The explosions had finally stopped. Death and destruction were rampant everywhere I looked. My neighbors house was completely gone, from what I thought must have been a direct hit. There had been no warnings, and from my time in the service, I knew that aircraft bombs had caused the strikes. I thought to myself that if I had not been down in my basement, working on the sump pump, I would not have came out alive. I didn’t see a soul around, as I walked out onto my recently placid street. I thought it odd that there were no sirens, just the sounds of explosions off in the distance.
I went back inside my house, and took a mental inventory. I knew that I was not going to be able to drive far, considering the devastation, but my 4-wheel drive would at least get me out of the hit area. I went to my office, got a couple side arms, and a shotgun, put on my vest out of habit, my badge, and some water. The truck started on the first try, and I rammed it out the garage door, and down the street. I knew I would be needed at the precinct house, and that chaos would be reining. As I drove, I saw that the destruction was continuous, and that not a soul was around. When I got to the Police Department, I still had not seen anyone, and that is when I started to get scared. I went inside, and the bodies of my fallen brethren were all over the place, some sitting at their desks where they had died. I tried the portable radios, and had no response. I grabbed a couple automatic rifles, some first aide kits, and some army type rations. I went back outside, and decided to explore, and find some survivors.
3 days later:
Nothing. No one survived. The smell was starting to get bad. I knew I had to leave the city. I found a few of my friends, all dead. Every cop, firefighter, citizen was gone. What the hell had they hit us with? WHO had hit us? I loaded up on every imaginable supply that I could think of… Tent, sleeping bag, food, weapons, knives, ropes, and whatever else would fit in the box of my truck. I found a trailer, and filled it with Jerry cans of diesel for my truck from the National Guard Armory, and took some heavy weapons from there.
I had decided that west was my best option, and headed out of Minneapolis for what I thought would be the last time. The small towns were all the same. Willmar was maybe even worse than the cities. When I got out to Montevideo, I finally found no destruction, just death. It had to be some kind of chemical warfare then, and for whatever reason, I had not been killed. Watertown, South Dakota was not any better, but I did find animals running around however. I decided to take a closer look around, for a day. I found a vacant hotel room at the Drake near downtown, and slept through the night. In the morning, I went downstairs, and started to go out the front door. I stepped back when I saw movement across the street, and down the block. I looked closely, and saw a woman move into the building. I rushed down the street, and followed her into what I saw was the local drug store. I moved through the store, and wondered where she had gone. I went to the back, and found her looking at pills. She was young. Very young. Maybe 15. I spoke, “Hello, don’t be afraid.” She turned with a shocked look on her face, and screamed. I moved forward, and grabbed her arm. “Look here,” I said, “You are the first person I have seen alive in a week, who are you?” She calmed somewhat, and looked up at me. “I’m Kristin. Everyone is dead, except my brother, and I was looking for some penicillin, who are you and where did you come from?” I replied to her, “I’m Dave, I am from Minneapolis. Where is your brother?” We talked as we walked to her home where they had been staying since the attack. She informed me that she was 18, her brother Dale was 15, and that her parents were dead, along with everyone else in town. I told her that everyone I had seen from Minneapolis out here had been dead as well, and that I was moving west to find survivors. When we got to her house, we went inside, and I got a look at Dale, her brother. He had lesions all over his body, his breathing was shallow, and his pulse was elevated. He was in shock, but she had done everything she could for him. Not knowing what it was that had afflicted him, I knew it was best to just wait it out and hope for the best… We gave him some of the penicillin, and covered him back up from his thrashing about.
We went back into the living room, and sat down. Kristen asked me a bunch of questions, and I told her that I was a cop. That seemed to make her feel more comfortable, and we continued to discuss what had happened for a time. I told her that I had a truck over by the hotel, and that I was going to go get it.