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Major Tomassen overlooked his surroundings. Before him lay the shell of what was once the great Nova Mercian Capital of Bromham. It was quiet, not calm sort of quiet, but the eerie and ethereal silence that chills even a strong man to the bone. A lone Krytenian flag, raised by Tomassen's own men, flapped quietly in the breeze. The Major looked puzzled.
Where were all the people?
Two hundred million people. Two hundred million individuals seemed to have simply disappeared from the nation of Nova Mercia. It had been the same in Ashfield, Ousevale, Dereapolis; the buildings and structures were mostly intact, but the cities were deserted. No-one was even to be found in the countryside.
Tomassen was a deeply sceptical man, but even he had got that cold feeling stepping through the dead city. It felt as if thousands of eyes were watching him, thousands of incorporeal hands trying to pluck him straight off the ground. He felt himself shake, visibly shake from the fear. He had to get out of there!
Tomassen felt himself running. Faster, he must go faster! The Major sprinted past his own men, blind and panicked through sheer terror. He didn't even seehe was running straight at the railings that seperated the street from the Midland River. Tomassen, a tall fellow at six foot seven, ran straight into the railings at stomach height. His momentum propelled him, head first, over the railings and sent him plunging, still screaming, into the cold river below. |
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Krytenia |
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Now With Added Bekk! |
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