Notes: Hello! I am St.Henri, the very co-author of G(who is my best friend, btw) for Zone 1. After a year of absence I have decided to work on Zone 1 again(and with more ideas). My part will be based in a totally different setting against G's, at a small township in the Bay of Fundy at Southwestern New Brunswick. Lots of characters' names and the names of towns will be same, but everything's different other than these. Enjoy!
Chapter 1
Roy MacWilliam walked along the Water
Street. It has been several weeks since he went out of his home, where he lived
alone as its sole resident. As he walked, he looked around and saw the changes
that occurred since he was last there. Lots happened since last time he walked
along the street. Others were right, he
said to himself, while looking at those changes. So many things changed since then. He looked at Ms. Zohar’s garden,
whose plants produced thick, herby scent in the 50 metre radius over them, were
now outgrown with weed while the house was looted around two weeks ago.The town’s
long pier, which stretched long into the Bay of Fundy, turned very much
lifeless. The boats, which used to spend half of their time on the middle of Bay
of Fundy were stuck, with no one on those vessels to embark on fishing. The
steet itself was on a bad state. There were lots of bumps on the asphalt
surface, thanks to constant shooting of bullets and explosions. If one drove on
his car, he would experience huge pain in the butt by the end.
The walls on the buildings were damaged heavily
damaged. There were some broken glasses and holes at the buildings. No
buildings collapsed so far but at this rate, about half of the buildings along
the coastline won’t last until the New Year’s day. Roy, looking at those
sights, grew slightly sad. Sad at how he was unable to do anything to help
others, as well as how this quiet, beautiful seaside community turned after
three months of heavy shelling and shootings. However, he was unable to stay
much longer upset about changes.
Bang! The sound of gun was heard, ringing across the street. Roy, stunned
by the very sound of it, turned around. A second after, the bullet passed right
under his ears, missing him by an inch. Then, he saw four figures, all dressed
in black, appearing out of nowhere. They were slightly far away from him to
identify their identity, but were still intimidating. The leading figure, who
wore a golden chain on his neck to differentiate himself from the rest, gave
his men a gesture. They took their guns out of the pocket and within a moment, soldiers
shot. Roy turned back and ran, trying to save himself. Seeing that their target
is running, chasers followed him like dogs on a chase. They kept on shooting at
him like madmen, wasting bullets like water. While none hitted his body (thanks
to soldiers’ lack of experiences with guns while running), some of these were really
dangerous, barely missing his body by inches. At this rate, he would be shot
and killed sooner and later. Knowing that he couldn’t run forever, Roy made a
dive, turning his body sideways before crashing into the water. A huge splash
was heard and the boys quickly ran to the site, where their target last stood
before jumping into the water. No one was there in the water.
‘What should we do with the target, sir?’ A
little, 12-year boy named Emile asked. He was in for the guarding duty for last
2 days, so he was quite new to the rules and other aspects of military force.
Marc Laracque stared into the murky water. He
knew that there’s no point wasting bullets just to shoot at the person who just
dived into the water. Ammutions are precious and it wasn’t as if the person was
Mark Baker. And deep inside, he well knew that his psychopathic enemy is not
someone who would just run around and dive like an idiot. He would just laugh
like a maniac and use one of his weapons to battle all four of them. So, it was
definitely not him. Then he thought about who would it be.
After spending a
while thinking about the identity of Roy, he concluded that it is probably a
civilian helping out for the oppponent causes. Marc, relieved that the target’s
probably drowned, turned at the newbie and shook his head. ‘Nothing,’ He said
it in emotion-filled voice, ‘There’s no point wasting bullets when we already shot enough. The ammunition is limited for us. We should just leave it alone to drown.’
Done with the chase, they just walked back to their
base, as if nothing happened.
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