Overrun Read Online Free PDF

to see
only blood and shattered bone at the end of his ankle. His right foot was
completely gone.
    Twenty feet away, a soldier
lowered his weapon and ran towards where he tried to stand back up again from
the ground. A second man behind the first centered an assault rifle over his
shoulder directly across Slavik's chest.
    Slavik grabbed his own weapon
and jabbed its barrel into his mouth. Before he could squeeze the trigger, the
approaching soldier dove across his squirming body and ripped the rifle from
his grasp.
    The soldier spread his arms and
legs across Slavik's back. Using his weight and bulky gear, he rolled him over
and pressed him face down into the ground.
    A jeep pulled quickly up. Two
soldiers jumped out and hurriedly grabbed Slavik by the shoulders and tossed
him in the back. They signaled the soldier near the building still covering the
area with his weapon, and he also ran to jump onboard.
    The last thing Slavik remembered
before blackness overtook him was the eruption of a giant fireball tearing
through the area they had just left.
    Shards of glass spewed from the exploding
building showering the racing jeep and its unprotected occupants. The soldier
holding Slavik relaxed his grip for a quick second to yank at a piece that
buried itself into the back of his shin. The building structures they raced
past echoed with his scream.
    The jeep sped to the J.G.U.
compound not far down the road. The J.G.U. soldiers stared in silence at the
flaming building falling behind them in the distance. With his face pressed by
strong hands to its metal floor, the rest of Slavik's body bounced violently
about the rear of the jeep.
    * * *
    To his dismay, Slavik awoke
bloodied, bruised and bound to a chair at the center of a large empty room. He
blinked several times trying to focus on the sight before him.
    A short distance away, two rows
of soldiers faced him. About ten men in all, their rifles rested across their
shoulders and pressed tautly against their ears. Their eyes squinted through
rifle sights centered at his head and the middle of his chest.
    “Your country!" An
English speaking voice boomed loudly from somewhere within the room. “What
rogue country do you represent?! We all know you did not just come to be here
on your own.”
    Slavik didn’t speak and stared
dully at the men ahead.
    A loud “crack” echoed throughout
the room. Smoke came from the weapon of one of the soldiers kneeling in the
first row. A piece of steel ripped into the bone and flesh of Slavik's left
knee.
    Slavik’s neck snapped back, and
he shrieked in pain. His legs kicked up in the air toppling his chair over
backwards. A soldier standing further back in the room and not holding a weapon
walked slowly to Slavik’s chair and pulled him back up.
    "Who are you?" the
voice thundered again.
    Slavik’s lips set in a thin
line, and he again refused to speak.
    Another shot tore into his
opposite knee. His body jerked and wobbled from the impact. This time his chair
did not fall. Slavik stared through half-open eyes at his bloodied legs. He
couldn’t tell if he was actually talking or just imagining it in his head.
    A third shot took away his left
ear. A fourth tore into his shoulder. The fifth sailed directly into the center
of his heart. He was already dead by the time the sixth and final bullet
slammed into his brain.
    The members of the firing squad
lowered their weapons and walked away. When they were gone, the two men from
the back of the room approached Slavik’s body.
    They stepped carefully over the
fresh pools of blood it had left on the floor and wrapped large pieces of
plastic all around. Rolling him on his side across a stretcher, they carried
him from the room. A trail of blood gruesomely marked their path.
    They brought him to the bottom
of a darkened stairwell and stopped before two large unlocked doors. One of the
men pulled the door closest to him open slightly. With a quick twist of their
wrists, they dumped Slavik’s body