Shadows of JiangXi

[Tomtomrawr]

After reaching the city, Miller'd found the first building and paused to patch up his wound. It was bad, but if he just kept going and got his hands on some decent medication he'd be fine. He had some in his backpack, but it'd only hold back infection for a few days. If he was lucky.

The desolate, dingy metropolitan wreck was a sad site to behold. Buildings that once stood with pride and strength were now a mere shamble of what they used to be. The roads were fractured like dry skin, their cracks large enough to swallow a man whole. It was as if the road had come alive, Miller thought. Come alive with a hunger, which would explain all of the mouths.

His pause had taken far more time than he had intended, but he was finding it hard to find the will to continue. He ate one of his cooked ready meals, drank most of his water and after forty minutes rest he pushed onward. Onward through the valley of Death.

Half a league, half a league, half a league onward, all in the valley of Death rode the six hundred.

Why was the Charge of the Light Brigade coming to mind now? He questioned himself thoroughly as he moved. Was he suffering some sort of mild delirium? Was he trying to associate the bad with something good once again? The Charge of the Light Brigade wasn't exactly a good thing, but it was a good poem and it was one of Miller's favourites.

'Forward, the Light Brigade! Charge for the guns!' he said: into the valley of Death rode the six hundred.

'Entry nineteen. I seem to be reading poetry to myself from memory. The Charge of the Light Brigade has just come to mind, the reasoning not entirely known to me. Am I associating New HangZhou with the valley of Death from this poem?'

'Forward, the Light Brigade!' Was there a man dismay'd? Not tho' the soldiers knew someone had blunder'd.

His final objective, complete. He had reached a hospital, or the shell of one, and found a pile of weaponry. And vehicles, although whether they worked or not was another matter entirely. Come to think of it, the same for the weapons, Miller thought pessimistically. He lifted one of the AK-74s from the pile, and checked it for ammunition. There was one magazine in the weapon, and combining that with the ammunition he still had he had more than enough. He began to check it thoroughly, making sure it was in working condition. It was.

Theirs not to make reply, theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do and die: into the valley of Death rode the six hundred.

He stepped over the one of the vehicles. It was some sort of ATV, four wheels and a chassis kept above the ground by a flexible material linking it to the vehicles. Light and fast. He pushed down on the ignition button, and was rewarded by a roar of the engine. And then punished by a splutter of the engine.

Cannon to the right of them, cannon to the left of them, cannon in front of them volley'd and thunder'd...

A gunshot, and a pang as a bullet impacted one of the ATV's tires. It began slowly deflating, the whole vehicle beginning to lean toward that corner. The source of the bullet was another man, dressed in animal skins. On his chest hung a belt covered with bullets ready to be loaded into his rifle. He took another shot at Miller, the bullet bouncing off the metal chassis of the ATV.

Storm'd at with shot and shell, boldly they rode and well, into the jaws of Death, into the mouth of Hell rode the six hundred.

Miller took aim down the sights of his AK-74. This would truly test it. In his eyes, it would baptise it. He began to pull the trigger. And screamed as he felt muscle tearing in his finger, the ripping of his previous AK-74 from his hands being ignored. His finger must have been broken.

Flash'd all their sabres bare, flash'd as they turned in air, sabring the gunners there, charging an army while all the world wonder'd...

'Yeah, little ****! Get out from behind there and die!' The bandit was shouting now, walking and firing his rifle at the ATV Miller was crouching behind. He took a deep breath, aimed his AK-74 at the bandit and pulled the trigger. The same excruciating pain, but the rewarding sound as the bullet began its journey down the road toward the bandit.

Plunged in the battery-smoke, right thro' the line they broke; Cossack and Russian reel'd from the sabre-stroke, shatter'd and sunder'd. Then they rode back, but not, not the six hundred.

The bandit yelled as his torso was ripped through, and he collapsed to the ground. His fur coat silenced the impact on the tarmac road.

Miller looked up from his cover, staring at the body for a second. Then he grinned. Third objective complete.

---

[17:45:39] Wolfs Ghost (Murphy): Tom, you have problems. Go kill yourself.
[19:25:12] Johnny (Jam): Tomtom, I will beat you with a spoon.
[14:22:56] Prarabdh Thakur: KILL HIM WITH A SHEEP.
[17:40:48] Eagle (Junes): Tom should be slapped with a spoon.
[11:32:18] Warspite: Thank you for being so awesome Tom. <3
[18:17:36] Metano: I love you tomtom
[20:06:24] Warspite: I will seriously give you epic head.

Edit: also, Tomtomrawr, fappin' like a boss.