The Fall of America: Premonition of Death Read Online Free PDF Page A

the general area, and then I heard a man distinctly crying for help.
    Unmoving, I scanned the area in front of me, because I knew Tom would be doing the same. We would die if we became distracted. After a long period of maybe ten minutes, another shotgun shell exploded and a second man added his cries for help.
    Most likely, I thought, the second man went to help the first and stepped on a toe popper.
    My thoughts were disrupted by a huge explosion of fire right in front of me, followed by screams of pain. Tom had ignited one of the napalm traps. A man ran from the fireball, completely engulfed in flame, right toward me. I pulled the trigger on my shotgun and watched him knocked back to the dirt hard, as a full load of 00 buckshot struck him in the chest. He lay unmoving, but still burning. I quickly changed positions to another window.
    It was at that point a small band of about six on horseback raced for my porch, only to encounter our ninja stars. Horses reared, riders fell, and I could hear Tom's old deer rifle, a 30.06 with a mounted scope, firing slowly from the window above me. I added shotgun blasts to the night air. The men on the ground were easily seen, as Tom had predicted, by the burning gasoline behind them. I, like Tom, continued to fire until the last man fell.
    Silence followed, with light from the burning gas casting eerie shadows that danced on the walls inside my house. Occasionally a moan or cry for help was heard, which instantly brought a single shot from Tom. I spotted movement less than 70 feet from the porch, but smiled and let the man continue to crawl toward me.
    Forward he crawled. I watched closely as he'd move an inch or two, then stop. He was good, and I almost felt sorry for the man. He'd been well trained, obviously prior military, police, or security, because he knew what he was doing. As I watched, he moved to less than 50 feet from the house. He pulled something from his pocket, a flame was instantly seen, and I knew he had a Molotov cocktail in his hand. Still, I didn't move.
    The man was instantly on his feet and running right for me, when he disappeared. A loud scream sounded and the man stood from one of our pits. From the light of the burning rag in his Molotov cocktail, as well as the flames of the napalm fire, I could see the snakes hanging from his body. He twisted and turned in all directions, as his screaming grew louder.
    Tom fired a single shot and the incendiary device exploded, which covered the man in flames. I immediately grew frightened the man might run to the house in his panic driven pain and pulled the trigger on my shotgun. I had the satisfaction of seeing him go down and stay down.
    I heard a whistle blow three times and then silence. Waiting a few minutes, I looked the area over carefully with my binoculars, only there was no movement. Fire from the pit, as well as the man, had died down, but the smell of burnt flesh was heavy in the air. Off in the distance I heard Skillet barking. Two horses that were severely injured lay in my front yard and I felt my heart break each time they'd blow or cry in pain.
    Picking up the radio I said, "Everyone stay in position. The whistle blasts might mean anything. Tom, take out the horses."
    Two shots sounded and the horses grew silent. I lowered my head for a second and asked God's forgiveness for killing the horses. To ask Him to forgive me for killing the men or women never entered my mind. They'd come looking for a fight, and we'd given them a good one.
    After more than an hour, Tom said, "One, two, I think they've gone, because I haven't seen anything move since the whistle."
    "Roger. I suspect they're gone, but we'll stay in position until first light."
    "One, this is Sandra, I mean three, can you do something about the smell?"
    "Not until daylight, three. We all stay where we are." I replied and knew she'd either thrown up or was fighting not to do so. I'd smelled it many times during my wars, only I'd grown used to it, and