Fiction: Group 3
A rotting carcass of a soldier was seen, five meters before them. But even worse was the smell. Mix engine
oil, tar, rotten eggs, dog poo, and lime together, multiply by a thousand, and you still wouldn’t even come
CLOSE to the smell that greeted them.
Before they could even say a word, a giant missile with red stripes and smoke coursing out of its vents sped
towards them out of nowhere. They pulled off, and within seconds it had smashed into the mound of
Cyclops Storm walker, destroying it in a massive explosion.
“A stray from the Flyer Grid.” said the mayor, though his voice was still shaky. The Flyer Grid was a
particularly destructive battle in which countries launched thousands of proto-nuclear missiles invisible to
eyes due to advanced technologies. All local missiles had their own “Grid” which the missiles followed,
resulting in a powerfully synchronized missile attack, hence the name. Unfortunately, grids overlapped and
crisscrossed, the most notable being America and China. Having similar technological know-how, the
missiles practically collided in mid-air, resulting in thousands of explosions which set off other missiles,
resulting in tumultuous damage across hundreds of countries.
Kim took a deep breath, nose wrinkling in the foul air. Then, grimly, he set off for the nearest city, hoping
to scavenge some form of shelter. Sure, life underground was safe, but there was no turning back now.
Rebuilding was hard, as it should have been. There were also other survivors to fight against, ghastly replicas
of humans with faces tortured by radiation and more. Some they healed, others they released; not out of
hate but pity. Soon, they reached a tall Justice Hall, which had fallen into disrepair but was still rock-solid.
There they set up camp, and formed the nation of Pangaea, or “All Lands”. They knew that they were the
last hope. As they gave birth to the new human race, they rebuilt. And one day, as Kim lay, old and
shrivelled, on his deathbed, he looked out at the newly rebuilt area of the Pearl River Delta. Reservoirs of
water had been found, releasing clean water into the ocean floor. And Earth would heal itself.
Once, this place was a glowing cradle of commerce. People would come to trade, and to buy and sell. Now,
it was still a cradle but a cradle of humanity. The new citizens of Pangaea wandered along the freshly paved
streets, squealing in delight, admiring the sunset.
As Kim closed his eyes for the last time, he smiled.
