Radioactive Chapter One

A man stood in an abandoned city, shadow plastered against a skyscraper that had been alit by a blazing storm. A cloud of ash, billowing up to the sky behind this skyscraper. This man had lit a house ablaze, for he was just scavenging for supplies when a small gas stove that had been left turned on exploded. Due to the simple fact that he had taken a candle inside the secluded dark house. His black jacket smelt of burning leather, and the rubber melted off his boots, exposing the steel tips.
The city was crumbled and lost amongst the ashy colored clouds, cars left to rust into heaps of metal at the sides of the road. People left to die in the hospitals, abandoned when no more doctors remained. Pets and other animals abandoned inside of homes, starving from hunger as their owners passed on. The stink of decomposed flesh permeated the the air as bodies rotted in the streets. Rats finding easy food when they came out of the sewers.
The man bore a gas mask and a Colt M16A1 Assault Rifle. The gas mask protecting him from the fallout of the initial nuclear bomb that was dropped upon Chicago. A desperate character struggling for survival in this new world. Dusk was setting upon the once great city as the man began moving away from the skyscraper, hoping to get back to shelter before the murderous survivors of Chicago came out into the dark. The former citizens of Chicago that had survived the fallout and the initial blast went insane because of the simple fact is that they could not deal with a new setting.
A screech pierced through the air. It had sounded bird like. A gigantic hawk cast a shadow upon the man. He had never seen a hawk of this size, although it could very well have been an egg that was hit by a surmount of fallout radiation. The man looked up to the sky to see the monstrosity, bubbly flesh and feathers mixed to form that of a bird. The hawk lunged towards him with its powerful talons. The man pulled a marine corps cutlass from a sheath that was around his back and stabbed the bird through its chest cavity with a quick movement. Its blood was viscous and dark as it ran down the edge of the sword. The man put it back into its sheath cautiously as to not alert any nearby enemies. The denizens that now occupied Chicago had excellent hearing, as they could hear a gunshot four miles away. He needed to move quickly.
He began to run down Lincoln Boulevard at a brisk pace. Moving carefully amongst the wreckage and garbage, careful to not make any noise. One misstep could alert a horde of denizens to his presence, which was something that he would not want to do. The man hopped up onto a car and observed the coming night. He heard yowling coming from the downtown part of Chicago, 44th Street. Where he was not an hour ago. The man quickly jumped off the car and bolted down a nearby alleyway, where his fellow survivors waited inside a large fallout shelter.
The shelter had been abandoned decades ago, when the people and government thought that the cold war was over, until North Korea sent long range nuclear missiles to every major city in the United States. Then flocks of people fled to the nuclear shelters, many were not equipped for the fallout radiation however, as the people that attempt to delve into these shelters wound up with themselves facing hundreds of denizens. There are shelters that never opened, still believing that the world on the surface is completely destroyed.
The man opened the circular steel hatch and made his way down the ladder, closing and sealing the hatch for the night. He proceeded to climb down the ladder and found himself in a medium sized room with 6 other people in it. “Hey, Brian’s back from scavenging!” One man said to him. “Here’s what I found…” Brian pulled out 5 packs up Winchester bullets and 17 cans of Chef Boyardee Ravioli, as well as 2 Colt Python Revolvers, and 4 cases of ammunition for them. “Nice find.” Another man said. “Nice find?!” “John, you should know that that’s pretty good!” “Well…” “There are better things out there! He could have found more food… Or books!” “Books john? You know that shit is worthless now! Maybe for entertainment or to pass the time…” “Guys shut up.” Brian interjected.  “I found a mutated bird… possibly a hawk…” “I think the house I blew up attracted it…” “How big was it?” John asked. “Well… It was quite large… Possibly a seven… No no. Eight foot wingspan.” “Damn that’s huge.” “No shit.” A few others said. Everyone went to sleep afterwards, not intending to continue the heated debate.
The next day was June 22nd according to the calendar that hung next to Brian’s bed.  He sat up and thought about how the day would go. It was not his duty to scavenge today, as he had scavenged plenty yesterday, so he had earned his day off. Brian would probably sort his collection of stuff he brings back from the surface, kept away from his fellow people in secret. He stood up and walked over to a roll top desk, he opened a drawer and pulled out a Smith and Wesson Revolver and loaded it. He then put it in a sheath by his side. Just for safety’s sake. Brian also stuffed a pack of .357 magnum ammo in his jacket pocket. Six bullets loaded and 18 in reserve.
From his backpack he pulled out 2 packs of chips ahoy cookies. He opened a pack and proceeded to eat a few cookies whilst wiping his cutlass off, cleaning off the blood from the hawk. The blood had dried on the cutlass, but it came off easily. “Beautiful sword…” Brian whispered to himself. He heard yelling from the next room. ”A seven of clubs and an ace of hearts?!” “Damn jack! Who knew you were good at bluffing!” Jack was the best at poker in the shelter. He’s won the most money out of anyone in the whole city. They say that he was a mobster back in New York. His son died in a shootout, and after that, he came here to start anew. That however, is a story for another day.