Author Topic: A History of Time to Come  (Read 302 times)

0 Members and 0 Guests are viewing this topic.

RedVulnus

  • POST LORD
  • **********
  • Posts: 2,307
  • Dapperness +20/-4
    • View Profile
Re: A History of Time to Come
« Reply #15 on: March 25, 2021, 03:21:30 pm »
Sokolov walked with a dozen loyal couriers. They weren’t loyal to the company nor Alice, but to the middle aged russian that had given them their new life. His old contacts from his past life had left him with a catalogue of locations and now he’d made his way to one of them. His men followed him into the building and found themselves in an old house, a picturesque living situation for a family of five underneath all the damage.

Walking to the living room Sokolov held his hand out and waited. After a moment one of the men put the sledgehammer in his hands. Twenty minutes later and the men, Sokolov’s Sparrows, pulled the wooden crate free of what remained of the concrete. After a nod from their leader the men opened it and stared at the contents in surprise. Pulling out one of the rifles the first man examined the AK, thankful for his gloves so the old wood didn’t leave splinters. “Soviet?”

Sokolov nodded as he lit his cigarette and walked “Dah, Soviet era. Remnants from ancient plans made by men long dead. Now they will serve us as they once served the men of the red star.”

Carrying the crate out one of the men pointed out the gear needed to be fixed. Sokolov shrugged as he said “That will be taken care of in time. First we get the rest and then we go to the Church for Agmen’s blessing.”

Within the next three hours the men had crates of AKs, Dragunovs, PKMs, SKSs, and a crate of RPG launchers and a large supply of attachments for the guns. From there they made their drive towards the church. Sokolov sat and smoked, smiling as he put together the pieces of his plan. He’d protect his other self’s daughter, and from there he’d do what he could to make things better.

The pair of old military trucks pulled up to the church and stopped. Their thirteen passengers jumped out wearing tan combat gear, a rifle hanging from each man’s sling. Two of them approached the church entrance as the others pulled the cloth off of the back of the trucks revealing the old crates. Sokolov put his cigarette out as he neared the door of the church. He wanted to make a good first impression after all.

The nun that came out of the church wasn’t quite what he’d expected. She wore a habit like those he’d grown up around but hers was stained with grease and machine oil. A belt of tools wrapped around her waist and a bandoleer that looped over her shoulder held parts for machines that she’d been charged to care for. Giving Sokolov a smile she asked “What brings you to the church of Agmen?”

Sokolov returned the smile as he said “I need my weapons blessed, and repaired if possible. I also come with gifts for the church.” As he says this two of his men bring a crate of the old AKs up behind them.

The nun stared for a moment before saying “Oh my. I think I need to go find someone more important than myself to handle this.”

A few minutes later and a trio of nuns were following a man out to the truck. He rushed over and stared at the array of crates as one of Sokolovs men said “We got ten crates of AKs, packed em tight so we got about fifteen per crate. Two crates Dragunovs, three crates PKMs, five  crates SKSs. I’d say we could give the church a crate of AKs, one crate of SKSs, and three Dragunovs and PKMs.”

Sokolov looked at the man, whom he presumed to be a bishop of some sort, and said “I assume the nun told you what I want. My friend just told you what I have to offer.” Picking up one of the old AKs Sokolov examined it “They could function with little work I imagine, but I want to be sure. I know your people value these things as well. I also have offer but that would be for higher ups of the church. For now I assume you can make decision on repairing my weapons.”

After some discussion the Sparrows moved the crates into the church proper and left them for repair. As they walked back to the trucks Sokolov gave out the orders “We’ll start getting questions, unhappy comments, all of it. I want the rest of the postal service moving faster than normal, three day trips are two day right now. I want the Sparrows to split up, take some bikes out and get in touch with some of our friends. Alice has been absorbed in her project too much, and right now we need to keep an eye on the new arrivals. I don’t like hearing my mail trucks are getting pulled over by armored humvees.”

One of the Sparrows asked “And what about our other problem? The fucking hordes of zombies we keep dodging?”

Sokolov shook his head “Solution is in church right now, we’ll do our best to deal with that once we have gear for it.”

The men voiced understanding as they mounted the trucks. The sun was setting as they drove out of Walkerville and back to the Postal Station.  Sokolov had a feeling something was coming and he wanted to be prepared.

Meanwhile three dirt bikes tore through the abandoned highway. The bikes were custom jobs, not the standardized bikes the postal service issued. The rider in the back pulled the Uzi from his jacket and fired at the sprinting zombies chasing them. “One. Two. THREE!” he said as he took out the closest of the zombies.

The trio were in charge of getting a special package back to Walkerville. The run had been fine until they’d run into a horde that had migrated ahead of schedule. “You know I thought the crews were trying to keep this one corralled in that old city a few miles north!”

The second biker tossed a pipe bomb over his shoulder as he responded “Crew must have bit the dust then cause these fuckers sure are hungry!”

The explosion had taken care of a few but the biker bringing up the rear still fired on target after target. As he reloaded the Uzi he added “Well I don’t exactly care about the crew right now. I care about us getting back home with all our limbs!”

The lead turned them off the highway and tossed a bit of bait off to the side as he told them “Shut up you two! We’re Sparrows, we’re gonna make it just fine!”

Thankfully most of the zombies ran after the bait as the trio tore down the road and out into the countryside. The few that were left the man in the rear took out with his Uzi as the lead took them onto a trail in the woods the Sparrows had mapped out and rigged with a few surprises for anyone following them. The trio rode fast through it and out the other side to find more zombies waiting. Coming to a halt they looked at each other. “Guess it’s gotta be the hard way then.”

 

NOCTIFER IS A FAGGOT