Dog Food and Terror- part two

I came to under a blitz of gunfire. Pow POW POW! It was both deafening and the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. The terrorist who broke my jaw lay dead beside me. Good. I hope he suffered.


From where I lay I could see the battlefield. The terrorists were hunkered behind the checkout lines. They were shooting at military looking guys in the parking lot. I didn’t know who they were. I only hoped they were accurate.


Bullets whizzed past. I suddenly realized I was in danger. I was more angry than scared. Save me, kill me, but don’t leave me here.


An RPG blew up half the pharmacy. A terrorist was redistributed all over the store. The bottom half slid into the deli aisle. The other half landed on top of me. Along with his pistol.


What do you get when you combine a weapon with a man with nothing to lose? Revenge.


I’d never even held a loaded gun before. It was heavy. It felt powerful. Closing one eye I took aim and fired. I missed. The recoil nearly broke my wrist. Stupid, stupid, stupid, I said to myself. In the chaos of the firefight no one noticed me. They thought I was already dead. There’s no reason fear a dead man. They were wrong.


I took aim again and fired. This time I blew a commie’s beret right off his head. I looked for other targets by rolling around on the ground. It hurt, but my rage hurt more. I shot another on my right. Then another.


The military stormed in. I dropped the gun and watched them effectively finish their job. They were shocked to find me alive. A medic arrived and gave me a shot of morphine. Nectar of the gods.



This morning I needed dog food. A typical day with typical errands. I didn’t want to join a war. I didn’t want to kill. I did it because I was tired and angry. I did it because they pushed me to a place I didn’t know existed. Some people may consider me a coward. Others a hero. What ever I am, it’s radically different from what I was yesterday.


About vanyieck

There is nothing about me that is more interesting than you. I am a man. I have a wife and family. I have a career. I have two dogs. I
This entry was posted in communism, Communist, dog food, fiction, flash fiction, short fiction, short story, story, storypraxis, terror, terrorist and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Dog Food and Terror- part two

  1. Great story. I suppose that does happen in other countries. I just couldn’t imagine it–living with fear every day

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