@Leo-Valdez-Is-The-God-Of-Chaos
The Forgotten
Introduction
The year 2086 brought World War III, known as the war of the future. It was significant in many ways, including the first use of an air strike launched from a satellite, and the invention of the Chinese war dragon, which was an airborne troop transport built like a plane with helicopter propellers replacing the wings. The war dragon model was adopted and improved by almost every country that could afford it. The war itself didn’t do much other than give Egypt eight of Africa’s third world countries, and Dubai eleven. World War III ended in 2090, and the anti-missile system was adopted by nearly every country on the planet. Skip ahead a few decades to 2133, and we have World War IV, which was basically just China, Russia, and several countries bordering them took over most of Asia and Europe without warning. The Americas were able to fight them off until both countries had exhausted their resources. The story we’re telling here is set in the remnants of northern England, which was destroyed in 2136, and assumed uninhabitable by the outside world. There were, however, unbeknownst to most outsiders, survivors in this so called “dead zone” …
CHAPTER 1
Walter Miller, a cargo pilot and resident of region eighteen, southeastern Germany, woke to the BEEP-BEEP-BEEP of his old-fashioned alarm clock at precisely five o’ clock. He hit the off button, rolled off his bunk, and put on his pilot uniform, remembering the shopkeeper’s words when he asked the price of the clock: “You want that? All it does is tell the time and beep in the morning”. Wally didn’t care, so he got it for real cheap. After a quick breakfast, he headed into his small bathroom and fixed his hair. Wally lost his train of thought staring at his reflection, as he often did. He stared down every inch of his tall, wiry shape. Wally’s reddish hair was in a buzz cut, and he smiled at the slightly oversized, slightly crooked nose he inherited from his mother. Wally left the airbase-funded residential building at precisely six forty-three, and walked the half-mile through the chilly February air, over to cargo bay 22, arriving there at precisely six fifty.
Wally walked in to one of the hangars without being noticed. About a dozen people were bustling about. Mr. Schneider, the manager of that bay, was walking around, giving orders. “You,” He gestured to a few workers nearby.
“Start loading the plane. And you.” He pointed to one of his his secretaries. “Go get me another coffee.”
Schneider looked around, apparently still not seeing Wally. “AND WHERE’S PILOT MILLER?” Everyone stopped at the outburst. Everyone stopped except for Mr. Schneider, who was still writing something down on his clipboard, and walked right in to Wally.
“Pilot Miller reporting for duty, sir”. Wally said as he stood up.
Schneider looked at Wally as if he’d seen a ghost, but recovered himself immediately. “Erm, yes, Miller,” He said, looking rather embarrassed. “Right on time, I suppose.”
Schneider went back to what he was doing, which was bossing everyone around.
“Is this thing all loaded?” Wally asked a crewman, his thumb pointed at the nearest of the big, white, self-flying cargo planes. The man nodded, and Wally headed into the cargo area, and then through the little white door that lead to the engineer/pilot’s room at seven-o-five.
The flight was smooth for the first hour and a half, but the plane hit some turbulence that shook Wally awake. He stood up and walked around the small room, checking each function and making sure they were all working correctly. Wally couldn’t help but glance out the window down to the cities below, and noticed that he was flying close to the Dead Zone. Ah, the Dead Zone, Wally thought about how serious his instructor was about this forbidden area, how he warned the class over and over that this nuclear mess was uninhabitable, and you would most certainly die within minutes. Even emergency landings were forbidden, as the cargo and the plane would be irretrievable. A loud and repetitive BEEP BEEP BEEP broke Wally’s train of thought. Wally recognized the alarm, but he’d only heard it in training and in drills.
“Oh, no, oh no no no.” Wally muttered as he moved around the computer consoles, hitting various buttons. The engines both went silent, but after a few seconds they both turned back on. Wally checked out the left window, double checking the engine that had set off the alarm.
Wally sighed with relief as the alarm stopped. But relief is often short lived, as Wally realized when the engine burst into flames.
“This is definitely not good at all.” Wally said calmly, which is how he panics. A different alarm started, and Wally realized that if he wasn’t going to land in the Dead Zone, the plane would land in the ocean, and the cargo would be retrievable, but most of it would be destroyed. Hey, that’s what they make hazmat suits for!
With this thought in mind, Wally began his emergency assent. The landing was rough, but the plane was undamaged, other than a few dents and scratches.
As Wally climbed out of the side door of the plane, a low rumbling sounded nearby. Wally watched as a rusted old pickup truck pulled out from around the corner of an old gravel road. When the truck stopped a middle-aged looking man with a grey beard hopped out, stuck out his hand, and spoke one sentence of greeting:
“Hi, my name is Mortuus Estigne, and welcome to earth’s very own hell.”
