Region Code 4 Introduction

An intro piece to a book I am writing. Essentially, the US and the world go into political and economic despair. It tells of the survivors and all the emotional turmoil as they struggle to live.

The Bridge was a sanctioned place for all of its members in the rocky, orange landscape of New Mexico. It was the finalized and broken link that connected the death of one life and caressed a much more futile one. A memorial service was going to be held at the gorge that day. Sienna contemplated on joining members of the camp in order to honor brave souls that were lost. Although it could’ve been her life, she didn’t want to dwell on the deaths of others. Nothing would be accomplished over grieving over what happened in the past.

The late September sun was high in the sky that day; beaming over vast lands that whistled an eerie tune. Residents from the East were trying to flee in one last attempt, and somehow, the Bridge knew it. The metal wires and thin layers of cement cradled flocks of cars in its palm through guiding lanes. The other cars carried people she didn’t even know. The windows of every car were tinted a nighttime black, making it difficult to peer through miles of rocky, desert wasteland. The cold transition was met by icy mystery. It was impossible to tell if anyone Sienna knew would make it to this so called hope.

Sienna was cradled in the shell of a military jeep; following behind the others who waited for what could’ve been on the other side of the Bridge. Her parents were in the small backseat with her, sitting quietly like the ghosts they were. It was a bitter wish; a sad and pathetic imagination is what she told herself. The same two adults whom she felt so passively about for nineteen years were a comforting thought coinciding with being a realistic one. Realism couldn’t be more beautiful. Her parents coexisted with her simultaneously with their absence. It was denial that twisted and coiled up in a human spirit like a snake slithers away across the ground.

The Bridge was one last attempt to crush all hopes of any survivors from reaching their promised land. The bombs and the tampered wires were set into place years before and were late to the party when the last group was passing over. It all seemed to happen too fast, leaving little to no time to process. Deaths were instant and sounds were muffled over the snapping cables and crumbling cement from the weight below. The jeep Sienna was in fell so slowly that it felt like the car was just riding downhill. She couldn’t even close her eyes; they were glued on the backseat. The guards in front were still and quiet, as if they truly weren’t there. Bodies dropped like sandbags. There were no screams. The crumbling and the debris gave a crushing silence through all the destruction. The falling was next for the jeeps and trucks in the middle, then the solid, smacking impact of the water below.

When she came to, her consciousness was in the frightening realm between being physically asleep and mentally awake. She could feel air cutting through her wet skin like an arctic blast and the sunlight above was burning through her eyelids. Someone came to pry her off the edge of the ravine. A soldier, she presumed. However, no soldiers were in easy eyesight when she was fully awake. The empty, vast wasteland of desert gave her chills. Survivors of the Bridge collapse meandered around the valley in a zombie-like state; lost like newborns. Inevitable, obvious questions ran through her mind. All she had were a few scrapes and bruises. It was a quick thought"gone in a blip as it came; death. Would one be better off dead at this point? The thought of how solemn and how quick things would change flashed through her eyes. This was no game. There were few survivors. There was wilderness.

There was always somewhere to run and yet, nowhere to hide. She could smell fresh blood in the air as the human race was threatened to ever exist. It was the most dangerous kind of fear. It was a fear of the unknown. There was no war"no bombs, no bloodshed. The angel of death was swift behind the lines, taking the innocent in flocks that no one heard or saw. The silence of death would eat you alive and tear you up. It was total insanity driven by the fear of the unknown. The war was fought invisibly, politically, and secretly. People were gobbled up and never heard from again. The hand that fed everyone would as soon kill them. The fear of the unknown, it would drive you mad.

A month later, Sienna went down to the gorge by the Bridge and paid her respects. There was no official candlelight service, since they had to ration what supplies they had and what little gas they found left in jeeps that made it across. In a way, she felt obligated to feel sorry. She figured that all humans would. But this was something she wasn’t familiar with. She told herself she was heartless and shrugged it off, that somehow it was okay. But it wasn’t okay, no matter what lies ran through her mind. Guilt would strangle her and decayed faces of acquaintances would always return in her cot at night. She had to show something, and she was their leader after all. She was still a kid. When she arrived, it all left her. The feelings before the Bridge left her heart when the wires descended. All that was left was priority and numbness. The service was cold and silent. The group she arrived in left as the sun set.

No one shed a tear.

Author's Note

The best way to describe this is a "political apocalypse." It's the quiet before the storm. However, the storm never comes.
Note: This was just a small snippet of the book :) I would love to see if this was even worth anyone's time. This is a basic rough draft so I'm always up for revising. Thanks!