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Trouble Near Stone Reach


Agent of the Geese Federation
Sep 4, 2019
As the sun rises and sheds its golden light on Stone Reach, the occupants of a small farm begin to wake. Bare feet touch old wooden floor as people begin to move towards the kitchen of the ancient farmhouse. Eggs are gathered from a coop and potatoes from the cellar. In no time the abode is filled with the smell of fried eggs and baked taters. For Samuel, it was a taste of heaven after what he had gone through the past week.

Sam was a refugee, like everyone else at the table that morning. Pushed out of his home and sent out into the dangerous world of cannibals and chaos. His story wasn’t a special one, at least he didn’t think it was. All that mattered was staying alive now and perhaps having a good meal or two. He had stumbled across others along the way and managed to find this farm, it’s occupants were quite dead, but the property still had livestock and semi-full cellars. More than enough of a reason for them to stay awhile.

“Sam, you manage to find any clothes that fit you?” One of his travelling companions ask, dishing out food to herself.

He shakes his head, shovelling a bit of egg into his mouth “All too big.”

“Darn eh? We’ll have to check the neighbouring hou-“


The front door slams open, the deadbolt breaking off entirely from the wall as armed men storm in yelling and shouting commands.

“US Military!”

“Get down now!”

“On the ground!”

One refugee stands from the dinner table with his rifle in one hand and is immediately shot. The bullet entering his chest and leaving the other side, painting the wooden cabinets with blood. The others drop to the floor, some crying and shaking with fear as the soldiers continue to clear the house, dozens of boots stomping around them. Samuel, facing the ground and nearly wetting himself closes his eyes and just listens for more orders.

“God fucking damn it, Ralker.” Scolds one of the soldiers as they enter the kitchen, likely seeing the corpse.

“What? He had a fuckin’ gun.” A voice replies, filled with disregard and little respect.

“Gotta give these folks a chance to put the guns down, it isn’t war, these are-“

“Not a warzone!? Not a fucking warzone? Fuck off, Wick. I don’t need to take shit from you.”

A sigh is heard from the first voice “Alright, folks I’m sorry for your loss here today, truly. But we’ve gotta move on.” A brief pause as another soldier enters the room.

“We’ve cleared it.” A new voice announces.

“Good, get everyone loaded up, we leave in two minutes.” Wick replies before continuing his speech to the others “We cleaned your cellars, you’ll be compensated in the near future, thank you for your time and cooperation. Do not stand until we’ve left the premise.” He finishes with a rather robotic and practiced tone. Boots clunking as he and the other soldiers moves towards the front door.

Sam lays on the floor, listening as soldiers vacate the upstairs and close the now broken door behind them. The quiet weeping of his nearby companions now break through to him, as well as the weight of what had just happened. His eyes open and shoot over to the corpse sprawled across the kitchen floor in a pool of blood. Within a few minutes, one wrong move and someone had lost their life.

“W-what. . . W-what the f-f-fuck!”