I hear quick footsteps above my small trap door. The room is very small with a bed and bathroom cramped near each other. This is where I have stayed for the past 13 and a quarter years. Soft swishing is present before the trap door is flown open flooding my hole into bright light.
My mom looked panicked. She grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the pit, her chestnut hair hanging out of the fashionable bun.
"Quick Kourtney! To the car." I just look at her," NOW!" I don't hesitate to grab my emergency bag and high tale myself to the car. I hop into the bug and we speed off. I open the backpack and check to make sure I have my nonperishable food and water. The two outfits, jacket and shoes were there. the weapons remain tucked away with my personal belongings.
The blur of city lights in Westchester passed as we entered the wild biomes of destruction. I leaned over slightly to see the speedometer reaching the speed of 112. I turned to look back at our home and one of the standing 'utopias' in America after world war 3. The last time freedom ran through the streets. I pull my eyes back ahead to the road. We passed Westchester's town borders ten minutes ago. Now the car is speeding down the empty highway going through the plain of the middle west. I feel my eyelids beginning to droop and I was soon pulled into a dream.
* Bombs came rocketing down towards America. People ran rampant in the streets and babies screamed for the comfort of their mothers. Tears soaked the streets and buildings crumbled. And the fires. The fires stood tall and defiantly. The fires consumed and living or inanimate object in its path. The fire controlled by Russia.*