Encouraging links between students and school staff around the globe
The Broken City
The soldier crept along the ruined street, his assault rifle held tightly in his trembling hands. He glanced up at the buildings on all sides, convinced for a moment that he saw movement there. But the broken windows were dark and still.
He tried the walkie-talkie again, speaking his call sign in a voice that shook worse than his hands. A soft hiss of static was the only reply. They were gone. His entire platoon was vanished, and he had no idea where to.
He pressed on, his boots stepping over wide cracks in the tarmac, his eyes scanning the street ahead. The soldier found himself whispering a prayer. He wasn’t religious, but at this point he was willing to give anything a try.
A sudden sound from behind startled him. He spun sharply, rifle raised, and fired – RATATATAT – in the direction of the sound. A gull let out a loud squawk then bounced off the roof of an abandoned car.
The soldier stared. There was something about the car the bird had landed on that wasn’t right. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t figure out what.
Slowly, cautiously, with his gun raised to his shoulder, he moved closer to the car.
It had been badly damaged. The glass in the windscreen was shattered into a spider’s web pattern and bent outward at the top. The metal room was twisted and buckled and... and...
Torn outward. The metal and glass had been bent from within. Something inside the car had forced its way out. Something big. Something strong.
A shape moved in the street behind him.
Add a Comment