Post by Krypt on May 12, 2005 20:45:38 GMT -5
Story Name: Teenage gurrillas; Krypt (I'm going to change the title later when I think of a better title)
Rating: R
Summary: America gets invaded by a large group of countries. The invasion comes from the west coast and Paratroopers land as far into the country as the Colorado/Utah border. A group of teenagers that escaped capture, become geurrillas and try to get to the American lines. (this is loosely based off the Tomorrow when the war began series so this might not go here, but...
I was fit. Life was perfect, or as perfect as it could get. A year of steady iron pumping and blowing up pop cans full of gasoline at 200 yards with my M1 Carbine, or one of my other friend’s guns out in the desert got me to that.
I’m writing this so people will know what life was… is for us, so I have to be honest and I will be. God am I glad I read the Tomorrow when the war began, books. The nuts they did in there has kept me and my friends alive. So here is my story:
The wood creaked in the ceiling above me. My dog must be walking around, a door slowly swung open on it’s hinges upstairs. What? I thought. The soft muffled sound of heavy boots on the landing crept into my room as more people seemed to have entered my house. Thinking, It’s my sister and her boyfriend coming in for a surprise. But it might be someone else too. Getting out of bed, I stepped over to the metal cabinet between my bookshelf and my dresser. Putting in the combination and slowly opening in the door, I pulled out my M1-Carbine, the two magazines that I own. Checking to make sure that they were both full I loaded one into the gun. I worked the bolt feeding a bullet into the chamber. Pocketing the other clip into the waist band of my long boxers I also stuffed some loose rounds into my pocket. Leaning the M1 carbine against my dresser I pulled out the .22 and the Sigma 40 P pistol and loaded them both. The .22 was a Winchester with a semiautomatic pump action and a ammo tube below the barrel. Swinging the .22 over my shoulder and putting the sigma 40 in my waist band with the safety on. Picking up the M1 Carbine I held it up to my shoulder and opened the door.
There were 13 or 14 or them carrying AK-47s or other types of assault weapons. They were all focused on the laundry room door and the areas behind the couches where people could hide. Silently opening my brother’s door I slide in and closed the door. Waking my brother I said, “Eric, wake up. Shssss!”<br>
“What the f**k is going on?” he asked me as I handing him the .22 and the Sigma 40. Emptying my pockets I dumped the extra bullets for the .22 and the pistol on his bed.
“f**king 13 or 14 guys with assault rifles in the house, that’s what the f**k it’s about.” I said. Glancing over my shoulder at the door hoping that they weren’t outside listening and they hadn’t found the gun case with the rest of the ammunition. Eric got the idea quickly. Sliding out of bed and pocketing the bullets, he ran over to the window and slid it back. Punching out the screen he crawled out and turned around so I could hand him the guns. Winching at the noise I handed him the pistol and the .22 before climbing out myself with the M1 Carbine. Sliding the widow closed again we put the screen back in and some how managed to get onto our roof.
Several minutes later we watched as the soldiers came out of all the houses with the occupants in the lead with their hands on their head. “nuts.” Eric observed as the soldiers loaded the people into cars and drove off. Waiting a few minutes before getting down we entered through the back and checked the garage. Our family van was still there. That was good.
“Okay, Eric start up the Van and get some food. I’ll the rest of the ammo.” I said and Eric Nodded. Returning to my room my face fell. Much of the ammo was gone. Only a handful of 30 caliber bullets were left, from the box I had left on the dresser. Looking in I smiled a bit. They hadn’t touched any of the .22 boxes and there were still two clips for the pistol in the bottom. Also the military ammo box in the bottom was still there. Pulling it out, I opened it. Inside was around 20 live rounds for the M1 Carbine along with several spent ones. Dumping all the ammo into the box I grabbed two pairs on jeans and my leather jacket I returned to the van.
“What’s left?” Eric asked from the driver’s seat as I got into the van, his face was really pale but his voice was calm. (my face must have been pale too but I was calm)
“They took most of the 30 cal. Bullets, so there are about 20 loose ones plus what I have in my pocket and what is in the clips. We have all 5 .22 boxes and 2 more clips for the Sigma. What food do we have?” I said taking out the loose bullets in my pocket and dumping them into the metal ammo box. Pulling on one pair of the jeans over my long boxers I handed the other pair to Eric.
“Rolls, Bread, Water, Apples, Peanut Butter, Jelly, Honey, Cookies, Top Ramón, some Beef Jerky and a nuts load of chips and candy.” Eric said as he put the jeans I handed him on.
“God get a coat. Give me the Sigma please. I’m going to look outside and make sure we are alone and they aren’t waiting outside to blow us to hell as soon as we back out.” I said. Eric handed me the pistol. Opening the door again I moved around to the garage door to the house. Maybe our parents didn’t do anything stupid like saying ‘where are our two boys?’
Turns out they did. I opened the door really slow and guess who was waiting. Yep. It was one of the guys with the f**king big guns. His gun started to come up and I squeezed the trigger a few times in rapid succession. The soldier’s head exploded and he crumpled to the ground like a rock. Looking at the body I threw up. Bending down I picked up his rifle and entered the house.
Rating: R
Summary: America gets invaded by a large group of countries. The invasion comes from the west coast and Paratroopers land as far into the country as the Colorado/Utah border. A group of teenagers that escaped capture, become geurrillas and try to get to the American lines. (this is loosely based off the Tomorrow when the war began series so this might not go here, but...
I was fit. Life was perfect, or as perfect as it could get. A year of steady iron pumping and blowing up pop cans full of gasoline at 200 yards with my M1 Carbine, or one of my other friend’s guns out in the desert got me to that.
I’m writing this so people will know what life was… is for us, so I have to be honest and I will be. God am I glad I read the Tomorrow when the war began, books. The nuts they did in there has kept me and my friends alive. So here is my story:
The wood creaked in the ceiling above me. My dog must be walking around, a door slowly swung open on it’s hinges upstairs. What? I thought. The soft muffled sound of heavy boots on the landing crept into my room as more people seemed to have entered my house. Thinking, It’s my sister and her boyfriend coming in for a surprise. But it might be someone else too. Getting out of bed, I stepped over to the metal cabinet between my bookshelf and my dresser. Putting in the combination and slowly opening in the door, I pulled out my M1-Carbine, the two magazines that I own. Checking to make sure that they were both full I loaded one into the gun. I worked the bolt feeding a bullet into the chamber. Pocketing the other clip into the waist band of my long boxers I also stuffed some loose rounds into my pocket. Leaning the M1 carbine against my dresser I pulled out the .22 and the Sigma 40 P pistol and loaded them both. The .22 was a Winchester with a semiautomatic pump action and a ammo tube below the barrel. Swinging the .22 over my shoulder and putting the sigma 40 in my waist band with the safety on. Picking up the M1 Carbine I held it up to my shoulder and opened the door.
There were 13 or 14 or them carrying AK-47s or other types of assault weapons. They were all focused on the laundry room door and the areas behind the couches where people could hide. Silently opening my brother’s door I slide in and closed the door. Waking my brother I said, “Eric, wake up. Shssss!”<br>
“What the f**k is going on?” he asked me as I handing him the .22 and the Sigma 40. Emptying my pockets I dumped the extra bullets for the .22 and the pistol on his bed.
“f**king 13 or 14 guys with assault rifles in the house, that’s what the f**k it’s about.” I said. Glancing over my shoulder at the door hoping that they weren’t outside listening and they hadn’t found the gun case with the rest of the ammunition. Eric got the idea quickly. Sliding out of bed and pocketing the bullets, he ran over to the window and slid it back. Punching out the screen he crawled out and turned around so I could hand him the guns. Winching at the noise I handed him the pistol and the .22 before climbing out myself with the M1 Carbine. Sliding the widow closed again we put the screen back in and some how managed to get onto our roof.
Several minutes later we watched as the soldiers came out of all the houses with the occupants in the lead with their hands on their head. “nuts.” Eric observed as the soldiers loaded the people into cars and drove off. Waiting a few minutes before getting down we entered through the back and checked the garage. Our family van was still there. That was good.
“Okay, Eric start up the Van and get some food. I’ll the rest of the ammo.” I said and Eric Nodded. Returning to my room my face fell. Much of the ammo was gone. Only a handful of 30 caliber bullets were left, from the box I had left on the dresser. Looking in I smiled a bit. They hadn’t touched any of the .22 boxes and there were still two clips for the pistol in the bottom. Also the military ammo box in the bottom was still there. Pulling it out, I opened it. Inside was around 20 live rounds for the M1 Carbine along with several spent ones. Dumping all the ammo into the box I grabbed two pairs on jeans and my leather jacket I returned to the van.
“What’s left?” Eric asked from the driver’s seat as I got into the van, his face was really pale but his voice was calm. (my face must have been pale too but I was calm)
“They took most of the 30 cal. Bullets, so there are about 20 loose ones plus what I have in my pocket and what is in the clips. We have all 5 .22 boxes and 2 more clips for the Sigma. What food do we have?” I said taking out the loose bullets in my pocket and dumping them into the metal ammo box. Pulling on one pair of the jeans over my long boxers I handed the other pair to Eric.
“Rolls, Bread, Water, Apples, Peanut Butter, Jelly, Honey, Cookies, Top Ramón, some Beef Jerky and a nuts load of chips and candy.” Eric said as he put the jeans I handed him on.
“God get a coat. Give me the Sigma please. I’m going to look outside and make sure we are alone and they aren’t waiting outside to blow us to hell as soon as we back out.” I said. Eric handed me the pistol. Opening the door again I moved around to the garage door to the house. Maybe our parents didn’t do anything stupid like saying ‘where are our two boys?’
Turns out they did. I opened the door really slow and guess who was waiting. Yep. It was one of the guys with the f**king big guns. His gun started to come up and I squeezed the trigger a few times in rapid succession. The soldier’s head exploded and he crumpled to the ground like a rock. Looking at the body I threw up. Bending down I picked up his rifle and entered the house.