A Can of Man
Je suis aware
Hey guys I began to write some kinda story... something I do now and then. It's about an Army helicopter pilot whose two ship formation is hit by a psychic attack. He is the only survivor and in that psychic attack is a message that will change the future of human beings forever.
(oOOooOOoOooohhh....)
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(oOOooOOoOooohhh....)
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[FONT="]1 The Crash of Light[/FONT]
[FONT="] It is the year 2007. I’m writing this on a typewriter I managed to find in the wreck. I found it in one of the thousands of warehouses I broke into. No, I didn’t get grabbed by cops. No, the alarms didn’t go off. Not any of those times, none. I don’t know who’s going to read this and when, but in the year 2007, the computer has long since replaced the typewriter as the means for writing but there’s no electricity, no running water… other than the falling rain from the heavens… tears of the deceased perhaps. One morning I woke up to a new reality. The world became sick with some kind of illness. I was sick too, just like everyone else. But the difference was, I woke up in a tent full of corpses. I got up, feeling quite close to fine other than my stomach trying to belch out food that wasn’t there. But by this time, I was prepared. I took a car (after pulling out the dead driver) and went to an airfield nearby and took a plane back up to Base 1 in Alaska.[/FONT]
[FONT="] I’m not sure when to start exactly… so I’ll start in June 5th of 1997. It was a Thursday night. I was an Army Chief Warrant Officer 2 with the 6th Squadron, 6th Cavalry, the “Six Shooters”… flew the OH-58D Kiowa Warrior reconnaissance helicopter. We were on a tour in Bosnia Herzegovina at the time involved with Operation Joint Endeavor. We were assigned to support the First Brigade Combat Team of the First Armored Division. That Thursday night, something happened. I saw a vision. Actually, I think all of us saw a vision, I was the only one who managed to walk out of it alive. We were a few miles west of the town of Foca in a two ship formation. Captain Richard “Hardy” McKenna was leading. I followed.[/FONT]
[FONT="] Bosnia is a very mountainous place. A challenging place to fly, especially in low visibility, but the more likely terrain to keep you alive when the possibility of taking fire are present. But it just doesn’t work for you when your people have a sudden psychic attack. One moment I was flying straight and level just above the tree tops, Captain McKenna’s bird Zebra 1-1 to my eleven O’clock and Warrant Officer Tom “Lego” Kovac, my copilot by my side, his eyes glued to the MFD showing images relayed from the Mast Mounted Sight… and the next the Captain was trying to talk to me when I heard him scream. I think it was him screaming. Or it was me. Or it was Tom. Or all three of us and then I was smashing my head into a padded wall, restrained by a straight jacket screaming, “You’re all going to ****ing die!” All of a sudden I found composure. I looked at the space below the door to the padded room. People were walking by, I could see the shadows. “Nurse? Anyone? Where am I? What happened?” I sat back, leaning against the wall telling myself that it was probably a waste of time. Since I was officially in the crazy room, chances were that no one was going to listen to me. To my surprise someone did walk over to the door.[/FONT]
[FONT="] She was a pretty black nurse. “Do you remember who you are?” she said.[/FONT]
[FONT="] “Chief Warrant Officer 2, Alexander Meinhart,” I blurted out automatically.[/FONT]
[FONT="] “Very good, Chief Warrant Officer.”[/FONT]
[FONT="] In fifteen minutes I was out of the crazy jacket and sitting in a chair behind a coffee table with the nurse with a great view of a garden. I had to talk first. “How did I suddenly end up in the Walter Reed Army Medical Center?”[/FONT]