1 Terminal Point

PROLOGUE

The large truck raged across the plain, pounding the wooden storm barriers (the strongest the settlers could build) until they lay smashed and scattered like fire-sticks along the ground.

Women ran screaming, pulling children behind them, stumbling in their panic. One woman fell, the child in her arms tumbling down, shrieking in fright and pain as her hands made contact with the frozen ground. The others ran blindly ahead too frightened to stop as the grey-covered truck smashed into one of the habitation blocks and skidded to a halt. A harsh voice barked out a command and several men jumped from beneath the covering and ran through the settlement, ransacking the blocks.

One after another was looted and smashed: treasured belongings thrown into the open where they lay abused and broken.

A grind of gears and the truck began to move again, picking up speed as it weaved in and out of the habitation blocks, taking the shortest route to the fleeing women.

'Push it, Drydon!' men shouted from the rear of the truck. They had not seen a woman in some time, and here were a dozen of them running for their lives. The driver pushed his foot to the pedal.

Now he felt good. He was never quite sure whether it was the thought of sex or killing them afterwards that made him feel so good. Maybe one day he'd let one live, just to find out.

Then again, maybe he wouldn't. He grinned to himself.

Sometimes a day could turn out just great when you least expected it to.

To be continued

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