Every Thursday here at http://www.iamliberty.wordpress.com stay tuned for another exciting chapter in Tom Locke’s story. Its not dystopian but, have mercy, its one man’s survival
- a forested run for life and limb
The pain in his leg faded quickly, his heart began to pummel the inside of his chest and as his pupils began to grow Tom Locke realized he was up on his feet and running. He did his best to keep the wreckage between the AK wielding killers and himself. Still, about 10 strides in he could hear bullets pinging off the shredded hull of the plane. It made no sense. What in Gods name were these beasts from ISIS doing on American soil? Tom heard rumors about the border crossings and the operations in Juarez. Hell he just read a story in the daily about some terror flag flying on a house in New Jersey. It was talk or words. It was shock value to sell advertising. In America we are so blind about reality until its wielding an automatic weapon and raining 7.62 ammo down on our day.
There was no doubt that these three men had not happened upon him the plane wreckage by chance. There was something going on in these woods.
As the trees raced by his head Tom wondered how long he could keep the pace up. He was obviously suffering from a concussion and he didn’t even want to think about his ankle because right now it wasn’t hindering him. Though he knew a time would come when his body would filter out the adrenaline and the pain and the headache would come roaring back. Then he would be at their mercy.
This sprint was his best foot forward. He would tire from here on. There was only one option and that was to find the quickest place to lay low and pray it would cover him till night or whenever these carnivores would give up their chase.
A large rock slide about 20 yards away had a crevice just wide enough to fit one scared, injured American. Tom gunned it. He pushed and dug deep for every ounce of speed his body would allow. It wasn’t much but it coasted him in to position and he slid just under the rock. Dry leaves and dirt coated his face as his breath and spit burst out of his mouth with each choking breath.
The exhaustion hit him hard and it took a moment for him to realize the cracks of gunfire were still in the distance. Had they even raced after him? Or was Tom’s desperate race for his life simply a live action target range for the three head wrapped Jihadists. Was he merely a toy for them? He was too tired to be angry. Though, this tactic would be right in their wheel house. Decapitations, rape, the occasional head on a pike it was their trademark brand of fear.
Where America went wrong was in not believing these acts were driven by a religion or the interpretation of one. Tom saw churches in this country defaced and the spray painted Quran verses on the walls. He spoke to moderate Muslims who told him it would be a disgrace to Allah had they renounced the jihad. How could America survive this? If they were hiking the Appalachians in full g than this country was horse off than he expected.
The gunfire had ceased altogether now.
What Tom thought was an expanding population of radical Muslims could look more like a full-scale infiltration.
Something snapped just outside the crevice. Sounded like wood underfoot. He reached for his mace quickly but before he could position himself a rifle but was striking into the crevice. It hit him once in the just under his right eye and before he could register that pain it struck him again. This time the lights went out…..