Adam turned around slowly, shaking his head. What was that? he thought.
The brightness faded, leaving him blinking away the spots in his vision. Once he could see again, it was just as difficult to see as before. The sun shone overheard, and he shielded his eyes with his hands.
Memories flooded into his mind, and Adam scrambled for cover, running blindly from the middle of the street until he could roll under an unmoving car. The last thing he remembered was several bouncing grenades, and that he’d leapt for them, desperate to throw them back before they exploded.
Did the others make it out? he thought, as his ears picked up the sound of hundreds of cars. Adam peeked out from under the car to see passing traffic. Strangely, the drivers were all in civilian clothes.
Where did folks from the refugee camps get working cars? Adam glanced around but couldn’t see his gun. Must’ve lost it in the blast.
Moving slowly, Adam inched out from under the car, stopping short as he noticed people passing by. Although they certainly saw him, no one stopped him or said anything.
Standing, Adam looked back and forth down the street. He recognized the place as Enfield, but it wasn’t the same street he knew.
An older lady passed by, and must have noticed the confusion in his eyes. “Are you lost?” she asked.
“Are you with the Resistance?” he asked back.
“The Resistance. I guess not. What refugee camp are you from?”
The lady snorted. “Is this some kind of joke?” She walked away, leaving Adam to watch her retreating back.
Who doesn’t know about the Resistance? Adam looked down at his green uniform. Should be a dead giveaway. Something is very wrong here…