Awry
The green-yellow smog is familiar now. Everything about it, from the way it obscures any view of the horizon, to the distinct metallic tang it leaves in mouths and throats, carries a strange feeling of normalcy. How quickly humans adapt, Vakhit thinks; less than a half a decade since the Carroway Incident, and already the new way of life is accepted. They can still remember the day it happened, the city's overloaded air-filtration system pushed over the edge, the main storage blowout, years' worth of dust and debris and toxic matter flung out into a panicked populace. The idea of clear skies had quickly become an alien concept to them all. Vakhit sighs, breath rasping through his mask filters, and settles down to resume watching the street below through his scope. Any second now...
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Crouching behind a mound of metal that might've once been a truck, Nilas shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and runs through the plan in his head one more time. Well, the improved plan. Vakhit's original plan, with some of Nilas' own additions slapped on to make it interesting. Instead of waiting for his partner's signal, go in hard and fast, take these people-trading bastards by surprise, and ruin their fucking day. Vakhit would catch on as soon as things blew up, no problem. Probably. Hopefully. Nilas can already feel the impending lecture he's going to get, but whatever, he's not going to change his mind now. He grins, hearing the distant clattering rumble of a makeshift engine approaching, and hefts the Lewis gun in his hands. This is going to be fun.
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From up on their vantage point, Vakhit too hears the sound. Their scope drifts to the corner they know the traffickers will come around, and they wait, breathing steady. It'll be fine, they have a plan. A good plan. They're going to fire a shot first, take out the driver, get the rest of them panicked and looking up, then Nilas can attack at ground level when they're not expecting it. At least, that's the original plan... They know Nilas has a bad habit of winging it, changing plans on the fly, going for the most exciting and dangerous option. Hopefully, this time, with more lives than their own on the line, he'll behave. Regardless, Vakhit sends up a quick prayer to whatever deities could be listening, and tries to ignore the niggling voice in the back of their mind that says it's all in vain.
[The first chapter of a post-apoc WIP, featuring Vakhit (a sniper) and Nilas (an idiot) preparing to ambush some human traffickers. You can follow here to see when I post more. Feedback/comments appreciated!]
