Thanks for the update!

Originally Posted By Strelnikov: Thanks for the update!

This story is great!  Now that he didin't get girl number 1 what happens.....

Nice work.  keep writing.

MORE!!!! Great story man!!!

we need some more!

Originally Posted By landcruiser: we need some more!

+1

Chapter 10


Grief filled the air. But Matt’s practicality won out. It had to this day. He knew immediately that they would be attacked – it was only a matter of time. Matt also knew the direction they would come from.

“Quick. Amanda, go that way and get the vehicle these guys came in. Perhaps they have a radio in there. If not, get back here on the double.” Matt barked out. “Keith, go search the bodies of the men. Bring back the radio, if they have it. Collect the weapons and ammo.”

They all sprung into action. Amanda and Keith to their assigned duties and Matt went to work collecting Britney’s body and moving it to a safe area. He would not have time to bury or burn her now, but he would do so as soon as he could.

After moving Britney’s remains to the underground passage between the house and the barn, Matt went to the barn. He activated the Ham radio and put out a help signal to those in town and nearby according to the instructions he had received several weeks earlier. It was a long shot, but they would need help.

Once finished, the three met back inside the house. All of them made sure to grab as many magazines as possible. They stashed extra AR-15’s on the upstairs and downstairs. Matt went to his room and prepared in silence. Amanda and Keith noted this, but neither bothered him as both figured he wanted to be alone after the death of Britney. Amanda had been unable to locate a radio, as had Keith. But both had retrieved some AK’s.

Matt did want to be alone, but that was not the reason for his preparations in his own room. He knew that if they were to have a chance, he would have to bring his own skills and advantages to bear. They already had the defender’s advantage. Matt wanted to get a good side angle from which he could act as sniper and take out as many of the enemy as possible.

Matt packed heavier than usual. He carried his .308 caliber AR. He knew he would want the additional punch it would provide, especially at the distances he would be shooting from. He glanced at his watch – 2:30 pm. That in and of itself was irrelevant, the relevant part was that it would be light out four more hours at best. Night would be his friend, but he must prepare for that advantage, also.

Matt packed his night vision scope. It was complete with thermal imaging, so he would be ready for most eventualities. He also packed a backup AR-15. He might need it, and it would be better for tactical use, should he have to engage multiple targets at closer ranges. He also made sure to have his sidearm and a strong combat knife on his belt.

Matt emerged from the room dressed in a tree/leaf pattern camouflage hunter’s suit. It was complete with the attached synthetic leaves that lent a degree of realism to the effect. The camo was broken up further with a wheat grain pattern; the most useful for this part of the country at this time of year. Keith was surprised and Amanda was in awe of the look. Even Matt’s weapon was camouflaged.

“What’s with that?” Amanda asked, still in awe.

“If we want to have a chance of survival, we have to use our strengths. You two will guard the house. Move from room to room after shots, unless many are close. Keep in touch on the walkie-talkies. I’ll have the head unit on, and if I can’t answer for fear of discovery, I’ll click three times.”

“Where will you be?” Keith asked.

“In the hay field at first. Then I will move away to the tree line beyond that.” Matt replied.

“Why move away, isn’t it bette to be closer to the target?” Amanda asked.

“Generally, yes. For you two, most definitely. For me, not necessarily. Besides, they would expect that I would close in on them. When I don’t they will be led to believe there are more of us out there than we really have. They might well think there’s multiple snipers picking them off. At the least, there will be confusion as to where to shoot. Confusion on their part is an advantage on ours.” Matt responded.

“What do we do if something happens to you?” Keith asked.

“What do you want to do? Fight to the death? Run away to fight another day? What?” Matt asked in return.

“If we can get away, we might be able to live a bit longer. Plus, who knows what could happen. If they take you out, we could not hold them off.” Keith replied. He was right, they would not have the frame of mind to fight after something like that.

Matt flung the keys to the car he had been driving to Keith. “Here. It’s at the southwest corner of the front yard. Get there and you’ve got well over half a tank of gas to get out of here. Take weapons if you have to run. You’ll need them.” Matt replied. Ideally, he would have more time to prepare an escape for them; but such was not the case today.

With that, Matt shook Keith’s hand and gave Amanda a warm, friendly hug and left. They all clicked their radios to channel 3, their default channel. Matt went out into the mid afternoon light. He made his way to the southeast segment of the yard; this was one of the parts that had the bales of hay spread throughout. He would use those today.

Seconds seemed like minutes and minutes seemed like hours. Matt had found a suitable location to start, complete with a view of the road, and plenty of other bales to move through. Once in place, he had broken radio silence to inform his friends. He had a cross angle to the house. There were few places he could not reach, and most of those were due to not wanting to have Amanda or Keith get hit with stray fire.

Of course, Matt had informed the two which side of the house he could not cover. Since it was the part of the house farthest from the imminent attack, neither one was worried, but they made sure to patrol it. Amanda and Keith waited at the southeast corner of the house, as that was the direction they would be attacked from. Occasionally, one of them would venture to the other side and look out.

Finally, a little after 3:15 by Matt’s clock, the convoy rumbled into view. Matt held his fire at first, wondering if they would just pass. No such luck today. The trucks formed a line along the road. Matt used his scope to try to find any obvious leader. He figured taking out officers, or the equivalent, would help their cause.

Allah was not with this group today, just as he had not been with the smaller group earlier.

Two leaders emerged from a vehicle toward the rear quarter of the convoy. Matt could tell because they were barking orders to the others. One of them, who was particularly fat, seemed to be in charge more so than the other. The extra eighty pounds he carried would not work against Matt’s ammo today, it was just simple physics.

Thanks to a suppressor at the end of Matt’s rifle, none of the attackers knew what hit the boss. All of a sudden, his head turned into red goo. Before they broke into panic, Matt settled the crosshairs on the other leader. Nobody could accuse him of not being open minded after that – his head had an open part some seven inches in diameter where his face used to be. Some might say he was so open minded his brains fell out. What was left of his brains, that is.

After the leaders went down, the men all started running around in a panic. Matt heard shots coming from the house. Good, Keith and Amanda were in the fight, too. They would draw some of the fire and Matt could continue his work. Amanda and Keith were pretty good at this; more often than not, their shot was accompanied by the dropping of another opponent. Soon, the attackers figured this out and took cover behind their cars.

Automatic weapons fired toward the house. Matt was very glad he had reinforced the walls with steel and concrete. Still, he’d have to repair this later. One after another, Matt started working his way down the lines of the men. There had to be well over a hundred of them, possibly two hundred. Nothing in his training had been geared toward fights of this magnitude. However, he figured it was no different than making two hundred hits in rapid succession, unless the enemy moved.

Move they did. It did not take long for some of the men to realize they were getting shot. One of the sub-commanders had decided to move toward the hay bales in an effort to flank the house. They figured all the shots were coming from the house, and the hay would at least change the angle.

Matt had a mix of emotions as he radioed this new fact in to Keith and Amanda. On one hand, they did not know where he was. On the other hand, they were headed right for him! Matt figured he would have some fun with this. He took out half a dozen as they ran to the hay. He was now on his third 20-round magazine. Matt switched to his AR-15, as the distance was no longer too great for him. Naturally, the AR-15 was silenced, as well. He would have it no other way in such a case.

The attackers got to the first few bales of hay. Matt overheard the shots from Keith and Amanda. An occasional intruder went down, especially if he was careless and walked into open view. Matt waited. He wanted to get them a little closer for this idea. The attackers spread out among the bales of hay – darting between places of cover. As their numbers thinned out over the field, Matt started taking them out, from back to front. Keith and Amanda were getting them from front to back.

Matt took aim on two that were but thirty feet from him. Neither man saw him. The first shot rang true, all but entirely silently. The first man went down. The second man looked down at his fallen comrade. He then slumped over as the 5.56 mm bullet worked its job on his internal organs.

From there, Matt worked his way on to the next bale. He had broadside shots on the men. Two shots. Two kills. This was like shooting fish in a barrel.

Amanda and Keith kept up the suppressive fire form the house. From time to time, a lone attacker would raise up and unleash a volley of bullets toward the house in no specific direction. When this happened, Matt made sure to take that individual out. Soon enough, the men became afraid of popping up to shoot. Matt could hear them speaking to one another in Arabic, but he did not know the language. Nonetheless, he figured he knew the likely idea of the conversation.

The men at the road were also staying under cover. Whenever they would try to advance toward the house, either Keith or Amanda would unleash on them. This would rarely take out many, but only one or two down was all it took to change the minds of the attackers.

Matt remarked to himself that in light of these facts, this group was not trained military. That was good news. He was more assured of being able to not only survive, but maybe even win against these men. Then an idea struck.

It was closing in on 4:30. They had been fighting for an hour. Over fifty men were dead on the field of battle that was Matt’s front yard. Matt was sneaking very carefully to a hay bale that was about forty feet to his right, slightly away from many of the attackers. From there, he could tell that he could rapidly engage the groups of two or three men one after the other from hay bale to hay bale without fear of the others seeing him do so. If all went perfectly, he would be able to walk and shoot his way through the entire group. If plans changed, he would have plenty of cover from which to make a hasty retreat. The tree-line was less than 100 yards away.

The occasional sound of gunfire rang out from the house and from the attackers. Keith and Amanda were doing fine, and had tallied about twenty kills between the two of them. Matt had fired fifty seven times and had fifty six kills. One of the men he was not sure on, so he took the second shot.

Matt steeled himself in preparation for what he had to do. He thought of Britney and his blooming love for her. This thought led to anger for her death. The anger gave way to hate. It was easy for Matt to kill those he hated.

With all the skill of a practiced and accomplished killer, and with all the motivation of a lover enraged, Matt attacked. Moving from a walking / running position, he closed on the first bale and the two men behind it.

Two shots.

Two men down.

Neither had the time to even swing his weapon around in Matt’s direction. Matt breathed. In through the nose and out the mouth. Five deep breaths to steady himself and make sure he didn’t get winded, he was carrying a lot of gear!

Matt moved.

This time there were three men.

Three men: three shots.

Matt took cover behind the bale and focused again on his breathing. Before, in his job, he kept count of how many people he had taken out. Now, he was on the border of losing count. That was sad, he thought. Each life is important, in its own way. He never dwelled on that, it would have driven him mad.

Movement.

One jihadist saw Matt coming and got his AK halfway to his shoulder, but he pulled the trigger too soon in haste, and wound up shooting one of his two accomplices behind this roll of hay. Matt’s bullet took him out before the rifle got to the man’s shoulder. Matt’s second bullet took care of his sitting friend.

Three more for Allah.

Perhaps if Allah had enough of these guys, He’d change his orders to have them die for their god. The least Matt could do was try to show him the error of these ways. Matt did understand the basic rule of war: you don’t win a war by dying for your country – you win by making the other poor bastard die for his.

Matt repeated the process three more times without a hitch. It was the fourth one that gave him problems, they were ready for him. As Matt rounded the corner, shots flew past him. He dove for cover and rolled behind a roll of hay. The next thing he knew, there were men rounding both sides with weapons pointed at him.

HOLY SHIT BATMAN!!!!!!

thanks for the update, but what happened in between him running up on keith and amanda and him being captured?

Originally Posted By rubin: thanks for the update, but what happened in between him running up on keith and amanda and him being captured?

Oops! Forgot to post a chapter!

ETA: Fixed. Now the story should make more sense. Next time I'll remember to check which chapter I'm posting.

Chapter 11


Being a prisoner just plain sucks. Matt was realizing this more than ever. His hands were tied behind his back, and his rifles had been taken away. The captors, however, had forgotten his sidearm. Matt’s focus remained on the front of his left hip in a cross draw position. Evidently, his jacket had overlapped the weapon and nobody had searched him there.

Meanwhile, the battle with the occupants of the house continued. Every time the terrorists tried to flank the house, they suffered casualties. Amanda and Keith kept rotating positions at random and taking out any who tried to approach. By keeping a good distance, they knew they kept the advantage.

From inside the terrorist locale, Matt kept his eye on where the action was moving. There was no way he could alert Keith or Amanda, but he was gathering data he intended to use. His only task now was to figure out how to get into a position to use this knowledge. Escape was his goal and his mind was racing to attain that goal.

There was only one guard holding Matt. He would be no problem. The real problem was dealing with the fifteen or so men just beyond him, fighting against Matt’s friends. Most of those men kept their attention to the house, so that would help. Some of them kept their backs to the house, hiding up against the vehicles. This put Matt in the line of sight of these individuals.

After deliberation, Matt came to his conclusion. He would wait for nightfall. The darkness would be here soon and would help mask his intentions. In the meantime, he needed to get his hands in front of him. This way, he could work his way out…


*****


Inside the house there was an abundance of good spirits, despite the dire situation. Keith and Amanda were running about, from room to room, trying to keep the enemy of the opinion that there were several more occupants in the house than there really were.  Both knew they couldn’t keep up the ruse forever, and night was soon coming. Something would have to break for them, however neither had a good idea on how to make that break happen.

From time to time, either Keith or Amanda would take a break for ten to fifteen minutes. The other would ramp up the shots and running from room to room to make the shots. Then they would alternate.

Despite all they had going for them, Keith was worried. He had fallen in love with Amanda, and he couldn’t imagine any harm coming to her. For all her athleticism and natural abilities, she was so small and feminine. She shouldn’t have to fight like this.

Amanda felt harried. She had been fighting too hard for too long. It was her competitive nature that kept her going at this point. She understood that this competition had dire consequences for the loser, but to make things work for her, she had to keep this mentality.

Darkness was falling. This was a disadvantage for Keith and Amanda, in Keith’s mind. They could not use lights without being seen by the enemy. There was no way to spotlight the enemy without giving away position, either. Keith’s mind was racing frantically to solve the problem.


*****


Matt was not doing so well. Several of the captors had decided to beat him mercilessly. He took his beating like a man, but that did not change the fact that he was now in a great deal of pain. Matt had seen a small group of the men heading out in the dimness of twilight to flank the house. If Keith and Amanda did not realize that, it would not be good.

Matt listened to the conversations, but most of them were in Arabic and he did not speak a word of it. He could tell that tensions were high. He figured they should be, anyways. The three of them had eliminated half of the enemy forces. These terrorists had to know that there weren’t that many people in the house. And they had to realize that it had been Matt that had been killing most of them.

Matt could see his AR in the bed of a truck several dozen yards ahead of him. All the rest of the weapons were AK’s. The AR stood out distinctively. The ammo was right next to it. That was a tactical error, but Matt was not about to tell them.

Even in his pain, Matt had managed to get his hands down to his feet and slip the feet over and behind him – switching his hands from being behind him to in front of him. His binds were simple handcuffs. He had seen a set of keys on several of the captors, but how would he isolate one of them?

Forget isolating them, he realized his pistol was in his waistband, under his vest! They had never found his sidearm! Now his path to freedom began to take shape.

Matt stood and started walking toward the truck with his AR in it. There were only two enemies between him and his rifle, and he saw a set of keys on one of them.

Perfect.

Matt drew the pistol and picked up the pace. He held the weapon in a safe downward direction. He knew with it out in front of him, the captors would spot is quickly, but he planned to move when that happened.

Patience.

He did not need to shoot before it was necessary. He was going to walk a fine line. On one side, he did not need to give his enemy enough time to raise and aim the weapons, on the other hand, the sooner he shot, the sooner everyone would know he was there and fighting back. In either case, having his rifle as soon as possible would be a necessity.

He moved more quickly. The rifle was a short distance away. The first terrorist raised up and said something to him in Arabic.

Matt did not really care what the man had to say. He wasn’t in a very obedient mood. Instead he bore down on the man and raised his pistol in a smooth, practiced motion. One double tap and that enemy went down.

The noise had the known effect – the terrorists responded.

Fortunately, only one of them was close enough to see in the growing darkness exactly what was happening and where. He began to un-shoulder his AK. Before the weapon was raised to threaten Matt, the back of the man’s head splattered the truck behind him. The pistol shot had its desired effect.

Matt was in a full run. He knelt beside the attacker that had the keys and grabbed them. Not enough time to work the lock now, he had to move. Matt sprinted to the rifle and grabbed it and the ammo vest.

Pain from the earlier beating shot through Matt’s body as he ran into his field. He made a zigzag pattern to the hay rolls. Once he was behind one, he would be safe enough. He heard automatic gunfire behind him and occasionally the angry buzz of a stray bullet flying by.

After what seemed like hours, Matt reached the hay bales. He took a moment to undo his handcuffs. He scanned to see nobody had followed him. Perhaps they felt that was too dangerous. Matt busied himself – putting on the ammo vest, getting his night vision scope out and attaching it to the rifle, and locking in his first round. He sighed in simple amazement that they had not separated out his gear. They must have been too focused on other things.

Matt crept along the bales of hay, making his way to the best tactical bale. He made his way to that location without making himself visible to the enemy. He turned on his optics and was just about ready to settle in on an aim when he was rocked by an explosion… a huge explosion.

Matt turned in horror and realized his house had just disintegrated.

Wow, keep it coming!!!!

Originally Posted By broke_again: Wow, keep it coming!!!!

Indeed, its getting very intense.

Holy shit!!!!!

Originally Posted By Gary_P: Holy shit!!!!!

damn the cliff hanger endings!

Great update!! Keep it coming..

Chapter 12


Matt ran and ran. He cried as he ran, though had anyone ever asked him, he would have denied it. He ran for hours, crying almost all the way. The loss of his only friends was taking a toll on him.

Finally, he made his way to Fred Smith’s house. After a quick check of the place, he curled up in the bed in a fetal position. He didn’t know how long it had been since he’d curled up like that.


*****


Matt awoke with a start. He came to and realized he had heard a noise outside. A quick check out the window proved his suspicions, coyotes in the trash. Two silenced shots later and there were no live coyotes left. He stood at the doorway and looked out over the town.

He was fifty miles from where his house had been. Six long months had passed. The terrorists had milled form town to town, ravaging the remaining civilian populations and getting ravaged by them. Matt held his AR – it was the same one he had escaped with that fateful night. The pistol was the same, too. None of the weapons in his house had survived the explosions and resulting fires. None of the ammo, either.

The weapons were not the only things to perish in the flames. Most of the food had been destroyed, as had his clothes.

His friends had died there and then, too.

It had taken Matt some time to really realize it, and even longer for him to come to terms with that fact. He’d had no human contact in that time, save for one type: assassination.

Matt had used his fury and frustration to turn against those who sought to control America. He would go on sniper missions weekly, sometimes daily. When the men he was attacking realized what was going on, they would leave in a hurry – often leaving their own behind. It was of no matter: Matt would find those left behind and deal with them.

More would come. They always did. Matt would then have more target practice. He was so good that he was not coming near running out of ammo. He had come across several stashes of ammo at differing sheriff’s stations and military outposts. He had traveled around to find it.

Matt lived out of his truck for the most part. He siphoned gas from other vehicles and from gas stations when possible. Usually, he took gas from those he killed in combat. Matt kept all his clothes and tools in the truck at all times. Being a person who believed in preparation, he also kept copies and spares at tactically important locations.

Winter had come and gone. Spring was here. Planting time was already over, but there had never been a chance to do any planting. The terrorists took care of that. Matt did notice that in many fields, the crops that had been planted last year were growing back in – probably because of dropped seeds, he thought.

The open road was calling Matt. He could almost hear the call in his ears. Without hesitation, he filled the water containers in his truck and secured his gear. He was off, headed northeast. He did not know why or where, but he knew he was going there.

Hours passed. Matt refilled some seven hours on the road. He had left the state his farm was in, to be sure. There had been no signs of terrorists anywhere. Perhaps he had just been lucky. Perhaps they were the lucky ones.

Dusk was upon him. He needed to find a secluded spot for the night. He no longer knew where he was, or even why. The last few hours seemed only a dream to him. As he drove, a series of buildings caught his eye. There was not a light on in the whole place.

It seemed like a compound of sorts, but as he drew near, he saw the truth of the matter. This was a college. The buildings looked of an older variety. Matt took all of this in as he circled, looking for a good place to park his truck.

He found a secluded spot that would be easy for him to access in an emergency and parked the vehicle. Taking his gear bag and rifle, Matt headed out to find his way around. He stopped and took cover in some bushes near the doorway. He stayed there for no less than thirty minutes, looking and listening for any sign of other people around.

After half an hour, Matt decided he was probably alone here. He opened the door and entered the building cautiously. His night vision sight was set to zero power so he could have a wide field of vision. After a quick scan, he turned off the sight on the rifle and started rummaging quickly and silently through his gear bag. A moment later, in the near complete dark, he pulled out just the tool he was looking for – a thermal vision headset.

Matt reminisced to the old Arnold Schwarzenegger movie, The Predator,” and turned the thermal device on. He imagined himself a “predator” for a moment as he looked around. It was more difficult to make out floors and walls, but after a while, he knew what to look for. The main thing was that he saw nothing coming up on thermal scans.

A flight of stairs took Matt to the second story. This would be where he would likely stay the evening. Matt scanned for a good room. There would likely be no beds as these looked like classrooms, and the floors would be hard tile. His thin bed mat would provide little comfort. Matt doubled back in the direction of his truck, figuring to get a room with a window to the outside for a direct emergency escape.

Matt verified, as silently as he could, that the window in the small room would open. It did. Quickly, out of force of habit, Matt set up his Spartan sleeping arrangement. A thin sleeping bag and the bed mat was all he needed for the little comfort he wanted. He took off his boots and socks to let his feet dry out. The socks wee replaced in his pack, and a fresh pair put next to the boots.

The next morning, Matt thought, he would look for the sports facilities. Perhaps he could shower there, using his rigged up generator. He would definitely check for a cafeteria and any stores of food.

A few more mental preparations, and Matt was satisfied he was ready for the day ahead. Sleep overtook him.


*****


Birds chirping. Sun breaking over the horizon. Morning was here.

Matt was awake. He had been for nearly an hour. His rifle sported his tactical optic and swing out three-power scope. He was putting the scope to use, scanning the other buildings for signs of people. The safety was off and his finger rested next to the trigger. Finding people nowadays was, as often as not, an unpleasant experience, and Matt wanted to take out any ‘unpleasants’ at a safe distance with his rifle.

After a good ninety minutes of scanning, from different windows in different rooms, Matt was satisfied there was nobody there. This was the time, he realized, when he needed to maintain his vigil. Letting his guard down would not have a good consequence.

Matt found the shower in short order. He rigged up his generator to the building with the water pump, and to his surprise, he got water pressure. This college used a well!

The shower was wonderful – his first in well over a week. Matt used the water to wash all but one set of his clothing. As soon as the washed ones dried, he would wash the last set. It took a few hours, but that was exactly what he did. He also exchanged his stored water for some fresh water.

About noon, Matt made his way to the cafeteria area. He was not entirely surprised to see much of the food already raided. Still, he left no stone unturned and actually found a decent amount of food to take.

Early in the afternoon, Matt headed to what looked like the dormitory areas. He figured to possible get some spare clothing and possible some other sundry items. He entered the building to his right and immediately went to the top floor. He liked to search from the top down, but he did not know exactly why. It is possible that the desire to work from the top down came from a desire to have an elevated position in the event of a firefight.

Matt had looked through a dozen or so rooms when he heard the heavy double doors on the ground floor slam shut. Someone was in the building!

I was just logging for bed....oh well, reading:)

Arg I hate getting into books that arent finished.


Thanks for the next chapter. Fuel for an addiction.

Originally Posted By Scorch05: Arg I hate getting into books that arent finished. Thanks for the next chapter. Fuel for an addiction.

he said it perfectly, next one please!!!

Chapter 13


Matt crept along the edge of the stairwell. He was completely silent. His gear bag was back upstairs, stored temporarily in a side room. He wore his ammo vest, pistol, and combat knife. His AR was raised and aimed in the general direction of the threat. His tactical sight was on, but the scope was swung out to the side so as not to interfere.

The noises were erratic, not what he would have expected from a group of terrorists. Nevertheless, Matt steeled himself for combat. He had no room for error as he was trapped.

Matt descended slowly, placing one foot after the other carefully. There was no noise, except that coming from the intruders. The stairs ended and the floor stretched out in front of Matt. He turned down the hall where the intruders were. Flattening himself against the wall and using every possible bit of cover provided by the structure of the building.

Before he knew it, he had cornered the intruders. They were in a room and he was almost to the door. He readied his rifle and looked into the room.

There was no threat here. These were no terrorists. Before him were five disheveled college-aged people. One man, three women, and one he couldn’t quite figure out, yet. None of them saw him.

Matt lowered his rifle. “Ahem.” He said.

The five people jumped at the sound. They had obviously thought they were alone.

“Who are you? What do you want?” The man said.

“I am Matt. I want to know what you are doing here and if you were followed.”

“We used to go to school here. We weren’t followed. We haven’t seen the terrorists in a month. They think this place is a ghost-town.” That was the one Matt couldn’t tell. The person’s voice was certainly masculine, although the look was not.

“Still, you should be more careful. You never know when they will come back through.” Matt said.

“They come through town twice a week – Sunday afternoon and Monday morning. It is usually just a supply convoy. We think they go and pick up supplies and deliver them to warriors out in the field. They probably have a regional headquarters north of here.” Said one of the girls.

Matt turned off his tactical sight and slung his weapon on his shoulder. “What day is it today?”

“Friday. You don’t even know what day it is?” The young lady said.

“No. I haven’t had a need for that. I’ve been focused on such needless things as food and shelter.” Matt said sarcastically. He turned and started to leave.

“I like this guy. Hey, don’t go! We need someone who can protect us.” That was the voice of the short blonde haired girl.

“Why shouldn’t I go?” Matt asked. He turned and looked at the group, taking careful note of each person.

“You can show us how to defend ourselves.” The blonde said.

“You don’t know how wrong you are on that point.”

“You’ve obviously taken care of yourself, just show us what you did.”

“It’s not that easy. Now if you will excuse me…”

The girl ran up and grabbed Matt by the arm as he left. “Don’t go.”

“Why not?”

“We need you. Do you know how long it has been since we have seen another person who wasn’t trying to shoot us?” she said.


*****


Matt met each of the people, and they met Matt. They shared their respective stories of loss and survival. There was a mutual feeling of respect for the other survivors. There was also a camaraderie. They had all faced insurmountable odds and  come out alive.

Susie was the short blonde. She was actually the older sister of Allison, who attended school there. Susie had been on her own for a few years after college, but had come back for her sister’s birthday party. To Matt, she looked younger than her sister, but he would never have told… not at this point, yet.

Alison had sandy color hair. She was a sophomore at the University and was the girlfriend of Tony, also in this ragtag group. Alison was outgoing, like her sister, and they both had sharp minds.

Tony was the guy who looked like a guy. He had been a baseball player for the college team. He was not overly bright, but he was smart enough to listen to his girlfriend and keep his head down. Matt wasn’t really surprised he excelled at sports or survived this attack – he was coachable and he picked things up fairly quickly.

Martin was the guy who had the unisex look. It was somewhat gothic in appearance, but not as dark, Matt noted. Despite the appearance, Martin actually had a fairly deep voice. He was shorter than all but Susie.

Kathy was the third girl in the group. She was Martin’s ex-girlfriend at this point. Everybody else in the group said they would be back together next week, and broken up again the following week. Kathy seemed a bit needy and somewhat annoying to Matt. She would be hard to coach.


*****


The group wound down as darkness settled over the college. Matt had retrieved his backpack and the others led him out of the dorm room area to show him where they slept. It was a house at one point, but one of the fraternities had acquired it some years back. The building had suffered some abuse, but it was structurally sound and away from the main road, where the terrorists drove by twice per week.

“So tell us about you, Matt.” Susie prodded as they settled down to dinner.

“You want to know about me?”

“Yes. All about you.” Martin replied.

“I will forewarn you, there will be times when you will not like what you hear, but I will tell you.” Matt didn’t know why he was prepared to do it, but he had to level with them. They half-figured it all, anyways.

Matt settled back in his chair, fork in hand, and began his recount:


*****
Matt’s Story from his perspective:

I will start at the beginning, which will let you know why I did many of the things I did. There are many things I am not proud of, but I also want you to know, I have no regrets, either.

It all started my senior year of high school. I was athletic – played football and basketball. I did well in my studies, and had scholarship offers to attend college. Little did I know that college would never happen for me.

I came home one day after practice. My dad’s car was in the driveway. That was not unusual – he got off work early and my practices went late. I knew something was wrong when I stepped inside.

I never smelled supper. My mom kept a very regular schedule and it was not like her to not make supper. Instead, I smelled a faintly metallic odor. I am all too familiar with that smell now. It was blood. I rounded the corner and saw it:

My mom was splattered all over the floor. She had been shot in the head by a pistol at close range. My father was bound up in a chair. There was a strange man there holding his pistol to my dad’s head and screaming at him, demanding to know where the money was.

My father had found himself caught up in a bad deal. He had borrowed some money to bet on a ball game. The game had been fixed by the very people against whom he had bet! I did not find this out until some time later. Well, my father had paid off the loan first – to a mobster he had known from work.

It was that mobster, part of the Reggalia family, that tipped my dad off to the fact that the other group had fixed the game. The other group also happened to be a rival family to his. The other family, the Faggoli’s, had been fixing games of all sorts on all levels for many years – and making a lot of money from people foolish enough to bet on them, as my dad had been.

Old man Reggalia had given my father some sort of proof that Faggoli was behind it all. My father took it and confronted the middle man for Faggoli. Things turned very bad and before anyone knew it, my father had gained the upper hand in that fight and taken his lost money back from the middle man for Faggoli, not a dime more. Faggoli himself said so.

Well, this sort of thing does not sit well with organized crime. If one person gets away with it, everybody will expect to, as well. So they sent the hitman to deal with my dad.

Somehow, my mom had tried to stop things as my dad was being beaten, and she was shot.

So I walked in at just that moment. The man turned around and told me to get lost. I did as he said, but straight to my room. I got my hunting rifle from the closet, loaded it and went back to the living room.

The .30-30 felt so natural in my hands – I had shot it so many times and was really accurate with it. When I went back to the living room, I did so very quietly. I got right up behind the man and pointed my weapon at his head, the barrel mere inches from him.

“Hey, ass-hole!” I yelled.

He turned.

I fired.

It was so easy.

Then I realized, my dad was dead. The man had strangled him to death while I had loaded my rifle. I fell to my knees and wept.

I stayed at home for two days, afraid to call the police. In the afternoon of the second day, another man came from Faggoli’s group to see what had happened to the first. I think he may have thought the first man had chickened-out of doing the deed.

When the second man broke in the door, I was in my room. I could hear him stomping about and cursing. He kept calling out to his buddy, who lay dead in the blood-stained floor. He asked his buddy what had happened, and who had done it.

I rounded the corner of my room and raised my rifle. One shot – forty feet away in the house. One kill. I hit him dead-center in the back of the head.

I panicked. I grabbed a bag and filled it with some basic things and fled. I kept the rifle with me. I knew from the second man that they were part of Faggoli’s group – he had mentioned Faggoli’s name several times. I wanted to steer clear of them. Once they found out, they would come after me.

As I ran through the streets and into the city, I grew angry. Finally, I wanted to go down to Faggoli’s house and kill him and all of his men. But I didn’t know where that was. I did know one thing – I knew where a guy was that would know where Reggalia lived. I would then ask him!

Sure enough, I got the information and within just a few hours, I had made my way, on foot, to Reggalia’s house. I went up to the door and knocked. Of course, I was scared to death, but I had a mission.

Reggalia himself met me at the door. I showed him my .30-30 and set it down at the door to put him at ease. I told him the story and what I wanted to do.

“Son, if you do this for me, I will make you my number one assistant. You will never have to worry about what to do for a living; I’ll see to that myself. Several of his goons were there to hear the whole thing.

I found out later, from Reggalia himself, that he expected me to knock off a couple of Faggoli’s men before getting killed myself. He sent me there just to put me out of my misery. Boy, did he get a surprise!

I went to Faggoli’s house. One of Reggalia’s men drove me most of the way, then dropped me off a few blocks away so he wouldn’t be seen.

I went right up to the door and knocked. The man that answered the door asked me who I was, and I blew his head off. Things went into slow motion for me.

I saw two men coming at me, drawing hidden pistols. I levered the .30-30 and took one of them out. The other had cleared leather, so I rolled out of the way. I took cover behind a corner of the wall. I counted the six shots off as the man fired at me. After the sixth, I rounded the corner, aimed and fired. I was as calm as I had ever been.

I heard a noise in the garage area. Then a car started. I ran for the front door. As I came out, two more men opened fire. I shot one quickly and continued moving until I found myself behind some bushes. Obviously they would provide no protection from the bullets, but they would conceal my exact location.

I moved to the side, to a point where I had a clean shot at the second man. Faggoli’s car sped out of the driveway. I aimed and fired at the second man. He went down.

Now so far, I had killed six men total. All six had been headshots. I knew that would be most effective. But there was a problem. Faggoli was speeding away in his car.

I ran out to the street, but he was almost ten blocks away. There were no side streets that led anywhere, but he should have taken one nonetheless. I raised my weapon.

He was a good ten blocks away. I later measured the distance – 1000 feet. 330 yards, plus. I fired. One shot. One kill. Another headshot. Only this one was at a great distance with iron sights.

Reggalia’s man was there, watching the whole thing. I ran to his car and we left. Naturally, he told Reggalia the whole thing.

As the years passed, the shot became legendary.

I became Reggalia’s hitman. I was good.

I made a lot of money. I bought the best weapons, and some of the best training, too.

Much later, I started taking contracts from folks other than Reggalia. I advised him at first, though, before I took the other contracts. And I would never take one on him. He was my first boss. He allowed me to do what I needed to do when I needed to do it.

And I had taken out his biggest competitor. His business grew. I was his enforcer from afar. And when I started work out from under his wing, I found the open market very rewarding.


*****


At this point, Matt fast-forwarded to the details of his relationship with Keith and the events of the past eight months or so. He brought them all up to speed on his current living conditions and desires. Most namely, he told them how they were going to survive – by fighting back.

Matt was planning on making them his own little group of hitmen. Then they would take on the terrorists. This time, there would be no mistakes.

Man am I hooked on this story! Great job, please keep it up.
Thanks!

Interesting history. The 330yd head shot with a 30-30 with iron sights through auto glass is a bit absurd but it is just a story and a good one at that.

Regardless thanks for the next chapter!

Originally Posted By Scorch05: Interesting history. The 330yd head shot with a 30-30 with iron sights through auto glass is a bit absurd but it is just a story and a good one at that. Regardless thanks for the next chapter!

Two years ago, I actually saw (and my brother got on video) a 300 yard shot on a milk jug with a .30-30. It took the guy 3 tries, but he got it. Yes- that's where I got the influence for that part of the story!

Originally Posted By Scorch05: Interesting history. The 330yd head shot with a 30-30 with iron sights through auto glass is a bit absurd but it is just a story and a good one at that. Regardless thanks for the next chapter!

Not an impossible shot for a skilled marksman at all.  Damned difficult yes, but not impossible.  Keep in mind that cartridges like the 45-70, 40-65, and others have been and continue to be used in 1000yd match events.....and that's with black powder and open sights.  The 30-30 is flatter shooting than any of these.  When introduced,  the 30-30 was considered a real hot rod when compared to the existing cartridges of the era.  Maximum point blank range for a 150gr 30-30 load is 220yds.  This assumes a 10" kill zone, so the trajectory of the bullet will not be more than 5" above or 5" below the direct line of sight for the aiming point.  A 330yd shot only requires a  bit of hold-over if the rifle is sighted as such.  Heck!  I made a 500meter shot on a 12" gong with a 4" S&W 19 .357 on the first try once at Hill Country Rifle Range outside of Austin many years ago.  I had been shooting my match rifles when the guy that ran the place (a friend of mine) challenged me to try hitting the target with my pistol as a joke.  I fired the shot, and a few seconds later came the "GONG!!!" sound of the bullet striking the target.  My astonished friend exclaimed, "DAMN!  You actually HIT THAT?!".  I just smiled and said, "Of course.  What'd you expect?", and took my stuff to the car.  TOTAL LUCK SHOT GUYS!!!!! TOTAL luck!  I never told him that though!  Anyway, the point is, don't be so eager to call BS on a shot just because it ain't something that could be pulled off everyday.  Lucky shots happen!  And sometimes they happen at VERY opportune moments.

GREAT story!!!!  Keep it coming!!!

are you writing this as you go?  Or do you have an outline already? Just curious, when can expect more....IM HOOKED!

Originally Posted By Scorch05: Arg I hate getting into books that are NEVER finished. Thanks for the next chapter. Fuel for an addiction.

There, fixed it fer me!

More?....please?!

The shot is certainly possible. It's the fact that a bullet more often than not will deflect off a windshield because of its oblique angle. If it penetrated, didn't get defected, retained its weight and energy AND still got that head shot I'd be impressed. It would be a lucky shot though. However it does make for a good story .

Rear window is not angled so steep as well.  Look at your back window of your car or truck.  Almost vertical.  Less deflection than if shot at oncoming car.  

We'll give you a pass on...

Red Dawn 2
Hired assassin living next door
Has a farm
Is an awsome shot
Multiple nukes
etc...

What we won't, apparently, is a lucky shot when needed...

Speculative Fiction "what if a kid made a shot like that and was hired by the mob, and later things happen to the world..."

Enjoying the brain candy!  Want more:)

Originally Posted By lostangel: Rear window is not angled so steep as well.  Look at your back window of your car or truck.  Almost vertical.  Less deflection than if shot at oncoming car.

Thank you, lostangel. Now I don't have to post to defend my story. As an honor to your work here today, I will borrow your sig line for the story!

For those giving me crap about that part: I never said the shot was easy - just that it was made. I cannot do it, but that's why I am writing this fiction and not living it!

As for the question about whether I am writing this as I go... I have written an average of two chapters ahead at any given time. However, I rewrite as I go, and change ideas, etc. So I post when it is ready. Proof: If anybody saw earlier this week - I totally spaced and forgot to post chapter 10 but then went and posted Chapter 11.

Eta: Thanks for the comments, Torin. I always appreciate your input.

PS - I need to see Red Dawn - the folks on this forum keep mentioning it! I am a fan of Arnold, too!

Originally Posted By Usagi: Eta: Thanks for the comments, Torin. I always appreciate your input. PS - I need to see Red Dawn - the folks on this forum keep mentioning it! I am a fan of Arnold, too!

Umm, Red Dawn NOT Red whatever that was called with the Russian...Red Heat

Oh and to be clear, arguing about a single moment in a single story as though it is not possible is rather boring.  Imagine a story where everything that happens is the 'average'.  The 'average' died in a nuke in the first few pages.  I want to read about someone that I can relate do, but is better than me.

Originally Posted By Torin: Umm, Red Dawn NOT Red whatever that was called with the Russian...Red Heat Oh and to be clear, arguing about a single moment in a single story as though it is not possible is rather boring.  Imagine a story where everything that happens is the 'average'.  The 'average' died in a nuke in the first few pages.  I want to read about someone that I can relate do, but is better than me.

Thank you for the clarification. Looks like I now have two more movies to watch!

Originally Posted By Usagi: Thank you for the clarification. Looks like I now have two more movies to watch!

YOU HAVENT SEEN RED DAWN?

Originally Posted By Mikhail_86: Originally Posted By Usagi: Thank you for the clarification. Looks like I now have two more movies to watch! YOU HAVENT SEEN RED DAWN?

If he is being truthful this could go badly.  Usagi, finish this story then watch...

Originally Posted By Torin: YOU HAVENT SEEN RED DAWN? If he is being truthful this could go badly.  Usagi, finish this story then watch...

I have not seen Red Dawn -

Just looked at the synopsis on IMDB. My wife asked how in the world I ever missed that movie! I am trying to figure where I went wrong.

No worries - I don't have any spare time to watch a movie for the next two weeks. I hope to be done with the story by then. I really want to wrap this one up and get started on the next one. In case you haven't seen it - look for the teaser chapter in this forum!

Eta: No, I haven't seen Red Heat, either. I feel a complete failure at this moment.
I can, however, quote line for line in any Star Wars movie!

Originally Posted By Usagi: I can, however, quote line for line in any Star Wars movie!

Who were the only two pilots to survive 2 Death Star runs?

usagi:

I sincerely hope you aren't taking my observations of a lucky shot to heart. For some reason that part jumped out at me. Idk maybe its all the kiddos in GD these days ruffling my feathers. lol


I truly am enjoying the story and I can't wait for the next chapter!

Originally Posted By Mikhail_86: Who were the only two pilots to survive 2 Death Star runs?

Trick question... I like it. Full answer:

1. Wedge Antilles (sp?) survived a run on each of the Death Star's.

2. Darth Vader actually survived three "runs" on the first Death Star.


Scorcher: I don't take anything personally (I'm in sales, can't afford to! )

It was Wedge and Luke, right?  Darth died in the 2nd one.

Anyway, awesome job Usagi.  Cant believe you missed Red Dawn, but regardless, keep up the great work.  I can see your writing style evolve from the first chapter...very nice.  Also, Usagi...would that be for USA Government Issue or General Infantry?  Just my guess.

and lastly...MOAR!!!

Originally Posted By montana_rob: It was Wedge and Luke, right?  Darth died in the 2nd one. Anyway, awesome job Usagi.  Cant believe you missed Red Dawn, but regardless, keep up the great work.  I can see your writing style evolve from the first chapter...very nice.  Also, Usagi...would that be for USA Government Issue or General Infantry?  Just my guess. and lastly...MOAR!!!

Luke only had one run at it. Darth didn't die - he spun off into space, only to terrorize the galaxy for two more installments.

On "Usagi" - one of the meanings is USA Govt. Issue. Good work.
The other meaning is my nickname, "Bunny," as it would be spoken in the Japanese language (Japanese because I am a life-long martial artist in two Japanese arts). Besides, "Usagi" sounds more badass than "Bunny." Especially for a large man like me.

Originally Posted By Usagi: Originally Posted By montana_rob: It was Wedge and Luke, right?  Darth died in the 2nd one. Anyway, awesome job Usagi.  Cant believe you missed Red Dawn, but regardless, keep up the great work.  I can see your writing style evolve from the first chapter...very nice.  Also, Usagi...would that be for USA Government Issue or General Infantry?  Just my guess. and lastly...MOAR!!! Luke only had one run at it. Darth didn't die - he spun off into space, only to terrorize the galaxy for two more installments. On "Usagi" - one of the meanings is USA Govt. Issue. Good work. The other meaning is my nickname, "Bunny," as it would be spoken in the Japanese language (Japanese because I am a life-long martial artist in two Japanese arts). Besides, "Usagi" sounds more badass than "Bunny." Especially for a large man like me.

Depends a VERY large bunny hopping down the trail will have an effect similar to Zombies.....BOOOOM BOOOOM BOOOM...

LOL!



I can't believe there was a discussion on the "believablility" of a 300-yard headshot through the back window of an auto with an iron-sighted .30x.30.  It's FICTION, for God's sake!  Give the man some latitude.  



That being said.... really enjoying the story, Usagi.  Looking forward to more!



Michael

Chapter 14


Head in hands, Matt sat still. Six months had passed and Matt had trained the group. They were starting to show some promise, almost ready for their first real assignment. But they weren’t quite ready, and that had Matt frustrated.

They bickered and fought all of the time. At first, and it had become a habit, Matt had sided with Susie. That was natural, he had even developed feelings for her. Often as not, however, she was the one starting the fights. She fought mostly with her sister, Alison, and with Tony.

The arguments were usually petty. They were started at the drop of a hat. This bothered Matt very much. He thought they should all just shut up.

Then there was Martin. He always challenged Matt. It was in Martin’s nature to challenge authority. He was constantly doing it, so much so that he would interject frequently when Matt was coaching them through drills. He always had some excuse as to why he couldn’t do things right. Matt thought it was because he refused to do things as he was told.

Still, despite all of this, all five people were getting better. They could all regularly hit targets at 100 yards with iron sights and at 300 yards with a 3-power scope. All of them could field strip and clean their AR-15’s. They could execute tactical team maneuvers without a hitch. Their long-range shooting was improving.

Summer had passed and now was turning into autumn. The terrorists had never changed their routes, and were very predictable. And it was this group Matt intended to hit.

Matt had been planning for several months on how to strike and what his larger overall plan would be. From listening to Ham radio, he had ascertained how other groups had struck, and how they had met with success. All over the country, the people were fighting back. There had been indeed a rifle behind every blade of grass.

So Matt had set a time. This Sunday, ready or not, they would strike the terrorists. Matt had a surprise for them, as well. He knew the convoy would be missed at their destination. He would see to it that the others could find their slaughtered men… with a surprise.

All of this weighed heavily on the hitman. He knew everything had to go to plan. He could do it himself, but there would be more to learn from doing than by drilling for the other five. And he would be the contingency plan himself. This would negate some of the risks, but not all.

Steeling himself for the duty to come, Matt rose. He walked toward the dorm rooms they had been living in. He would inform the team that this weekend was their first battle. Never had any of them fought before, they had survived by running. Now there would be no running. They would attack.

“Group, we meet in the ping-pong room in twenty.” Matt spoke into his radio.

Five responses. They were an independent bunch, but they would meet when called. Matt made sure to never call unless it was a needed emergency or otherwise important to the survival of them all. In this, they had all respected him. That was his trump card.

The time came. All five showed up, on time. Only minor bickering. Matt could tell it was all in good fun.

“Over the last few months, each of you has shown real promise in your skills. I think the time is right, especially considering things I’m hearing from other areas in the country, for you all to be given your first assignment.” Matt said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kathy asked.

“That means we are striking the convoy on Sunday.”

“Says who?” Martin demanded in his usual style.

“Me.” Matt replied.

“And if we don’t?” Martin asked.

“You mean if you don’t? Probably won’t change things. I can do this on my own and will if need be. I just thought you guys would like to see if you can hang.” Matt challenged.

“We are in,” Alison answered of her and her beau.

“I’m in,” Susie replied. Matt knew she would go along.


*****


The convoy was approaching on schedule. Matt and company were set up comfortably in offset perches, to ensure they would not cross fire or have a danger of shooting one another. Three clicks on the radio alerted the group to the presence of the terrorists.

Three rifle scopes zeroed in on three separate drivers. They targeted the drivers of the front three vehicles. Putting them out of commission would cause the rear three vehicles to have to stop. Then Matt and his crew could work though the ranks and take people out as they saw fit.

Our heroes used buildings as their cover. Windows that were carefully selected for their locations served as the opportunities. They were all top level windows, so as to provide the most tactical advantage possible.

The vehicles approached. A shot rang out.

Matt had taken the initiative.

Two more shots followed, almost in unison. Tony and Kathy had followed orders to the “T.”

The game plan was for each shooter to continue to fire at men in the truck they initially fired on, then move to the corresponding vehicle in the rear. Each shooter was prepared to do his or her part, and the partner shooters would come in after the first few shots so as to provide a consistent fire situation.

So far, the plan was working perfectly.

Matt was by far the quickest, to be sure. And the most accurate. The others would hit two out of three. They would occasionally wound a man instead of getting a clean kill. Matt’s shots were always on target and always resulted in a kill.

On they went, mowing down terrorists in an ever increasing blood-bath. The vehicle to the very rear of formation backed up and turned around. Matt caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. An immediate change of target and he had the rear truck in his sights. It was about 300 yards away, like the improbable shot he’d made with the .30-30 all those years ago.

Matt’s shot rang out. The truck stopped. He had shot through the passenger side window as the truck turned and nailed the driver in the right temple. Not bad, he thought. Then Matt realized his crew were not taking out the rear vehicles – they just were not as fast as Matt and he hadn’t taken that into consideration!

Matt leveled his weapon on the vehicle that was second to the rear. Return gunfire started ringing out. Matt fired and took out the driver. Then he scanned. The return fire was in the wrong direction. The terrorists could not get a fix on their locations!

This interplay went on for several minutes, but the outcome was becoming vey evident. Finally, Matt was putting the last few injured men out of their respective miseries. Then he signaled all clear.

On command, all three groups made their way to street level and cautiously approached the convoy from different angles. They checked for survivors, but there would be none this day.

Matt picked up a radio from one of the deceased terrorists and clicked into it: “Hello?”

The radio spoke back: “Who is this?” In a foreign accent.

“Thank you for the wonderful time. Your men here in Springfield made wonderful target practice for me and my army. I am in your debt, kind sir!” Matt goaded.

“Why are you being nice to these people?” Kathy whispered.

Matt shooed her protest away as the radio crackled to life again.

“Again I demand, who is this. And why do you claim to have harmed my men?”

“Oh, sorry. Where are my manners? My name is Matt. I do not claim to have harmed your men – I did kill them, however. I am speaking to you on one of their radios. That should be proof enough. Please forgive me for my lack of manners.”

“You will pay for this!” The voice yelled back.

“Please, make me pay. I humbly beg you, kind sir. My troops and I need to be shown the error of our ways. We are here on Main Street if you need us. Hurry, because some of my troops are not as kind as I, and they have begun looting the corpses of your men!”  Matt said. And with that, he shut off the radio.

“Why are you nice to them?” Kathy demanded again.

“It is to show them up. Also, they won’t be able to predict what they are going to see. I figure we have about two hours to work, so we must hurry. Besides, it is my philosophy to be polite, courteous, professional, and have a plan to kill everyone I meet. You should learn the same, it will serve you well in this apocalyptic world.”


*****


The terrorist convoy approached a horrid scene. Off in a field, just before the edge of town, were the bodies of their fallen comrades. On top of the pile was what appeared to be the carcasses of pigs! This was an abomination. Now their friends would never go to see the graces of Allah! These American dogs must die!

They carried on into the city. The last thing the leader would know was wondering why he saw a slight flash from one of the upper windows… Then he was no more.

Chapter 16 – EPILOGUE


Matt and his team were successful – both in eliminating the convoy of backup terrorists from the base camp from the south, and eliminating the supplying convoy persons from the north, as well. This pattern was repeated on several occasions.

The success bred success. Matt finally broke radio silence and used his Ham to spread the word on how to get to the enemy. The burying and burning of bodies with the carcasses of pork proved the Achilles heel of the terrorists.

It took a few years, but the remaining Americans became strong once again. They took their country back by force. And never again did Matt raise his hand, or weapon, against a fellow American. There was too much to lose, now.



END

Hahaha! Piling pigs on their bodies, I love it!

Awesome. Now, get to posting your new story!  











Please

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

DAMMIT!!!!  I didn't mean RIGHT NOW?!!!!!
Grrr.....  Now I gotta wait for that Swindel dude......