Marines by Jay Allan Read Free Book Online Page A

violent and usually short, and Gang members caught by the authorities were typically summarily executed.  Still, there was no shortage of recruits.
    The Gangs fought each other also, and two of them warred over our neighborhood - the Reds and the Wolfpack.  The Reds were bigger, but the Wolfpack seemed smarter and better led, and there was a stalemate between the two, neither able to gain an advantage.  The constant warfare was hard on the locals, who not only bore the extortion from both sides, but were also stuck in the crossfire.
    For three years my family lived in this new reality, and as people usually do when confronted with a previously unimaginable situation, we adapted.  The lost luxuries of life in the Zone were slowly forgotten, and we began to learn how to make life bearable in our new home. 
    My mother never really accepted things, and she withdrew more and more into herself until she barely spoke at all.  But my father tried tirelessly to make our lives more comfortable.  The work, the regret, the resentment...I know it devoured him, but he never really let us see that, and he never quite gave up. 
    My father was an educated man, and I think what got to him the most was the fact that, with no schooling available outside the Zone, my sisters and I would have no real hope of a better life.  Despite the hours he worked, he made time to tutor the three of us every day.  Somehow he even scraped up enough to buy me a small solar-powered infopad, and I'd sneak up to the roof and connect to the Net whenever I could.  For three years, that was our life, and as much as possible it had become normal to me.
    I was up on the roof with my 'pad late one day.  My mind wandered into a daydream, and I wasn't really paying attention to what I was reading.  I was gazing absent-mindedly across the sea of battered, half-standing buildings that stretched as far north and west as I could see, and then I heard it.  A quick shout, then a crashing sound, and after that, a blood-curdling scream. 
    I jumped up and ran to the hatch that led back into the building and, grabbing the rope handle, I yanked it open.  Gunshots, then more screams.  I climbed over the edge onto the ladder, listening to my raspy breathing and feeling my hands go numb from panic.  More shots.  No more screams, just scuffling sounds and a door slamming.  In my rush I put my foot down too hard on a half rotten rung, and it snapped in half.  I tumbled off the ladder about halfway down to the top floor landing.  My 'pad slipped out of my hand and shattered when it hit the floor.
    I was stunned for a minute, then when I tried to get up I realized I'd twisted my ankle.  The fall probably saved my life.  By the time I managed to get downstairs, it was over.
    I managed to get up, favoring my injured ankle, and climbed down the ladder to the fourth floor.  A sharp pain ran up my leg with each step, but between fear and adrenalin I wasn't troubled by it.  I could hear the thunderclap of my heart in my ears as I hopped off the ladder onto my good foot and stumbled to our apartment.  Our door had been kicked open and was hanging loosely at an angle, still connected by one hinge like a child's tooth almost ready to come out.  Inside, the apartment was a nightmare.
    There was blood all over the floor and walls.  The furniture was knocked over and scattered around, and the tattered rug was covered with the shards of what looked like every breakable item in the place. 
    My mother was in the kitchen, lying on the floor next to the counter.  There was blood all around her, and though I could tell she was dead, I couldn't see exactly where she'd be shot.  I couldn't bring myself to touch her or even look, and I forced myself to turn away.  That was the last glimpse I had of my mother.
    I stumbled back out into the main room and saw my father.  I'd missed him when I had first run into the apartment.  He was lying next to an overturned desk, looking