Annabelles Locket
Annabelle startled as another shell exploded somewhere over her head. The concussions were becoming less and less frequent. The salvo was almost over. Soon she would be moving again. The turmoil between the STMs or the MCVs (or whatever they were calling themselves this time) and the New World governments had been building for weeks. The few people left in the remnants of her once proud city took up arms for the final stand. What started as scare tactics had become routine and retaliation always followed. She knew as long as she stayed low, only entered the lower levels of the buildings, and ran through the center of the streets, she would be okay. But the thundering sounds were still frightening and becoming harder to predict.
