Posted by
Catmman on Monday, October 27, 2008 1:16:30 PM
The window crashes in.
Adrenaline dumps into your bloodstream. The flight or fight response kicks in. From what you’ve already witnessed, the flight urge is almost overpowering. This is your house however and you’re going to defend it and yourself.
You try to remember – “Breath. Slow, controlled breath. Check your ‘six’. Don’t get boxed in. Wait for a clear shot.” Your finger slips from the ready position outside the trigger guard to the trigger. “Squeeze the trigger, don’t yank it!” you remind yourself. “Tight position in the shoulder pocket, good stock weld.”
“Don’t panic!” is the primary command from your mind.
A body claws and crawls its way into the front room of your house. “Stop, I will shoot” you warn the intruder. At the sound of your voice, the intruders head snaps directly towards you. An inhuman growl, loud and menacing escapes from ‘his’ mouth. Outside, the moan is joined by several others trying to get into your home. A crescendo of ungodly noise rises outside what’s left of the window.
“Well, they know I’m here now” you think as you switch on the Surefire fore-end light on your shotgun. You point it towards the intruder now gaining his footing inside your home.
What you see is almost beyond comprehension: A bedraggled person wearing disheveled clothes. It looks like the front of ‘his’ clothes are covered with blood; it looks dark, not fresh, yet still glistens with a moist sheen. The front of ‘his’ throat is gone?! He is covered with other wounds on his arms, face, hands – they appear to be covered in blood, not dripping, but congealed.
The intruder gains his feet, the moaning incessant which chills your blood. You take a few steps back separating yourself and the intruder by ten to fifteen feet. You issue one more warning, “Stop, I will shoot.” You are surprised by the calmness of your voice.
No response from the intruder other than the moan. He steps towards you…
You feel a slight push against your shoulder. The room is filled with a brilliant flash, gone in an instant. You notice the aroma of spent gunpowder. You hear the report, an overwhelming noise in the confines of your home but your mind doesn’t register it initially. The weapon cycles automatically – one shot spent, three left in the shotgun. The intruder is down, a large hole in the center of ‘his’ chest. No blood flows from the wound. You’ve pulled the trigger and just killed another human being. Your mind reels.
The intruder has fallen backwards and is now resting against the wall. Other hands, other bodies, are trying to crawl into your home through the broken window. You turn your attention towards them when you notice…
“Impossible! WTF?”
The intruder you just shot is attempting to regain his footing...
He’s not dead!
“I hit him right square in the chest! Fifteen feet, basically point blank range. He took a 12 gauge shot of number four buckshot at point blank range and he’s still moving!? He’s trying to stand again?!”
You fire again. Point blank range, dead center of mass shot. Another hole appears as before in the intruders’ chest. The weapon cycles automatically – two shots spent, two left in the shotgun. As before, this shot knocks the intruder off his feet, against the wall.
Another body is crawling into the room through the window. You take a quick bead on the new intruders head and fire. The weapon cycles automatically – three shots spent, one shot left in the shotgun.
The new intruders’ head disappears in a moist spray of bone and brain matter – “No blood! Why isn’t there any blood?!” You fail to notice in the heat of the moment that there is plenty of blood, but that it is caked into the brain matter, coagulated.
The new intruders’ body is now blocking the window entrance for the others trying to get in to you, but that isn’t your main concern at the moment…
The first intruder has now regained his feet and is advancing towards you yet again.
You make a hip shot (at this range you can’t miss) and fire a third shot into the advancing intruder’s abdomen.
The weapon cycles automatically – four shots spent, the bolt locks to the rear – you fail to notice.
The first intruder is thrown from ‘his’ feet yet again and is lying on the floor. After a few seconds ‘he’ is moving again...
“Three shots and he’s not dead!?”
“Impossible!” your mind screams...
The intruder is almost on his feet again. You raise your shotgun for the coup ‘de grace, a head shot…
You feel no push against your shoulder. There is no blinding flash. No associated smell of spent gunpowder. Nothing happens when you pull the trigger! You failed to notice your weapon was empty – you forgot to reload.
The intruder regains his feet. His arms outstretched towards you.
His hands only feet away from your throat…
Too be continued...