John awoke. A cool sweat beaded his forehead. The nightmares had become slowly more vivid and memorable over the years. John had a recurring dream that Earth was invaded by aliens. “Nothing would please me more”, John whispered to himself as he arose from his bed. It was still dark outside. The clock read 3:19 a.m. John’s insomnia woke him each morning at that exact time. Not a minute before, not a minute after. John stumbled to his bathroom where he turned on the shower. The hot water felt as though God himself blessed it as it ran down John’s body. John stepped from his shower refreshed. He made a pot of coffee and his day began.
John lived in an abandoned village in west Texas. Or at least what used to be Texas. It was now the province of Libertas. The name was ironic, considering that the entire area had been under Martial Law for thirty years. Knox didn’t like the spirit of the people there, so he fully intended to crush it. Libertas was home to the only resistance left, a small group of people who called themselves the Bellators. They were the final bastion of Christianity left on the planet, and Oliver Knox wanted them annihilated. The group lived in an abandon armory in the city formerly known as Waco, Texas . John was a scout who watched for Knox’s troops and reported it when he saw them. The people of Waco were as strong a people as any that have ever been and did not take kindly to government visitors.
John’s lived in an old run down shack on the outskirts of the village. There were far nicer buildings in the village but this one provided him with a vantage point. John sat upon his roof, clutching his Winchester Model 88. He prefered it over new weapons. The .308 cartridge provided him with sufficient range and stopping power. He loved that gun. John also carried with him a Colt M1911. It was heavy, but reliable. As John held his rifle using the scope to glass the surrounding area, a chill ran down his spine as a platoon of Knox’s men walked across the road a couple hundred yards away. At this range, he could be clearly seen even cloaked in his black duster and mask. Outgunned, and outnumbered, John lied down on his roof and watched closely to be sure the troops had not spotted him. He held a steady bead on the one who seemed to be in charge as they passed.
They finally had gone. John called in to report the sighting. It was around noon now and John needed was hungry. He took the granola bar from his pocket and broke off a piece. He chewed both halves and sipped his water. He looked across town where to his surprise the soldiers had returned. He drew a bead on the commanding officer and knew instantly that his position had been compromised. “Fuck”, John whispered as he racked the lever on his rifle. John slowly inhaled and exhaled. As his breath reached it’s end; he squeezed the trigger.
