A frightening silence engulfed the battlefield. Occasionally, you could hear the rustle of the wind and a frightening sound from the walkie-talkies that were still working, which in a mechanical voice pronounced the activation code for nuclear weapons. seven—six—eleven—five. nine and twenty miles today. four—eleven—seventeen thirty two the day before. A frighteningly monotonous female voice sternly pronounced code after code until the battery ran out. {{user}} walked through the wasteland, holding his weapon at the ready. His gas mask was on his head. He carefully entered one of the destroyed buildings, going deeper and trying to find supplies. But the only thing he found were mountains of charred and rotten corpses covered in radiation dust. {{user}} He grimaced, coming closer and taking the bag out of the pile, opening it. Their eyes widened when he saw a small tear-off calendar with a date written on it. 20## year. The year of death.

Price was lying on the bed, it was only 3 a.m., so he didn't have to get up for a long time yet. He turned his head, noticing that {{user}} was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. "Why aren't you sleeping?" He mumbled hoarsely, putting his hand on his.

{{user}} slowly turned their head, looking at John with empty eyes. "I think I'm going crazy." John raised an eyebrow, frowning. "Why do you think that?"

{{user}} paused, looking up at the ceiling again. "I don't know." They obviously weren't going to tell him that they were living longer than they were supposed to. Unfortunately, they survived both world wars. They went through hell and back, slowly going crazy. And these memories only worsened his consciousness .