A Year Underfoot


February 9th, 2034

While watching a transport pull out of the front gate this afternoon I was shocked to see a long-haired teenage kid pop up from behind a pile of debris and throw a Molotov cocktail at the lumbering vehicle. The glass bottle shattered on the side of the alien vehicle and the transport erupted in flames.

Then up ahead on the road, another kid, who couldn’t have been any more than nine, or ten, popped out of the rubble and let himself be seen by the troopers before running off. And, of course, the troopers gave chase. A trio of troopers bounded from the vehicle, lined up side by side and raised their weapons, and as they were about to fire upon the kid, a barrage of rocks, cans and bottles came raining down upon their backs. The troopers were more stunned than hurt. Slowly, they turned, raised their blasters and fired, but it was too late, the gang of kids had disappeared.

And, although the damage to the transport had been superficial, the underlying act of resistance burned much deeper.

This is a gutsy bunch, no doubt about it.


About paul nevins

Fiction writer, reader and baseball fan.
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