One Shots|Dylan O'Brien

Untitled|Dylan

Authors Note: Yeahhh this ones a Bit crazy SciFi story. Actually I'm not sure if I should continue making One Shots like this. This one is kinda like the Zombie one I wrote. I'd like to know if you guys like these crazy ones or if I should just stick to the regular cute romantic ones. Please let me know! I love hearing from you!

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There was nothing our military could do against the threat that came from our skies.
When my troop failed, I raced home but my family was no where to be found. My friend and I headed to the cold mountains, to a small camp- a safe haven. Away from the alien posts which now took over our cities.

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The soft crunching of pine needles and branches filled the cold silence as I walked alone in the woods. My dark green jacket, black long sleeve shirt, jeans, and boots were the only thing that protected me from the cold.
Four rabbits hung down my back over my shoulder from the traps I had set the day before. I carried firewood I had collected in my arms; I adjusted my gray beanie with my left hand and dropped several branches in the process.

"Damnit." I hissed, getting to my knees to pick them up.

"Don't move." I heard a scratchy deep voice coming from behind me. I froze as I felt the barrel of a gun jabbing into my shoulder blades.

"Stand up." He barked, "Slowly."

I dropped the branches and held out the palms of my hands, slowly getting to my feet. I slowly turned around to face the unfamiliar man. His long unkept beard and dirty clothes. I could tell he wasn't from our camp.

"We found your friends." He said, "Such a pretty thing. I could see why they wanted to keep you away." He looked at me up and down.

Friends? My mind raced to my only friend back at the camp: Monica.

I debated pulling my gun on him, could I reach it faster than he could pull the trigger? No. Not until I see that Monica's okay.

"Don't even think about it." He said, eyeing my gun on my thigh.
He kept his shotgun pointed at me with one hand as he disarmed me with the other. Placing my handgun on the waist of his pants and harshly taking my meal off my shoulder. Swinging the dead bunnies over his own shoulder.

"Start walking." He ordered.

"What? Not enough of a man to catch your own damn food?" I stared at his blue eyes.

"Why don't you shut that pretty little mouth of yours before I do something I'll regret." He said, "Start walking."

"Where?" I asked.

"Start walking." He repeated, shoving the barrel of his shotgun into my shoulder, pushing me in whatever direction.

"I found another one." The man said loudly to the empty forest. I stopped in my tracks, scanning the trees for others.

"Did I say stop?" He hissed in my ear. He yanked off my beanie and took me by my hair, pushing me through to a small clearing.

"Let go!" I yelled and struggled against his grip. He hastily threw me to the damp ground.

Three older bearded men stood around me, two of which held their guns to two other men on their knees near me; who looked just one or two years older than I.