Author Topic: bad fiction - with a guest star - more chapters on pg 2  (Read 4447 times)

wtr100

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bad fiction - with a guest star - more chapters on pg 2
« on: August 26, 2011, 09:28:50 AM »
Part of a story I'm working on - enjoy or feel free to mock at will ...

spelling and grammar and such will be a little rough

---

Manny got out of the trucker's shower, toweled off and dressed.  Unlike a lot of truckers Manny took pride in his appearance.  He dresed in  Carhartt Khaki pants with a wide  brown nylon riggers belt to keep from having 'Plumners Butt'.  The belt also kept his 3" Para Warthog riding in it's Crossbreed Mini-tuck from pulling his pants down.  He pulled over a navy blue polo shirt and tucked in in then pulled on and laced up a pair of Chippewa boots.  A quick look in the mirror to make the the 'Hawg' wasn't printing in it's 4 o' clock position.  Manny was thinking about a tall stack of sourdough pancakes, butter and huckleberry preserves.  Coffee.  Hmmmm thick slice bacon or maybe sausage maybe even a small steak.  He hooked his ball cap GMCSW Trucking (Gunners Mate Chief, Surface Warfare Qualified) on a carabiner style clip.

----

Two cars pulled into the truck stop at Miles City Montanna.  It was a beautiful early summer day.   The driver in the first car smiled at his good fortune.  Between pump islands was a shiny silver tanker truck full of gasoline!  He drove drove between it and another big truck.  He stepped out, reached behind the seat and pulled an ancient AKM.   A lot attendant tried to tell him he couldn't park there and was shot in the belly for his trouble.  He was half way to the other car stopped at the entrance to the restaurant when he hit the detonator and the car exploded.  The charge knocked the two trucks sideways and over.  Instead of the hoped for gasoline the tanker was full of 80,000 lbs of high fructose corn syrup and the truck on the other side was loaded with 80,000 lbs of baking soda.  The fuel pumps auto shut off.  

Dropping the detonator he reached his partner in the attack.  Both men were dressed in blue jeans , running shoes and white dress shirts.  The men yelled "Allah who akbar!", walked into the truck stop diner and started shooting.  The plan was to split apart.  Shoot their way to the opposite ends of the truck stop, work their way back and drive off.  

----


Brrrrapppppppppppppppppppppp!!!!

Holy shit that's  an AK!  Manny thought.

Brrrapppppppppppppppppppppp!!!!

Screams

Brrrapppppppppppppppppppppp!!!!

Manny was dropping to the floor at the lunch counter when one of the white shirted men came into the dining room firing mostly at random.  Manny used his left hand to grab his shirt and expose the Warthog.  With his right hand he drew the compact if rather thick handgun.  The shooter walked right past not 30 feet away.  Against his better judgement Manny stood. There the shooter was, back too Manny firing at random.  Manny extended his Para pistol and began to press the trigger when the man's head snapped forward and he collapsed.  Behind the shooter and to his right was a small white haired man in a denim shirt and a black Stetson hat holding a huge revolver.

Unfortualy for Black Stetson the other man in white dress shirt and an AKM was moving into the room.  He raised and fired the  rifle at Black Stetson just as Manny fired at White Dress Shirt.  Fortuantely for Black Stetson, White Dress Shirt missed, Manny didn't.  Not heeding the common advice on the internet to only carry factory ammo, the Warthog was filled with cast 250 gr round nosed flat points over 3.5 grains of Red Dot powder by Manny's brother.  The first massive lead bullet hit White Dress Shirt in the third button shattering the button, breast bone before plowing through and snapping the spine.  Purely on auto pilot Manny fired a second round, he didn't quite get the pistol back to center of mass.  His second round hit White Dress Shirt an inch below the top of the scalp.  The big lead bullet tore a large piece of skull loose - leaving a horrible wound.  

Manny tracked the man to the ground, took a couple side steps and then scanned the room.  It was oddly quiet, he and Black Stetson seemed to be the only ones standing.  

"Son it looks like you saved my bacon", drawled Black Stetson.

There were sirens in the distance.  Manny looked at the man he's just shot, bent over at the waist and was loudly sick.

Black Stetson lowered his 3" Ruger .44 Special revolver and said, "That's ok son you let it all out."  He came over and guided Manny back to the lunch counter.  Manny set the Warthog on the counter.  "That looks like a good idea, this place is going to be crawling with Federales in no time."  Black Stetson placed his revolver on the counter.  Looking over the counter he saw a waitress cowering.  "Ma'am can I trouble you to get my friend some water or maybe a glass of juice."

She nodded and shakily brought a large glass of orange juice.  Black Stetson said, "Thanks ma'am can you please bring us a could of those big sweet rolls ya'll make here and maybe some coffee."  She headed off and turning to Manny, "It's probably going to be a while before we get to eat again."  

Manny nodded shakily and gestured,  "Your hat."

Black Stetson removed it and looked.  The then stuck a pinky though a hole in the crown, "Dayummm son, I liked that hat too!'  He stuck out his hand, "Name's Bane, Michael Bane.  The waitress arrived with plate sized sweet roll and coffee.   Michael Bane looked down at Manny's Para Ordinance Warthog, "I like that son, I like that a lot.  You eat up,best sweet rolls on the planet, it might be a while before we see a meal."  Manny nodded and ate.  It was indeed just the beginning.
  
Have your musket clean as a whistle, hatchet scoured, 60 rounds powder and ball and be ready to march at a minute's warning.

1Buckshot

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Re: bad fiction - with a specail guest
« Reply #1 on: August 26, 2011, 09:34:53 AM »
+100 ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D

Ichiban

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Re: bad fiction - with a guest star
« Reply #2 on: August 26, 2011, 11:09:04 AM »
But... but... I thought Michael said he carries a SR9c.  Or a 1911 if he's in the shower.   :o

wtr100

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Re: bad fiction - with a guest star
« Reply #3 on: August 26, 2011, 11:17:23 AM »
--snip--

is in the shower.   :o

I think I threw up in my mouth a little :p
Have your musket clean as a whistle, hatchet scoured, 60 rounds powder and ball and be ready to march at a minute's warning.

DaverZ

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Re: bad fiction - with a guest star
« Reply #4 on: August 26, 2011, 12:33:26 PM »
I think I'd love a copy of the book when it's finished.

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Re: bad fiction - with a guest star - more chapters on pg 2
« Reply #5 on: Today at 06:45:31 AM »

wtr100

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Re: bad fiction - with a guest star
« Reply #5 on: August 26, 2011, 01:37:11 PM »
it's not a whole book - just some stories posted here and there
Have your musket clean as a whistle, hatchet scoured, 60 rounds powder and ball and be ready to march at a minute's warning.

Big Frank

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Re: bad fiction - with a guest star
« Reply #6 on: August 26, 2011, 02:00:21 PM »
I really like it but the Warthog is only 3". I think your spell check screwed you up on a "couple" of sweet rolls. Keep up the good work.
""It may be laid down as a primary position, and the basis of our system, that every Citizen who enjoys the protection of a free Government, owes not only a proportion of his property, but even his personal services to the defence of it, and consequently that the Citizens of America (with a few legal and official exceptions) from 18 to 50 Years of Age should be borne on the Militia Rolls, provided with uniform Arms, and so far accustomed to the use of them, that the Total strength of the Country might be called forth at a Short Notice on any very interesting Emergency." - George Washington. Letter to Alexander Hamilton, Friday, May 02, 1783

THE RIGHT TO BUY WEAPONS IS THE RIGHT TO BE FREE - A. E. van Vogt, The Weapon Shops of Isher

bryand71

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Re: bad fiction - with a guest star
« Reply #7 on: August 26, 2011, 03:20:04 PM »
I like it! Now, where is the rest of the story.... I need more!  ;D
"If you love wealth more than liberty, the tranquility of servitude better than the animating contest of freedom, depart from us in peace. We ask not your counsel nor your arms. Crouch down and lick the hand that feeds you. May your chains rest lightly upon you and may posterity forget that you were our countrymen." [Samuel Adams]

wtr100

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Re: bad fiction - with a guest star
« Reply #8 on: August 26, 2011, 03:33:45 PM »
Ok from the top - this is before the story above


-------

Tthe story will be about of folks who kinda become preppers by accident. The story will be a bit of pre-SHTF and the slowly into SHTF

------------------------------


'Phil can you give me a hand this afternoon? Ry has a band concert in the park and they need help moving stuff.' Jim asked.

'Sure. Do you need the trailer or just another pickup?', Phil replied.

'Trailer would be great, we could haul all the risers and stands in one load. North entrance by the Band Room at 3:00 OK?', Jim said.

'No worries, see ya then', Phil switched off the phone and went back to the task at hand. He had an order for 500 Lyman Devastator cast bullets in 9mm. Weighing 125 grains and looking a lot like a flying trash can they were devilishly hard to cast. So hard that even on a good day one boolit in four or five went back into the pot. Phil was one of the few custom casters who would do them, but his customers loved them. So he passed the rest of the afternoon pouring lead into a molds, sorting the bad ones to be remelted and lubing / final sizing the good ones while listening to Mr. Rush Limbaugh.

He knocked off in time to hitch a 16' trailer to his truck and head into town. It was a fine late April day, sunny and warm. He got to the Banner School and pulled to the side door by the band room. Jim's truck was already there , half filled with everything from a drum kit to flutes. Jim was such a nice guy Phil thought. Always calm and collected, a very quiet man. It was hard to imagine he was a retired Sheriff's Department Lieutenant, leader of a multi-county tactical squad. Since retirement he'd spent a few years as small town chief of police, turning a small inept force into a professional, well respected and liked force. These days he worked as needed with the State Emergency Management Agency and as a consultant small to mid size police departments.

Jim and Phil chatted as they finished loading the small stuff into Jim's truck. They were about jockey the trucks around to do the heavy work of loading risers and music stands when from down the hall came.

Brrraaaaappppppppppp!
Brrraaaaappppppppppp!

Over the school intercom, 'CODE ORANGE! All Staff to Co...' It cut off.

Brrraaaaappppppppppp!

'That's AK fire!' Jim said as he flipped open his cell phone while drawing a small revolver from a holster concealed in his waistband. 'This is retired officer Pierce badge number Poppa Charlie Serra Delta 55237 I'm at the Pierce School and we have automatic rifle fire in the school! I'm in the Band Room on the North side of the building and am armed.' Turning to Phil he said, 'You have a gun in your truck?'

'Uh yah, I'll get it' The adrenaline rush was overwhelming, he almost smashed he face trying to push the door out when it actually pulled in. Behind the seat of his truck was his old Mossberg 500 deer gun. It was a smooth bore with rifle sight. In the case with the gun was the 26" bird barrel, a box of #6 shells and a box of #2 hevi-shot 1 1/4 oz loads he's been using coyote hunting. Phil racked the slide back and dropped a shell into the action and closed it loading the round. Two more shells went into the magazine under the barrel. there was actually room for two more round there but the gun still had the magazine plug in place to make it legal for hunting. Phil headed inside to see Jim cell phone in one hand, revolver in the other pushing the interior door.

--

Jim crouched low with cell in left hand and J Frame Smith in his right. Not 20 feet away were two men with AK's. The one in back had just kicked the door to a janitor's room in. The other was looking right at Jim. The man was thin, with a trimmed dark beard, dark hair and dark eyes. He was wearing jeans and a white dress shirt. As he raised the rifle Jim fired twice. The 125 grain cast hollow points out of his .357 Magnum hit the man center of mass but caused no serious injury as the man was wearing a protective vest. The double thumps did disorient him for a moment, Jim shifted his aim and shot the man in the face. The bullet with the massive hollow cavity struck just below the right cheekbone and plowed upward turning itself into something that resemble a wad of lead bubblegum. The man's head snapped back and he toppled to the floor dead.

Jim tried in vain to swing his revolver to the second man but his AK was already up, not enough time, Jim knew he was about to die. Then the other man suddenly clutched at his eyes and screeched in pain. He spun to the left and fired blindly into the room who's door he kicked in a moment earlier. Jim fired at the head this time but his aim was off, his bullet hit the man squarely in the jaw utterly destroying the bone. He went down in a heap wailing like a banshee.

Jim turned to Phil and motioned for the shotgun, he tucked the revolver into its holster and checked to see it was loaded. He picked up his cell phone and spoke into it. 'I've just shot two armed men. There are still active shooters in the building, have medical personnel stand clear!' As he moved toward into the hall he motioned for Phil to follow him. Jim pointed the shotgun at the man with one hand and pulled a pair of hand cuffs from another pocket and dropped them on the floor. To Phil he said put those on him. Awkwardly Phil did. There was screaming coming from inside the small room.

The looking and Kevin the Janitor was sprawled on the floor clutching his left calf. On the floor next to him was a can of Raid Hornet Killer. When the man turned his attention to Jim, Kevin had given him a load of bug killer in face, blinding and distracting him.

Brrraaapppppppppppppp!!!!!
Screams

Jim pointed at an AK on the floor, 'Know how to run that?'

'Not really', Phil stammered.

'Ok here take your shotgun.' Jim passed it over. He bent down took an AK dropped the mag and ejected the round in the chamber and tossed it into the janitor room. He quickly patted down the live but now unconscious shooter and found two more magazines and took the rifle and two magazines from the dead shooter.

Brraaappppppppppppppppppp!!!!!

'Ok follow me. Your job is to watch my back ok? If you see someone with an gun and no badge or uniform shoot them! Let's go!'

As the moved down the hall it was horror. The first door was to the gym. Inside was one adult down and not moving. It must have been third grade PE time as there were young ones down everywhere some were still some were in balls crying other were crawling across the floor. Jim at some point had put his phone on speaker and tucked it into his shirt pocket. 'We have mass casualties. Activate the mass casualty plan and mutual assistance. Stage away from the school. Stage away from the school!'

Brraaappppppppppppppppppp!!!!!

Further down the hall and to the left was the main entrance to the school. Dead and wounded staff members littered the floor. 'How many?' Jim called out. A weak chorus of 'Four' came back. Jim passes it to his cell phone and they pressed on. A class room to the left, fourth graded filled with screaming, sobbing children. Ahead of them was was the hall to K - 3 rooms it was empty, to the right the lead to the Jr High wing, Jim's son was in that wing.

As they got to the intersection one of the bursts of AK fire was interrupted with two flat booms, then the sound of small bits of metal ricocheting off the wall to the left. One of the bit found Phil's shin. It stung like the devil. Jim swung wide around the corner, brought his AK up and click. Known world wide for it's utter reliability be damned this particular AK must not read it's own press. Tap, rack, click! Again it failed to fire.

Some instinct caused Phil to move forward and look down the hall. It was a mistake that should have killed him, but the last bad man was concentrating on a form at the other end of the hall. Phil fired the Mossberg 3 times. At a range of about 30 feet the #2 hevi-shot pellets , exotic metal both harder and denser than lead, formed essentially a dense cloud. Phil's first shot hit the man square in the back of the head, his second put about a third of the pellets into the base of the man's neck and the other two thirds harmlessly into the mans vest. His final wild shot taken as the now dead man went to the floor ripped a fist sized chunk of meat out of the left thigh. Phil racked and pulled the trigger two more times on the empty shotgun.

Jim had pulled his revolver back out and put 5 fresh rounds into it. He took the shotgun from Phil and passed him the revolver. Screams, moans, cries but no more gunshots. Jim moved up and cleared both AK from the fallen shooters. At the end of the hall lay 80 year old Joe Brown sightless eyes staring up and a puddle of spreading blood. Next to him lay his prized Remington Model 11, a police riot gun from the 1930's. They find out later Joe had heard the police call on his scanner and the shots outside, his house being just across the play ground from the school. The old marine grabbed his shotgun and ran to the sound of the guns.

More police arrived first a few patrol officers who formed ad hoc squads and made there way into the school with M4's and patrol shotguns. Followed by a tactual squad with full ninja. Phil was first cuffed and taken from the building then uncuffed when bonafieds were confirmed by Jim.

An EMT was looking at the wound to Phil's leg - a ricocheting buck shot pellet from Joe's shotgun had penetrated about quarter of an inch into his shin. Kevin was carried out of the building by a volunteer firemen in an old Stokes litter. His left calf had a through and through wound to it. The fireman offered to take Kevin and Phil to a hospital in his personal vehicle to save the ambulances for the crittical cases.

After a 45 minute ride to hospital a bit further from the Banner School than it could be, again to save resources. Phil had his leg numbed and the pellet removed in the ER, Kevin needed a short surgery to patch his leg. Phil was released in the early evening but had no way to leave.

On the hospital TV the true horror of the day was unfolding. Over twenty schools had been attacked at approximately the same time. The 12 dead mostly adults and 100 mostly children wounded at Banner School was mild compared to some of the stories being told. There seemed no pattern to it, big , little, urban, suburban, rural, public, private, even a day care. The only consistent thread was no high schools. Soon word began to filter in, several Islamist / Jehaidist web sites were taking credit, it was beginning to look like 9/11 round two.

He finally got home by way of a Illinois State Police Corporal. Assuring the man he was ok he begged a favor. Ducking into and out of the shed he brought out two large pad locks and a length of very heavy chain. 'Could you put the smaller lock on the gate slide and then wrap and lock the chain on your way out. Oh and flip down the No Trespassing sign if ya could please.'

The Corporal hefted the chain and lock, 'You seriously don't want to be disturbed do you. No problem. But hey here's the card of a man. He's one of our Chaplin's, Baptist if that matters, did some time in the Corps back in the day, black guy by by the name of Kenn Blanchard. For what it's worth you don't loose no sleep over that, ya done good.' With that the man headed down the lane and into the dark.

Phil opened the door to the old cinder block scale house and was assaulted by Smokey the dog. Smokey stopped short in his ritual accosting of Phil sensing something was wrong. Phil sent the dog out to stretch his legs and take care of business but the silly beast was back in an unusually short time. Tigger the cat also was acting odd. Instead of watching from a ways back as his box was cleaned and food put down the cat was all underfoot. How do they know Phil thought to himself? Phil decided tonight called for special chow for the beasts. The cat got a small can of salmon, the dog as small bag of deer liver, heart and kidney pulled from the deep freeze and defrosted in the microwave.

Being a former Navy Man Phil's traditional drink was Grog - Pusser's Rum, water, brown sugar and lime juice over ice. This night he poured himself 4 fingers of Pusser's in a glass, neat. He hobbled to his reclining chair, the leg was hurting like a b____. He settled in switched on Fox News. He sipped the straight Navy Rum and drifted off to sleep thinking, there'd be a lot of bullet orders over the next few days ...

And it was only the beginning.
Have your musket clean as a whistle, hatchet scoured, 60 rounds powder and ball and be ready to march at a minute's warning.

Big Frank

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Re: bad fiction - with a guest star
« Reply #9 on: August 26, 2011, 03:55:53 PM »
I especially like the description of the bullet as being like a wad of lead bubblegum. That's a good one.
""It may be laid down as a primary position, and the basis of our system, that every Citizen who enjoys the protection of a free Government, owes not only a proportion of his property, but even his personal services to the defence of it, and consequently that the Citizens of America (with a few legal and official exceptions) from 18 to 50 Years of Age should be borne on the Militia Rolls, provided with uniform Arms, and so far accustomed to the use of them, that the Total strength of the Country might be called forth at a Short Notice on any very interesting Emergency." - George Washington. Letter to Alexander Hamilton, Friday, May 02, 1783

THE RIGHT TO BUY WEAPONS IS THE RIGHT TO BE FREE - A. E. van Vogt, The Weapon Shops of Isher

 

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