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Survival (Post- Apocalyptic)

Short story By: Tazarius
Action and adventure

Survival in the U.S.A after a North Korea bombing and EMP attack is not pretty.

Submitted:Apr 30, 2013    Reads: 137    Comments: 1    Likes: 1   


Stan wandered through the abandoned suburbs in the evening , looking for a house that has potential food and supplies. He didn't need much, considering he was the only one he needed to feed. His family was wiped out from the raid of the mobs of people killing for items after North Korea detonated an EMP bomb on the U.S.A He didn't have to have to go for revenge either, because shortly after North Korea bombed all of the state capitals. More than 75% of the U.S.A population was dead. That includes all animals and plant life as well. There is no more government, no more electricity, no running water, and barely any animals to hunt or fish to catch. It's every man for himself, all the weak has died and only the strong survive. Anyone that is still alive is not an innocent civilian.

Stan was a father of three, he is 32, about 6 ft. tall and is lanky but strong. He lives in a log cabin he built in the forest, considering forests, small towns and neighborhoods are the only thing left. He looked through the suburbs looking for supplies to bring back to his shelter, when one particular house caught his eye. It was average size, well kept and you could see lantern light coming from the windows. "It's occupied." Stan thought to himself with excitement. Stan got his recurve bow from his back and stealthily crouch walked around to the side of the house. He then snuck into the backyard of the house, crawling beneath the windows. Stan quickly peeked through one of the windows next to the back screen door. He caught a glimpse of a man leaving the kitchen area, heading into what stan assumed was the living room. Stan checked for home made alarms and traps, and then slowly peeled the screen door back and entered into the kitchen.

Once he was inside, he took out his cotton strip and attached it to the bottom of his boots. The cotton strip is stripped cotton glued on to the back of duct tape. He puts the tape on the bottom of his boots so the cotton silences any squeaks when he moves. He nocked an arrow on his bow and began to head into the room the man he saw walked in too. However, as he walked into the hallway which connected the kitched to the rest of the rooms, he heard light footsteps coming from another direction. He walked backwards and went out the back screen door, but put a rock in between the door and the kitchen to keep it slightly open so he could enter silently and nobody would notice it was swung open. A woman walked into the kitchen. This was odd, for most survivors were loners and statistically only one person out of a five member family survived. Stan recollected his thoughts, and knew what he had to do. It was them or him.

He waited for the woman to turn her back to him and look in the cupboard. He drew his bow and slowly moved the door open with his foot. He aimed at her spine to paralyze her and prevent her from screaming. "Focus..Focus..Release." The arrow ripped through the air and penetrated her spine in the dead center. He timed the shot just as she shut the cupboard so the man wouldn't think twice about the noise, considering she fell and hit the floor rather hard. She fell board straight, and then began to squirm and twitch. Stan drew his knife from his belt holster and approached her. He held down her convulsing body and made a straight cut across her neck. He waited for her to die, and then redrew another arrow.

He went into the living room, and saw the man looking out the window to the front yard. Stan shot an arrow towards him, but the arrow jerked to the right and hit one of the lanterns on the wall. Fire engulfed the man, and he jumped away from the flames and quickly rolled on the floor while taking his jacket off. He got rid of the flames, and was staring Stan in the eye. Stan, knowing that every survivor has a weapon on him at all times, quickly drew a large wrench from his waist and charged the man before he could pull his weapon out. Stan swung over hand towards the man's skull while lunging forward, but the man side stepped to the left and jammed his knee into Stan's gut. While Stan was bent over the man's knee in pain, the man shoved Stan onto the floor and pulled out a handmade mace made out of a dumbbell and baseball bat grip. Stan got himself together and got on his feet. The man swung his mace to the right of Stan's shoulder. Stan hopped backwards and slammed his wrench into the man's fingers. The man screamed, but he did not drop the mace. Stan leapt forward and struck the man in the neck with his wrench and tackled him as the man fell backwards. He sat on the man's chest as he raised his wrench into the air. "No..please," the man quietly said, staring into Stan's eyes with intensity as if looking into his soul. Stan said nothing, he swung his wrench down and pummeled it into the man's forehead. The man screamed, and Stan continued to slam the wrench into the man's face and skull until the yelling stopped. Stan got up and let the adrenaline get out of his system.

Stan looked around the house and found two trash bags. He then went back to the corpses and stuffed them inside of the bags. He pulled out a couple of ropes and tied them around the bags and then he pulled them outside and began the trek back to his cabin. Stan had food for the night.


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