Upon the early winds of the morning time, I gathered myself from the tent house, and viewed the emptyness of the road. Sore in my hunger, I could figure that such void was indeed deliniating an absence of the army aggregation. No transportational use was in sight, or safeguarding militants at the time. I saw, effortlessly, the beacon of the detonation all along the shoreline bay, where the port was destroyed in the tidal sweep of the cuncussion at sea.
Then, a squadron of five sky jets soared overhead, making it for the seaway coarse. In the early haze of the western ocean, they dissapeared in a ghostly vanishing. Although, this was imminent, not a clamour of guns whent off anywhere about the earth. The town was somewhat empty, lifeless, but still in vivid shape. I saw that others, from their tents, were not there in sight. ''Wake up, something happened!'', I insisted to those asleep. I showed to them what what happening, and that the town seemed empty. With no troop in sight, my father decided to escape over the fence. When we whent silently across the untouched road, we discovered that others were missing from their tent places. ''Hide, we don't know what is going on, we don't need no one finding us out here.'', asserted carefully my father, guiding us in stealth through compounds and complexes of tent and road, which also were completely without a soul.
''Quiet, look.'', uttered my father. ''There's people escaping over there, look.'', he said gesturing us steadily to where the direction of the escaping individuals were. There, there was a knot of people hurrying, now, across the field away from the town, where a fence was there dividing the region but was somehown opened up. ''Yes, there, we'll go there and escape!'', a woman stated franticly. So we ran past those other colunms of housing divisions. We came past the stenching pits of the dead captives, and the pollution was thick there with the rot of flesh. We hurried past them, without care or spectacle of those massacred people, but the sight of their lifeless forms. I miraculously spotted brother Fredrick, although dead and slained by the bullet on his head with his book on his hand. I gave no solemn argument to his death, but felt a bit fascinated, in the excitement of our escape.
By high sunrise, we made for the prairies in the southern region of the California state, fleeing that Fisher Crown town. Although my mind was in thought of escaping, not a thing came about for the things of the battle, the bomb or the absence of the guards in Fisher Crown. In our frantic run across that corn and grass flatland, a familiar, though monsterous sense came to me at an earshot happening. I turned in running, stopped and saw what had happened behind our coarse.