis he could find a power source. The fear driving him forward kept him moving when exhaustion should have broken him. He had to finish the mission. He had to get the files back so his death would not be pointless.

In the darkness he found a mostly whole building. He ran inside, sidestepping broken furniture and ransacked belongings. He flipped the closest switch, nothing.

Swearing harshly, he ran for the back door. Diving through the destroyed fence, he sprinted into the next house. It was three buildings more before he hit jackpot. The globe above his head sputtered to life. Now he had to find a working terminal. He searched through the remains of an office. Broken screens and devices littered the small room. He’d have to try the next house. He was close, so close he could practically taste it.

A sharp whistle sounded in the distance.

He bolted down the stairs. He could see bobbing lights outside.

Too late… He was too late.



© solothefirst & Laurie Bell. All Rights to the works and publications on this blog are owned and copyrighted by Solothefirst & Laurie Bell. The Owner of this site reserves all permissions for access and use of all documents on this site.

From → White Fire

  1. There you go doing it again! Lol I’m sitting here on the edge of my seat…

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