(Page 1 of 6) Will Fight For Food by Jeffrey Willey
 (12 ratings)
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SUMMARY: In a world where Y2K has occurred, suburban homes battle each other for survival.Another flaming roll of TP rushes through the shattered window and brings the sweet echo of silence to an end.
"Get your asses on the northern wall, make sure nobody gets through!" our employer barks.
They are trying to overrun our defenses again. Our tattered army grabs whatever it finds throughout the battered house as we frantically race towards the barricades which have kept the neighbors at bay for this long. We stack up along the wall, prepared to repel the impending invasion and defend the stronghold we call home.
I take a quick look around. I'm crouching in the game room, at least what used to be the game room, with a sharpened pool stick as my only defense. I know it is not my time to die; some of these other unfortunate bastards will probably die tonight, but Death will not take me.
My eyes continue to scout the room, surveying the others for weakness, determining who will ‘buy the farm' this time around.
"I got a whole loaf sayin' that Rufus over there doesn't make it," I find myself shouting for the whole crew to hear. I am sticking to the sure bets from now on, I've lost too many meals in recent raids to risky bets. Rufus is the new guy, and in my experience that is the surest sign of a deader.
"I'll take that bet!" a familiar voice calls out from another room.
"What the fuck?" Rufus asks.
I shouldn't have said that, not where the kid could hear me at least. Oh well, it's too late to take it back now, and maybe I can stand to profit off his unfortunate demise. "No hard feelings?" I start to ask, but before Rufus can acknowledge the apology a stream of his blood sprays across the wall. The defense of the Smith Family Residence has begun.
Blood paints my surroundings as a rusty lawnmower blade repeatedly cleaves into Rufus' neck. I have no time to gloat over my additional rations now, I charge the window, impaling the man who wields the lawnmower blade before sinking back into the darkness of the room. The clash of household objects grows more intense around me, but soon gives way to relative silence of injured moans.
My eyes strain to maintain my awareness as the orange glow of the fire begins to die out. The black void inches closer to the source of the flames, smothering them, leaving me blind. I am entirely surrounded by the still darkness of the moonless night.
I raise my weapon, aiming it into the darkness to defend myself from what I cannot see until a light starts to peak around the corner. The light steadily grows more intense until it stands between me and someone else. I cannot make out the silhouette holding the flashlight.
"How many did we lose in this room?"
I recognize the voice, it is the employer, Smith. "Only one," I tell him. The tone of his voice tells me we have not fared well despite our victory.
He moves on to the other rooms without a word, his light slowly fading with the absence of his presence. A new light emerges though, the sinister orange glow of battle starts to reappear all around me, and then the fire rages in the game room again.
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