concrete steps for the basement
door. He rushed downstairs and stood behind the door, slightly
staggering with adrenaline. His dazed state of mind put him in a
dreamlike state.
One
of the trespassers was yelling something incomprehensible to the
other one.
It
was difficult to hear over all the chaos the flooded the surrounding
area, but occasionally he would catch a glimpse of what someone said.
The words would sort of go in and out.
“ I.
. . don't. . . . care,” the other trespasser responded,
sounding irritated and stressed out. It was the sound of someone that
was so frustrated with life, he didn't seem to want to think about
consequences anymore.
Austin
tightened his grip on the baseball bat. His only hope would be to
lurk in the shadows and pick off the trespassers after they broke the
entry, hoping that they weren't armed with guns. From what he had
seen outside, some of the terrorists were carrying guns, while others
were not. He didn't have much choice either way.
The
locked screen door began to make the sound of someone that was trying
to break in. Then suddenly it stopped.
“ Ah!
Stop tweaking me out,” one of them yelled.
There
was a snort of obnoxious laughter.
Austin
leaned his head up against the main door which stood in front of the
screen one, trying to listen more carefully.
The
voices became less audible, as they moved back up the steps. It was
almost as if they were playing some sort of bizarre game.
Austin
raced back upstairs and watched them exit the yard by climbing over
the fence instead of using the gate. He sighed, but it wasn't a sigh
of relief. He confusedly stared out the window, trying to make sense
out of everything.
Chapter 2
By four o' clock in the
morning, things seemed to calm down a bit. The fires were no longer
blazing to the heights that they had been earlier. It was also
quieter.
However, the destruction
left behind was heavy. And it was likely that the terrorists would
return soon enough for another round of what they did best.
Austin had never bothered
calling 9-1-1. He figured they were already overloaded with too many
phone calls.
The power was still off,
but his generators were still holding up okay. It had cooled off
enough for him to turn off the air conditioner.
He could hear Gerald
screaming from across the alley as loud as ever. Austin opened a
window and listened in. It turned out that Gerald's car had been
stolen. Apparently Gerald didn't realize how fortunate he was that
nothing worse had happened. Austin shook his head and closed the
window.
Many residents were leaving
the city in droves to stay with their relatives out in the burbs.
Cars with suitcases tied down to the roof were finding ways to
maneuver through the torn up streets and vacate the city. Austin
thought about doing the same, but he had nowhere to go. Everyone he
knew lived right there in the city with him.
Austin's adrenaline
skyrocketed the second he saw a car with heavily tinted windows slow
down and park in front of his house. Since he had never seen the type
of make and model on his block before, he knew it didn't belong to
any of his neighbors. The tinted windows made it nearly impossible to
see inside, but no one was getting out of the car. The engine was
just idling, and the driver and passengers just seemed to be sitting
there.
Aside from the remains of
shattered glass from the broken bottles scattered across the
pavement, the street was still passable.
The car engine finally
turned off. All of the car doors opened at once. Four terrorists
rushed out of the car and slammed the doors shut. One of them had a
bottle of malt liquor in his hand. Another one was holding a bottle
of hard liquor.
“ We're not done yet,”
one of them said. “We gonna party. You think we going back home
already? We gonna party.”
They began shouting
obnoxiously. They were celebrating, like a group of pirates that had
just taken over the land while enjoying their loot.
Although Austin was
door. He rushed downstairs and stood behind the door, slightly
staggering with adrenaline. His dazed state of mind put him in a
dreamlike state.
One
of the trespassers was yelling something incomprehensible to the
other one.
It
was difficult to hear over all the chaos the flooded the surrounding
area, but occasionally he would catch a glimpse of what someone said.
The words would sort of go in and out.
“ I.
. . don't. . . . care,” the other trespasser responded,
sounding irritated and stressed out. It was the sound of someone that
was so frustrated with life, he didn't seem to want to think about
consequences anymore.
Austin
tightened his grip on the baseball bat. His only hope would be to
lurk in the shadows and pick off the trespassers after they broke the
entry, hoping that they weren't armed with guns. From what he had
seen outside, some of the terrorists were carrying guns, while others
were not. He didn't have much choice either way.
The
locked screen door began to make the sound of someone that was trying
to break in. Then suddenly it stopped.
“ Ah!
Stop tweaking me out,” one of them yelled.
There
was a snort of obnoxious laughter.
Austin
leaned his head up against the main door which stood in front of the
screen one, trying to listen more carefully.
The
voices became less audible, as they moved back up the steps. It was
almost as if they were playing some sort of bizarre game.
Austin
raced back upstairs and watched them exit the yard by climbing over
the fence instead of using the gate. He sighed, but it wasn't a sigh
of relief. He confusedly stared out the window, trying to make sense
out of everything.
Chapter 2
By four o' clock in the
morning, things seemed to calm down a bit. The fires were no longer
blazing to the heights that they had been earlier. It was also
quieter.
However, the destruction
left behind was heavy. And it was likely that the terrorists would
return soon enough for another round of what they did best.
Austin had never bothered
calling 9-1-1. He figured they were already overloaded with too many
phone calls.
The power was still off,
but his generators were still holding up okay. It had cooled off
enough for him to turn off the air conditioner.
He could hear Gerald
screaming from across the alley as loud as ever. Austin opened a
window and listened in. It turned out that Gerald's car had been
stolen. Apparently Gerald didn't realize how fortunate he was that
nothing worse had happened. Austin shook his head and closed the
window.
Many residents were leaving
the city in droves to stay with their relatives out in the burbs.
Cars with suitcases tied down to the roof were finding ways to
maneuver through the torn up streets and vacate the city. Austin
thought about doing the same, but he had nowhere to go. Everyone he
knew lived right there in the city with him.
Austin's adrenaline
skyrocketed the second he saw a car with heavily tinted windows slow
down and park in front of his house. Since he had never seen the type
of make and model on his block before, he knew it didn't belong to
any of his neighbors. The tinted windows made it nearly impossible to
see inside, but no one was getting out of the car. The engine was
just idling, and the driver and passengers just seemed to be sitting
there.
Aside from the remains of
shattered glass from the broken bottles scattered across the
pavement, the street was still passable.
The car engine finally
turned off. All of the car doors opened at once. Four terrorists
rushed out of the car and slammed the doors shut. One of them had a
bottle of malt liquor in his hand. Another one was holding a bottle
of hard liquor.
“ We're not done yet,”
one of them said. “We gonna party. You think we going back home
already? We gonna party.”
They began shouting
obnoxiously. They were celebrating, like a group of pirates that had
just taken over the land while enjoying their loot.
Although Austin was
Similar Books
