El Paso Under Attack - 01 Read Free Page A

the field behind my house. There were more of them in the field now.
    One of them saw me watching and let out one of those gut wrenching screams. The others looked over from him to me almost in unison and began to scream as well.
    Lovely.
    Dudley was next to me. Merrick had both her front paws on the top of the balcony wall and was watching as well.
    “The backyard is all windows,” said Dudley. “We gotta move.”
    “Go to your room and grab your backpack,” I ordered in a voice that was much too shrill for my tastes. “Fill it with as much water and food as you can.”
    ‘Georgie, here we come,’ I thought. I hope your home.
    I had a little military backpack that fit quite comfortably on the small of my back. It contained various survival items from the different camping trips I’d taken over the years. I tossed it on the bed and began filling it up with anything I thought I might need.
    One thing about me that is not very well known is that I have always had a fondness for weapons. Ever since I was a little boy, I collected various types of knives, swords and axes. I was far from being defenseless. In fact, I was pretty much locked and loaded for anything that came my way. The only things I never spent a lot of time on were guns. In my immediate possession, I had two shotguns and no shells for either of them.
    I had everything else in abundance. I grabbed my favorite knife, it’s called a Seal Pup and it’s made by a company called SOG. Probably the best fixed blade I have ever owned and it was definitely coming with me. The nylon sheath has an extra pocket and inside that I kept a Victorinox Swiss Army Ranger knife (my preferred Swiss Army knife). I threw the ensemble on the bed next to the backpack.
    I ignored the swords. I didn’t think any of them were for more than show. Instead, I grabbed a small tomahawk and a machete from the closet and threw them on the bed as well.
    I was only wearing a white t-shirt and boxers. I threw on some socks and a pair of jeans. I yanked on my boots, my watch, my belt and for whatever reason a pair of nylon gloves that I used for riding.
    I threw my day to day pocket knife which was a Special Forces folding tanto made by BokerPlus into my right front pocket, strapped my Seal Pup to my belt on the right hand side, slung the backpack over my shoulder and grabbed the machete in one hand and the tomahawk in the other.
    “ I notice that you give a lot of description to the tools and weapons that you used. ”
    Hell yeah, these things were a part of not only my survival, but the survival of many others. I guess I kind of have a bit of fondness and pride for them.
    “ I get you. It makes perfect sense. What happened next? ”
    I ran down the stairs as quick as I could. Dudley met me at the bottom. I handed him the machete and he looked, if only slightly, somewhat relieved to have a weapon.
    The first slam on the glass doors on the side of the house sounded out loudly, even over the pounding noises still coming from the front door. The sound was unmistakable. I looked over Dudley’s shoulder and stared through the glass into a cloudy eyed face that was filled with rage.
    It screamed at me and was soon joined by another and another. All three of them rammed and slammed against the glass. To my immense relief and great surprise, the glass door actually held, but it also began to crack in the middle.
    Dudley, Merrick and I immediately ran to the garage. A flimsy wooden door was all that separated the garage from the house. On the way there I heard the unmistakable sound of the sliding glass door bursting inward with an explosion of glass shards as another one of our unwanted visitors once again slammed into it.
    Those things, whatever they were, ran right for us the minute they were inside the house. We barely had enough time to slam shut the weak, wooden door to the garage behind us. It was close. It was way, way too close.
    I love my Harley, but sometimes you just need a four