Tough Luck

A Story by NeaseWell

A short story with unexpected consequence.

Tough Luck

My ears were ringing, shots were being fired around me, and the gun I had borrowed from my father lay in the mud in front of me. The raiders attacked our convoy about thirty minutes outside of what was once Pittsburgh, and what is now a smoldering war zone. It all happened so fast but from what I can piece together, I was thrown through my truck’s windshield to where I now lay. I attempted to crawl for my gun, which was located but a mere five meters from where I landed. Right away I felt a sudden and intense pain in my left leg, I looked back to discover that it was clearly broken, bone jutting out of my shin. I put the thought of the pain in the back of my mind and slowly made my way towards the gun. Inch by inch I crawled, bullets whizzing past my head, I was within half a meter when hope was lost, a hand reached down and snatched up my father’s gun. I looked up to see the face of the fiend, and what I saw was ghastly. The face of the man was quite typical, his eyes were piercing blue, his black hair was cut to a short length, but it was his mouth that branded him a raider. His lips were riddled with cuts, and they looked as if they had never been cleaned so a foul blood dripped from the wounds. Behind his lips were what was left of his teeth, they had been smashed and mangled and now only two teeth remained dangling from his gums. By looking at his clothing, I could tell he was a member of the Trion tribe, based in old Pittsburgh. This tribe was notorious for their mind-bending torture. It’s rumored that they will keep their victims alive for weeks, giving them false hope. The raider examined the antique gun he had discovered and slipped it into his back pocket. He took a step towards me smiling a crooked, broken smile, and crouched down so our faces were level. He reeked of liquor and burnt hair, he stared at me for an extended moment before saying three haunting words. “Tough luck, kid.” He stood up and struck me unconscious. I awoke and I was surprised to find myself in a well-lit hospital room. My leg was in a brace and the wound upon my head had been treated. A doctor wearing a medical mask was across the room, examining some sort of x-ray when he turned to discover me awake. “Young man, you are very lucky that the military showed up when they did, or you would be dead right now.” He laughed. He started towards the door when I noticed something in his back pocket, my father’s gun. “Excuse me doctor, but that’s my gun.” I stated. He turned and looked at me for a moment with piercing blue eyes. “Tough luck, kid.” He chuckled as he exited the room.