The village slept nestled amongst the tree line. A handful of cottages, all different from each other, sat randomly in the presence of only one another, dirt tracks breaking up the grassland to connect them. I entered the village with one thing on my my mind, a bed to sleep in. I had grown weary after two days straight of little food and much fighting, and I needed to rest.
Upon noticing the absence of villagers outside, I glanced at the houses. All were dark apart from one, in which a table top candle was clearly visible. Ignoring my fatigue I bounded towards the house, clambered up the 3 steps which led to the front door, and knocked.
The knocks echoed in the woodland clearing, cutting through the silence of the night. A plump housewife stood before me, a dirty white apron covering her cheap pale blue dress. After a split second looking at me she spoke:
"You ain't comin' in 'ere."
I was having none of this. I drew my shotgun from my back, cocked it in one swift motion and without giving her a second chance I pumped a smattering of lead in her direction. She flew backwards into the house, leaving blood clinging to the doorframe.
"Like shit I'm not," I said, stepping over her trembling corpse.
But my lack of subtlety had roused the other villagers. I realised that I would, once again, have to delay my much needed rest. As the remaining lights in the village started to flicker on I ran through the house in which I had made my unwelcome entrance. No one else was there, but in the master bedroom I found some more shotgun shells. These will come in handy, I thought.
I could hear the villagers getting excited, they must have discovered the dead housewife. I realised this particular village was unlikely to be very fruitful so I decided to leave. But I knew the villagers wanted revenge. The locals had gathered their arms and were shouting incoherently outside, branding torches. I went down to join them. A stark shriek from a petrified woman cemented their knowledge to my presence, and I blew her away with a newfound shotgun shell.
The remaining neighbours, about ten in all, started towards me with various guns at the ready, as I stood on the doorstep,. I swapped my shotgun for the small Uzi I kept strapped to my right thigh, and started to run.
I darted to the left of the angry crowd as they threw bullets at me. I reciprocated their gesture with bullets of my own. They were the bigger target so little effort was needed to catch a couple of them out.
But as I ran around my victims pelting lead at them in quick succession, one of the buggers caught me in the shoulder. I span round on the spot with the force of the bullet. The remaining villagers kept on shooting, and, without too much hesitation, so did I.
MOTHERFUCKERS!
My gun started clicking, it was out of rounds. I let it slip from my grasp and land on the floor while I took a grenade from its shackle on my chest. I snapped off the clip and launched it into the crowd, who didn't even notice. They carried on shooting at me, and missing beautifully. I ran from the impending explosion.
The grenade, from its location central to the group of villagers, exploded sending them flying outwards like a flower budding in fast-forward. A dozen or so unassuming neighbours lay on the dirt path, their faces in their own blood and the blood of their friends.
I swore at my wounded shoulder and made ready to go. I needed rest and food more than ever. Hopefully the next town, only a few minute's run though the forest, would give me what I need. Otherwise, they're in for a world of pain.
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