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aftermath part one, online story
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<blockquote data-quote="subprep" data-source="post: 2556654" data-attributes="member: 28253"><p>Jason decided to change his clothes and shoes, and stuffed his work trousers, and dress shoes in the bag. He kept his white polo shirt on, stuffed the pistol into the back of his pants, pocketed the map and the small flashlight, then closed the bag again and tossed it on his back. As he ran down the stairs using the small flashlight to light his way, he decided it would be useless to try his car. Even if it was working, which he doubted after seeing all the cars on</p><p></p><p>the streets below, the traffic backup would be impossible to get through. Others in the office building had already gathered in the lobby by the time he reached it. They were watching in dazed helplessness as police officers, some on horseback, were attempting to get people to stay in their vehicles. Without working radios to coordinate their efforts, they were just as lost and a part of the chaos as everyone else. Jason noticed that no one else in the lobby seemed to be prepared with a Get Home Bag, and he shook his head softly in wonderment. He thought to himself, Am I the only one prepared for this?</p><p></p><p>The noise outside was almost deafening, even without motors and beeps and all the other missing mechanical sounds of the city. People had begun to panic and the streets were filled with shouting and yelling and masses of people running around without a clue as to where to go or what to do. Keep cool, Jason told himself, you’re prepared to handle this, you have a plan. He watched a family, a dad and mom and two young children, duck into a store entrance to escape the herd of people stampeding up and down the avenue. The girls were crying and the mother clung to the man’s arm, but he was as wide eyed and helpless looking as the people in the lobby. The sight of them made him think of Patricia, and his own children. Thank God we made a plan, he thought to himself. The boys would have been at school by this point, he thought, which, luckily, was towards the outskirts of the city. They each kept a GHB in their lockers, minus the pistol of course, and they knew to get home immediately, and begin preparing the house for lockdown. Patricia was at home that morning taking care of their 5- year-old daughter Cathy, who had been running a fever the night before.</p><p></p><p>Patricia, if she was aware of what was happening, would be preparing the bug-out-bags at that very moment. Jason smiled, proud of the peace of mind being prepared was bringing him, he jogged confidently around the corner in the direction of home, but what lay before him wiped the smile clean off his face.</p><p></p><p>They’ve already started looting? He thought, a little surprised, It seems a bit early. The street Jason stood on was lined with bodegas and restaurants, and a handful of convenient stores. All the windows were broken in and frenzied bodies were streaming in an out in a constant flow of madness, carrying bags and boxes and sometimes just handfuls of whatever they could grab. Jason was glad that their bug-out retreat, packs and house were well supplied with food, as he watched the carnivorous looting before him. He walked cautiously forward, aware that his pack made him a desirable target for the maniacal crowd who when whipped into such a fury, lost all sense of right and wrong. As he neared the first set of shops, he paused, there was a commotion flaring up in the middle of the street. Two men were shouting at each other, he couldn’t see them through all the people and stalled-out cars, but it didn’t sound pretty.</p><p></p><p>Jason stretched his head to try and catch a glimpse of what was going on, and as he did, three shots rang out. Pop! Pop! Pop! Screams erupted from the already terrified crowd and the people ducked and ran in every direction, some dropping the bags and boxes they had just stolen. Jason ducked out of view into an alley between two shops and kept his eyes trained on the streets, letting the chaos ensue, reaching back for his pistol. That’s when he felt a cold steel barrel press against the back of his neck.</p><p></p><p>“What’s in that fancy bag there buddy?” the gruff voice asked menacingly.</p><p></p><p>Jason Jones slowly raised his arms in the air at his sides as the barrel of the gun pressed harder against his skin.</p><p></p><p>Be sure to catch next week’s installment to see what happens to Jason Jones and the rest of the world gone mad in “The Aftermath”.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="subprep, post: 2556654, member: 28253"] Jason decided to change his clothes and shoes, and stuffed his work trousers, and dress shoes in the bag. He kept his white polo shirt on, stuffed the pistol into the back of his pants, pocketed the map and the small flashlight, then closed the bag again and tossed it on his back. As he ran down the stairs using the small flashlight to light his way, he decided it would be useless to try his car. Even if it was working, which he doubted after seeing all the cars on the streets below, the traffic backup would be impossible to get through. Others in the office building had already gathered in the lobby by the time he reached it. They were watching in dazed helplessness as police officers, some on horseback, were attempting to get people to stay in their vehicles. Without working radios to coordinate their efforts, they were just as lost and a part of the chaos as everyone else. Jason noticed that no one else in the lobby seemed to be prepared with a Get Home Bag, and he shook his head softly in wonderment. He thought to himself, Am I the only one prepared for this? The noise outside was almost deafening, even without motors and beeps and all the other missing mechanical sounds of the city. People had begun to panic and the streets were filled with shouting and yelling and masses of people running around without a clue as to where to go or what to do. Keep cool, Jason told himself, you’re prepared to handle this, you have a plan. He watched a family, a dad and mom and two young children, duck into a store entrance to escape the herd of people stampeding up and down the avenue. The girls were crying and the mother clung to the man’s arm, but he was as wide eyed and helpless looking as the people in the lobby. The sight of them made him think of Patricia, and his own children. Thank God we made a plan, he thought to himself. The boys would have been at school by this point, he thought, which, luckily, was towards the outskirts of the city. They each kept a GHB in their lockers, minus the pistol of course, and they knew to get home immediately, and begin preparing the house for lockdown. Patricia was at home that morning taking care of their 5- year-old daughter Cathy, who had been running a fever the night before. Patricia, if she was aware of what was happening, would be preparing the bug-out-bags at that very moment. Jason smiled, proud of the peace of mind being prepared was bringing him, he jogged confidently around the corner in the direction of home, but what lay before him wiped the smile clean off his face. They’ve already started looting? He thought, a little surprised, It seems a bit early. The street Jason stood on was lined with bodegas and restaurants, and a handful of convenient stores. All the windows were broken in and frenzied bodies were streaming in an out in a constant flow of madness, carrying bags and boxes and sometimes just handfuls of whatever they could grab. Jason was glad that their bug-out retreat, packs and house were well supplied with food, as he watched the carnivorous looting before him. He walked cautiously forward, aware that his pack made him a desirable target for the maniacal crowd who when whipped into such a fury, lost all sense of right and wrong. As he neared the first set of shops, he paused, there was a commotion flaring up in the middle of the street. Two men were shouting at each other, he couldn’t see them through all the people and stalled-out cars, but it didn’t sound pretty. Jason stretched his head to try and catch a glimpse of what was going on, and as he did, three shots rang out. Pop! Pop! Pop! Screams erupted from the already terrified crowd and the people ducked and ran in every direction, some dropping the bags and boxes they had just stolen. Jason ducked out of view into an alley between two shops and kept his eyes trained on the streets, letting the chaos ensue, reaching back for his pistol. That’s when he felt a cold steel barrel press against the back of his neck. “What’s in that fancy bag there buddy?” the gruff voice asked menacingly. Jason Jones slowly raised his arms in the air at his sides as the barrel of the gun pressed harder against his skin. Be sure to catch next week’s installment to see what happens to Jason Jones and the rest of the world gone mad in “The Aftermath”. [/QUOTE]
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