The Nuclear Winter- Chapter One


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    The Nuclear Winter- Chapter One

    Chapter One: Home, Sweet Home
    I woke up with a shudder, the world around me was slowly coming back into focus, I remember the day I was forced to make a home out of that old musty bunker. I lit a candle and the room lit up around me. Why? Why did my parents send me to this awful place? I went up to the large rusted iron door casting a large shadow over the cold, stone room (beyond the door was a cramped crawlspace with a trapdoor poking out the top into a grassy fenced backyard).
    “Well, this is my new home… An old, cold bunker.” The stone room that surrounded me had a sleeping bag, a clock, a calendar, and a picture of my parents on the ground. There was an extremely narrow corridor to my right, which lead to two rooms, one of which held tons of processed foods which would’ve lasted quite a while, the other room although, I was told strictly to stay out of, no matter the situation.
    “Ah, it sounds like another hurricane.” Ever since the nukes first went off dramatic natural disasters had been occurring. I just hoped it was further away so I could scavenge for food. Oh, and by the way, my name is Rorry, I was thirteen at the time of this story. I was put to live in this bomb shelter (or bunker) ever since World War 3 started.
    I had rough black hair and a light complexion; I was a bit skinny if I do say so myself, and my parents always said I had stormy blue eyes. I reckoned most of the major cities had been bombed and were extremely radioactive, so I just left my bunker from time to time to scavenge for food in the city, Tampa… Oddly this one city of all the cities had not been blown to hell, thank God. I racked my mind and remembered being told by a government official that I was in Clearwater, Tampa, or something like that.
    I hadn’t known considering I used to live in D.C. with my parents before, well—you know. Well, I went to go out and scavenge a few houses, to see if I could find anything, couldn’t forget my tomahawk. it was crucial to me, my only tool for survival. I pondered often about what I would do if confronted. Use my reflexes to my advantage, I supposed. I was clothed in stinky blue jeans and a brown t-shirt, (one that was originally white).
    Halfway through the rubble I found a nice, cozy, little house with carpeted floors and plastered walls, which gave it that nice, modern feeling.
    Wow, I had thought. I looked at an entertainment system and found a few flash drives with movies on them and books, a big bookshelf next to the television filled with books about all kinds of things. I lit a candle and sifted through the books hoping to find something to help me survive when my food runs out.
    ‘A Guide to ‘70s Fashion,’ no, too disco-ey, ‘How to Purify Water,’ Now hey… I thought it might’ve come in handy, so I grabbed it and put it in my backpack that my parents gave me for my 12th birthday. I dug back into the books to find something else useful perhaps. ‘Predicting the Future with Vel Valleon,’ ‘Fascinating Flora and Faunas of the Midwest,’ I paused and picked up the little book and skimmed through it a bit… Surprisingly it was filled with cold, hard facts about plants. It said which plants were edible and which plants were deadly. I guess if it came to it I would’ve ate the corn dog on a cattail… Maybe make some Dandelion and Clover Soup. But only if worst came to worst, I was perfectly fine surviving on Spam and Saltine Crackers.
    It seemed as if the rest of the house was already scavenged. It also seemed that they were not the most thorough scavengers.
    There was an open book that said, ‘Original Baby Names.’ As entailed, the book held only names in it’s contents, and had one chapter for each letter of the alphabet… It was open to the chapter, “S”. I checked the kitchen, nothing. That was the whole of the house. so I left the comfort of the small house to go and scavenge for more supplies in the brewing storm.
    Clearwater probably would’ve been an extremely beautiful place if it were not for the horrific events of WW3. I sighed and moved on. I found this really big fancy hotel named with a bright and distracting electronic billboard that said, ‘CLOUD NINE SUITES only $399.99 a night!’ I decided it would’ve been a good place to scavenge (anything really to get out of that horrid rain).
    Surprisingly the door was unlocked and I entered freely. The lobby had a large glass chandelier that looked as if an elephant were to stand under it, and the chandelier were to fall, the elephant would be crushed. It was cold inside the dark hotel lobby; I would’ve gave everything for a fire right then.
    I noticed to the left of the main desk that there was a large array of sofas, and to the right of them were some vending machines! Too bad the glass was shattered and they were all empty. I sighed and entered a dim corridor with windows for light, (hardly noticing the storm brewing outside) and read a sign indicating that the restaurant area was to the right, (and yeah it was big enough to have restaurants in it).
    So I took a light jog down the hallway and saw that the door was boarded shut. I took out my spiked tomahawk and chopped away at the wood. It took a while but piece by piece, chip by chip, it came off until eventually it was no longer boarded. And to my luck it had no lock on it, thank God. I reached for the knob but thought abruptly, what if someone was in there? What if they had a gun? Considering Tampa hadn’t been bombed there had to have been quite a few people remaining in the city, right?
    I took my chances and flung open the door to see a dead fellow clutching a diary with bullet holes in his torso. A burly wild-eyed man sprung from behind the door and head-butted me. “Uhw-wrong room,” I said, dazed.
    I stumbled backwards and drew my tomahawk from my backpack, he hesitated, but then pulled out a pistol and pointed it dead between my eyes making my knees buckle with fear. “What the ‘ell you doing around here mate?!” the man said, “I-I just was scavenging for—for some food,” I said weakly. He surveyed me carefully then said, “And wha’, you expect to go frolicking about ‘round here like a madman?” “I’m sure everyone hiding in this rubbish hotel could hear you bangin’ about on that door!” He pointed his gun over to the dead guy. “This bloke tried to sneak in and do me in on my back.”
    “And soon… Soon, he is gonna be my dinner… And you also. Fresh Roast.” I stared at him in disbelief. I knew I had to act fast unless I wanted to become a participant of his feast. Right then and there I made an utterly bold move, I flung my hatchet with all my might straight towards his belly (the hatchet didn’t stab him but merely stunned him) and ran up to him to grab his gun. He gasped in pain and called me names I feel inappropriate to mention.
    He swung his gun over to meet my face but it was too late. I went straight for his carotid artery in his neck and squeezed with all my strength, the color slowly faded from his face as he struggled to get loose. I let go of him once his neck was blue.
    He fell backwards onto the ground with a loud thump. “Have a good day,” I said. I picked up his gun and examined it. “He didn’t even have bullets anyways,” I said as I examined it. I tossed it into the food alley and continued.
    I went to the dead man and picked up his diary, I figured it would be a good read back at my bunker. I looked him over and decided I better move his body somewhere discreet so he didn’t become ‘fresh roast’ if the man woke up. I hauled him off to a random room that was open by an inch and cautiously hid him inside a closet, and closed the door so nobody would be able to get inside. I walked back down to the restaurant area. For the first time I noticed that there was a multitude of restaurants there, most of them looking like they specialized in Italian cuisines.
    Sadly, each and everyone one of them were scavenged already, although one of them had two cans of beans left behind. I went to the cannibal man and searched his bag, which had a few unmentionable items, a roll of cloth, a glow stick, a diary, and a box of rice-a-roni. “I guess this isn’t too bad,” I muttered as I picked it up.
    I heard a large thunderclap outside and remembered the hurricane. “No–no—not good.” I sprinted out of the hall and back into the lobby. I peered outside through the windows at the looming storm and decided to make a quick retreat. Once outside I looked to the sky to notice an object in the sky, quickly realizing it was just a powerful solar converter issued by the government years before the war once environmentalists found a way to ban coal for a power supply.
    I followed the trail I usually followed when scavenging and made my way back to the bunker through the streets. I had this eerie feeling that someone was watching me. I was soaking wet from head to toe. I could see my breath before me, which reminded me how the temperature had declined ever since the first bombs dropped. I hopped the wooden fence and saw the old trapdoor glistening from the intense rain with puddles forming around it. I pulled it open and squirmed inside.




    I will post another chapter every day. This is an excerpt from my published novel, The Nuclear Winter.
    Last edited by Sonterp; June 1st, 2015 at 05:06 PM.

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