The Main Character

I walk the ruined hallway, nothing but rubble.

The prison is in a state of collapse, I figured a riot had taken place but it looks more like a bomb had hit it. I pass the guard post, the place were they control the cells from. He’s dead. A single guard, injured badly and expired, his hand resting on the cell door control, he’s last act was to free the prisoners in solitary confinement, I have never met this man before, but I am overwhelmed with emotions, I feel bad for him; mortally wounded, knowing he was going to die, and his final act was to try and ensure that people, bad people like me wouldn’t stave to death.

The air is heavy with a fog carrying a stench of death, I come across more bodies, inmates and guards stabbed, shot, blown apart, everyone dead. I am alone.

For an hour I wander the remains of the prison, everywhere the same thing, death. I find discarded weaponry, bullet casings, scorched floors and walls, fires still burning out of control.

I wander into an office, it’s relatively unscathed, computers sit powerless, printers and monitors inactive and useless, at the end of the room a blackboard, with schedules, routines and names written, and below several unopened packs of colored chalk.

Papers littered around suggested peace talks with neighboring nations were breaking down, that the financial crisis that had effected the whole region and lead to people like me having to rob banks to survive had now lead our nation to war. It hits me, the destruction of the prison wasn’t a riot or inside rebellion, the prison was just like everything else in the eyes of our enemies; a target.

War had come to my country and I had slept through it, been left behind, and suddenly the life of one wanna be hero during a bank robbery trying to stand up for the corporate interests that ruined our country didn’t seem like such a big deal.

I had been so racked with guilt over my crime, taking that single life had been so horrific to me, now, in the face of war, how many innocent lives had been destroyed?

“Down on the ground!”

The words startle me, he has to be an enemy soldier, and enemy of my nation, what is he doing here still?

“I said down on the ground!”

Perhaps it’s the knowing that my nation has now been invaded, knowing we are at war, or the fact that this enemy soldier has the barrel of his weapon pressed against the side of my head that I feel I have no choice, as fucked up as my nation is, as fucked up as our government is, I feel I have to protect what’s mine.

I wrestle for the weapon, he seems surprised and fights back, I’ve almost got it…

…

It was like an explosion, a loud bang and I feel weak, a hole right through my chest and I’m bleeding as I drop to my knees. My enemy kicks me onto my back, I can’t get up…

“Didn’t think I’d find anyone out here trying to be a hero, you should have just complied.”

Everything is fading, like the light in my cell; darkness, silence, nothing…

I’m alone.