Day one: Serbian Control

Day 1,460, 04:32 • Published in USA USA • by JohnGreenetherealone

Serbia hit fast. I didn't know why, or when, because we had been fighting Spain. They took the capital, then went the east coast. When I saw tank rolling into SC, I fought with all my might. I stabbed, I shot, I punched. Only the men were left. The women and children fled, the men refused to go. Every shot counted. Problem is, I only had ammo for a sub machine gun. A childhood friend died, so I took his dogtags. His wife was going to family in Alaska. I sent her some dogtags, and she broke down. But this isn't where I've lead you yet. It's where it will be. Anyways, a man came up, aimed a shotgun. Three seconds... Two seconds... One second... Bang. Since I was running, it didn't hurt as bad, but my foot had pellets lodged in it. I couldn't make it out alive. I blacked out after running. I woke up. Serbians. Dark room. I got up, but there were restraints. I couldn't get up. Flash. I was dreaming. The flash? It was a few nurses and a doctor who stayed back. They bandaged me, and I had to stay in bed for a few days. I did. When I did, I had to sneak past the Serbian lines. I only had a knife and a pistol with nine rounds. I thought it'd be easy. Easier said than done. I ran as fast as possible, until I saw the border, where there were hundreds of fortifications per half mile. Then it hit me. I wasn't getting out. I needed to get out the most cunning way possible. I had to walk back to Columbia, taking only a few days, luckily. I went to the metropolitan airport, where they were getting choppers and jets. I saw people welding weapons onto them. I walked to a helipad. Jumped in the heli, and I was going to get into the cockpit when... Pop. A silenced pistol. I heard a little metal denting sound. I turned, and shot. Now I had to either save all these men who were captured, or fly off. I shot like a male prostitute. "GET ON." I yelled. The few Americans in hearing range got onto the chopper. I turned on the engine, and propeller engine. "All ready?" Asked I. Nods were exchanged. I leveled the chopper, and took off...