emotion he didn't know how to vent. Ethan went on. "The United fucking States of America is gone , Keith. The land masses are all still there, but civilization as we know it has met its extinction event. I just wish the bastards hadn't taken my family with them when they left. Let me die with them at least." Ethan was about to put the small vehicle back in gear when they heard people shouting and a dozen more gunshots rang out from the roadblock. Without much thought they swung around and drove back as fast as they could, the little blue light on top of the canopy flashing. A bullet actually smacked the concrete frame of the bridge next to them as they pulled to a stop and took cover, unslinging their own rifles.
"Who the hell is shooting at us?"
"A bunch uh' fuckin niggers!" A kid, no older than fifteen shouted, working the bolt of his rifle, the brass casing clinking on the ground next to him.
"Well aren’t you charming." Ethan rolled his eyes. He was no racist, that might falsely imply he liked anyone in the first place. "Well, who are they? Does anyone fucking know, or did you just start shooting?”
"I'd say Bloods.” Another rifleman said. “They’re lit up like Redcoats, man. Looks like their Caddie got stuck when they started running over the bodies we stacked."
A few more shots rang out, Keith waved his hands, "Cease fire! Cease fire!"
The kid snickered. "That'll happen to you when you try to take ‘twenty- fours’ off- roading. Fucking ghetto rat tard fuckers."
"So when you sit there late at night, masturbating to your elf character on WoW and dropping a load on your anime print body-pillow, do you ever stop to think about truly fucking sick you really are?” Ethan narrowed his eyes and addressed the rest of the Minutemen assembled. "No one shoots until we find out what they want. Let them run out of ammo, we’re well out of range of handguns." He stood up and heard a few more shots fired from downrange. The gangbangers only had pistols, maybe even a sawed off shotgun. They certainly had no idea how to properly use either. "Keith, go get that up-armored M1114 and a five ton. We'll bring them back here and in-process them."
"In-process?" Rowe stood as well, realizing there was a snowball’s chance in hell of getting hit. "Are we arresting them?"
"Did they shoot first?" Ethan turned to the kid. The kid looked away and made a discrete exit. "Arresting them is your call, we'll get information and identification from them and then we can push them on South. There's a lot of vehicles here, we can afford to give them one if it means we don’t have to keep gang-bangers around.”
"Why waste the gas on ‘em?" A man asked. "Fuck ‘em."
"Yes. Right. ‘Fuck them.’ That makes loads of sense. Why don't we just go ahead and quarter them at your neighbor's abandoned house instead, Mr. Singer is it? I thought you were a Man of God.” The bearded Minuteman's frown made his beard twist in funny ways when scolded by Officer Rowe. "Deputy Cally’s idea will work fine. We'll send them on their way. Escort them as far as Bourbon so we know they won't come back."
Keith returned with the truck and another driver. He forgot to unlock the other doors and had to play twister inside the Humvee to unlock them for Ethan, who was watching and trying not to laugh from outside. Others piled into the 5-Ton truck as the gangbangers down range began to come to grips with the fact that they were surrounded by truly dead people, thousands of them. They were also in the gun sights of a well trained militia, the ones who’d stacked the bodies they’d become stuck on. Slowly the two trucks crept toward the
"Who the hell is shooting at us?"
"A bunch uh' fuckin niggers!" A kid, no older than fifteen shouted, working the bolt of his rifle, the brass casing clinking on the ground next to him.
"Well aren’t you charming." Ethan rolled his eyes. He was no racist, that might falsely imply he liked anyone in the first place. "Well, who are they? Does anyone fucking know, or did you just start shooting?”
"I'd say Bloods.” Another rifleman said. “They’re lit up like Redcoats, man. Looks like their Caddie got stuck when they started running over the bodies we stacked."
A few more shots rang out, Keith waved his hands, "Cease fire! Cease fire!"
The kid snickered. "That'll happen to you when you try to take ‘twenty- fours’ off- roading. Fucking ghetto rat tard fuckers."
"So when you sit there late at night, masturbating to your elf character on WoW and dropping a load on your anime print body-pillow, do you ever stop to think about truly fucking sick you really are?” Ethan narrowed his eyes and addressed the rest of the Minutemen assembled. "No one shoots until we find out what they want. Let them run out of ammo, we’re well out of range of handguns." He stood up and heard a few more shots fired from downrange. The gangbangers only had pistols, maybe even a sawed off shotgun. They certainly had no idea how to properly use either. "Keith, go get that up-armored M1114 and a five ton. We'll bring them back here and in-process them."
"In-process?" Rowe stood as well, realizing there was a snowball’s chance in hell of getting hit. "Are we arresting them?"
"Did they shoot first?" Ethan turned to the kid. The kid looked away and made a discrete exit. "Arresting them is your call, we'll get information and identification from them and then we can push them on South. There's a lot of vehicles here, we can afford to give them one if it means we don’t have to keep gang-bangers around.”
"Why waste the gas on ‘em?" A man asked. "Fuck ‘em."
"Yes. Right. ‘Fuck them.’ That makes loads of sense. Why don't we just go ahead and quarter them at your neighbor's abandoned house instead, Mr. Singer is it? I thought you were a Man of God.” The bearded Minuteman's frown made his beard twist in funny ways when scolded by Officer Rowe. "Deputy Cally’s idea will work fine. We'll send them on their way. Escort them as far as Bourbon so we know they won't come back."
Keith returned with the truck and another driver. He forgot to unlock the other doors and had to play twister inside the Humvee to unlock them for Ethan, who was watching and trying not to laugh from outside. Others piled into the 5-Ton truck as the gangbangers down range began to come to grips with the fact that they were surrounded by truly dead people, thousands of them. They were also in the gun sights of a well trained militia, the ones who’d stacked the bodies they’d become stuck on. Slowly the two trucks crept toward the
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