Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Angry Steve
A cloud of dust rolled across a vast wasteland. For miles all that could be seen was dirt, lifeless dirt, except for the dust cloud. In the dust cloud rode a nine-year-old boy on a tricycle.
He had been riding for a couple hours now, and his water supply was running low. He stopped to take a rest, and have a drink as he looked on across the wasteland. He knew there was an encampment a few clicks in the direction he was heading. He slung his machine gun on his back, hopped on his trike and headed on towards his destination. A few hours later he was within sight of the camp. They had been expecting him; he was bringing a supply of ammunition.
“You made it,” Craig said as Steve hopped off his trike.
“Of course I made it, I didn’t make it past six because I’m stupid,” Steve responded. “Is Wendy around?”
“She’s in her tent. She’s not doing so good Steve. Her age is catching up to her, and the war with the Chipmunk tribe isn’t helping any.”
Steve nodded and headed off towards Wendy’s tent, the largest tent in the camp, while Craig signaled some others to unload the trike. Steve cautiously went into Wendy’s tent, and he saw her lying in her bed. She was fourteen, the oldest one in the tribe. The only way to reach that age is a lot of food, and luck or skill to keep from getting killed by rival tribes.
“Welcome back Steve, how was your trip?” Wendy asked.
“It was quick and easy. I killed a couple desert rats for you between here and the city.” He took two dead rats from his pack and set them on a table by her.
“Thank you. Any word on the Chipmunks?”
“They bought a large quantity of bullets from the city, so I think they’re planning something soon.”
“Then we should get ready. Make sure the walls are secure, arm everyone, and get the infants underground. Cover the well as soon as it looks like we’re in for an attack. I’ll stay in here, I don’t think I have much longer.”
“I’ll do as you say.” Steve turned around and went out the door. He started carrying out Wendy’s orders immediately.
Within two days, the walls were secure, the infants were in their new nursery underground, and the well could be locked and sealed in a moments notice. Their food supply was running low, and they only had enough to last them three more days. The hunting party was supposed to be in within a day or two, but the oncoming attack might cut them off. Wendy ordered rations to be cut in half until the hunting party makes it back, which should last them six days.
The next day a lookout spotted a dust cloud on the horizon. As it came closer it appeared to be a dust cloud followed by an even bigger dust cloud. “Steve!” he yelled.
Steve ran to the tower and looked with his spyglass. It was the hunting party, being followed by what looked like the entire Chipmunk army. “Open the gates!” Steve ordered.
“But we wont have enough time to close them before the Chipmunks get here!” the lookout said.
“We’ll make time.” Steve armed himself with his machine gun, strapped his knife on his bicep, and held up his gun. “Get to your positions. I want snipers buying as much time as we can to get the hunting party in the gates. I want people on the doors to shut them as soon as we can.”
His orders were carried out as he made them. The snipers were taking out as many Chipmunks on two-wheelers as they could, to buy the hunting party more time. The hunting party could easily out run anyone on trikes.
After several seconds, the hunting party flew though the gates and the team assembled to shut them started pushing the massive iron doors as soon as everyone was in. They didn’t have much time to get them shut; some Chipmunk scouts were closing in. Fortunately the gates were closed in time and the scouts smashed into the spiked exterior of the wall.
The battle lasted all of twenty minutes, and was mostly snipers taking out Chipmunks, and vise versa. The walls were never breached. Wendy died from age related reasons during the battle, and Steve was made the new chief. They were safe once again in their encampment, for now.
