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5th Republic of New York Militia Sharpshooters Edit

Mid June, Day Zero[1] +300, at least, that's about when I stopped counting Edit

5th RNYM Sharpshooters, Sgt. Angelo DiDonato, Republic Radio Edit

I'm from the city and I don't like it up here. Saratoga, Syracuse, Rochester. Wherever the hell they put me now, I don't pay attention to it. Farms and water, that's all it ever was to me. Oh, and you can't forget the college girls. God bless SUNY for that one.

I pull a cold bottle out from under my chair, Saratoga Lager, this stuff isn't quite as good as the hipster breweries I used to frequent, but at least there aren't so many mulignans up this way. Plenty, but nothing near Grand Concourse or Webster Avenue. 

I press play; "Here we are again on the hot muggy streets of New York!" An overly enthusiastic voice blares over my thoughts. A smooth beat follows.

A small smile crests my face as I think back to my long weekends after school spent in Coney Island. My thick black hair would be stuck to my neck with sweat before I'd even gotten out of the car. One of my few memories that hadn't been erased by ash. This Radio DJ gig I landed to keep spirits up, reminded me of my college days, so I had to take it. The mixture of the cold beer and smooth music calmed my thoughts. I drifted off.

I reached for my gas mask and pulled tight the straps. I was up to my knees in ash. Alone, cold, and a storm was coming in. The wind began to blow ash around wildly. It was hard to stay standing against the strong gusts that were trying so hard to knock me down. I had to reach the light and then I would be safe. The ash was now waist high and the storm had grown even more wild, kicking up so much debris it was hard to see anything but the bright light in the distance. A rock spun through the wind and struck me in the mask, creating a miniscule crack. I could now taste the ash. I pushed harder through the ash, but the light seemed to pull away from me. The fleeting light made me shiver even more than I was. I could no longer see through the thick ash that covered my face. I stopped in place and furiously clawed at the mask to clear it, but it would not move. I watched, through my dim view, the thin crack crawl deeper to the edges of my visor. I accepted the end. The mask shattered with the crack of a lightning bolt and I let out a muffled scream before it was snuffed out under the ash.

A loud bang jumped me awake. All I saw was a dim light through a deep white. I had trouble breathing, I grasped at my face, a piece of paper covered my mouth, a cool breeze through an open window was the culprit. It was dark now. I looked all about, the office where I operated my station was littered with paper. The single light bulb that filled my room with a dim light hung limp. I looked to the left and seen my SKS had clattered to the ground. I wasn't back in the Ash, and I wouldn't be for a while

  1. Day Zero being the ADF/FNC invasion on the RNY, not Yellowstone's Eruption
DiDonato's Office
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