Eternal Winter

With a gasp, Lance sat straight up. He glanced around at the messy room around him, then relaxed and put his head back against the workbench. He must have fallen asleep in the workshop again. He closed his eyes, and again he could hear the roar of the bombs. Even after three years, the memory was still crystal clear. Adjusting to his new life, Lance was having trouble. Many people hadn’t made it in the first year, most died because of overloaded oxygen intakes, which couldn’t handle the amount of radiation filtering, while the rest went insane and committed suicide. Those who made it through the first year had gone through all of their food, so they decided to try and go outside… without protective clothing. The extreme amount of radiation killed them. Survivors were extremely rare, but Lance knew there were others. He had seen people walking on the horizon. Lance had, once before, encountered a small group of raiders. They made the mistake of looking for a fight, and Lance had obliged of course. He may be out of the Secret Service, but he still had all the moves. A couple of days after the bombs fell, temperatures plummeted. Dirt and ash were launched into the atmosphere, blocking out the sun and cooling down the entire planet. This ash and mud were highly toxic and caused the resulting snow to be radioactive. The world was now in the midst of a nuclear winter. Lance had managed to gather two radiation suits before the bombs, he was able to exit the bunker without dying within an hour. With that, he could have better results in surviving than the others. Lance grabbed the edge of the table and hauled himself up, stumbling over to the staircase and walking up to the main room. He stepped to the refrigerator, getting out a snack before walking to the storage room. He grabbed a nearby tablet, took a bite off of his ration, and began checking off supplies, taking inventory. After marking the last one, Lance swallowed and sighed. He had all the food and water he would need, but he was dwindling on medications and other miscellaneous supplies. He set down the tablet as he walked out of the door, eating the last of his rations, and moving back towards the center room. The higher floor of the bunker was shaped in a way where the large center room sat in the middle, and the other rooms branched off from the large central one. Lance needed to go on his weekly expedition. He glanced at the clock on the wall. He had time left today. Lance approached a weapon cabinet and removed a few and stowed them in a backpack, along with tools of various shapes and purposes. Lance moved down the stairs, past Alloura, and through the workshop, eventually coming to the airlock. He opened the large door, and after stepping inside he could hear Alloura growling.

“Stay girl. I’ll be back.” Lance shut the door, sealing himself inside the airlock. He set down the two Glocks and two combat knives, along with the backpack full of scavenging materials he was bringing, on the bench. He took one of the radiation suits and slipped inside. It was black and orange, with a connected gas mask. The mask was mostly clear, allowing his face to nearly completely be seen. It had a circular filter at the mouth to filter out the air he breathed. Lance sealed the door behind him and closed himself in, then put on the backpack and placed the weapons in the holsters he had fastened to the outside. With a push of a button, the airlock started to cycle, then he unlocked the outer door and pushed it open. The wind immediately pushed him back. Snow swirled inside the airlock. Lance grabbed a makeshift sled from the side of the door and stepped outside. The suit was insulated, but the wind still bit into him. He turned around and closed the door, then began walking. There was a foot and a half of snow piled on the ground, less than usual. This was the least they had in months, so Lance figured it would be a perfect scavenging opportunity. He trudged through the snow past his old truck, which was rusted and broken. He placed the sled on the ground and sledded down the hill, moving towards the figure of the city in the distance.

Lance walked through the streets of the city. It was silent, not a sound. He looked around at the buildings as he walked, then spied upon the compound at the center of the city. The US had implemented one in most major cities for protection, and it would contain valuable supplies. As he reached the chain link fence he pulled out his bag and found the blowtorch, which he flicked on. He began the slow process of cutting through. The hot metal fell onto the ground as he cut through, where it loudly sizzled in the snow. He eventually made a hole large enough to squeeze through, and he entered the premises of the compound. He walked to the nearest building and pushed the door open. It was a cafeteria, perfect! Lance moved to the storage room and raided as much canned food as he could. Moving out and skirting around some of the flipped tables, he walked to the medical station. He grabbed as much as his pack could carry. He sighed with satisfaction, then turned and exited the way he came. As he moved away he admired the base, then spotted something metallic poking out of the snow. It was under the rubble of a building long lost. Lance walked over and examined the metal object. It was the barrel of a rifle. He cleared away some of the snow on top of it and whistled in appreciation.

“Nice. Barrett M82 rifle. That is one heck of a sniper rifle, Commander loved these.” Lance remembered his boot camp days as he grabbed it and tugged it, but it was stuck. He tugged harder, then put his weight on it, when it finally gave way. He admired it, then gently placed it into his sled. He turned to go when he noticed what the rifle was stuck on. A metal hand stuck out of the snow. Curious, Lance began shoving away snow to reveal a robotic drone slumped against the wall. It had a circular head and a piston-laced frame. Lance examined the thing and determined that it must have been damaged from the shockwave of the explosions.

“Woah, a Pretorian! Huh, minor damage. It looks like it was damaged a bit, just enough to shut it down… I could… I could repair this thing.” Lance realized. He stood up and glanced around, contemplating. “Should I, should I not?”

As he was contemplating he noticed the dial on his arm that read his oxygen levels. The needle was dropping into the orange zone. He sighed, then started to make his way back to his stuff, when the Pretorian clicked. Bursts of static emitted from it, occasionally separated by sections of short and long clicks. Then it clicked in his brain. It was Morse Code. He questioned why it was still out here and still had power, and how and to who it was transmitting. Since he was already running out of air, he decided to bring the Pretorian back home. He cleared his sled off to make room for the robot. Then went back over and tried to pick the thing up, but fell to the ground on his but as soon as he tried. This thing was over a hundred pounds.

Lance cursed, dragging the sled back to the Pretorian, then put the legs of it onto the sled and pulled. He stopped to catch his breath and examined the Pretorian. It hadn’t moved an inch. It was stuck in the ice. Lance grabbed the large rifle and slammed the butt of the rifle against the ice. It cracked, and a second hit made it shatter. He took hold of its feet and gave the robot a firm tug, to which it finally budged. He strained against it, and with a loud crack, the ice gave way and he pulled the machine free.

“Finally.” He panted. He looked down at the watch next to the oxygen dial on his arm. “Oh great, Alloura isn’t going to be happy now,” he said as he started to make his way back home, tugging the sled behind him.