I wake up in a barren wasteland. From my spot on the ground, all I can see is the sky, which was deep, dastardly shade of red. My bare arms and legs scrape against ground that hasn't seen a drop of rain in many years. Heat radiates from beneath me, spreading from my lower back to the rest of my body. I can't breathe. My hands scrape the ground as I sit up, and I absentmindedly rub my dry, crusty eye with my hand, irritating it even more than it already was. Looking around, I see nothing but brown, cracked dirt for miles, with a few blackened and petrified plant carcasses scattering it, along with the fiery sky. I take a deep breath, and thick, hot air rasps through my throat. My legs shake as I stand up, and a burst of hot wind nearly knocks me over. As I regain my footing, I remember. I remember everything.

I'm walking with Alex down my street. It's Winter. December. We are going to the mall to buy Christmas presents for our families. I'm wearing a green puffy coat that dwarfs me, but Alex says that it makes me look like a green marshmallow. The cold wind freezes my nose, and makes my cheeks glow red. When we talked, our breath surrounded us in a momentary fog. I'm laughing at something that Alex said. He turns to me, smiling. Then... nothing. All I remember is cold, empty darkness. But the winter chill and my green puffy coat are long gone. My now bare feet are beginning to burn, and I'm wearing an unfamiliar white nightgown of sorts made of a strange, slippery material.

Everything that I've ever known is gone. My home, my family, my friends. Alex. "Alex?" I call, my voice scratching my throat, making my voice crack. "Alex, are you there? Where are you?" I spin in circles, calling for him. My weakened voice gives out after a minute, and I collapse to the ground with my head in my hands. I try to cry, but nothing comes out. I'm all dried up.

A rumble sounds from behind me, and looking over my shoulder, I see a cloud of the reddish dirt moving towards me. As the cloud got closer, I could make out some gray, rectangular trucks. Three of them. They looked menacing in a way; empty and soulless, ready to devour anything. And they were coming straight for me. I got up and tried to run away, but my limbs felt numb and heavy, they wouldn't move fast enough. I only made it a few steps away before my legs gave out and threw me to the ground. My arms refused to brace my fall, and I was rewarded with a face full of hot dirt. The trucks quickly caught up to me, and I could hear them slow and stop behind me, their engines quieting down until I was again surrounded by silence.

A door opened and slammed shut. Quick footsteps pounded the ground behind me, until a pair of heavy black boots covered in dirt appeared in front of my face.

"It's the Freelancer," the man in the boots said in a voice that sounded like he gargled stones. Freelancer? I thought. What is that supposed to mean? The man then moved and tapped my side with the toe of his boot.

"Wha-" a fit of coughs racked my throat, preventing me from speaking.

"It's alive!" The man in the boots shouted, backing away from me. I attempted to sit up, but the sound of a gun being reloaded froze me in my place.

A commotion erupted behind me, and the man kicked me in the side. I groaned as he picked me up and held me tightly against his chest, preventing me from escaping. But the thing that really kept me from trying to escape was the feeling of his gun that was pressing against my side. My left arm dangled in the air as the man carried me around the back of one of the trucks. The back doors were open, revealing a barren metal space similar to a trailer that would be used to transport livestock. The man threw me into the back, forcing another groan out of my mouth as I feebly tried to clutch my now bruised head. The doors slammed shut, and I was again surrounded by darkness.