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Authors: Derek Deremer
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we kept one another safe from looters and thieves. We struggled, but we survived. That was until the New Americans showed up.
Towards the end of the first summer, we awoke one morning to the roar of the vehicles coming down the street. We never imagined having to defend ourselves from something like that. I stayed in my room while grasping a .22 rifle and peeking out the window. The soldiers below had machine guns that made my rifle look like a toy.
The New Americans went into several houses and dragged some of my friends from within. Most were barely even adults. The soldiers threw them to their knees. Even behind the window I could still hear their muffled yells. The soldiers were not hearing the answers they wanted.
And then I heard the gunshot.
They shot one of them in the head. Then they received the answer they wanted from the remaining ones. The soldiers stormed the house where all our food was kept. We had worked hard that spring and summer and had created a stockpile large enough to last the entire winter. I cringed as they loaded up their trucks. Just as they were about done loading it, Ryan attempted resistance.
With a war cry, Ryan, David, and eight others began to fire on the New Americans from the first floor of a brick house. Ryan must have gathered them all secretly as the New Americans worked on gathering the food. As they began to fire, I considered opening the window and joining in from my perch, but nearly as fast as it started, the gunfire ceased. At least that's what I tell myself. What difference could I have made with a .22 rifle anyway? I would just have been killed with the rest of them.
Ryan's retaliation was quickly silenced. The first floor of the house that they shot from nearly exploded from several grenades thrown into windows. The New Americans finished packing and then drove away while screams emitted from the house. Everyone else, including myself was too afraid to do anything.
After they left, I ran quickly down the steps and to the first floor where Ryan and all the men were. It was a massacre. Pieces of my friends were thrown about the room and the walls and ceiling dripped red. Ryan and David were both injured, but they were the only two that recovered. They had managed to get on the other side of a large cedar desk before the explosions. The desk was in splinters, but it saved their lives. I originally wanted to yell at Ryan for the thoughtless plan, but I guess they had to do something.
We struggled, but were able to survive that winter with the little we were able to salvage.
After the that, we started to arm ourselves and create a much tighter perimeter. David went back to his police department and managed to break into the armory. He took everything. Then, Ryan and David worked a complete year on a fence that went around a school several miles away. It was made from a hodgepodge of fencing materials, cars, and buses. More recently they have even further fortified the wall with barbed wire and booby traps. It was an impressive feat. Where we lived naturally gravitated to around this safety net they created.
The wall was the first line of defense, and the school became our fall back point if any of our lookouts spotted trouble coming. Luckily, we have seemed to go unnoticed in suburbia by the New Americans and most others who would want what we have. Yet again, each time we meddle with the New American food supply, the more resources they will spend on finding who we are. I doubt they realize that the once pathetic group they stole food from years ago was the one giving them difficulties.
We approach Carter's and my house. The outside is mostly brick with a
Towards the end of the first summer, we awoke one morning to the roar of the vehicles coming down the street. We never imagined having to defend ourselves from something like that. I stayed in my room while grasping a .22 rifle and peeking out the window. The soldiers below had machine guns that made my rifle look like a toy.
The New Americans went into several houses and dragged some of my friends from within. Most were barely even adults. The soldiers threw them to their knees. Even behind the window I could still hear their muffled yells. The soldiers were not hearing the answers they wanted.
And then I heard the gunshot.
They shot one of them in the head. Then they received the answer they wanted from the remaining ones. The soldiers stormed the house where all our food was kept. We had worked hard that spring and summer and had created a stockpile large enough to last the entire winter. I cringed as they loaded up their trucks. Just as they were about done loading it, Ryan attempted resistance.
With a war cry, Ryan, David, and eight others began to fire on the New Americans from the first floor of a brick house. Ryan must have gathered them all secretly as the New Americans worked on gathering the food. As they began to fire, I considered opening the window and joining in from my perch, but nearly as fast as it started, the gunfire ceased. At least that's what I tell myself. What difference could I have made with a .22 rifle anyway? I would just have been killed with the rest of them.
Ryan's retaliation was quickly silenced. The first floor of the house that they shot from nearly exploded from several grenades thrown into windows. The New Americans finished packing and then drove away while screams emitted from the house. Everyone else, including myself was too afraid to do anything.
After they left, I ran quickly down the steps and to the first floor where Ryan and all the men were. It was a massacre. Pieces of my friends were thrown about the room and the walls and ceiling dripped red. Ryan and David were both injured, but they were the only two that recovered. They had managed to get on the other side of a large cedar desk before the explosions. The desk was in splinters, but it saved their lives. I originally wanted to yell at Ryan for the thoughtless plan, but I guess they had to do something.
We struggled, but were able to survive that winter with the little we were able to salvage.
After the that, we started to arm ourselves and create a much tighter perimeter. David went back to his police department and managed to break into the armory. He took everything. Then, Ryan and David worked a complete year on a fence that went around a school several miles away. It was made from a hodgepodge of fencing materials, cars, and buses. More recently they have even further fortified the wall with barbed wire and booby traps. It was an impressive feat. Where we lived naturally gravitated to around this safety net they created.
The wall was the first line of defense, and the school became our fall back point if any of our lookouts spotted trouble coming. Luckily, we have seemed to go unnoticed in suburbia by the New Americans and most others who would want what we have. Yet again, each time we meddle with the New American food supply, the more resources they will spend on finding who we are. I doubt they realize that the once pathetic group they stole food from years ago was the one giving them difficulties.
We approach Carter's and my house. The outside is mostly brick with a
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