|
Journey
|
Hell on Earth (short story)
|
The year is 2056. I have no memory. No family. No government. Complete anarchy. I sit up, awoken from my deep slumber, in a puddle of my own feces and urine. I hear a gun go off, panicked I scramble to find my trusty weapon of choice: The AK-47. Grasping the gun in my chest, I sliver out the back and prepare for an ambush. My name is Hunter Madrid; and this is my story.
“Hunter, hurry up! You’re gonna be late for school!” mother said at the bottom of the stairs. “Damn.” I think to myself. “Can’t this woman hang on for a second, I still have 15 minutes before the first bell.” I say out loud, “Coming mom!” Rushing down the stairs, I grab my brand new backpack, shiny new pair of shoes, and my new hat. First day of high school. I’m extremely nervous. My mom drives me to school, trying to make small talk. I answer back, appreciating the gesture, but nothing can calm the butterflies in my stomach. We arrive. I open the door, grabbing my backpack and waving goodbye to my mom. The car screeches away, leaving me in a cloud of dust. I walk to the main entrance, shakingly opening the door. I hear the bell ring when I’m putting the last of my books away in the locker. Confused on where to go, I’m late on the first day. I finally made it and the teacher didn't seem surprised. “Find a seat, and sit down.” Was the only remark he told me. We start off with an introduction and things get going. “Welcome to World History, today I will talk about the Civil War going on in the United States currently. As some of you may or may not know, a group of Elite Marines started their own clan and has rebelled against the U.S. Over 1.5 million deaths so far, starting from the North and slowly making its way down to the South. If, and God forbid, a time ever comes where you’re in danger, just remember: You either die a fighter, or die as a coward. I will not judge you pupils what side you’re on, but..” the teacher struggles to speak the last few words, “Good Luck.” The students are in a mumble daze. Everyone asking each other “Which side are you on?! The rebels or government?” To me, they are both the same. Killing innocent people for their own sake. That’s when the bombs started dropping.
The last thing I remember was a guy with a bayonet tackling me, bringing me down the oblivion of a deep lake. I swim for my life, gasping for little air bubbles. A shot whizzes past my face, and I turn back to see a puddle of blood. Fighting for my life, I somehow make it back to shore. Catching my strained breath, I see a group of armed men approaching me. I panic. I contain my breathing and see what they want. They come to me, and say nothing. I see on the sewn patch of their arm they are fighting against the government; The Elite Marines. One man grabs me up and spins me around. He grunts and gives a nod to a man holding two rifles. The man passes me the rifle and tells me I am now apart of TEM. He says only these commands, “You are not to ask who we are. You are to obey our every command. If you do not, you will get shot. If you see someone without a patch on their arm, you fire. Okay, let’s go.” They start jogging down a hill, I follow a couple dozen steps back. I need to remember to thank my Cross Country coach when this is all over, I remind myself. We travel at night and sleep during the day. The men do not speak to me, they do not ask me who I am, where I’m from, or how old I am. Frightened, I follow their every order. Upon eavesdropping, I find out what happened and caused this war. The United States government is starting it’s version of the Holocaust. First, they take away our guns; not obeying the second amendment which allows us to carry fire weapons. Smart move by them. Slowly taking away every protection we have, and then killing us. One Navy man saw a top secret document from the president himself. Saying the plan to execute the entire world, starting with the US, to create a better world. A complete dictatorship world. He tells his comrades and some believe him, and some do not. The ones who believed him broke free from their command central and gathered a small group of people to join them. A couple weeks in the group has already increased to 19,300 people. But it’s not enough. A single airstrike from the government could end them all. Slowly, they start eliminating the Marines, Air Force, Army, and Navy one by one. No one knows it’s actually them shooting at their own allies in the middle of the night. Until, an SR-71 Blackbird spotted them. 50 trained elite snipers, perched on a rock. They come back with an RPG and obliterate every single one of them. That’s really when the government found out about the rebel group. All hell broke loose.
As I’m waiting for the people to approach me, I remember my teacher’s word of advice ringing in my head. “You either die a fighter, or die as a coward.” That gives me all the motivation I need. Shadows. I count 9 of them in total. I cock my gun and breathe out heavily. I can do this. I find a dark place behind some crates and I crouch, waiting. One by one them walk past me, alert. As the last guy walks by, he stops and tells his group to be quiet, and listen. I dare not to breathe. Sweat is dripping down my face, stinging my eye. One guy screams, “OVER THERE! BEHIND THE CRATES!” I panic. My finger moves by itself, pulling the trigger. TEM gave me a new prototype of a bullet proof vest. It uses natural resources to sponge the bullet inside. I feel a slight tingle in my upper torso as the shots are being fired. I hear a loud thud. Followed by another, and another, and another. 8 loud thuds in total. One last time, I pulled the trigger. Empty. I reload and walk out the crates, finding the 9th guy sprawled on the ground fighting for his life. Before I kill him, I ask him a few questions. “Tell me or this bullet is going through your fucking head! Where are you headed?” He doesn’t answer. “One last chance, asshole.” He groans, and pulls something out of his pocket. I position my gun and put the lead that ends his life. I search all of them. Nothing. Not one clue. I slump back against the wall, waiting for my comrades to return from their recon mission.
“Hunter, hurry up! You’re gonna be late for school!” mother said at the bottom of the stairs. “Damn.” I think to myself. “Can’t this woman hang on for a second, I still have 15 minutes before the first bell.” I say out loud, “Coming mom!” Rushing down the stairs, I grab my brand new backpack, shiny new pair of shoes, and my new hat. First day of high school. I’m extremely nervous. My mom drives me to school, trying to make small talk. I answer back, appreciating the gesture, but nothing can calm the butterflies in my stomach. We arrive. I open the door, grabbing my backpack and waving goodbye to my mom. The car screeches away, leaving me in a cloud of dust. I walk to the main entrance, shakingly opening the door. I hear the bell ring when I’m putting the last of my books away in the locker. Confused on where to go, I’m late on the first day. I finally made it and the teacher didn't seem surprised. “Find a seat, and sit down.” Was the only remark he told me. We start off with an introduction and things get going. “Welcome to World History, today I will talk about the Civil War going on in the United States currently. As some of you may or may not know, a group of Elite Marines started their own clan and has rebelled against the U.S. Over 1.5 million deaths so far, starting from the North and slowly making its way down to the South. If, and God forbid, a time ever comes where you’re in danger, just remember: You either die a fighter, or die as a coward. I will not judge you pupils what side you’re on, but..” the teacher struggles to speak the last few words, “Good Luck.” The students are in a mumble daze. Everyone asking each other “Which side are you on?! The rebels or government?” To me, they are both the same. Killing innocent people for their own sake. That’s when the bombs started dropping.
The last thing I remember was a guy with a bayonet tackling me, bringing me down the oblivion of a deep lake. I swim for my life, gasping for little air bubbles. A shot whizzes past my face, and I turn back to see a puddle of blood. Fighting for my life, I somehow make it back to shore. Catching my strained breath, I see a group of armed men approaching me. I panic. I contain my breathing and see what they want. They come to me, and say nothing. I see on the sewn patch of their arm they are fighting against the government; The Elite Marines. One man grabs me up and spins me around. He grunts and gives a nod to a man holding two rifles. The man passes me the rifle and tells me I am now apart of TEM. He says only these commands, “You are not to ask who we are. You are to obey our every command. If you do not, you will get shot. If you see someone without a patch on their arm, you fire. Okay, let’s go.” They start jogging down a hill, I follow a couple dozen steps back. I need to remember to thank my Cross Country coach when this is all over, I remind myself. We travel at night and sleep during the day. The men do not speak to me, they do not ask me who I am, where I’m from, or how old I am. Frightened, I follow their every order. Upon eavesdropping, I find out what happened and caused this war. The United States government is starting it’s version of the Holocaust. First, they take away our guns; not obeying the second amendment which allows us to carry fire weapons. Smart move by them. Slowly taking away every protection we have, and then killing us. One Navy man saw a top secret document from the president himself. Saying the plan to execute the entire world, starting with the US, to create a better world. A complete dictatorship world. He tells his comrades and some believe him, and some do not. The ones who believed him broke free from their command central and gathered a small group of people to join them. A couple weeks in the group has already increased to 19,300 people. But it’s not enough. A single airstrike from the government could end them all. Slowly, they start eliminating the Marines, Air Force, Army, and Navy one by one. No one knows it’s actually them shooting at their own allies in the middle of the night. Until, an SR-71 Blackbird spotted them. 50 trained elite snipers, perched on a rock. They come back with an RPG and obliterate every single one of them. That’s really when the government found out about the rebel group. All hell broke loose.
As I’m waiting for the people to approach me, I remember my teacher’s word of advice ringing in my head. “You either die a fighter, or die as a coward.” That gives me all the motivation I need. Shadows. I count 9 of them in total. I cock my gun and breathe out heavily. I can do this. I find a dark place behind some crates and I crouch, waiting. One by one them walk past me, alert. As the last guy walks by, he stops and tells his group to be quiet, and listen. I dare not to breathe. Sweat is dripping down my face, stinging my eye. One guy screams, “OVER THERE! BEHIND THE CRATES!” I panic. My finger moves by itself, pulling the trigger. TEM gave me a new prototype of a bullet proof vest. It uses natural resources to sponge the bullet inside. I feel a slight tingle in my upper torso as the shots are being fired. I hear a loud thud. Followed by another, and another, and another. 8 loud thuds in total. One last time, I pulled the trigger. Empty. I reload and walk out the crates, finding the 9th guy sprawled on the ground fighting for his life. Before I kill him, I ask him a few questions. “Tell me or this bullet is going through your fucking head! Where are you headed?” He doesn’t answer. “One last chance, asshole.” He groans, and pulls something out of his pocket. I position my gun and put the lead that ends his life. I search all of them. Nothing. Not one clue. I slump back against the wall, waiting for my comrades to return from their recon mission.