posted on Oct, 5 2020 @ 02:27 PM
The pain that had been radiating throughout his hands and fingers had dulled to a numbing paranoia. He was worried. Very worried. Jason wheezed, dust
assailing his nostrils. How long had he been trapped in the collapsed building? How long could he last? He knew that answer - it wasn't good.
When the Addiction Correction Team (ACT) started eliminating addicts Jason joined the fight to save as many lost souls as possible. He knew they were
shooting people but razing buildings? That was overkill. Trapped in rubble, his arms outstretched under crushing weight, his legs pinned in place, he
struggled in vain.
The ground vibrated as a giant armored vehicle rumbled past. A sliver of light appeared and Jason heard voices. The rumbling shook the debris around
him. Jason clawed at the rubble, yelling for help. Dust caked in his throat choking him. His hands grasped a pipe, warm from the sun, and he pulled
for all he was worth. His emaciated form slipped from the rubble. His arms and legs, finally free to move, flailed wildly as he ran toward the men,
heaving and yelling incoherently. One of the men turned and fired a single shot.