(A Short Excerpt)

Grey clouds cleared the sky and revealed a bright, full moon whose beams danced over a slow rolling fog that drifted over a large clearing in the forest. Jules sat alone in the middle of the clearing with his radio pack attempting to get a signal. He had been working with the crank-powered device so long that it left his hand blistered, but he refused to give up. He was the only survivor of the attack, only because he fled when it came. Static had been hissing at him through the radio’s headset for almost three days now, and Jules finally let his exhaustion and frustration had take hold. He cursed as he ripped the headphones off and kicked the radio away from him. Jules’ sat silently in the clearing and let his hand brush the cold steel of his pistol.  He watched as the fog envelope his body, and felt his body quake with an immense chill.

The thought of suicide crossed his mind as he thought about the soldiers that he had grown to respect, brutally massacred in the streets leaving their families heartbroken and empty… all because of him.

Leaves violently crunched and rustled at the edge of the clearing.  He snapped back to reality, and frantically searched the forest for the source of the sound. The sound grew louder with each passing second and several American soldiers stepped into the clearing. Their uniforms were torn, ragged and covered in blood, one soldier was carrying his own arm. Another soldier’s body was charred and his jaw swung from his face with each step, and his tongue dangled lifeless from his torn throat. Jules stared at his comrades frozen with fear.  He pulled his pistol from his holster, closed his eyes, and fired several rounds at the soldier that was closest to him. As he slowly opened his eyes to face the demons of his past, he was suprised to see that he was still alone.