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Authors: L. Douglas Hogan
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Stephen was a good distance away, the man opened the front door and yelled at a couple soldiers positioned across the street.
“Hey, boys, I just killed one of your own in self-defense.”
Moments later, Stephen saw several police cars and some military units speeding toward the man’s house. He figured the soldier’s death would have locked things down even tighter, but he was unaware of the man’s claim that he had killed the soldier in self-defense.
Stephen had reached his home and immediately began to call out, “Sammie … Evan …”
With each call he paused for a moment but heard nothing. He went to the bedroom and found the bugout bags. He could see a yellow-colored item protruding from the inside. It was Evan’s Minion doll. They wouldn’t have left without it. Stephen feared the worst. He knew they had been taken.
With a freshened sense of resolve, his mind became all the more void of logic. Anger was all he could feel.
He emptied his closet and pulled the carpet up. Hidden there, beneath, was a secret compartment built into the closet floor. Three rifles, two thousand rounds of ammunition, combat knives, machetes, and hatchets.
The sound of breaking glass was heard in every room of the house. It sounded like somebody was throwing bricks through the window, except each sound was followed by the familiar hissing sound of a chemical grenade.
Stephen’s company consisted of a chemical platoon, and he was cross-trained with them often, making him very familiar with the effects of gas.
He reached into his bugout bag and pulled out an M17A2 series biological mask. He donned it, then proceeded to lock and load all three of his rifles.
“If you want me, you’re going to have to come in here and get me,” he screamed at the top of his lungs. The mask made it difficult for them to hear his voice at all, let alone hear what he was saying.
After a couple minutes, a team of soldiers and police came flooding into the house. Each of them had on a state-of-the-art chemical mask, unlike Stephen’s antiquated Vietnam-style protective wear.
He could hear their commands as they came storming through both doors.
“Go, go, go,” the team leaders said with their commanding voices.
“Clear,” each team would say as they searched each room carefully, tactically, and methodically.
It wasn’t until they entered Stephen and Sammie’s bedroom that they were met with fierce gunfire. Stephen shot two of his attackers and received forty-two gunshot wounds to his chest and abdomen. When the
cease fire
was called, the men stared in wonder at the sight. They watched as Stephen took his last breath and tightly gripped the stuffed yellow Minion doll in his left hand. He held it tightly to his bleeding chest, and did so until his arm fell to his side.
EPILOGUE
Over the next few months, the president continued to lose control over the people as she discovered more and more military personnel were going AWOL. The police were being murdered in the streets, and those that remained eventually abandoned their post and integrated with the declining population. The businesses that remained were burned or destroyed by the starving masses, church buildings and Christian gatherings were abandoned because of the rising rate of terrorism.
Shortly after the killing of Stephen Gill, the last remaining free press was taken over by the government; but not before they ran one more article that told the story of a man that dared to defy the government and was murdered for doing so.
TORI'S JOURNEY
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 L. Douglas Hogan
No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical
“Hey, boys, I just killed one of your own in self-defense.”
Moments later, Stephen saw several police cars and some military units speeding toward the man’s house. He figured the soldier’s death would have locked things down even tighter, but he was unaware of the man’s claim that he had killed the soldier in self-defense.
Stephen had reached his home and immediately began to call out, “Sammie … Evan …”
With each call he paused for a moment but heard nothing. He went to the bedroom and found the bugout bags. He could see a yellow-colored item protruding from the inside. It was Evan’s Minion doll. They wouldn’t have left without it. Stephen feared the worst. He knew they had been taken.
With a freshened sense of resolve, his mind became all the more void of logic. Anger was all he could feel.
He emptied his closet and pulled the carpet up. Hidden there, beneath, was a secret compartment built into the closet floor. Three rifles, two thousand rounds of ammunition, combat knives, machetes, and hatchets.
The sound of breaking glass was heard in every room of the house. It sounded like somebody was throwing bricks through the window, except each sound was followed by the familiar hissing sound of a chemical grenade.
Stephen’s company consisted of a chemical platoon, and he was cross-trained with them often, making him very familiar with the effects of gas.
He reached into his bugout bag and pulled out an M17A2 series biological mask. He donned it, then proceeded to lock and load all three of his rifles.
“If you want me, you’re going to have to come in here and get me,” he screamed at the top of his lungs. The mask made it difficult for them to hear his voice at all, let alone hear what he was saying.
After a couple minutes, a team of soldiers and police came flooding into the house. Each of them had on a state-of-the-art chemical mask, unlike Stephen’s antiquated Vietnam-style protective wear.
He could hear their commands as they came storming through both doors.
“Go, go, go,” the team leaders said with their commanding voices.
“Clear,” each team would say as they searched each room carefully, tactically, and methodically.
It wasn’t until they entered Stephen and Sammie’s bedroom that they were met with fierce gunfire. Stephen shot two of his attackers and received forty-two gunshot wounds to his chest and abdomen. When the
cease fire
was called, the men stared in wonder at the sight. They watched as Stephen took his last breath and tightly gripped the stuffed yellow Minion doll in his left hand. He held it tightly to his bleeding chest, and did so until his arm fell to his side.
EPILOGUE
Over the next few months, the president continued to lose control over the people as she discovered more and more military personnel were going AWOL. The police were being murdered in the streets, and those that remained eventually abandoned their post and integrated with the declining population. The businesses that remained were burned or destroyed by the starving masses, church buildings and Christian gatherings were abandoned because of the rising rate of terrorism.
Shortly after the killing of Stephen Gill, the last remaining free press was taken over by the government; but not before they ran one more article that told the story of a man that dared to defy the government and was murdered for doing so.
TORI'S JOURNEY
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 L. Douglas Hogan
No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical
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