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Slamming the smooth rock between my cold hands sounded like pizza dough being made. Which makes me crave pizza even more but I can't leave. I am in a bunker. America was invaded but we don't know who or what invaded it. I have been down here for about 2 months.

Around 2 months ago, the President gave an urgent message, (and I quote# "Ladies and Gentlemen, please take shelter for at least a year. Thank you." Like World War 2, America was being invaded. #well America wasn't invaded in WW2 but you know what I mean.#Then there was a gunshot or it least sounded like a gunshot, the President had a shocked look on his face. It was obviously off camera, then the screen went black. My guess is the President is dead.

Well, now it's just me down here now. Whoever was down here with me, went to go searching for food and never came back. That was two and a half weeks ago. Thank to "whoever" leaving, I should be good, food wise, till the end of the week. Well, if I ration enough, good till the end of next week. All I have down here is dry bread and a few canned goods #which can probably last longer than I can#.

It can be surprisingly boring down here. The only "entertainment" I have is 2 books. One is called "A Christmas Carol", which I have read 4 times and still don't understand it. The other one is "Around the world in 80 days", which I have read 6 times and is a little less harder than "A Christmas Carol". Whoever left these down here loved classics.

I don't mean "whoever" as in the person who left and didn't come back. I mean whoever lived or owned this bunker before me. This bunker isn't even mine. When I came down here 2 months ago with "whoever" #yes, that is his name now#, we just ran the second the message ended. We ran into the bunker and locked it, so no one could get in. We eventually heard someone trying to open it, I don't think they knew we were in here.

I guess they just found another bunker or something, but then again this was the only bunker we saw when we were running. Bunkers, kind of, remind me of WW2. Whenever the bombs hit Germany and everybody ran outside to their bunkers. Well, that is what is like on the movies, if they still exist when I get out of here, or even if I get out of here.

Bam. Bam. That is all I have been hearing all day, literally all day. Bam. Bam. Gunshots. Or unless it's fake gunshots, and I am going insane but I think I have a while before i go insane. I hear someone or something hitting the ground after the first couple of gunshots go off. They #or whatever is shooting# must not be far away from my bunker. My journalistic me, #yes, I was a journalist before all of this happened# wants to go outside and investigate but I know that's a bad idea.

It was so hard to fight the temptation of going out there that I had to preoccupy myself. I tried to sleep but that didn't work. I tried many, many things but none of them worked. I guess doing stuff that didn't help at all at got me very preoccupied and forgot about the rest of the day. I hear a knock on the bunker door, now thinking it's either "whoever" or someone else, I probably wouldn't let them in because my food would be gone sooner or I would be dead. Then I heard a few gunshots against my door. My first idea is that they can't get in but then I heard it break. So then my second idea was to play dead or dumb. But all I did was froze.

As the door opens, I wake up realizing it was just a dream or a nightmare in this case. I look around I am in my apartment, then I see a hear a gunshot and then see a bullet sized hole go straight through the middle of my door. Am I still dreaming or not? I black out.

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vegetariangirlThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. said...
Feb. 7, 2014 at 3:40 pm
The hashtag or number mark in my story was suppose to be parentheses, I don't know what happened!!
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