Darling, I...

After an hours walk, Stanley arrived at his destination.

The prison was built like a castle, with twenty-foot high walls with turrets placed at regular intervals along the wall. Stanley had caught word that the group of raiders that were housing there had vacated the prison, so it was prime time to be scavenging what had been left behind. Stanley thought about how safe the prison would be if someone actually made the effort to fortify and secure it properly. He was surprised that the raiders had up and left the place, and was even more surprised that the local military force, the Anticoms, hadn’t adopted it as a fort yet.

The Anticoms were the group that tried to carry on the legacy of the old United States of America, and what it stood for. They came to power shortly after the bombs dropped in The Great Desolation, but of course only in the untouched areas of the country; Alaska, Hawaii, and the Midwest. Their patriotism won the hearts of many would-be Americans at the the time; would-be Americans because the US collapsed after the bombs dropped.

The areas that were under control of the Anticoms came to be known as “The Coalition.” They did a terrible job at governing the citizens of The Coalition, so raiders wreaked havoc on the land. The raiders were not met with much resistance, so they took complete control over some areas. Enforcement of the raiders’ crimes was sparse, mostly because the Anticoms were spread thin over the vast expanses of the Final Frontier, Alaska.

Stanley had always heard about the wide open spaces of the untouched Alaskan frontier. He had heard about the snowy peaks of the mountains, and the fresh, cool streams that flowed from their peaks. He wanted so desperately to escape the dust bowl that was the midwest.

The once fertile land had turned into a desolate wasteland after the fallout from the blasts had disrupted the atmosphere, affecting the rainfall and thus turning the area into a desert. Stanley wanted to see the lush evergreens instead of the the bleak beige colors of the midwest. He wanted change.

As he approached the rusty iron fences of the abandoned prison he thought of the old world, the world in which prisoners were kept in this compound; the world where you could go out and buy the food that you wanted, or just relax if you wanted to. An old world that he will never experience, at least in his lifetime. These thoughts troubled him greatly, so he pushed them to the back of his mind, struggling to keep his head on the task at hand.

This compound was dangerous, and Stanley knew that. If he let his guard down he could be ambushed by a stray raider, or by any other stray animal that might’ve made its home in the deep, dark depths of the compound. He kept his rifle close to him, and his flashlight closer. The worst part was not knowing what was to come.

After prying open the chained gate, he made his way to the main entrance of the complex, which was through the main guardhouse. The door was unlocked and left partially open, reassuring him that the place was most likely abandoned.

All the windows in the guardhouse were boarded shut, so only thin rays of the sun illuminated the room. The light reflected off the dust particles in the air, giving the room an aesthetic similar to the night sky. As he crept forward, it felt as though he was travelling through space, stars whizzing by like snowflakes in a windy blizzard. It made him oddly happy, as a lot of strange things did in the wasteland.

You had to appreciate the little joys in your life, or else you would live your entire life in sorrow. Stanley believed this philosophy wholeheartedly, and did his best to adhere to it.

As he entered into the large main cell block, the air began to smell of mold and the putrid smell of rotting blood. He began to gag and heave, but the little food he had eaten in the past few days didn’t come up. Not wanting to take the risk of poisoning himself, or of smelling the rotting blood again, he elected to keep his gas mask on the rest of the scavenge run. The gas mask improved the smell quite a bit, but it was definitely still there.

He checked his backpack to see how many filters he had left, and found he only had one extra. Thismeant that he only had two hours to scavenge the prison, which was not near enough. He would have to try and look for some in the barracks of the prison, if it hadn’t been looted yet.

Getting to the barracks proved to be quite difficult, as the interior of the building was pitch black. Only the thin beam of Stanley’s flashlight was visible in the darkness, which only added to his nervousness. The worst part was not knowing what was to come, and he had no idea. He tried his best to keep quiet, but every little movement he made echoed through the concrete walls of the fortress.

"Anyone who would be here would’ve heard me by now," he thought. "I should be trying to get to the barracks as fast as possible."

So he quickened his pace to a brisk jog, his equipment jostling and jolting with each step he took. Finally after a few minutes of jogging he reached his destination, only to find a locked door that looked like it had been blasted by some sort of explosion.

It was a thick, unbreachable steel door that stood between him and some extra filters, and he was determined to get them.

He had learned some basic lock picking skills skills from the local merchants that came to town once in a while, but he doubted that his basic grasp of the art would help him in any way. He didn’t have any explosives either, not that that would do him any good.

After pondering the situation for a moment he decided that the only way he would get the door open would be to find the combination to the lock somewhere, and that would mean that he would have to do some serious searching.

First he checked the security offices near the main gate. He found nothing but old computers, files, paper, documents, and office supplies that were near useless to him; but once in a while he found the occasional stash of cigarettes and some old stacks of currency that the people had once used before The Great Desolation. After about thirty minutes of looking he finally found what looked to be the Warden’s office, which to him looked extremely promising. After a few well placed hits on the door with his crowbar, the latch came loose and the door came swinging open, only to reveal a horrible scene.

Three bodies laid strewn about the room, with giant bullet wounds on the tops of their heads, suggesting that they committed suicide with a firearm. Stanley then found a pistol near each body, with one lone casing for each body nearby.

What caused them to do this? Stanley thought to himself.

He investigated further and found dents and gash marks on the outside of the heavy iron door to the Warden’s office, revealing that a group of people, possibly raiders, wanted to get into the room. The people inside were forced into suicide somehow, but why?

Stanley pondered a moment, then realized, The Raiders wanted the combination!

He then quickly searched all the bodies in the room, and found a piece of paper in one of the man's wallet that had four, two-digit numbers written on it. This must be the combination, Stanley thought.

He then quickly searched all the bodies in the room, and found a piece of paper in one of the man's wallet that had four, two-digit numbers written on it

"This must be the combination," Stanley thought.

After looting the room for some junk food that the Warden had kept in his office, he headed back to the barracks door. He was happy that he had found the password, and was feeling good about what was inside the room.

Stanley was forgetting his situation. He didn’t check the prison for anyone that might still be there. He didn’t check to see if there were signs that whoever was there were going to come back. He let his guard down and put himself into a position that he didn’t want to be in. He was so caught up in the moment that he forgot that he was in a dangerous place, and was in fact not safe at all. But he felt safe. He felt like the king of the world. Stanley had the key to riches, well, at least riches in his perspective. Guns, ammo, maybe even food? He was unstoppable he felt; yet vulnerable. When in reality he wasn't safe at all.

After putting in the combination Stanley opened the heavy steel door to find the barracks barren. Had he gotten his hopes up for nothing? He searched the room for firearms and ammo, but to no avail. The only thing that was left was the heavy steel containers that were also locked to a combination. He tried the same combination on the container as he had with the door, and the lock clicked open. There he found what he was looking for.

A nicely polished black barrel stared back into his eyes, and that barrel belonged to a M4A1 assault rifle. Stanley couldn’t help but squeal. He was like a boy on Christmas morning. He had never owned a brand new rifle before. His old hunting rifle worked like charm, but was rusted and tattered like the clothes on his back.

He continued opening the containers to find some more rifles, some 5.56mm shells, and some SWAT combat armor. It was getting better and better.

Stanley quickly put the new armor on, which was only a little heavier than the vest he had on, and slung his shiny new M4 over his shoulder. He was so excited he almost forgot to check for extra gas mask filters. He found some in another steel container, but only took five more with him. He could always come back for more.

After he left the room he closed the door behind him, making sure that the door latched, then made his way for the main gate. It was about a ten minute walk in complete darkness to get there. He turned his flashlight on and stopped a moment to get his bearings.

Over the sound of his heartbeat, he could’ve sworn he heard voices. And footsteps. To make sure, he took his gas mask off. Just down the hall he could hear the definite masculine and feminine tones of two voices. Stanley cursed under his breath and quickly found a room to hide in.

Being careful not to slam the door he locked himself inside the room nearest to him, which happened to be a janitorial closet. He kept his gas mask off so he could hear the voices that were now drawing closer to him. They definitely belonged to a man and a woman, but he couldn’t make anyone else out. It seemed there were just two of them. This was relieving for Stanley, whose heart was beating extremely rapid. Only then could he just start making out their conversation:

“Are you kidding me? There’s no way he could’ve gotten past us without waking us up. Do you know how much of a light sleeper I am?” the woman said sounding surprised.

“I swear to God I heard someone down here,” the man responded. “Don’t you think it’s better that we just make sure no one’s in here?”

“I guess so,” the woman said back to him. “But if Zane hears that we let someone in here under our noses, he’ll slaughter us.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that Zane is not a psychopath. He doesn’t just kill people for making a little mis-,”

The man paused. He must have found something. Stanley heard nothing but silence for a moment.

“There’s...definitely somebody else in here with us,” the man said.