The End War_A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller by Mark Gillespie

Author:Mark Gillespie [Gillespie, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-05-11T06:00:00+00:00

9

About twelve men, all dressed in dark khaki green uniforms leapt out of the jeeps. They were well armed, wielding a combination of semi-automatic rifles, machine guns and handguns. Somebody yelled something at Mr. China, who was standing on the highway, a solitary figure trapped in the white headlights that cut through the gloomy day.

Some of the invaders ran over to the Chinaman and barked out a series of commands. Upon first impression, Eda found their language a harsh one that sounded more like hissing and spitting, than talking.

Mr. China placed his rifle down on the road and then very slowly, he unbuckled his weapons belt and threw it to the ground.

Two of the men, rake thin and robot-eyed, hurried over and patted Mr. China down, searching for any hidden weapons. When they didn’t find anything they pushed the soldier towards one of the jeeps.

The other invaders turned their attention to Eda and Goldman. Since the arrival of the jeeps, the two Americans had been standing with their hands up about fifteen feet away from the road. The foreigners edged off the highway, stepping onto the old work site. Eda got a good look at them as they came closer. They looked young, most of them – late teens, early twenties at most. Skinny, wiry frames. Their skin was a light yellowish-brown color, their expressions uniformly fierce and impatient. And perhaps a little frightened too.

They were grunts. Foot soldiers of the invasion.

They talked to each other while the rain began to pick up again.

One of the grunts walked over to Goldman, muttering something under his breath. The old soldier was patted down and searched for weapons. After a brief examination, they took his belt and the dagger strapped to his lower leg. One of the grunts began pushing Goldman back towards the highway. To the old man’s horror, he was thrown into the backseat of the first jeep next to Mr. China.

The two old enemies didn’t even look at one another.

Several of the grunts approached Eda. She saw the hesitation in their eyes, spreading like a virus amongst them. Maybe they thought she was a foreign witch that would bedazzle them with magic spells if they got too close.

If only, she thought.

Eventually one of them, a tall skin and bones soldier with a pencil thin mustache, leapt forward and snatched Eda’s sword out of the hilt with a loud gasp. He laughed wildly, then reached down and picked her gun up off the dirt. After he’d disarmed her, the grunt did a clumsy victory dance that went around in dizzying circles for about ten seconds. He held the gun and sword aloft throughout the celebration. When it was done he gave the weapons to another grunt, turned back to Eda and berated her in an outraged tone of voice, spitting out words in a machine gun, rat-a-tat rhythm. His breath was foul, like something was dead at the back of his throat.

Eda kept her hands up at all times.

The grunt came closer, examining her from head to toe.

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