Sean's Law
Posted: Sat Mar 01, 2003 7:38 pm
its been a while since i've had time to write, and this ones been on teh back burner for ages, so i'm sure its got mistakes i havent corrected yet etc...
and its not finsihed, i'll be adding to it.... so if you're enjoying it, i'll be adding more, dont fret! heheh anyway, either way, let me know what you thought of it.
Avey,
Nuclear holocaust,
So many souls evaporated in so many blinding flashes of brilliant light.
The initial blasts claimed the largest toll, the fallout claimed almost as many, and yet some survived, and some survived by killing others.
Predatory and prey.
On one side, there are raiders, people who stalk the wastes in search of anything of valuable. Life in the wastes is cheap, and raiders don’t ask before they take.
On the other side, there are the small communities of farmers and townships, people trying to grow crops to sell, and live by, bartering centres, homes.
Almost medieval in technology and in life.
At the bottom of this food chain, there are scavengers, loners, Mercenaries and the exiled, most of them insane with Greed, radiation poisoning, a small, infected wound or just plain and simple loneliness.
"This fucking heat is killing me", Sean thought to himself as he dragged his sandaled feet through the blistering sand, trying avoid debris and the odd stinging insects that scurried from his path. He and his walking stick had been walking since dawn, about three hours. The last time he had seen civilization was almost a week ago to his best reckoning. Before that it was nearly a month without so much as a word to anyone but his shadow.
"I need some shade before I collapse", he managed to mutter to his shadow which was bobbing up and down on the gritty yellow and black sand in front of him. Sean Stopped dead in his tracks and sipped the warm water from his battered silver canteen. Wiped his mouth with his fingers and dabbed the moisture back onto his lips, which were beginning to chap.
Putting the canteen back under his shabby white robe, he put his hand up to his forehead to shield his eyes, he turned back towards the sun to get a marking on his direction. Slowly surveying the landscape, he noticed a dust trail on the horizon. A slight grimace appeared on his face as he fumbled for his canteen again. His eyes squinted into the distance to make out what it was that he was watching. Sean cleared the golden sand from under his feet, and began digging a hole with his walking stick.
"We have to fight, godamnit, they're right on top of us", said the voice in the passenger seat. The driver, sweating profusely didn’t respond, pushed his foot harder into the accelerator. "For fucks sake, stop the fucking car so we'll have a chance", the passenger shouted, spraying foamed saliva onto the driver. "Ok OK, get ready this is gonna get rough", the driver said as he let go of the accelerator and locked the wheel to the left almost toppling the vehicle, but leaving its nose in front of their impending demise. The driver slammed the accelerator again, creating a small dust storm behind the vehicle. The car hurtled with its terrified cargo, toward a gang of marauders on motorbikes and slower desert modified cars. Predators.
By the time the prey had turned about and faced its foes, Sean had dug a small hole in the sand, and covered it with his white robe to reflect the desert's heat. Poking his head above the rim of the hole he watched the fatal fandango take place, knowing he was relatively safe. He watched on silently, aware of each breath, barely blinking as the raiders swarmed toward their prey. Already the car had sustained enough damage to be noticed by Sean. It was beginning to slow. Not unlike a crippled animal
Sean wiped the sweat from his brow, " Shame ", he said sarcastically, breathing a sigh, as one of the motorbikes exploded into flames sending its rider and pillion passenger into a fiery death in the low dunes of the wastes. He mentally mapped the location of the bike and the riders.
"Got one!" the passenger proclaimed, "keep shooting, there's plenty more" the driver replied, swerving the car from side to side trying desperately to keep the bikes away. The passenger discharged his weapon repeatedly at the closest bike, striking only the sand. "Shit" the car struck a small ledge of sand almost covering the windshield with light golden sand, blinding the driver momentarily, but giving the raiders the time they needed to attack. Neither the driver nor the raiders hesitated. The raiders closed in on both sides of the car attempting to disable or kill the occupants. The driver swerved hard to the right getting rid of the sand and a raider bike. The bike was dragged under the car with its rider, killing the rider instantly. The bike caught under the chassis, tearing at the rear axle. The last biker took his chance and pointed his pistol at the driver. The driver was fast and smart enough to swerve while braking.
The rear axle had cracked under the strain of both the bike it had chewed up and the rigorous desert it traveled through. The last swerve broke the axle completely, toppling the car onto the raider, leaving a crimson smear in the sand near a crumpled old one-two-five scrambler and an even more crumpled rider.
Sean sank back into the pit he had dug for himself and grumbled to himself about the heat. Beads of sweat trickled down his face and made his beard itch. He rubbed his face, closed his eyes and waited to hear the noise of the raider engines drone off into the distance. He slept a dreamless sleep and awoke to darkness; he took down the white robe and looked upon a star filled sky.
Stretching his cramped arms and legs, tensing and untensing his muscles he looked out on the horizon to the crash site. It was like its surroundings, dark and quiet. “Better leave it ‘til morning”, he whispered to himself. Wrapping the robe round his torso he nested in the corner of the hole to pass away the night. Twenty minutes passed and he could not sleep, “oh, what the hell, I’ll go have a root round the crash”, Sean folded the robe and packed it neatly into his backpack, and slung it over his shoulder. He stood up and looked as best as he could see into the night for cover on his way towards the crash site.
When he finally reached the site, the moon had risen just above the low mountain line in the distance and glowed a pale shimmering light on the debris. Sean went immediately to the chassis of the old car. He found the bodies of the driver and passenger, he checked for a pulse on the passenger first as he still had a head, his skin was cold to touch and there was no pulse. The body of the driver had been partially decapitated, and he didn’t waste his time on checking him, instead he reached for the cockpit light. “C’mon, were the hell is it”, he said in frustration. “Damn crappy piece a shit car with no goddamn lights”, “maybe it got busted in the crash”, he theorized. “Hmm” he breathed. Sean fumbled around the roof of the wreck until he found the light switch; the battery still had enough charge in it to give an ample supply of light to the interior. Looking at the interior carnage he searched through the belongings of the previous occupants, finding an old cigarette lighter some brotherhood scrip
(Five brotherhood dollars)
And an empty nine-millimeter clip. Pocketing the Clip, he dragged the body outside for a further examination. Another nine-millimeter clip was hidden in the driver’s khakis, this one full. “Excellent” he murmured to himself. Sean began to untie the bootlaces from the deceased driver. “Should get a few months out of these”, he said placing them neatly side by side, beside the wreck. On further inspection of the other occupant, he found nothing but an empty cigarette tin with the brotherhood insignia on it, which he promptly pocketed. “That’ll do till tomorrow”, Sean picked up the boots and threw them in to the passenger side of the wreck. He settled himself comfortably into the driver seat and rested his head on the battered steering wheel.
Dawn was breaking when Sean awoke. He opened his eyes but did not move, instead he thought about where the rest of the raiders had crashed and if it was worth his while to backtrack and find them. Finally he rose from the seat and said, “see ya later” to his hosts. Checking the wreck once more in the morning light to ensure he didn’t overlook anything, he moved onto where the car had tumbled onto the bike. It wasn’t very far away, the bike and rider were both gone. The only traces left were part of an exhaust smeared with some dried blood and a small indentation in the ground with drag marks leading to the point of the collision. Sean scoured the sand for a few minutes finding nothing. “The bastards took everything”, “no point in lookin’ for the rest I guess” he muttered, agreeing with himself.
Sean looked around scratching himself and set himself back on course for civilization and the township of Gideon. Gideon was a mostly religious town, but he was sure he could sell the clips and the other scavengings there and stock up on fresh water and provisions for his travels.
Days passed without seeing anything of interest, and he was almost within visual range of Gideon when he saw at a distance, a lone figure walking towards him. Stopping dead, he un-slung his backpack and removed a small rusty weed knife. He concealed the knife under his white robe and once again slung the backpack onto his shoulders. The figure drew closer, Sean could just about make out it was male. “Probably a preacher, come to teach the wasteland how to love god” he laughed to himself, still out of earshot. He began to get nervous, knowing he would have to talk with the stranger, or at least greet him. He was not used to communicating with anyone other than himself.
The stranger drew closer. Sean made out the stranger was wearing black clothes, like the religious freaks he had heard about in Gideon. He was tempted to dig a hole and bury himself in it, but something kept him on track towards the stranger. Sean ducked his head down, and peeked up at the figure at random every few paces, taking in all the information he could. He now seen more clearly that the strange man was taller than him, and was quite muscular in appearance, he wore a hat of some kind that Sean had never seen before. His chest was broad, and not in sync with his arms and legs. “Weird” he said, looking perplexed at the figure, like a pup with its head tilted trying to understand something. Sean suddenly realized what it was he was looking at, his bowels moved, he wanted to shit himself. Instead he threw the knife by the blade into the sand, the knife landed with a thud, and jutted out of the sand by its handle. Raising both his hands above his head and moving them back down to his waist, He hailed the figure a greeting.
The Stranger used one hand to hail back.
Sean decided that sitting was the most appropriate show of non-threatening behavior he could come up with. He sat in the hot sand with his legs spread and his hands behind him, appearing to enjoy the sun.
The stranger was within yards of Sean when he said, “Its okay, I’m not a raider”, “you can get up if you like”. Sean replied hesitantly “ah um I knew that”, “I just never seen no one wearin’ a get up like that before”. The stranger smiled and said, patting his chest “this, ha ha, its just body armor, it works pretty good too, so don’t”.
Sean interrupted, and said “ no, I wouldn’t do anything like that, I’m just a simple man selling my wares”, the stranger kept his grin “ what’s your name old man?
“Sean” he paused and asked the same question to the stranger. The stranger replied, “Isaac”. They both studied each other until Isaac broke the silence by saying “nice knife, I’ve got a better one here, if you wanna trade something Sean”
“Sure, Sure, yeah, I got lots of stuff you want, lemme show ya, here”. Sean unslung the backpack and opened it for his new customer to view the contents. Isaac spotted the cigarette tin with the brotherhood insignia on it. “When did you find this Sean, and where”, “ that’ll cost ya, Mister Isaac, real silver it is”. Isaac’s smile faded, he turned back to look behind him, in the same fluid motion Isaac pulled the knife from its sheath on his leg, and thrust it at Sean’s neck, narrowly missing. Sean grasped at the sand, trying to get away, and managed to throw most of it into Isaac’s eyes, before falling onto his back. Isaac clutched at his eyes; the grains of salty sand searing into his eyes had effectively blinded him temporarily. Sean scrambled for his old weed knife, grasping the hilt, he shoulder charged his opponent to the ground, screaming at him “why did you do it, why did you make me kill you”. Isaac swung the knife wildly at random around him, Sean ducked the incoming blade and grabbed his backpack from the ground. Knowing that Isaac was stabbing at where he heard noise from, Sean threw the backpack to his left, and moved right. Isaac Stabbed the air to the left, Sean grabbed Isaac’s head in his forearms, and ran the weed knife back and forth across his throat until it he hit bone. Isaac’s lifeless body dropped to its knees and fell forth onto the sand, spilling crimson fluid onto the sand. “Fucker, godamn motherfucker, you made me fucking do it, I didn’t want to, I just wanted to sell you things, but oh no, you had to be a fucking thief”. Sean sat beside the Isaac, and punched him in the chest, hurting his knuckles.
Taking many deep breaths Sean decided to search and pillage the body, he removed the armor, and the strange hat. Concealed in the armor was a nine-millimeter pistol, “Isaac didn’t use this”, “damn idiot”. Sean put the pistol into his pack, and pulled apart the armor, most of it was held together with string, Velcro and zippers. He managed to fit it in his now full pack. Sean picked up the shiny new hunting knife from the sand where Isaac had dropped it in the melee. The knife he put under his robe at the small of his back. As for the body, Sean left that for the vultures and other scavengers to feast on. An hour later, he set his eyes on the rifts of smoke coming from Gideon.
On arrival at the township Sean decided not to sell the armor or the knife, and the pistol just yet. His logic was simple, Isaac was probably from here, and these people would recognize his stuff.
The township itself was quite peaceful; children were playing with a skull, kicking it to each other and running to and fro. He didn’t understand the rules but Sean liked watching this game purely to see the innocence and happiness on the youngster’s faces. The locals appeared to be gambling on which child would achieve the goal first.
The buildings in Gideon were of an even older pre-war town, Concrete buildings, and only the rich or lucky lived in concrete houses. The poor and unfortunate made do with what they could scavenge. Mostly abandoned car chassis’s, a shack made from corrugated iron, wood and nails.
The most impressive building was the church. It was entirely made from concrete with a large spire, with different colored stained glass all over. It had two large heavy wooden doors and the inside was spotless, a worked marble floor, a sacrificial altar, rows of benches, an enormous crucifix stretching the height of the inside of the church and two armed guards on the main doors.
There were four farms, all of them had animals and crops growing on the grounds, there were people working on the fields.with security on horseback patrolling the perimeters. The security guards wore almost identical clothing, denim jeans, and flak jackets, they all carried guns of some sort or other, mostly shotguns and rifles.
Sean walked on to the market area of the township. There were three shops, selling food, ammunition and guns and the last sold clothing and armor. All the shops worked on a barter and bottle cap basis. The local law consisted of a conglomeration of farmers. The local alpha male usually ran the show in towns like these, but this one had a committee of elders from the farms to make laws and hired the locals to enforce them. The regime seemed to be working, so far.
and its not finsihed, i'll be adding to it.... so if you're enjoying it, i'll be adding more, dont fret! heheh anyway, either way, let me know what you thought of it.
Avey,
Nuclear holocaust,
So many souls evaporated in so many blinding flashes of brilliant light.
The initial blasts claimed the largest toll, the fallout claimed almost as many, and yet some survived, and some survived by killing others.
Predatory and prey.
On one side, there are raiders, people who stalk the wastes in search of anything of valuable. Life in the wastes is cheap, and raiders don’t ask before they take.
On the other side, there are the small communities of farmers and townships, people trying to grow crops to sell, and live by, bartering centres, homes.
Almost medieval in technology and in life.
At the bottom of this food chain, there are scavengers, loners, Mercenaries and the exiled, most of them insane with Greed, radiation poisoning, a small, infected wound or just plain and simple loneliness.
"This fucking heat is killing me", Sean thought to himself as he dragged his sandaled feet through the blistering sand, trying avoid debris and the odd stinging insects that scurried from his path. He and his walking stick had been walking since dawn, about three hours. The last time he had seen civilization was almost a week ago to his best reckoning. Before that it was nearly a month without so much as a word to anyone but his shadow.
"I need some shade before I collapse", he managed to mutter to his shadow which was bobbing up and down on the gritty yellow and black sand in front of him. Sean Stopped dead in his tracks and sipped the warm water from his battered silver canteen. Wiped his mouth with his fingers and dabbed the moisture back onto his lips, which were beginning to chap.
Putting the canteen back under his shabby white robe, he put his hand up to his forehead to shield his eyes, he turned back towards the sun to get a marking on his direction. Slowly surveying the landscape, he noticed a dust trail on the horizon. A slight grimace appeared on his face as he fumbled for his canteen again. His eyes squinted into the distance to make out what it was that he was watching. Sean cleared the golden sand from under his feet, and began digging a hole with his walking stick.
"We have to fight, godamnit, they're right on top of us", said the voice in the passenger seat. The driver, sweating profusely didn’t respond, pushed his foot harder into the accelerator. "For fucks sake, stop the fucking car so we'll have a chance", the passenger shouted, spraying foamed saliva onto the driver. "Ok OK, get ready this is gonna get rough", the driver said as he let go of the accelerator and locked the wheel to the left almost toppling the vehicle, but leaving its nose in front of their impending demise. The driver slammed the accelerator again, creating a small dust storm behind the vehicle. The car hurtled with its terrified cargo, toward a gang of marauders on motorbikes and slower desert modified cars. Predators.
By the time the prey had turned about and faced its foes, Sean had dug a small hole in the sand, and covered it with his white robe to reflect the desert's heat. Poking his head above the rim of the hole he watched the fatal fandango take place, knowing he was relatively safe. He watched on silently, aware of each breath, barely blinking as the raiders swarmed toward their prey. Already the car had sustained enough damage to be noticed by Sean. It was beginning to slow. Not unlike a crippled animal
Sean wiped the sweat from his brow, " Shame ", he said sarcastically, breathing a sigh, as one of the motorbikes exploded into flames sending its rider and pillion passenger into a fiery death in the low dunes of the wastes. He mentally mapped the location of the bike and the riders.
"Got one!" the passenger proclaimed, "keep shooting, there's plenty more" the driver replied, swerving the car from side to side trying desperately to keep the bikes away. The passenger discharged his weapon repeatedly at the closest bike, striking only the sand. "Shit" the car struck a small ledge of sand almost covering the windshield with light golden sand, blinding the driver momentarily, but giving the raiders the time they needed to attack. Neither the driver nor the raiders hesitated. The raiders closed in on both sides of the car attempting to disable or kill the occupants. The driver swerved hard to the right getting rid of the sand and a raider bike. The bike was dragged under the car with its rider, killing the rider instantly. The bike caught under the chassis, tearing at the rear axle. The last biker took his chance and pointed his pistol at the driver. The driver was fast and smart enough to swerve while braking.
The rear axle had cracked under the strain of both the bike it had chewed up and the rigorous desert it traveled through. The last swerve broke the axle completely, toppling the car onto the raider, leaving a crimson smear in the sand near a crumpled old one-two-five scrambler and an even more crumpled rider.
Sean sank back into the pit he had dug for himself and grumbled to himself about the heat. Beads of sweat trickled down his face and made his beard itch. He rubbed his face, closed his eyes and waited to hear the noise of the raider engines drone off into the distance. He slept a dreamless sleep and awoke to darkness; he took down the white robe and looked upon a star filled sky.
Stretching his cramped arms and legs, tensing and untensing his muscles he looked out on the horizon to the crash site. It was like its surroundings, dark and quiet. “Better leave it ‘til morning”, he whispered to himself. Wrapping the robe round his torso he nested in the corner of the hole to pass away the night. Twenty minutes passed and he could not sleep, “oh, what the hell, I’ll go have a root round the crash”, Sean folded the robe and packed it neatly into his backpack, and slung it over his shoulder. He stood up and looked as best as he could see into the night for cover on his way towards the crash site.
When he finally reached the site, the moon had risen just above the low mountain line in the distance and glowed a pale shimmering light on the debris. Sean went immediately to the chassis of the old car. He found the bodies of the driver and passenger, he checked for a pulse on the passenger first as he still had a head, his skin was cold to touch and there was no pulse. The body of the driver had been partially decapitated, and he didn’t waste his time on checking him, instead he reached for the cockpit light. “C’mon, were the hell is it”, he said in frustration. “Damn crappy piece a shit car with no goddamn lights”, “maybe it got busted in the crash”, he theorized. “Hmm” he breathed. Sean fumbled around the roof of the wreck until he found the light switch; the battery still had enough charge in it to give an ample supply of light to the interior. Looking at the interior carnage he searched through the belongings of the previous occupants, finding an old cigarette lighter some brotherhood scrip
(Five brotherhood dollars)
And an empty nine-millimeter clip. Pocketing the Clip, he dragged the body outside for a further examination. Another nine-millimeter clip was hidden in the driver’s khakis, this one full. “Excellent” he murmured to himself. Sean began to untie the bootlaces from the deceased driver. “Should get a few months out of these”, he said placing them neatly side by side, beside the wreck. On further inspection of the other occupant, he found nothing but an empty cigarette tin with the brotherhood insignia on it, which he promptly pocketed. “That’ll do till tomorrow”, Sean picked up the boots and threw them in to the passenger side of the wreck. He settled himself comfortably into the driver seat and rested his head on the battered steering wheel.
Dawn was breaking when Sean awoke. He opened his eyes but did not move, instead he thought about where the rest of the raiders had crashed and if it was worth his while to backtrack and find them. Finally he rose from the seat and said, “see ya later” to his hosts. Checking the wreck once more in the morning light to ensure he didn’t overlook anything, he moved onto where the car had tumbled onto the bike. It wasn’t very far away, the bike and rider were both gone. The only traces left were part of an exhaust smeared with some dried blood and a small indentation in the ground with drag marks leading to the point of the collision. Sean scoured the sand for a few minutes finding nothing. “The bastards took everything”, “no point in lookin’ for the rest I guess” he muttered, agreeing with himself.
Sean looked around scratching himself and set himself back on course for civilization and the township of Gideon. Gideon was a mostly religious town, but he was sure he could sell the clips and the other scavengings there and stock up on fresh water and provisions for his travels.
Days passed without seeing anything of interest, and he was almost within visual range of Gideon when he saw at a distance, a lone figure walking towards him. Stopping dead, he un-slung his backpack and removed a small rusty weed knife. He concealed the knife under his white robe and once again slung the backpack onto his shoulders. The figure drew closer, Sean could just about make out it was male. “Probably a preacher, come to teach the wasteland how to love god” he laughed to himself, still out of earshot. He began to get nervous, knowing he would have to talk with the stranger, or at least greet him. He was not used to communicating with anyone other than himself.
The stranger drew closer. Sean made out the stranger was wearing black clothes, like the religious freaks he had heard about in Gideon. He was tempted to dig a hole and bury himself in it, but something kept him on track towards the stranger. Sean ducked his head down, and peeked up at the figure at random every few paces, taking in all the information he could. He now seen more clearly that the strange man was taller than him, and was quite muscular in appearance, he wore a hat of some kind that Sean had never seen before. His chest was broad, and not in sync with his arms and legs. “Weird” he said, looking perplexed at the figure, like a pup with its head tilted trying to understand something. Sean suddenly realized what it was he was looking at, his bowels moved, he wanted to shit himself. Instead he threw the knife by the blade into the sand, the knife landed with a thud, and jutted out of the sand by its handle. Raising both his hands above his head and moving them back down to his waist, He hailed the figure a greeting.
The Stranger used one hand to hail back.
Sean decided that sitting was the most appropriate show of non-threatening behavior he could come up with. He sat in the hot sand with his legs spread and his hands behind him, appearing to enjoy the sun.
The stranger was within yards of Sean when he said, “Its okay, I’m not a raider”, “you can get up if you like”. Sean replied hesitantly “ah um I knew that”, “I just never seen no one wearin’ a get up like that before”. The stranger smiled and said, patting his chest “this, ha ha, its just body armor, it works pretty good too, so don’t”.
Sean interrupted, and said “ no, I wouldn’t do anything like that, I’m just a simple man selling my wares”, the stranger kept his grin “ what’s your name old man?
“Sean” he paused and asked the same question to the stranger. The stranger replied, “Isaac”. They both studied each other until Isaac broke the silence by saying “nice knife, I’ve got a better one here, if you wanna trade something Sean”
“Sure, Sure, yeah, I got lots of stuff you want, lemme show ya, here”. Sean unslung the backpack and opened it for his new customer to view the contents. Isaac spotted the cigarette tin with the brotherhood insignia on it. “When did you find this Sean, and where”, “ that’ll cost ya, Mister Isaac, real silver it is”. Isaac’s smile faded, he turned back to look behind him, in the same fluid motion Isaac pulled the knife from its sheath on his leg, and thrust it at Sean’s neck, narrowly missing. Sean grasped at the sand, trying to get away, and managed to throw most of it into Isaac’s eyes, before falling onto his back. Isaac clutched at his eyes; the grains of salty sand searing into his eyes had effectively blinded him temporarily. Sean scrambled for his old weed knife, grasping the hilt, he shoulder charged his opponent to the ground, screaming at him “why did you do it, why did you make me kill you”. Isaac swung the knife wildly at random around him, Sean ducked the incoming blade and grabbed his backpack from the ground. Knowing that Isaac was stabbing at where he heard noise from, Sean threw the backpack to his left, and moved right. Isaac Stabbed the air to the left, Sean grabbed Isaac’s head in his forearms, and ran the weed knife back and forth across his throat until it he hit bone. Isaac’s lifeless body dropped to its knees and fell forth onto the sand, spilling crimson fluid onto the sand. “Fucker, godamn motherfucker, you made me fucking do it, I didn’t want to, I just wanted to sell you things, but oh no, you had to be a fucking thief”. Sean sat beside the Isaac, and punched him in the chest, hurting his knuckles.
Taking many deep breaths Sean decided to search and pillage the body, he removed the armor, and the strange hat. Concealed in the armor was a nine-millimeter pistol, “Isaac didn’t use this”, “damn idiot”. Sean put the pistol into his pack, and pulled apart the armor, most of it was held together with string, Velcro and zippers. He managed to fit it in his now full pack. Sean picked up the shiny new hunting knife from the sand where Isaac had dropped it in the melee. The knife he put under his robe at the small of his back. As for the body, Sean left that for the vultures and other scavengers to feast on. An hour later, he set his eyes on the rifts of smoke coming from Gideon.
On arrival at the township Sean decided not to sell the armor or the knife, and the pistol just yet. His logic was simple, Isaac was probably from here, and these people would recognize his stuff.
The township itself was quite peaceful; children were playing with a skull, kicking it to each other and running to and fro. He didn’t understand the rules but Sean liked watching this game purely to see the innocence and happiness on the youngster’s faces. The locals appeared to be gambling on which child would achieve the goal first.
The buildings in Gideon were of an even older pre-war town, Concrete buildings, and only the rich or lucky lived in concrete houses. The poor and unfortunate made do with what they could scavenge. Mostly abandoned car chassis’s, a shack made from corrugated iron, wood and nails.
The most impressive building was the church. It was entirely made from concrete with a large spire, with different colored stained glass all over. It had two large heavy wooden doors and the inside was spotless, a worked marble floor, a sacrificial altar, rows of benches, an enormous crucifix stretching the height of the inside of the church and two armed guards on the main doors.
There were four farms, all of them had animals and crops growing on the grounds, there were people working on the fields.with security on horseback patrolling the perimeters. The security guards wore almost identical clothing, denim jeans, and flak jackets, they all carried guns of some sort or other, mostly shotguns and rifles.
Sean walked on to the market area of the township. There were three shops, selling food, ammunition and guns and the last sold clothing and armor. All the shops worked on a barter and bottle cap basis. The local law consisted of a conglomeration of farmers. The local alpha male usually ran the show in towns like these, but this one had a committee of elders from the farms to make laws and hired the locals to enforce them. The regime seemed to be working, so far.