pabs

This is a science fiction story i've been working on. This is the first section of chapter one. Please give me any advice I need! Otherwise, I can't change!


The candle flickered, dancing red and white shadows off of the wall. The power had gone hours before, leaving them with nothing more than natural light; with the smog, there wasn’t much of this. That is not to say they weren’t used to a loss of electricity. This time, however, Ben Harding was genuinely afraid.

The eerie glow of the fire illuminated the group around him; Susa, his wife, Julia, his daughter of five, Franklin, his son of fifteen. They were all equally terrified. The sound of the falling bombs in the distance threatened them as they drew closer and closer, inch by inch, minute after minute.

“Dad…” whispered Frank, his voice shaky and almost inaudible. “Turn on the radio, I want…I want to hear what’s going on.” Ben was silent as he turned for the small mechanical device. With a flick of his wrist, the knob turned. Sound blared out from the speakers, forcing the family to duck in fear. The sound was formless, loud, and constant.

Reaching up, Ben twisted it to a lower volume and leaned in. He heard far off voices, projected in a mechanical way through the machine. He searched for a better signal, wafting through a sea of static. Finally, the waves of nonsense broke. The radio began to speak; audibly, sensibly.

This is a security broadcast report. Hollin forces have breached the city. Marschall Greenwich is wheeling his forces around, but he will not arrive in time. The Kabal of Hollin has declared he has no room for citizens of the Free Alliance. He will show no mercy, he will take no prisoners. If you wish to live, you must leave your homes.

Evacuation ships are ready to dust off. We do have enough aircraft to supply the entire city with transport. If you leave immediately, you will be safe. I repeat…

Ben did not need to hear more. He threw the radio from the table and turned to his family. “Let’s go.”

“Ben, what about Maris?” his wife pleaded; Maris, their oldest son.

“Maris is dead.” Ben spat, masking his tears under a guise of spite. They all sat still. Ben broke the perfect silence, throwing his glass to the floor. The shattered remnants of the container slid across the ground in a centrifugal pattern. “Let’s go!”

This time, there was no resistance. They all stood, taking one last look around the room and grabbing for items and possessions they needed. Julia stood in place, still silent, her head down. “Daddy, I don’t want to leave!” she cried, as quietly as possible, fearing her father’s rage.

“I…don’t want to either.” he sighed. “But we have to.” He turned from her crying face, unable to bear it. Slowly, he made his way out of the room, signaling for the rest of the family to stay. He snatched a flashlight from the kitchen table and turned it on. Its light drifted down the hall and into the bedroom, following his movements.

He took a quick look at the bed, one that had served him so many years. The light swung to the closet. He reached for the handle and pulled it open. It caught his eye immediately, shiny, reflective…deadly. His arm reached for the top shelf, and he withdrew the firearm. It felt light in his hands. Yet, in his mind, it was a heavy burden. This would be the guardian of his life, and the life of his family.

“Ben.” He looked up, into the eyes of his wife. They stared, eye to eye. Then, without thought, they embraced. His lips met with hers. After a moment, he pulled away. It was time to go. The two partners made their way out of the room, and Ben closed the door.

The earth shook as they moved down the hallway. Ben smiled. He still had his family. It grew louder and louder. Then, it came. The roof splintered and exploded into a thousand pieces. Fire burst out across the rug, spreading quickly. Their ears were assailed by the sound of a thousand b lasts, only meters from their own home.

“Go!” Ben screamed over the chorus of death. He threw his arm against the door, watching it fall to the floor. His foot landed on the rubble, covered lawn. There was no turning back. With a deep breath, he plunged onwards.

Flashes of gunfire sped past his figure as he led the family along the pock-marked street. Buildings crumbled and fell all around them, crashing into the ground. More people joined them, a mass of desperate, lost hope. With a blast, artillery tore a hole in the storming crowd. Dozens were thrown aside in an inferno of red death.

Ben grasped Julia’s hand, holding harder and harder, as they rushed along. “Diyhe Heyn!” someone roared. It was Hollin language. The enemy was upon them. He breathed, harder and harder, as lines of refugees were stripped of their lives by gunfire.

With a bloodcurdling scream, one of the enemy soldiers met with the horde. Blood splattered into the air. Ben made to cover Julia’s eyes. It was too late. “Susa!” he called. She turned, grabbing Frank. “This way!” he ordered. She followed, along with his son. The Hollin warrior closed on them, but Ben was too fast.

Leading his bloodline away, he ducked under the wreckage of a blown-out building’s door. There was no break, not even a moment. They careened through the smoldering remains of a lobby and out the other side. The fleeing people, once neighbors, were now their enemies as human instinct caught on: kill or die.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the figure of the bartender, Greg. Then, it was gone; trampled under the mass of the fleeing refugees.

Flares flashed through the sky, identifying the locations of the evacuation vessels. He had to escape. He would bring his family with him. They would go to Banistak, they would find peace and safety. They would. He swore it.