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Sinnerman - Epilogue


Chapter 1 It only takes one step


The warrior and the kid walked the war-torn wasteland: just the two of them, as they liked.

To get where they had, the mismatched pair had travelled far. Yet for the warrior, it could not be far enough, to remove the memory of his birth in a cloning tank and, the scientists who had made mistakes, as they created their super-soldiers, made for war.

They had kept those mistakes, frozen in gel within their birthing tanks, much to his horror.

So they had paid with their deaths, as music played through the units main speakers, a track that had provided the warrior with a name he had identified with, Sinnerman.

Now Sinnerman sought those like him, among the victims and the persecutors of this dying earth.

He had been made to survive and survive he would; if not for himself and his curiosity, then for his young companion, who he'd grown to care for, over their months together.

Now she was skipping, holding his hand as he walked fast, aware their was an oncoming storm, of epic proportions. The green and purple swirling in patterns above told him this would be a storm like no other, bringing with it, 'all kinds of hell,' he considered; conscious of the small hand in his right.

He sometimes wished that she would walk on his left instead of his right side, so he would have access to his weaponry. She rarely did.

But when she looked up to him with those wide brown eyes, he would care little.

He had rescued her from the ruins of a home she had known, with a mother she had loved. Now, though she rarely spoke, she seemed to be content with his company, as they walked onward.

'Yet, there's there's that damn storm on it's way,' he reminded himself, removing his binox from his front pack, to look out for some form of protection for what he sensed was to come.

He used his left hand, as the right was occupied by nervous fingers, as his young friend looked up to him and asked in a very quiet voice, “We gonna be alright Unc.”

For a reason he still knew not, Sinnerman had suggested to 'her', that she call him uncle, to separate who he was, from what he'd have liked to be. She never quite managed Uncle, but did call him Unc, at times of need. He had learned to be content with that.

Making an effort, Sinnerman looked to his right and down smiling, “Have I let you down yet?”

He asked the question quietly and slowly, then fell back into silence.

Finally, 'she' began to swing her arm again, as he walked fast, heading for the caves he had noticed far ahead.

If Sinnerman knew how to be happy, he would have been.