Point Apocalypse by Bobl Alex

Author:Bobl, Alex [Bobl, Alex]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
Publisher: Sky Bridge
Published: 2013-03-16T03:00:00+00:00

Chapter Three

Jim

The cave wasn't a cave, really - more like another one of those Forecomers' mysteries. The oblong entrance, too regular to be natural, barely showed in the steep hill slope. Grass grew over its top edge. A truck could pass through it easily. It opened into a tunnel a few hundred feet long, too straight and level, its walls artificially smooth with marble-like veins running through the gray stone. I tried to scratch it with my knife, but the blade left no trace on the matt surface glistening in the twilight. The beacon towers back on the river seemed to be made of the same material. The tunnel ended in a rough black basalt wall, or at least that's what I thought it was.

We were way too exhausted to start a fire. I prepared to stand guard through the night: if I got too tired, I could ask Jim to replace me. Wladas and I cleaned Wong's wound and patched it up the best we could, then did the same to Georgie's. Finally, I told everyone to get some sleep.

I sent Kathy to the end of the tunnel away from the rest. She didn't look too happy about it but chose to keep it to herself even though I could see she was dying to give me a piece of her mind. I strategically placed Georgie by the entrance hoping he and the girl wouldn't bump into each other during the night as they still kept exchanging hateful glances. Between them lay Wladas, his head resting on his bag and handgun, and the ever-watchful Wong.

Night descended onto the hills and the valley below. The black sky twinkled with stars. The silence would have driven me mad, had it not been for my men's disturbed breathing. It didn't feel real, as if I wasn't on Pangea any more; it was as if I had no mission, no FSA brass to report to, just sitting there musing on top of a hill far from civilization, and below lay the Russian steppe overgrown with feather grass, its air fragrant with lavender and filled with grasshoppers' chirping.

I woke up with a start. Had I been dozing off for long? Pangea had no moons, and the starlight was barely enough to make out the outline of the shadowless hills. I hadn't a chance in hell of telling the time.

After a moment's hesitation, I woke Jim up. He forced his eyes open, nodded and, shotgun in hand, walked toward the cave entrance.

I looked over our trophies. Two Remingtons and thirty cartridges. Kathy's gun turned out to be Italian: as I looked closer, I made out the word Benelli on the grip. The gun had an elongated magazine and a switch between pump and semi-auto. A good gun: light, trustworthy and versatile. Not a bad choice at all considering the terrain. I wasn't quite ready to trust Kathy with it, and Georgie even less so. Let's see first how they got along with the others.

I watched Jim's back as he sat by the cave's entrance.

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