That dammed bridge - ANOTHER P&S spinoff
- Thread starter Top hats daily
- Start date
As the Lieutenant changed his dial to different frequencies, he got a new voice. He picked it up, and put his ear next to the radio. "Hello, this is 179th Fighter wing. Duluth. We're damaged but functioning. May I ask this is?" the crackly voice
shot out. "Lieutenant Williams, a few police officers, and a few soldiers. We're part of the 34th Red
Bull. How can we be of -limited- assistance."
"Well son, we've been tasked to do over flights. However, we can not waste gas, so it'd be helpful by
the time the fallout decays for you to give us some reports that we can pass back to higher command. We shadowed a submarine in Superior, had the flag of
Quebec. According to some civilians on the radios, they were joking around with the flag
when the bombs fell.
We've flown over Ripley. We saw some soldiers building a defense, and some were sorting food. They
fired a red flare, but
we couldn't establish radio contact. How are you?"
"Well, we're under the police station, just sounds like some glass got blown out. Nothing to bad."
replied Lieutenant Williams. The men promised to stay in contact.
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Authorized Personnel-United States Armed Forces-
Casualties estimated in Minnesota to be around 2 million, stemming from the hits mainly on Minneapolis and St. Paul. Duluth
is reporting bad infrastructure damage, but little casualties. Most of the executives safe in Rochester--
No report from Federal structures. Planned overflight of Kansas by transport wing. KMSP is reporting that the radar has failed, and that
the terminals have collapsed, but the airports runway and hangars are working. (Unconfirmed reports of
B-52 landing)
Stillwater area reports safe, Winona area reports safe. Mayo Clinic has few casualties, mainly military
personnel who have been injured.
Hold safe.
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shot out. "Lieutenant Williams, a few police officers, and a few soldiers. We're part of the 34th Red
Bull. How can we be of -limited- assistance."
"Well son, we've been tasked to do over flights. However, we can not waste gas, so it'd be helpful by
the time the fallout decays for you to give us some reports that we can pass back to higher command. We shadowed a submarine in Superior, had the flag of
Quebec. According to some civilians on the radios, they were joking around with the flag
when the bombs fell.
We've flown over Ripley. We saw some soldiers building a defense, and some were sorting food. They
fired a red flare, but
we couldn't establish radio contact. How are you?"
"Well, we're under the police station, just sounds like some glass got blown out. Nothing to bad."
replied Lieutenant Williams. The men promised to stay in contact.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Authorized Personnel-United States Armed Forces-
Casualties estimated in Minnesota to be around 2 million, stemming from the hits mainly on Minneapolis and St. Paul. Duluth
is reporting bad infrastructure damage, but little casualties. Most of the executives safe in Rochester--
No report from Federal structures. Planned overflight of Kansas by transport wing. KMSP is reporting that the radar has failed, and that
the terminals have collapsed, but the airports runway and hangars are working. (Unconfirmed reports of
B-52 landing)
Stillwater area reports safe, Winona area reports safe. Mayo Clinic has few casualties, mainly military
personnel who have been injured.
Hold safe.
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Blue bursts have some nasty ass fallout due to the nature of the blasts and all that water being instantly vaporized.
I imagine that a lot of Duluth is now part of Lake Superior.
As the bunker got a bit hotter, the men began to wonder what time it truly was. Lunchtime? Evening? Lieutenant Williams tore into a parcel of food. It was truly revolting, but it was food, and he was hungry. He was told not to eat unless there was water. He didn't care, there was enough water anyways. The Teletypes' got more information. Slowly information trickled in about some of the surrounding states. The Governor sent out a bulletin on how remaining military forces should attempt to inspect Wisconsin. The State Trooper sat there with a bottle of water. "How the hell did this happen?" he thought to himself. Slowly he closed his eyes. As he drifted off into dreamland, he thought about all the events that led up to it. The airliner. The general tension. The invasion of West Europe. The bomb in Germany. Then more bombs. Then now. Only about a day and a half have passed. He thought about the kids. They lept into the water. Then they knocked on the door pleading to get in. He woke up with a start. Everyone else was asleep, except the Private. The Private moved his chair over to the trooper, he tried to initiate small talk. "Hel-hello sir. M-m-my name is...Private...Private Johnston...you can call me. Johnathan if you like sir." the private stuttered out painfully. "Hello Private John. I am Sgt. McLaughin. What do you need help with?" the Private opened up his bible, and opened to Psalms 23:4. It was all in Hebrew. He read it to the Police officer. McLaughin grinned. Then felt something warm. It was tears. He had not cried since he was a wee boy. He wept, and wept. He cried, and when he finally finished. He felt good. This pattern repeated over the course of many days. Eventually, it had been a week. The men all assembled at the door. And opened it. They saw Stillwater the police station. It was empty. They walked up to the doors of the station. There was no presence in the town. The troops and officers marched up the main street. They found a corpse. Sgt. McLaughin walked up to the body. He kneeled down, and turned the body over. Mario. He was dead. He succumbed. The Lieutenant asked what the hold up was. It was then explained that it was one of the boys they refused to let in. The Lieutenant just froze motionless. He had killed a 15 year old boy. He was a murderer. After he got over the shock, he kept this thought in his mind. He picked up a cross chain from the boy's neck, and placed it in his pocket. He would never lose this. They kept walking. Empty stores. Nothing, until they heard a door fly open.
"Howdy mates! I'm Nick!". A cheery voice. What the hell was this dudes problem? Nick walked up and introduced himself, explaining he was a shopkeeper. "I'm willing to share supplies with you! As long as you can protect me from looters! Heh! It would be swell if you could!" the police officers glanced at the soldiers, and soon they agreed. Nick calmly mentioned "Wow! It's like we're the Free City of Stillwater!" the men glanced nervously. Was he insane? Maybe. He has food though, and that is worth its weight in gold.
"Howdy mates! I'm Nick!". A cheery voice. What the hell was this dudes problem? Nick walked up and introduced himself, explaining he was a shopkeeper. "I'm willing to share supplies with you! As long as you can protect me from looters! Heh! It would be swell if you could!" the police officers glanced at the soldiers, and soon they agreed. Nick calmly mentioned "Wow! It's like we're the Free City of Stillwater!" the men glanced nervously. Was he insane? Maybe. He has food though, and that is worth its weight in gold.
The men brokered a deal. Nick would be under protection of a few state troopers, while Sgt. McLaughin, Lieutenant Williams, and the rest of the National Guardsmen marched towards Wisconsin. The troops kept marching. They crossed the lift bridge, which they noted minor structural damage. They scurried across, and began to walk up hill.
Crack.
Lieutenant Williams fell backwards and rolled down the hill. The Private returned fire with his M4, and the Sgt. with his pistol. A few more shots. The police officer capped the man with a fatal shot to the neck, which was compounded by a hail of gunfire by the Private. Private Johnston sprinted down the hill to where Lieutenant Williams lie. He was wounded, but not killed. He was grazed, his insignia busted, and bleeding out his arm. "God fucking DAMMIT!" he shouted. With a crazed look he jumped around and pointed his gun into the trees, and fired. The Private wondered openly if the Lieutenant had gone mad. After a quick explanation that he was pissed off and that insubordination would end with the Private in the body bag, he made quick patchwork with gauze. The injured Lieutenant made a decree. "Any personnel brandishing weapons that point them in an offensive manor will be dealt with to the maximum punishment". The soldiers marched. They started to come across abandoned cars. Lieutenant Williams glanced at the cross in his breast pocket and kept marching. Just when they were reaching Cumberland, they came across a blockade. A group of citizens formed a militia. They let the soldiers and officers past, eyeing them warily. The group decided to settle for the night, they had been walking for hours upon hours. As Sgt. McLaughin layed his head down on the abandoned bed, he began to wonder if his life would ever return to normalcy. He looked out the cracked window, and saw a twenty year old man chanting his name over and over. "Aaron. Aaron. Aaron." the Sgt. found this relaxing, and finally closed his eyes for the first time in over 48 hours.
Crack.
Lieutenant Williams fell backwards and rolled down the hill. The Private returned fire with his M4, and the Sgt. with his pistol. A few more shots. The police officer capped the man with a fatal shot to the neck, which was compounded by a hail of gunfire by the Private. Private Johnston sprinted down the hill to where Lieutenant Williams lie. He was wounded, but not killed. He was grazed, his insignia busted, and bleeding out his arm. "God fucking DAMMIT!" he shouted. With a crazed look he jumped around and pointed his gun into the trees, and fired. The Private wondered openly if the Lieutenant had gone mad. After a quick explanation that he was pissed off and that insubordination would end with the Private in the body bag, he made quick patchwork with gauze. The injured Lieutenant made a decree. "Any personnel brandishing weapons that point them in an offensive manor will be dealt with to the maximum punishment". The soldiers marched. They started to come across abandoned cars. Lieutenant Williams glanced at the cross in his breast pocket and kept marching. Just when they were reaching Cumberland, they came across a blockade. A group of citizens formed a militia. They let the soldiers and officers past, eyeing them warily. The group decided to settle for the night, they had been walking for hours upon hours. As Sgt. McLaughin layed his head down on the abandoned bed, he began to wonder if his life would ever return to normalcy. He looked out the cracked window, and saw a twenty year old man chanting his name over and over. "Aaron. Aaron. Aaron." the Sgt. found this relaxing, and finally closed his eyes for the first time in over 48 hours.
As they crunched through the snow, they headed north. They saw the usual. Dead bodies, killed looters, strewn cars. It was a hell on earth. Another crackle of gun fire. the sound of bullets hitting human flesh. The looter dropped dead. The Lt. and his M4 were the law and justice of the land. They marched further and further. They found the city of Hayward. It was getting dark. They ducked into a blue cabin, where a family graciously arranged for them to stay, at the cost of supplies. The Lieutenant tried to get in touch with other soldiers. Reports were that a B-52 was flying then just nose dived into the Missippi, other reports were saying that there was a large battle near Rochester, apparently the people got angry at the mayor and attempted to break into the Hotel he was resting at, causing multiple casualties. It was a grim dark world.
Forgive this short installment, bigger ones coming tomorrow
Forgive this short installment, bigger ones coming tomorrow
The soldiers and policemen were all asleep. Private Johnston dreamt of the second coming of Jesus in this mess. The Lieutenant dreamt of full military honors. They all slept. It was peaceful, quiet. For the time being. The sound of a discharge of weapons woke them up. "The hell is this?!" screamed the Private. They all looked around and slowly pulled out there weapons. "This ain't good sir." remarked the Private to the police officer. "No really?" said the officer. They opened up the door slowly, they saw a man take off from a dead body. The homeowner was laying there with a wounded thigh. "Get him!" he yelled. Dutifully, they ran after the man, it was about a mile before they caught up to him. He was put down by the Private's M4, with a shot blowing threw his tibia and fibia, a shot smashing his C4 Verterbrae, and the final one tearing his achilles tendon apart like a piece of tissue paper. The trooper checked the mans pulse. He was getting a weak, faint pulse. The soldiers deliberated "Do we put him down or leave him for the wolves?" remarked the Private "I don't know, maybe the homeowner should have at him?" said a soldier behind them. "I've got it hold hold on god dammit" remarked the Lieutenant.
Crack
The mans head exploded in bits of gray matter, skull, and blood. "God how many times am I going to have to do this?" remarked the Lieutenant, taking his boot out of the crushed mans head head. All of a sudden, something broke the tense silence. "You guys still there? Hello? We're finding groups of militiamen near the remains of the DECC. They say there are Canadian troops in Int'l Falls. You guys getting close yet?!" said the voice. They responded a hasty yes and continued the trek on. Superior was at least 8 hours away. They looked up. They saw a faint object in the air. They fired of a red flare. The Helicopter began to come down. It read ARMY. They knocked on the glass. "Hello?" The chopper pilot hopped out. Stating that "We're going to go inspect Superior. Where are you gents going? And why the hell are you out here?" One of the policemen spoke up "Theres 8 of us, 4 National Guardsmen, and 4 Policemen. We split up to go check out Duluth and. Yeah. Thats bout it. Could we hitch a ride?" The pilot shook his hand in a masturbatory movement and hold them to hop in. They were flying. It was only an hour and a half but it felt like days. They saw the remains of the DECC. The lift bridges were collapsed. Most of the pier area was in extremely heavy rubble. Scorch marks across most of the city. They were shadowed by two F-15s that broke off later. They set down near the remains of the antenna farm.
Welcome to Duluth.
Crack
The mans head exploded in bits of gray matter, skull, and blood. "God how many times am I going to have to do this?" remarked the Lieutenant, taking his boot out of the crushed mans head head. All of a sudden, something broke the tense silence. "You guys still there? Hello? We're finding groups of militiamen near the remains of the DECC. They say there are Canadian troops in Int'l Falls. You guys getting close yet?!" said the voice. They responded a hasty yes and continued the trek on. Superior was at least 8 hours away. They looked up. They saw a faint object in the air. They fired of a red flare. The Helicopter began to come down. It read ARMY. They knocked on the glass. "Hello?" The chopper pilot hopped out. Stating that "We're going to go inspect Superior. Where are you gents going? And why the hell are you out here?" One of the policemen spoke up "Theres 8 of us, 4 National Guardsmen, and 4 Policemen. We split up to go check out Duluth and. Yeah. Thats bout it. Could we hitch a ride?" The pilot shook his hand in a masturbatory movement and hold them to hop in. They were flying. It was only an hour and a half but it felt like days. They saw the remains of the DECC. The lift bridges were collapsed. Most of the pier area was in extremely heavy rubble. Scorch marks across most of the city. They were shadowed by two F-15s that broke off later. They set down near the remains of the antenna farm.
Welcome to Duluth.
The men stood infront of the helicopter. The pilot waved a Bon Voyage and began to hover. The soldiers asked the Lieutenant why Duluth instead of the Twin Cities. "Because. This is my home town and I am the commanding officer. I choose what to do and not what to do. Stop bugging me about this." the troops turned at each other. The Private walked up to a police officer and said "He's mental." The Lieutenant rose his fist up as a signal to follow. The men crouched behind him and began advancing down hill, darting from house to house. They ducked inside a tan house on the hillside. "If you feel sick, tell the Private. The radiation might get a bit higher and we have to play it safe." remarked a National Guardsmen. They opened up a backdoor, they were about to jump off the deck and progress. The sound was shattered by the Private vomiting all over the deck. He hunched over and kept vomiting. The three other Guardsmen ran over to his aid, while the police officers maintained a guard of the house. The guardsmen were overcome by a powerful stench. "Jesus titty fucking Christ what is that smell?" remarked the Lieutenant. They dragged the Private out and threw him on a chair. The Police Lieutenant slapped him. "Whats wrong?!" The private wiped the brownish substance off his lips and said. "I saw a decomposing body. and the stench was so over powering it was ju-" the private lurched and then sat down. "I'm...ok. Just, keep me away from this house." they dragged him out of the house, and began to progress down the hill at a much faster pace. They saw a group of people at the end of this seemingly endless hill. They ran down as fast as they could. One of the troopers lost his footing and took a National Guardsmen down with him, they rolled down the hill at an impecable speed. The descent was broken with the Police Sergeant smashing his head on a concrete barrier, and the Specialist 1st Class rolling over the barrier into a group of militia men. The remaining men sprinted down. They checked on the Police Sergeant first. The Private checked the pulse of the Sergeant and looked up at the militamen and began chest compressions. "One! Two! Three! Four! Five! BREATH!" The soldiers jumped over and looked at the Specialist. A young woman was tending to his leg. "He broke it, and he's smashed his wrist!" the Private was losing control, tears streaming from his face. The Lieutenant glanced at the cross from the boy. He handed the cross to the Private. The Private took it and leaned the Police Sergeant over on his side and spoke into his ear with a booming voice. "Per istam sanctan unctionem et suam piissimam misericordiam, indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid... through this Holy Unction or oil, and through the great goodness of His mercy, may God pardon thee whatever sins thou hast committed by evil use of any and all." the Private put his face in the troopers torso and began beating the ground until his knuckles were full of blood and pus. "Why God! Why, why why!". The Lieutenant looked over at the Specialist. He put his hand up to his face and touched below his eye. The woman raised his hand and noticed the blown pupil and massive cut. As the Specialist slowly progressed into a mixed state of both hypoxia and hypovolemia, the soldiers desperately called over there radios for some sort of medical help. After around 45 minutes, a medic arrived carrying a IV. When he put the needle in the man's forearm, he was only getting a faint pulse from the neck. The men took turns squeezing the bag, but it was to no avail. The Specialist's left pupil began to expand and took up the iris. The Private took his pistol and shot in the air wildly, his eyes blind with rage..
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This is garnering to few responses, am I not writing well enough, do I like a two year old writing? What am I doing wrong for God's sake.
Top Hats Daily,
I've been in your situation before, waiting for updates and replies that never come. There was a dry spell in D&C where I updated practically everyday, and I only had one reply or so each. Don't worry people are reading your TL at least.
You write well. I think you do what I do, compare my writing to the original P&S or Land of Flatwater. Don't even try, those men a genius! I wish I could write half as well as they could! In short Don't Worry About It!
I want this to be a quality reply to a quality thread so here I go!
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I like the way your updates are small, concise, and still manage to paint a full picture and keep the story flowing. You manage to maintain the tension and horror of the original (the scene with the kids banging on the shelter door and THEN NOT BEING LET IN gave me nightmares) while developing your own style, something that I completely envy.
Also if you didn't notice all of our threads started with small updates, and we had longer ones as we honed our craft. But I have to repeat, small succinct posts are much easier to read and are frankly more enjoyable. My current posts read like boring, dry, long, textbook pages. Yuck!
The Canadian troops are a good sign, no matter how much we Americans like to make fun of our northern neighbors, they are our best friends and closest allies, joint operations will be key to keeping both of our nations around.
Duluth seems like a good starting point, however can the Lieutenant keep the band together under sheer "I have the highest rank" authority? Leaders like that don't last long IRL anyway, and in post-apocalyptia mutiny might seem like a good idea for the rest of the gang.
Keep it up,
-Gen_Patton
I've been in your situation before, waiting for updates and replies that never come. There was a dry spell in D&C where I updated practically everyday, and I only had one reply or so each. Don't worry people are reading your TL at least.
You write well. I think you do what I do, compare my writing to the original P&S or Land of Flatwater. Don't even try, those men a genius! I wish I could write half as well as they could! In short Don't Worry About It!
I want this to be a quality reply to a quality thread so here I go!
-------------------------------------------------------------------
I like the way your updates are small, concise, and still manage to paint a full picture and keep the story flowing. You manage to maintain the tension and horror of the original (the scene with the kids banging on the shelter door and THEN NOT BEING LET IN gave me nightmares) while developing your own style, something that I completely envy.
Also if you didn't notice all of our threads started with small updates, and we had longer ones as we honed our craft. But I have to repeat, small succinct posts are much easier to read and are frankly more enjoyable. My current posts read like boring, dry, long, textbook pages. Yuck!
The Canadian troops are a good sign, no matter how much we Americans like to make fun of our northern neighbors, they are our best friends and closest allies, joint operations will be key to keeping both of our nations around.
Duluth seems like a good starting point, however can the Lieutenant keep the band together under sheer "I have the highest rank" authority? Leaders like that don't last long IRL anyway, and in post-apocalyptia mutiny might seem like a good idea for the rest of the gang.
Keep it up,
-Gen_Patton
Genius? Moi? No way. I'm just a journalist with too much time on his hands lol.
Like Patton said, just keep writing your story don't worry about the comments. They are going to come. Just keep telling your tale.
And check out what the other timelines are doing. The way P&S works best is that we play off each other. I'm looking to "That Damned Bridge" for a lot of thing that will play of what I'm doing because of the proximity of where both of our stories take place.
The soldiers stared at each other. Completely in a rage, the Private lashed out. "Lieutenant, fuck you! You don't know shit! You brought us here for fuck knows why! You should pay for this! Come on! Let's go!" screamed the Private, with one pistolwhip to the back of the head, the Lieutenant fell unconcious. Soon, a fist fight broke out between the police officers, soldiers, and militamen. The Private was knocked down by a sharp blow to the groin, while he tore off flesh from a police officers thigh. Soon, a shot. Then another shot. The Private rolled on his side and covered his head, spitting out blood. Soon, a block wide civil war broke out, with the police and soldiers putting there differences aside to stop the milita. Shots rang out. The Private dashed from building to building, firing off three shots with his pistol. The Lieutenant began to come to, trying to make sense of the situation. "Come on! Hit us! Hit us I dare you! You don't know shit!" screamed a police officer, before a .22 caliber bullet struck his thigh. Suddenly, the sound of four jets shattered the sky. The fighting stopped. Momentairly. The Lieutenant glanced at the aircraft, the aircraft began to fly lower and lower. Suddenly, the Private caught a glimpse of the tail. He saw Red. White. Red. "The hell is that?" remarked the concussed Lieutenant. He thought about it. "Canadians! Canadians! They haven't forgotten about us!" the soldiers began to hug and salute each other when the jovial celebration was shattered by a gun shot. Soon, the one block civil war would be over. There was only one fatal wound, a gun shot wound to the head of the so-called "General" of the militia. The milita scattered and left the soldiers to tend to there wounds. The Private slowly backed down from his adrenaline fulled rage. "What have I done? What have I done? I'm a failure. I-I." the Private slowly rolled over and began to clutch his pistol like a metal teddy bear. The others were attempting to tend to the wounded, and began trying to sort out what they would do. The Lieutenant stood at his post, over looking the lake. Waiting for something to happen. Suddenly, a small crackle on his radio burst out. "We....assistance needed...riot...Ripley is under....six fatalities...send help." the Lieutenant called over his half busted radio for all units that could walk to form up. "We need to help out our pals in Camp Ripley. I don't know when we can mount a rescue, but reports are, theres been food riots near the base, and some people are killed. In the meantime, we must head for the airport, and try to see if-"
Shudder
Crack
A tall building, suddenly, unforgivingly fell into the ground like a car hitting a brick wall. Suddenly, it crossed the Lieutenants mind that they were in one of the most radioactive zones of Duluth. Like frightened birds, the Lieutenant sprinted as fast as he could for a building. They found a small residential house, a police officer bashed the window in with his fist. They all piled in, they found a man with a shotgun. They froze, he froze, time slowed down like a B-Science Fiction thriller. A shot, the Private fell through the window, face bloodied, and with a good chunk of his jaw torn off. The troops fired in, smashing the mans internal organs like a knife to butter. They pulled the Private up, he was bleeding, coughing up blood, and trying to talk to the soldiers in frantic cries for help. Learning from last time, they lie him down, put his feet up, and began to administer various first aid techniques. The Lieutenant wiped a bit of spit off his mouth, and then began to look for something for his panging headache. The Lieutenant hadn't felt this bad in years. The soldiers knew it, he knew it, but no one dare say what was afflicting the Lieutenant.
Shudder
Crack
A tall building, suddenly, unforgivingly fell into the ground like a car hitting a brick wall. Suddenly, it crossed the Lieutenants mind that they were in one of the most radioactive zones of Duluth. Like frightened birds, the Lieutenant sprinted as fast as he could for a building. They found a small residential house, a police officer bashed the window in with his fist. They all piled in, they found a man with a shotgun. They froze, he froze, time slowed down like a B-Science Fiction thriller. A shot, the Private fell through the window, face bloodied, and with a good chunk of his jaw torn off. The troops fired in, smashing the mans internal organs like a knife to butter. They pulled the Private up, he was bleeding, coughing up blood, and trying to talk to the soldiers in frantic cries for help. Learning from last time, they lie him down, put his feet up, and began to administer various first aid techniques. The Lieutenant wiped a bit of spit off his mouth, and then began to look for something for his panging headache. The Lieutenant hadn't felt this bad in years. The soldiers knew it, he knew it, but no one dare say what was afflicting the Lieutenant.
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