A Town Called America by Andrew Alexander Read Free Book Online Page B

is…”
    “Chris, it’s OK. You couldn’t have known it was—”
    Chris cut Rick off. “I knew it was him. He brought people.”
    Rick pushed Chris to a couple of feet away, and with his hands on her shoulders, he looked her dead in the eyes. “We need to go now,” he said calmly, and without argument, they moved down the trail with Chris securely behind him until they stopped near the tree line just behind the cabin. Scanning the area, Rick saw at least six more armed people moving toward the RV, but before either he or Chris had time to react, a wave of bullets erupted around them.
    The only way to go was back up the hill. The gunfire seemed to hang in the air for an eternity. Trees burst all around as the bullets came within inches of them.
    Rick turned back up the hill, shoving Chris in front of him. He yelled at her to move to the top of the hill as fast as she could. “Followthe path by the lake until you get to the first house you see,” he told her. “I’ll meet you there. Now go!”
    Chris hesitated for a moment, trying to grasp everything that was happening, and then she did as Rick asked. She moved up the hill until she reached the top, where she saw that the cabin was on fire. The smoke quickly filled the air, and ashes skewed her vision. A moment later she was gone.
    Rick was still at the bottom of the hill, firing his weapon like the soldier he once had been. He hit his targets and watched them fall to the ground one after another. The first one fell and then a second. It wasn’t long before two more men attempted to flank him from the left side. He knew at that point he had lost his fortress, because at the same time, he was being flanked three people who had just ripped open the hatch to the RV. He was now losing the only thing he was desperately trying to hang on to from his life before, he was now loosing.
    The cabin, the property, and the few belongings he had worked so hard to obtain—he was losing it all. If there ever was such a thing as the American dream, it was now dead, and Rick knew there was nothing he could do to change it.
    With a flood of anger, he turned to move up the hill when a bullet ripped into his left side and another into his arm. Rick dropped to the ground as the burning sensation shot up his spine into his brain; then his vision began to go black. Unable to breathe he felt as if his mind also were on fire.

    Chris had been running as fast and as hard as she could toward the lake. She barely found the trail through the smoke, but when she did, she followed it through the woods until she came upon a black iron fence with decorative spikes on top, preventing her from climbing over.
    Without a second thought, she pointed her pistol at the lock and fired. Then she fired another shot, this one opening the way to her destination.

    At the bottom of the hill, Rick’s vision started to return. His sight was still somewhat blurry, and he was bleeding, but when he opened his eyes, he was looking up at a man he didn’t recognize standing over him. The man was tall and slender, with long dirty hair and a beard. His clothes were tattered, and he was looking straight down at Rick.
    “I like your boots,” he said in a condescending tone.
    Rick tried to reach for his shotgun with his right hand, but it was a moot point, as the man stepped on the weapon, preventing Rick from grabbing it. With no words exchanged, the two men looked at each other for a moment before the man pointed his pistol at Rick’s head.
    A moment later the man lurched backward, screaming in pain. Rick had managed to stab him through the foot with his seven-inch Elvis knife, which was now sticking out of the man’s right boot. With the last of his energy, Rick rolled over and reached for his shotgun. Grasping the weapon, he turned onto his back and shot the man in the chest. He flew backward as hundreds of tiny pellets ripped through his chest. Blood instantly splattered on Rick’s face.
    With the little energy