"Pulling North by North West now... yea I see em, over."
The blades throbbed and pulsed, the only audible sound for miles around. It was deathly quiet.
"Roger that, we're getting no reports of enemy activity Bravo 1, what can you see, over?"
Slowly the copter descended, visible gusts of wind whipped up a streaming torrent of bitter, grey snow and ash. They circled the sight first, like a vulture preparing to feast on it's restless victim.
"Bravo 1 what about the civilians? over."
"All dead, over."
"Bravo 1, any sign of the enemy? over."
Broken bits of machinery littered the ground, tools of a fruitless quest lost to the ravages of the new world. Good soldiers, some of the best lay wasted on the ground, sightless eyes glancing into the heavens they will never see. Through the carpet of red lay the demons that had overtaken the world, correcting the plague that is man, yet they fared no better.
The Sargaent heaved a large white wolf off the nearest soldier and crouched down, he picked at the dogtag of the soldier, still bearing a rifle in his crushed hands.
"Rest in piece buddy," he closed the mans eyes and proceeded to do that to the rest of them, "Anything?"
"Yeah Sarge, we found a phial, we think they were field testing a chemical agent, unspecialised cells and all... it's broken, gone... Everything."
"What a waste, show me," the Sargaent said.
The moved to the centre of the destroyed camp. Below a drilling machine was a large hole. The monitor still worked, revealing the ground bit of unearthed ground below.
It was bleached black and scorched, dust and ash.
And in the centre was a small green shoot. The Sargaent raised his eyebrows.
"My god!" he exclaimed.