<strong>Cole Madu: Evaluating the situation</strong><br/><br/>The apocalypse, he definitively decided, was not the worst of his troubles.<br/><br/>Private Second Class Cole Kilo Madu of the United States Army, western defense corp, 23rd mechanized infantry battalion, B company, 4th platoon, kilo squad, peered down the barrel of his rifle at a distant dust-choked pocket of trees.  He was using the iron sights as a range finder, and quickly estimated that the thicket of trees and the smoky debris of the helicopter were just over eight hundred meters away.<br/><br/>Several figures milled around the still burning husk, all of them Russian.  He could tell by the shape of their weapons and the way they strutted about.  No American soldier would ever slouch like that, placing one foot in front of the other as if they were cement blocks.  Cole sneered, his left hand resting on the barrel, his right covering the trigger guard.  The M16A2 wasn't rated for such long range targets.  All he would do by firing on them would give away his position - and existence - to the troglodytes poking around the heli.  They had superior numbers (at least 4 to 1, but there could be more in the forest), and--<br/><br/><em>Click</em><br/><br/>Cole, who had been lying prone, immediately flipped himself over, M16 cradled in the hollow of his shoulder.  Wide eyes scanned the surroundings hilltop.  Nothing but loose dust, dead grass, and a slightly bent bronzed sign, rainbows etched on its surface from the intense radiation of the nuclear weaponry.  He carefully rose to a crouching position.<em>Something</em>had to have made that sound.<br/><br/>But there was nothing there.<br/><br/><em>It's finally happening</em>he though to himself, wiping the sweat off his slick forehead.<em>The trauma's setting it.  I'm going batshit.</em><br/><br/>Shaking his head, Cole turned back to the valley below.  The nearby warehouse was surrounded by a vast parking lot, capable of holding hundreds of eighteen wheelers.  The helicopter was burrowed into the ground about two hundred meters east of the edge of the pavement.  It was all open ground, at least until the landscape dipped slightly and turned into a dense thicket of woodland several miles long.  And now...<br/><br/>The soldier squinted and sighted down his rifle again.  Yes, there were three more Russians.  Wait, two Russians and - was that a prisoner?<br/><br/>Cole raised his head and bare eyed it.  Yes, that was<em>definitely</em>an American.  The head was all fuzzy, which meant long hair.  Probably a woman.  Her bulky suit meant she had been the pilot of the helicopter.  Finally, a picture of what had gone down pieced itself together in Cole's head.  The heli had spotted the Russians and somehow flushed them out of the warehouse.  The Russians had returned fire and somehow downed the beast.  If they had stumbled upon a days old wreckage, the pilot would have been long gone, not captured.<br/><br/>That sealed the deal.  With the appearance of two more Ruskies, and the revelation they had the firepower to down a warbird, there was no way he was going to engage them.  Even if he had a marskman's rifle and the element of surprise, the Russian squad could storm his position.  Besides, he only had a hundred bullets.  He needed to save his aggression for when it mattered.<br/><br/>With that settled, the soldier set his rifle aside on a spread of cloth, then grabbed at his duffel which lay on his opposite side.  He pulled out a pair of standard issue binoculars and a canteen.  Cole adjusted his position slightly, digging his thighs into the dirt, and propped his head up on his elbows.  He may not be able to hold his own in a firefight, no matter how many advantages he had, but he could wait and observe.  Maybe they had supplies he could steal.  Or he could do something about that pilot.  Maybe Jesus would come over the Rockies with the entire goddamn US Army at his back, and then he could report his meaningless scouting to the Lord Himself.  Or maybe he could take advantage of this newfound freedom, and make light of America's bleakest hour.<br/><br/>Cole smiled, peering through the binoculars and taking a swig of warm water.  Even Russians had to sleep at some point.