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Description
  Hoof beats echoed through the red sky. Dax trod carefully through the burning rubble of, what had once been, London. Famine and Pestilence had gripped Britain, turning the two inhabiting colonies against each other, just for control of the small patches of fertile farmland that had been left after the apocalypse.
  The whole world was in ruins; almost everywhere the planet was a barren wasteland. Cities had been levelled, leaving behind only scorched earth, and the few surviving humans had banded together in small colonies, spread sparsely across the planet’s surface. In England there were two colonies, one inhabiting the North and one the South.
  London had become a bleak battlefield; it was in the Southerners’ territory but the Northerners wanted it because of corn and wheat plantations in its outskirts. Now the armed forces of the Southerners had been dispatched into the city to intercept them.
  Dax signalled his men to take cover and they dispersed into the hollow skeletons of buildings. The hoof beats passed overhead. There was always the threat of the horsemen. They posed a threat to any living thing; many creatures that had survived the apocalypse had been wiped out by their destructive rampage. Everyone had always said that they should have disappeared at the end of the apocalypse, but it was long since over and they showed no signs of leaving.
  Dax blew the small whistle, on the chain around his neck, to signal that the coast was clear. The group, out of the safety of their hiding places, cautiously continued down the back street. They turned out onto a main street; a mottled road sign stated that it was Walworth Road. Up ahead the reminants of the collapsed Westminster Bridge could bee seen, beyond that it was possible to make out the ruins of the Houses of Parliament.
  Dax led the team to the edge of Westminster Bridge. The Thames had dried out long before, during the apocalypse, and all that was left was a cracked river basin. Taking out his binoculars, Dax looked east up the river basin.
“There.”
  Just as he had been informed, the Northern forces had set up camp in and around the Wreck of the London Eye. He made the signal for his team to get ready.

  The Jeep roared down the road, flanked on both sides by an armoured buggy. There was a rule nowadays, ‘Never Drive Alone’. A lone driver was a sitting duck to the horsemen, in part of a convoy (so long as there was sufficient armed backup) the possibility of survival increased.
  The driver of the Jeep turned to the person in the passenger seat.
“Are we close?”
The passenger looked down at a small screen he held in his hands. It showed a street map of London, a small red blip on the map indicated their target and a green dot showed their position. There was a beep and the green dot moved even closer to the blip.
“Yes,” He replied. “We’re close.”

  Dax’s team heard the engines of the oncoming vehicles long before they came into sight. Each man drew his weapon; most of them different since weaponry was hard to come by. The Jeep came to a halt close by, the man climbed out of the passenger side. Dax lowered his weapon as he recognised the figure.
“Commander Lans?” he said, confusedly
“Yes. I followed the beacon built into your backpack.” Lans turned to the second in command of Dax’s team
“You are in control now Edward.” He stated before looking back to Dax. “You’re needed elsewhere.”
  Dax followed the commander back to the small convoy, climbing into the back of the Jeep. The vehicles turned and headed back the way they’d come, Dax turned to watch his team disappear behind them.

Description
  Hoof beats echoed through the red sky. Dax trod carefully through the burning rubble of, what had once been, London. Famine and Pestilence had gripped Britain, turning the two inhabiting colonies against each other, just for control of the small patches of fertile farmland that had been left after the apocalypse.
  The whole world was in ruins; almost everywhere the planet was a barren wasteland. Cities had been levelled, leaving behind only scorched earth, and the few surviving humans had banded together in small colonies, spread sparsely across the planet’s surface. In England there were two colonies, one inhabiting the North and one the South.
  London had become a bleak battlefield; it was in the Southerners’ territory but the Northerners wanted it because of corn and wheat plantations in its outskirts. Now the armed forces of the Southerners had been dispatched into the city to intercept them.
  Dax signalled his men to take cover and they dispersed into the hollow skeletons of buildings. The hoof beats passed overhead. There was always the threat of the horsemen. They posed a threat to any living thing; many creatures that had survived the apocalypse had been wiped out by their destructive rampage. Everyone had always said that they should have disappeared at the end of the apocalypse, but it was long since over and they showed no signs of leaving.
  Dax blew the small whistle, on the chain around his neck, to signal that the coast was clear. The group, out of the safety of their hiding places, cautiously continued down the back street. They turned out onto a main street; a mottled road sign stated that it was Walworth Road. Up ahead the reminants of the collapsed Westminster Bridge could bee seen, beyond that it was possible to make out the ruins of the Houses of Parliament.
  Dax led the team to the edge of Westminster Bridge. The Thames had dried out long before, during the apocalypse, and all that was left was a cracked river basin. Taking out his binoculars, Dax looked east up the river basin.
“There.”
  Just as he had been informed, the Northern forces had set up camp in and around the Wreck of the London Eye. He made the signal for his team to get ready.

  The Jeep roared down the road, flanked on both sides by an armoured buggy. There was a rule nowadays, ‘Never Drive Alone’. A lone driver was a sitting duck to the horsemen, in part of a convoy (so long as there was sufficient armed backup) the possibility of survival increased.
  The driver of the Jeep turned to the person in the passenger seat.
“Are we close?”
The passenger looked down at a small screen he held in his hands. It showed a street map of London, a small red blip on the map indicated their target and a green dot showed their position. There was a beep and the green dot moved even closer to the blip.
“Yes,” He replied. “We’re close.”

  Dax’s team heard the engines of the oncoming vehicles long before they came into sight. Each man drew his weapon; most of them different since weaponry was hard to come by. The Jeep came to a halt close by, the man climbed out of the passenger side. Dax lowered his weapon as he recognised the figure.
“Commander Lans?” he said, confusedly
“Yes. I followed the beacon built into your backpack.” Lans turned to the second in command of Dax’s team
“You are in control now Edward.” He stated before looking back to Dax. “You’re needed elsewhere.”
  Dax followed the commander back to the small convoy, climbing into the back of the Jeep. The vehicles turned and headed back the way they’d come, Dax turned to watch his team disappear behind them.