Sleep

 Micah's:

 Endless flights of stairs still circle my vision as I step onto ground level, the blank steel walls encasing me like a cage. I know that far above me the fresh air still blows gunsmoke across the flaming trees and across the hair of fallen soldiers. I know nhat over the iron bulkhead sits the plaque commemorating the bunker: Henrik Memorial. I hear grim jokes of Humanity's Memory as well and I know that they may be right. Even now as we're directed to our living quarters I can feel the earth around me shake, uprooting ancient boulders, causing devastating avalanches across the mountain range far above.

I touch the walls and sense nothing but claustrophobia. There's no touch of home, no friendly quirks to familiarize myself with. Just empty military precision. I should be happy, I know, but as I climb into the stasis pod visions rush through my head, visions of the nuclear fires razing my home far away. I pray that this is all a bad dream, that humanity's treachery and greed hadn't led to the destruction of all that we know by the fires of Hell itself, but I'm forced to accept deep in my gut that it's too late.

I place the precautionary gasmask over my face and take in a deep breath, feeling the chilled oxygen soothe my lungs and my pounding heart. I'm assured that the process will be fast, painless, and that we will soon awake when the radiation has lowered to a life-sustaining level and we can begin our lives anew.

I close my eyes and feel my muscles go limp as the frost creeps across my bare skin. I wonder what the new world will be like. Will there still be war? Will we have banners and victory parades? Will all our efforts yield a better world?

So many questions dance across my mind, and I can only hope the answers will come tomorrow.

55555's:

The darkness seemed to lighten, a gray that would have seemed black had I not known total darkness for so long. A faint red glow shown through my eyelids, I tried to open them, to no avail. I moved my finger slightly and touched the wall of my enclosure, the cool, smooth surface felt foreign to my long numbed hands. I am awaking.

Somehow I never believed it would actually work, deep down. "Sit in a tube until the Great War passes over and the Earth renews itself." Works great in theory, seen at least five sci-fi films with that premise, but in practiceI had my doubts. Man was not meant to sleep for so long, Man was not meant to survive, to see new worlds, to try again.

I raised my hand slowly to my face, and pushed up one eyelid with my forefinger. A dull light shone in through the plexi-glass, I blinked repeatedly. Then I smiled.

It had worked! All the effort had paid off, all the hopes and dreams had been fulfilled. Here, hidden deep in this remote, mountain bunker, human hearts still beat. The wrath of the War had scarred the planet, burnt the structures erected by Man and by God, but this combination of mortal and Immortal handiwork had survived the storm.

I pushed the exit button and stepped out of my casket, and ran down the aisles of similar devices. I found my wife and opened the door, she fell into my arms.

A few minutes later we strode into the sunlit day, the plateau of the Henrik Memorial formed a natural balcony from which to see our new, old home.

Strange bird calls rang across the plateau, strange insects buzzed through the firmament. Life went on.

Velox's:

 http://midnightvoltage.wordpress.com/2012/05/17/sleep/

Evan's:

 http://ashardofdream.wordpress.com/2012/05/17/sealed-in/