The day after: An apocalyptic morning Read Online Free Page A

moments later.
                  "Hold this, Ricky," the leader said, handing his M-16 to the biker next to him.
                  Ricky took it from him and slung it over the opposite shoulder from his own.
                  "And keep those two in their places," he added next, unholstering a semi-automatic pistol and walking towards the terrified teenage girl. Beside him, Ricky advanced a few paces and kept his rifle trained on the mother and the son.
                  The leader stopped right in front of the girl, towering over her.
                  "You're gonna do exactly what I say, ain't ya, sweet piece?" he asked, pointing the pistol at her head.
                  Before she could answer the mother spoke up. "Just do it, Christine," she told her daughter. "Just do it and it'll be over soon. Try to stay alive, honey. Just try to stay alive."
                  The leader glanced over at the mother and grinned, nodding his head a little. "That's right, Christine," he said, unbuttoning his pants and letting them drop. His small cock was already hard. "You just do what I say and we'll get along real good. You might live long enough to starve to death. Now suck my cock, bitch. And make it a good one."
                  As a trembling Christine leaned forward to do what she had been told, and as her weeping mother buried her face in her hands, unable to watch the degradation of her daughter, Skip saw his opportunity. Everyone was distracted by the goings on with Christine. Though none of them had dropped their weapons, except the leader of course, it couldn't possibly get any better than this.
                  He brought the rifle to his shoulder and peered through the telescopic sight. He aimed at the head of Ricky, the biker closest to the mother and son. He was the most dangerous at the moment since he was packing two automatic weapons. Skip's scope was designed to sight in on deer more than three hundred yards away. From a mere sixty yards, Ricky's head, in partial profile and mostly facing forward, filled the entire field of view. He centered the crosshairs just above his right ear. Though the wind was blowing at nearly forty miles an hour it was not a particular concern at this range. It wouldn't throw the bullet off by more than a quarter inch or so. He took a deep breath, whispered a silent prayer for the lives of the family he was trying to save, and then smoothly squeezed the trigger.
                  The rifle bucked against his shoulder and the sound of the shot rolled across the landscape like thunder. In the scope, Skip saw Ricky's head explode into a spray of blood, brain, and skull fragments. Before his body even hit the muddy ground Skip was working the bolt on the rifle. The ejected shell casing shot out to his right and he slammed another round into the chamber. A quick glance down into the clearing showed exactly what he had hoped to see.
                  Ricky was down and the other three bikers were still trying to process exactly what had just happened. They were all standing still, looking up towards him, trying to identify the direction from which the shot had come. The two behind Ricky, those that still had rifles in their hands, were not even aiming at the spot.
                  He quickly sighted on the farther of the two men, centering the crosshairs on the middle of his chest. As soon as they were steady, perhaps four seconds after the first shot was fired, he pulled the trigger again. The gun bucked and the second biker suddenly had a hole in his muddy shirt. He looked almost comically surprised at this for a moment and then he fell to the ground.
                  The second shot got the bikers moving. The leader and the one remaining man with the rifle, finally realizing they were in mortal danger, both dove to the ground and began firing up at him. The leader