The muffled thump-thump of the heli-blades vibrated the ground as it repeated the search pattern, although none of their special devices could detect the location of our carefully constructed shelter. Inside we were quiet as if we could be heard, holding our breaths until the sounds retreated, even then, we spoke in whispers as the group made plans.
We had no defense except our intelligence. Those above had made certain of that during the last days, the mass government movement to disarm the citizens had been successful.
It was down to them against us, "us" wasn't faring so wonderfully but we survived. Knowing how to simply disappear, that was how we survived, the five of us...
Smacks a little of Red Dawn, doesn't it? How do you know, when you write, it's not something you have read and filed away without a marker?
If I wrote a story of a child following an Armadillo down its tunnel, we would immediately think of Alice In Wonderland. If I wrote of three cowboys sons growing up motherless on a large ranch with their father, most would think of Bonanza. If I wrote of one surviving sailor adrift at sea with a dead bird, we remember The Ancient Mariner...so how do you know when it is memory or it is your thoughts???