Meet The Snipes/Issue 8

This is Issue 8 of Meet The Snipes.

Issue 8
Night has fallen upon us, and everyone in the house seems happy, as if we didn’t see what we did, it’s nice. Rose and a recently woken Diana talk, Rose tells her stories of her past and that. Ron and John watch the news, hoping for something of help appear, maybe something about Atlanta. Anna and Hannah talk about whatever woman talk about, make up or something. I just sit down drinking my coffee that Hannah made me, I try to sit as upright as I can, so the wounds that Hannah sewed up won’t reopen, apparently those were deep cuts.

I look to Ron and John, “Any better news?” I ask them.

“Unless you count the death toll rising and Atlanta being moved to a stage 9 catastrophe good news, then nothing, oh and uh supplies are being cut off from traveling overseas, and all transport in and out of the U.S. have been cut off.” John says.

“Oh and the neighborhood we are near is not as bad as Atlanta, it should be calm here for a while, not saying it will, but hopefully it will, we need some peace and quiet after today. My leg I still irritating me.” Ron says.

“Same here, but with my back.” I say.

“Well shit if we are talking about pains-“ John starts to say, but then we hear a gunshot ring from outside.

“Stay here, me, Ron, and John will figure this out, Hannah keep Diana calm okay, and if you hear a gunshot, hide in the shed in the back yard okay, and don’t hesitate. Let’s go guys.” I say.

We all walk outside the front door, and we see a military convoy stopped in the middle of the street, and they are looking at all the other people who are standing outside their homes, waiting for answers about this entire thing.

<span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Helvetica","sans-serif"">But we don’t get answers, all we get is a simple “GET BACK IN YOUR HOMES!” The captain says, brandishing the automatic rifle strapped to his chest.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Helvetica","sans-serif"">“HEY, WE WANT TO KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON HERE. WE ALL JUST WAKE UP ONE DAY TO FIND THE DEAD EATING THE LIVING. WE WANT SOME ANSWERS, AND YOU ARE THE U.S. MILITARY, EXPLAIN WHAT IS HAPPENING!” I yell.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Helvetica","sans-serif"">John puts a hand on my chest, as if restraining me from continuing, then he gives a small nod to the captains rifle.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Helvetica","sans-serif"">Then a man walks forward, and goes to the captains face, “WHAT IS HAPPENING HUH?” He yells.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Helvetica","sans-serif"">Then the captain quickly draws his gun, and shoots the man through the chest. The man collapses, then the captain looks at the rest of us.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Helvetica","sans-serif"">“ANYONE ELSE GOT QUESTIONS, HUH? CAUSE MY LITTLE FRIEND RIGHT HERE WOULD LOVE TO ANSWER THEM, I COULD GET YOU A PRIVATE APPOINTMENT IF YOU WANT.” The man yells.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Helvetica","sans-serif"">I feel a giant ball of rage fill my stomach, the captain just killed the man like it was nothing, and the man just wanted answers, he was as scared as the rest of us. This was the greatest unjust yet.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Helvetica","sans-serif"">“HEY, WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM, THE MAN JUST WANTED ANSWERS. I THOUGHT YOU WERE A PART OF THE MILITARY, YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO PROTECT AND SERVE THIS COUNTRY, NOT SHOOT DOWN IT’S CITIZENS!” I yell, the ball of rage curling up every second.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Helvetica","sans-serif"">“HOW ABOUT YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GET BACK IN YOUR SHITTY HOUSE! LET THE U.S. MILITARY SORT OUT STUFF YOU WOULDN’T EVEN DREAM OF, EVEN HAVE A NIGHTMARE OF. SO SHUT UP AND GET BACK IN YOUR HOUSE, OR I’LL PUT A BULLET IN ONE OF THOSE GAY LITTLE EYES OF YOUR’S HUH!” The captain yells.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Helvetica","sans-serif"">“YOU ARE THE WORST FUCKING MILITARY I’VE EVER SE-“ I yell.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Helvetica","sans-serif"">But then I am interrupted by the captain lifting up his gun and pointing it at me. “On my mark, shoot.” He says.