Futuristic Elimination

[Ravenpaw]

The Earth is not able to support life because of Climate Change, and the government has built domes that has air that people can breath and food that people can eat. But they can't build enough for everyone to survive. And they even have to destroy some of the ones already built in order to have enough food and air for the others. The government are saving the people that they define as "more important", people that have more important jobs. But after they destroy one of the domes, survivors are left that escaped and are looking for shelter. But there is no knowing how long they will survive.

 

[Ravenpaw]

8 years ago...
A loud rumbling erupted from above everybody in the domes. People craned their necks to look upward, seeing a faint and blurry outline of a plane through the top of the dome. Some people rushed off to get emergency gas masks and suits to escape. Some people stood there, frozen with fear. Others didn't understand what was happening. But the truth was that the government never sent out planes without a reason, and the only reason they ever sent planes out for was destroying one of the domes. The time had come for it to be this dome that was destroyed. People were cursing and running in every direction, trying their best to find a way to escape. Few people made it out alive. Things like this were happening all over the world. The government was running out of resources to give to the domes, and the amount of domes being destroyed per year were climbing very fast, and more and more people were dying. There were much more people now that the government had killed than people the government had saved. But this was only the beginning of everything that will happen...

8 years later, Gus Carlson
Gus looked around to find the people he had recently been with, but all he saw was the fog. He couldn't see 3 feet in front of him. He tried his best to navigate the barren wasteland. The only thing other than rock in this place was an extremely thin layer of orange sand. The cold air penetrated his skin tight outfit, and he breathed in quick and uneven breaths through his gas mask. Dust building up in his goggles made it even harder to see, and he frequently had to stop to wipe them off. But after walking for more than a mile, he still couldn't find the people he was looking for. He stopped, realizing that nightfall was soon. He decided that camping there was his best option. Just for one night.

 

[Satanic Nightjar]

Phoenix offered a grim smile to the boy beside him, a recent recruit who appeared to be more nervous than anyone here. His hands shook in anticipation of what was soon to happen. He couldn't be blamed for his anxiety; this was a risky operation, even for them, and everyone felt it as they ran through the freezing, unbreathable air. The thick fog made it impossible to see any potential threats that surrounded them, only the leather jackets and symbols of their group everyone wore were visible in the haze.

Their leader, Eric Cutler, a heavily armed man in his late thirties, held up his open hand, signalling to stop. Silence fell over the gang, interrupted only by the sounds of guns scraping against their holsters and weapons being loaded. A gunshot echoed through the quiet a moment later. A warning. Back off. Cutler raised his gun, and his meaning was clear. He had no intentions of backing down.

They were expecting a fight, and they would receive.

"Let's move!" In unison, every man and woman in the crowd rushed forward, forming a semicircle around the camp that was coming into focus up ahead. The began to close in, guns raised, prepared for the inevitable battle. Phoenix heard the guns being fired around him, the muffled screams of his fallen companions, the crash of their bodies against the ground. Black uniforms pouring from tents, blood spilling. His finger on the trigger, blood of his victims on his boots.

Boom. Now it was his blood pouring down the side of his leg.

His vision went black, fading in and out of focus. Pain overwhelmed him as Phoenix unconsciously let a scream escape his lips, crumpling to the ground. How long he lay there, knee in a pool of crimson liquid, he didn't know. Minutes? Hours? The sounds of the gunfire had died down, now only the occasional shot at a distance. Why hadn't anyone come back for him? Deep down, he knew the most logical answer. He also knew he couldn't handle the reality. Because, Phoenix, there's no one alive to save you. And if there was no help on it's way, if he really was alone for whatever terrifying reason, then he would have to get out of this himself.

Gritting his teeth, Phoenix dragged himself to a sitting position, wincing at the explosion of pain from his leg. Grabbing a thick branch, he braced himself as he heaved his body upright. He found if he put his weight on his right leg and leaned on the stick, he could limp forward. There was a forest emerging in the distance - the predetermined rendezvous point in case the gang was separated. Ignoring the blood still trickling down his leg, eyes fixed on the forest, he made his way on.

Until he fell. Wait, no. No, he didn't fall.

He tripped. The young man from earlier lie unconscious underneath him, blood escaping from a wound where a bullet had pierced his shoulder. Moving his eyes upwards, he took one last look at the nearby forest, knowing he could make it to safety before nightfall if he went now. Then he turned back the the face of the boy - only a teenager, far too young to die. There was no real choice.

Phoenix grabbed hold of the young man and slowly and painfully dragged him towards the woods.