MidReal Story
Mutant Skies: Battle for Survival
Scenario: Apocalypse
Create my version of this story
Marcus Flynn
skilled scout and Elara's right hand, friend to Elara and distrusts Elena, tall with rugged features, loyal and brave.
Elena Voss
leader of a rival faction seeking dominance, sees Elara as a threat and Marcus as a potential ally, slender with piercing blue eyes, cunning and ruthless.
Elara Jennings
leader of the survivor group, friends with Marcus and rivals with Elena, athletic build with short brown hair, resourceful and strategic.
Chapter 1
"Elara, you need to see this."
Marcus’s voice crackled through my earpiece.
I was already on the move, jogging toward the sound of his voice.
The military base had been abandoned for years, but rumor had it that there were still supplies inside.
If we were lucky, we’d find food and weapons.
If we were really lucky, we’d find a vehicle that still worked.
I rounded a corner and saw Marcus standing in front of a door with a keypad next to it.
He looked up when I approached and gave me a nod before turning back to the door.
"Any idea what’s in there?"
I asked.
Marcus shook his head and stepped back from the door.
"Nope. But this is one of the only rooms in the whole base that’s locked."
I crouched down to get a better look at the keypad, but before I could say anything, my foot bumped into something on the ground.
I looked down and tried not to gag.
It was a body.
One of many things that made this place dangerous despite being abandoned for years.
Marcus put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently before he stood up again.
"You okay?"
"Yeah," I said after taking several deep breaths through my mouth.
I got to my feet and glanced down at the body again, then turned toward Marcus with a grimace "What do you think is inside?"
Marcus looked at me for a moment before turning back to the door.
"It’s hard to say," he said after a moment.
"But if they needed a code to get in, it must be something good, right?"
I nodded and reached into my pack, pulling out a small universal key that I’d stolen from an old warehouse months ago.
It had dozens of different keys built into it so we could unlock almost any kind of lock we might encounter.
I didn’t know what was behind the door—maybe food or weapons or even another vehicle—but I knew that it had to be worth checking out if they’d gone through the trouble of locking it up like this.
Carefully, I slid the blade into the slot and turned it one way and then the other until I heard something click on the other side of the door.
Then I took a step back and pulled out my pistol just in case whatever was inside wasn’t friendly.
The door slid open with a loud creak, and I winced as the sound echoed down the corridor.
I waited for several seconds, but nothing jumped out at me, and so I took a deep breath and stepped inside.
It was a small room, maybe fifteen feet by fifteen feet, with shelving units stacked high on every wall.
Boxes and crates of all different shapes and sizes were scattered everywhere, though most of them looked like they hadn’t been opened in years.
The air was thick with dust and the smell of decay, but beneath it all, I could still smell something else—something good.
With a curse under my breath, I slipped off my mask and took another deep breath.
It smelled like food in here.
Real food, not just the disgusting protein bars I’d been living on for the past three months.
I turned back to Marcus and saw that he’d already found what we were looking for: a small wooden crate about two feet long and a foot wide.
"MREs," he said when he saw me looking at it.
I nodded and reached into the crate, pulling out one of the vacuum-sealed bags.
It was a bit of a gamble, since there was no way of knowing if they were still good after all this time, but I didn’t care.
We needed food badly, and this was probably our best chance of finding any before it was too late.
"This is perfect," I said as I looked around the room again.
There had to be more supplies in here somewhere—more food or water or maybe even weapons that could help us protect ourselves from whatever was out there. I lowered my voice so Marcus would have a harder time hearing me through the thick material. "If we’re really lucky, we might even find a vehicle that still runs."
Marcus’s eyes went wide, and he gave me a nod.
"Let’s keep looking," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.
We both knew how much trouble we’d be in if our group didn’t find some decent supplies soon, but neither of us wanted to say it out loud.
I nodded in agreement and turned back toward the door.
Marcus was right—the base was huge, and if we wanted to have any chance of finding anything useful, we’d need to move fast.
We’d been searching for almost an hour already and hadn’t found much besides that one crate of MREs.
But it wasn’t just the food that had me excited; there was something about being here that made my blood sing.
It had been a long time since I’d felt this alive, and even though it was dark and creepy as hell in here, I couldn’t help but grin every time Marcus flashed his light over another empty corridor.
The base might have been abandoned, but if there were still supplies inside, they could be exactly what we were looking for.
Food and water would be great, but if we could find weapons or ammo or even a vehicle or two . . .
My heart pounded at the thought as I followed Marcus deeper into the base.
There was no telling what we might find in here, but if we were lucky, maybe we’d even get our hands on some explosives.
The kinds you could use to blow up buildings or take out tanks or . . .
I shook my head and pushed the thought out of my mind.
It was too dangerous to start thinking like that, especially when I didn’t even know if there were any explosives in the base at all.
Still, it was hard not to get caught up in the possibilities as I moved through the dark corridors with Marcus.
Most of the rooms we found were empty except for a few broken tables and chairs, but even so, it felt like we were getting closer to something big with every step.
The further we went, the more excited I got, and by the time Marcus stopped in front of an old wooden door with a keypad on it, I could barely contain myself.
I asked again when he knelt down in front of me.
I shrugged and tossed her the flashlight.
"Doesn’t matter. We’ll find out soon enough."
I pulled out the universal key I kept in my pack and crouched down beside the door.
It only took me a few seconds to figure out how to use it.
The lock chimed, and the keypad lit up with a series of green numbers and letters, announcing that the door was unlocked.
Elara nodded and pushed it open, revealing a small room with shelves stacked high against three of its walls.
Boxes and crates covered most of the shelves, their labels written in some sort of code that neither of us could read.
"It’s like Christmas," Elara said, making her way toward one of the shelves.
I’d barely taken two steps into the room when I saw what she was talking about.
Most of the boxes and crates had labels written in some sort of military shorthand, but I recognized them right away—Meals Ready-to-Eat (MREs) and water bottles, both in short supply now that most stores had been looted or destroyed.
And then, as if things couldn’t get any better, I spotted a large wooden crate sitting on the floor at my feet.
I’d barely pulled it open before I started grinning from ear to ear.
"Check it out," I said, holding up one of the handguns we’d found before tucking it into my bag along with several magazines of ammunition.Elara nodded as she grabbed another handful of water bottles and shoved them into her pack.
"Good idea."
"We should probably take as much food and water as we can carry," I said, reaching for another bottle.
"Yeah."
Elara reached for her pack and slung it over her shoulder before turning back toward me.
"You ready?"
"Let’s do this."
We made our way back through the base, moving as fast as we could without drawing too much attention to ourselves.
It didn’t take long to reach the front entrance, and once we were outside, it was just a short walk to where we’d left our bikes leaning against the wall of an old guardhouse.
