Michael

Short Stories
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2005-03-31 15:43:07 (UTC)

The End ... Page 1 / ?

He was dead before he even hit the ground.
"Fuck! Where did that shot come from?"
The distant, uninterrupted sound of gunfire contrasted
with the rubble strewn streets, collapsed buildings, and
the acrid and dry odor of burnt gunpowder provided an all
too surreal experience. The end of the world, that everyone
thinks of but never really believes would come to pass, was
right here. The scenic destruction all around Sgt. Taelor,
seemed just like that. Scenic. But just as quickly, as his
mind touched briefly upon the thought of all of it ending,
he was brought back to the present. The end of all things,
was happening right now.
"Cover!" ordered Taelor.
His nine-man strong platoon was already in the process of
scattering. Ducking themselves behind small hills of
rubble, partially destroyed walls, or whatever else they
could find to place between themselves and fire. The tenth
man, was left in the middle of the street, a disturbingly
large exit wound out the front of his head.
"I didn't see where that one came from." said Corporal
Huckeim, crouching behind the wall of a partially
collapsed building, his M1 carbine in the ready.
Taelor joined Huckeim behind the wall. The noise of
gunfire was steadily increasing.
After a moment's glance to check on his men, the sargent
carefully moved towards the edge of the wall and briefly
peeked around the corner. Barely a half second later,
pulling his head back quickly, illicited a solitary, sharp
crack of a rifle. The sargent felt the bullet strike the
concrete wall behind him. Embedding itself harmlessly into
the stone wall. An all too real reminder of some sort,
thought Taelor.

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