''It's A New Kind Of War.''

The caged yard was painted over with red, in the blood of the killed. When the smoke of the gunfire dispersed, it became noticable that they had slaughtered absolutely all of the captives, those of which I was kept with. ''Take the bodies away. Keep working.'', ordered the comander when he found the place of the shots. They lifted away the twisted up bodies and dumped them in trucks, and then taken to be dumped in the pit. Fresh blood spotted my face, not sure if I was stricken. Mr. Garcia's lifeless body was dragged away, the closest of the bodies to my reach.

I sat their watching those men empty thier yard, and a sound came to me. A man crept painfully to me from the gathered corpses, with terrible ejaculations of distress, this while drowning within his own blood in the throat. He spat fluids, saying, ''Please, take me.''. Discuraged by his sluggish manners, and the blood he expelled, I remained motionless, seeing him in fear. ''Come on.'', he uttered, blood asphyxiating him. I changed my apprehensive thoughts and reached to obtain his red-glossed fingers. Barely moving he nearly gave out. I changed the direction of my eyes, and beyond him watched a guard. I quickly retreated my hand, and the troop, lifting his glistening weapon, took his aim and fired a shot. The pleaing man was dead, a shot to his back. ''I caught one going off, sir!'', exclaimed the soldier.

In a supressed form, I gathered myself like a ball and hid under that hedge. Within the hour's pass, a stench called my attention over the yard, and a company of trucks escorted man- sized bins after the place of the pit. On the rear of each vehicle, a large stamp displayed the symbol of a biological danger, that plagued cadavers were being held and taken to the pit in a field.

Worried I was most of the time, thinking what might have happened to this world, in such a reality. Across the road, another truck halted and people blindingly moving arrived from it. I seeked with my eyes through the horrified crowd of arrivals. I spotted  some of those who traveled with us, and then my father's face became visible. My mother appeard, and all of the people were moved to the large tents by the guards and dogs. I ran quickly across the road and joined my father. ''Where were you, I couldn't find you.'', he said firstly. We caught my mother, holding the crying child. ''God! Your alive!'', she said. We whent with the walking of the crowd of panicked men and women, workers and businessmen, fair dressed commoners and dress-torn fugitives. Most of them might have had their apprehentions merely days ago. Those neighborhoods of fair little houses, in their suberban places, remained undisturbed by children or playing, since the occupation of the military. It was quick, without fighting that night throughout the silent town streets, in the general thought of what had happened when the eruptions reached our populous cities.

Normal townspeople, jostling in the forcing of the take, became divided into two wholes, then four, then eight groups, and then fenced off into colored identifications of chest patches: a group of blue patches, one of red, a yellow group, then green. My group of fifteen, green patched captives were taken to a seperate, large tent living quarters. It was silent, besides the weeping cries of other compartments of fugitives, frightened and enraged. It was, as I remember seeing it, a tent, house sized, with all fifteen of us blue patched people, in silent anguish, and a few men angered and raving their rights at the authorities. They had locked us up inside with two guards a tent outside. I was relieved to spot my fathers here with me. ''What are they gonna do?'', my mother begged to my father. He too dropped tears, and was unsure when she asked. We found a corner in the high standing tent, right over the grass, where we decided to keep our place of being, since there were no walls or floors or furniture in the tent, but two concrete benches on each side of the bounds.

''It's a new kind of war.'', asserted a strange man across the room of this waving tent. ''What war?'', asked my father. Those tired men came along and sat to listen. ''I warned everyone that this would happen, and now it has.''. He took his cigarette, one that he found in his pocket, and lit it away from the notice of the police. ''I'll tell ya what's on, and this is just the start of it.'', he told us, releasing the smoke he inhailed into a gray puff. 


The End

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