Though most were on foot, Ethan saw the woolly rhinoceros was not the only mount the raiders were riding. Some were riding black shaggy horses with no saddles or bridles.

  Footmen and cavalry walked casually from the pit and down the road, weaving between wrecked cars. They ignored the bodies on the ground as nothing more than garbage littering the parking lot. The raider on the rhinoceros turned to talk to two men on horseback and pointed a massive war hammer up the hill where Ethan hid.

  Ethan’s heart jumped. Did they see him? Was he not careful enough? But the two men turned their horses and approached too casually towards the base of the hill to show any sign they had seen him.

  They were followed by two of the raiders on foot, each wearing leather clothing and carrying a curved knife in their hands.

  Ethan turned to go further up the hill. He didn’t run this time. That kind of movement would be too easy to notice. But he did move between the bushes to hide his retreat.

  He hoped that if he got over the hill, then he would see a better place to hide. Once he reached the top, Ethan looked down and saw a house next to a dry creek bed. There was a blue pickup truck parked outside and he sighed at the idea that someone was home who could bring help.

  He paused to look back down the hill. Thick brush blocked his sight, but he didn’t hear anything. He wasn’t going to wait to see if the two men had started up the hill.

  With elevation and brush to hide him, Ethan ran down the other side of the hill towards the house. Sometimes, he slid on the smooth limestone and loose rocks, but youthful agility and good footwear kept him from falling.

  When he reached the open lawn at the bottom of the hill, he didn’t bother to look back. There was no point in that anymore. There was no place for him to hide. He ran to the front door of the house and knocked loudly.

  “Hello? Is anyone home? There’s been a…” He paused as he didn’t know the right word to describe what just happened to him. “I need help!”

  An elderly man wearing black-rimmed glasses and a bright yellow shirt appeared in the beveled glass window of the door, his brow was furrowed as he assessed Ethan. “What’s going on? What do you want?” Ethan could hear a small dog barking from inside.

  “Please, sir. We need to call 911. A lot of people have been hurt at the wildlife ranch.”

  “What do you mean? Is it the terrorists?”

  Before Ethan could reply, an elderly woman with bright silver hair and an even brighter floral dress appeared at the door. Holding a barking Yorkie in one hand, she opened the door.

  “Come in, dear. Thomas, go get your phone.”

  Ethan stepped into their home, still panting from the run down the hill. “Thank you, ma’am. Can I use your phone, please? We need to call 911. And, if it's OK, I need to call my mother.”

  “Yes, of course, dear. What happened? Is it like what they’re talking about on TV? Hush, Stevie.”

  She scratched behind the dog’s ears to quiet it down as she led Ethan into the living room, a comfortable room with comfortable furniture designed for people who sit all day.

  Two well-used recliners sat side by side and facing a flat-screen TV turned to a Fox News. A cross on the wall and a picture of a young man in a Navy uniform on a cabinet reminded Ethan of his Boy Scout politeness.

  Thomas returned from the kitchen with his cell phone to his ear and a puzzled look on his face. “It says that all lines are busy. 911 can’t be busy.”

  Ethan looked out the front window, fearful of how quickly raiders on horseback can move, but not finding any signs of them.

  Ginger said, “Oh, it must be bad then. What happened out there?”

  “I…I…I’m not sure. Everyone started killing everyone. And then the explosion. Can I try to call my mom?”

  Ethan’s vague explanation gave Thomas pause. He handed the phone to Ethan. “Go ahead.”

  Ethan dialed his mother’s number from memory, one of the lessons he learned during Cub Scouts. Luckily, his mother didn’t change her phone number after her divorce from his father like she threatened so many times in the past. He stood near the window, his eyes scanning the hill while the phone rang.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Ginger turned the sound on for the TV and sat in her recliner to watch the report from the news anchor. Stevie sat in her lap and watched Ethan.

  “Hello?” his mother answered.

  “Mom? It’s me, Ethan.”

  …no word still from the Department of Homeland Security. If you are just joining us…

  The dog barked loudly.

  “Ethan? Why are you calling me from this number? What happened to your phone?”

  …there have been reports of explosions and violent attacks…

  “It won’t work. I had to borrow someone else’s.” He glanced over at Thomas and Ginger.

  “Where is your father? He didn’t bring his girlfriend again did he?” Ethan could hear his mother swallowing over the phone. He was always afraid that she drank more when he and Emily visited their father.

  …Alabama, Georgia, Texas, and throughout the desert southwest…

  Bark!

  “Mom, something’s happened. Dad is… He’s…” The image of his father’s head exploding jumped to his mind, and he struggled to find the word.

  “I don’t understand why he has to invite her to everything. He does it just to hurt me.” Another swallow.

  “Dad is dead, Mom! There was some kind of accident or something. I don’t know.”

  Bark! Bark!

  …power is reported to be out across large sections of the country…

  “What did you say? Wait a minute. There’s someone shouting outside.” Ethan heard her open a door. He could hear screams in the background.

  “Don’t go out there, Mom! There are dangerous people!”

  Bark! Bark! Bark!

  …no word of who is committing these acts of violence, and no terrorist group has claimed responsibility…

  “Oh, its Janice. I should go see what’s going on with her. Just get home, sweetie. Have your sister drive you, and we’ll figure this out.” Her voice was faint and barely heard over the barking and TV.

  Ethan stepped away from the room and covered his ear to get away from the noise. “Mom, stay inside and lock the doors! Don’t talk to anyone!”

  Bark! Bark! Bark! Bark! Bark! Bark! Bark! Bark!

  “Just come home, sweetie.”

  All of the noise was obliterated as the front window exploded. A raider launched into the room and landed on top of Ginger, toppling her over with her recliner while glass flew all over the floor. Ginger screamed, and Stevie yelped. Thomas froze by the entrance to the seeing his wife scramble for her life on their living room floor.

  …White House Press Room has been strangely empty…

  “Ginger!” Thomas yelled uselessly as the raider held her down by the throat and stabbed her chest over and over with a curved knife. Her gurgling screams drowned out the talking head on the television.

  Ethan didn’t freeze. He looked past the raider on the floor and saw another one climbing through the broken window, grim determination on his scarred face. Beyond him, Ethan could see the mounted raiders circling, looking for their way inside.

  Ethan ran to Thomas tugging at the older man’s arm to pull towards the back door. “We have to get out of here!”

  Thomas pushed Ethan aside, causing Ethan to drop the cell phone. Thomas moved to the cabinet and drew a revolver. Ethan ran past him towards the back door, opening it just as he heard the click of a revolver misfiring. Ethan ran out of the house, leaving the dying screams of Thomas and Ginger behind.

  Ethan bolted towards the dry creek bed behind. He didn’t dare to look behind him, but he could hear the barking of little Stevie trying to keep up. Ethan reached the small cliff down into the creek as he heard the sounds of horse hooves pounding on the ground as the riders came around the house.

  Ethan jumped down and pulled the little dog with him. Cradling Stevie in his arms, he knelt and pressed his body as close to the dirt wall as he could. He could never outrun a horse.

  Stevie barked loudly, and Ethan tried to clamp the dog’s snout shut. But the dog bit him and wrestled free.

  Ethan curled up as tight as he could while Stevie ran away over the rocks and dirt of the open creek bed. Ethan was out of breath from running so hard, but he held it as he heard the horses approach the edge of the creek just above him.

  He closed his eyes tight, thinking that he did not want to see the raider coming if this was going to be how he died. But a second passed, and then another. And then one of the riders spoke, most likely to the other, but Ethan had no way of understanding what was said.

  Their language was guttural and harsh. Some of the words, if that is what they were, sounded more like animal sounds than speech produced by humans. There was an intelligence in the language, though a language more suited for murder than meaning. After a moment, Ethan heard the sounds of the horses turning and walking towards the house.

  Ethan stayed there, still curled up. He dared to breathe again and tentatively opened his eyes after waiting to make sure the raiders were gone. Then he heard another sound, one more familiar to him. It was a fire.

  Curious, Ethan peeked his head over the edge of the cliff and saw that the front side of the house was burning, billowy white smoke drifted into the air.

  He didn’t know if the fire was set by the raiders or just an accident during the fight, though the word fight implied that Thomas and Ginger ever stood a chance against the raiders. Regardless, there was no point in going back there. He sat on the dirt and looked back and forth to find his next path.