Targeted, Found, Kissed, and Captured
Thanks to the war, the Great Plains had once again turned into the Great Dustbowl. Miles and miles of endless high winds and dust stretched on as far as the eye could see. The jeep had broken down nearly a day ago, and the four of us had no water. We marched on. We had no choice. The two large blonde men, myself, and the auburn haired object of my poorly kept secret affection.
The winds kicked up, and a roaring sound was heard overheard. In an instant, a ball of fire shot down from the heavens and landed in our midst, sending yellow flame and sparks in a shower of brilliant light all around us. Jet planes. Everyone was twirling about and looking skyward with hands shielding faces from the dust and cold midwest sun. Canisters fell from the sky and spewed forth dull green smoke into the dust clouds and dirt devils, and I knew what it signified.
I reached out for her, that red-haired angel, and held first her hand in mine, wrapping my other arm around to press her into me. Her hair flying in the wind whipped me in the face, and her eyes looked at me with a pleading confusion. Everything … the dust storm, the jet planes, the smoke signals, even the dazed and frantic adrenalin pumping through our veins … everything faded away as I felt the softness of her lips against mine for the first time.
Pulled apart by gloved hands whose twins bore the latest high-powered weaponry, my mind made everything quiet, almost still. We struggled to reach each other against the strength of many grasping arms, helplessly dragged apart. There, in the periphery, our two companions also dragged apart, one unconcious, as we were each forced into separate armored vehicles. They had captured us at last. The battles … the Mayans … it had all been in vain.