Dominance by Michael Jones

Author:Michael Jones [Jones, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-05-26T04:30:00+00:00

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Meanwhile, one hour ago about 9:35 p.m. at Kyle’s house in New Haven, Joe was settling in nicely in front of the sixty-two inch flat-screen in the den. Kyle’s mother-in-law, Darlene took the baby to the downstairs bathroom, cleaned him up, and changed his soiled diaper. Doug placed all the bottles of generic milk formula into the refrigerator. When he closed the refrigerator door, a loud explosion was heard as the house’s front door exploded inward, shooting pieces of wood and glass everywhere. Joe jumped up out of Mirtle’s recliner as the house alarms screamed on. “Get to the basement!” he yelled reaching for the long bag that was next to the table his chips and beer rested on. He pulled out Kyle’s M-4 Assault Rifle and loaded a full clip as he ran into the hallway that lead to the kitchen. He kneeled in the shooting position and waited for the intruders to enter through the large hole they blasted in the front of the house. The lights went out as Joe stared into the darkness, waiting for someone to enter. Two men cautiously stood at the edge of the hole and threw a smoke grenade into the hallway. It rolled spewing smoke all throughout the house as the men quickly rushed in aiming AK-47’s. Joe fired a non-stop burst of bullets that flashed from the M-4 assault rifle, killing the men before they took two steps into the house. Something else was thrown down the hallway and Joe recognizes the sound as two hit the hard-wood floors. “Oh shit,” he said jumping to the floor in the kitchen. “Concussion grenades!” The first grenade popped Joe’s eardrums as the blinding light flashed in the hallway. The second grenade exploded close to the stairway, and Joe jumped to his feet disoriented and blind, firing the assault rifle wildly, hoping he was aiming toward the missing front door. He could hear another attacker scream as his bullets hit his legs. Then gun-fire from a AK-47 rattled the walls leading to the kitchen. Joe, after regaining some of his hearing and eye sight, ran to the basement as he heard men speaking a different language, recognizing it was possibly Russian. The intruders then ran to the basement stairway and fired downward, blasting chips away from the lower wooden arm rails as Joe ran into the safe-room. He closed the large three inch thick door as Doug called the police. After hearing footsteps, they heard gunfire hitting the outside of the door followed by angry men speaking in Russian. There was a moment of silence. “Everybody move back,” order Joe. “Get down and cover your heads.” He knew they would use explosive, but didn’t know how much. There was a loud explosion as the three of them ducked behind a three foot high mini refrigerator. Joe looked up and the door had a huge inward dent in it, but it was still locked. “Now that’s what I call, made in America,” he said standing to his feet as the baby cried hysterically.

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