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untitled fanfic

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I always wanted to write one of these, and I had some time this weekend, so I did, hoorj.

Six weeks, four days, nineteen hours, twenty-seven minutes and eighteen seconds. Nineteen. Twenty. Seconds went by like hours, hours like days and so on. His watch still worked. It was one of the only things he had that still worked. His time consisted of staring at it and wondering when the battery would die. Once that happened he'd lose the last ties to the real world and also his sanity most likely.

Six weeks, four days, nineteen hours. That was how long he'd been trapped here. That was how long ago he'd been sent here. That didn't matter now though. He could always look back and wonder what would have happened had he not made the choices that lead him here. Those choices had already been made, looking back was useless.

Looking forward was useless too. He had no way of contacting anyone, any radio or satellite equipment he found was broken beyond repair. It was if they knew. Those things. They were smarter than everyone had given them credit for. He didn't like to think about that. If something was as smart as him, or smarter, he no longer had control. That thought haunted him every second.

Naturally he'd been to war. He'd seen atrocities that would drive many to the edge of insanity. Charred flesh, soldiers and civilians hemorrhaging and vomiting from poison gas and worse. Bodies of men, women and children piled up. It was part of the job, and the training. Those sorts of things hardly phased marines. Here though, here was different. These things were more ruthless than the most evil of the human race. It was as if they were evil and nothing else. No compassion, no sympathy, no remorse, nothing. Just hatred. Just murder.

They came in swarms. They were prepared. They fought like nothing he'd ever seen before. They had no regard for their own lives, nor the lives of anyone or anything around them. They fought to the death, never wavering, never showing pain, never showing any sign of weakness until they dropped dead to the ground. Whenever that happened there was always another to replace them.

The first wave was wiped out. They were strong and many, but marines had more firepower. Then the dead walked. Marines, scientists and workers that had been killed, had their limbs severed, their torso torn open, their head split or smashed, got up and walked. Got up and fought with the same disregard for life, the very same hatred and strength, of those who killed them. Marines were forced to kill bunkmates, friends and brothers or share their fate.

He couldn't remember how he survived. Sometimes he wished he hadn't. Sometimes he wasn't sure why he stayed alive. Maybe because that was the last thing he had control over. He couldn't control time, he couldn't control his fate, he couldn't control anything except when the end of his life would be. If he wasn't killed by something else first. It wasn't complete control, but it was something at least.

Some of the things he was forced to do in order to survive he would take to his grave. If he ever made it out of here he'd never be able to tell anyone what he had done. Training had prepared him for survival, but nobody ever did any of those things. They all knew which parts of the human body were the most nourishing. How to preserve meat without refrigeration. When he had to eat, and he preferred to prolong it as long as possible, not a second went by when he wasn't sick to his stomach. Not a second went by when he didn't feel like vomiting.

This was his life. People were supposed to have control over their lives, but he had none. He only had survival. Survival and the outside chance that he might find working communication equipment. Those chances, it seemed, were next to zero.

He looked down at his hands. Cut up and bloody, broken or missing fingernails. Disgusting. They were in quite a bit of pain too. His entire body was in fact. He had learned to ignore it as there wasn't really any other choice.

And all for what. Some mega-corporation had screwed up and the government had to clean up their mess. The base had been fairly populated and he didn't think it was very likely anyone else had survived. A few thousand at least were dead because of the UAC, but it was doubtful that would effect the company very much. How could they have known their experiments would do this? The CEO of the company wasn't dead. None of the major stockholders were. Life would go on for those at the top. This was just a minor setback for them.

And here he was, stranded, fighting for his life. Dealing with death and insanity. He looked down at his watch again. It seemed like a good time to get moving again. He slowly got to his feet, ignoring the pain in his right knee. As far as he could tell it was broken, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. He picked up his chaingun and checked the ammo readout again, even though he had done so not five minutes ago. 291 bullets. He slung it over his shoulder and started walking again.

Six weeks, four days, nineteen hours and counting. Forever counting.

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Awesome, one of the first fic's I've actually sat down and read the whole thing of. I love the bits at the beginning and end with the time and such. Nice touch.

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Nice to see that a few very well-written fics still come up once in a while - /applause.

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