The following day, Alexander's family decided to remain inside and they barricaded the door and the basement latch. Father was stationed at the front door, knives equipped in both hands, Alexander had a fake pistol that was dyed black to make it look realistic -it was intended to threaten any incoming soldiers- and his mother guarded the basement, with a hunting rifle with two shots rounds left and a baseball bat for reinforcement.
The hunting rifle dated back to 1914, when the rifle was new and fresh, impressive technology for them. Now, the evolution of weapons had come to machine guns to plasma-automated miniguns, from bayonets to supersonic tanks. It was tradition that every one hundred years of its existence the family were to celebrate, that was just several years ago, marking its long reign of five hundred. However, in this moment in time, it was likely there would be blood stained across its jagged surface. It would possibly be disintegrated as a reminder of those who questioned the president's judgement. Along with Alexander's family.
Mattayas peered out of the front corridor's window, revealing a squad of fully armed... soldiers. The parents had expected for the police force to arrive, not the army troopers. Perhaps ten police officers would have failed to kill Alexander and his parents, but ten soldiers, our barricades would fall instantaneously.
The squadron lined up accordingly, in two columns of five, and one went over to the garden latch, remaining in formation. They lowered their plasma pistols to load their firearms, except, they put in taser bullets. Alexander could think of one conclusion only: they desired to capture them, imprison them, torture them, then execute them.
Publicly and painfully.
YOU ARE READING
The Owner of Immortality
Novela JuvenilAlexander has always excelled in class. He is at the Brandwealth Region's top secondary school, after all. He didn't know that his country would be sent into a time of murders and executions. His family, living in poor conditions, are imprisoned as...
