Chapter 1

My name is Alexander Johns, and this is my story. I suppose I should first explain who I am. I am 16 years old, 5' 10'' and 145 pounds. Before it happened I was a Junior at Centennial High School in Phoenix, Arizona. I was the designated geek of the class of 2010, 4.0 GPA, glasses, and when I wasn't in front of a computer I could usually be found behind either the Savage .22 rifle, the M96 Swedish Mauser, Mini-14, and my favorite pistol our Springfield Armory 1911 that my father owned. My father was trained as a sniper in the Army and insisted on all of his children most importantly knowing gun safety and how to hit what they were aiming at with a firearm. As I said before, I'm a damn good shot with all of the above. With the exception of the .22 and the .45 a hostile pie plate at 300 yards was dead if I was using open sights ... If it goes bang, chances are I'm a hell of a good shot with it. I lived with my father and 2 younger brothers, ages 14 and 12.

It was November 4, 2008 and the Presidential Elections were just a few hours away. After glancing at the news on the T.V. in the living room I sighed and walked off into my room to play some video games. It wasn't that I didn't care about politics, it's that I already knew what the result was going to be. Barack Obama was going to win for primarily two reasons, reason number 1; he is black and a lot of people will vote for him simply because of that. Secondly, at the time the economy was not particularly strong and the majority of people were looking for a short term solution for themselves, regardless of the damage to the country as a whole. Personally, i think that neither of the two candidates were any good. "Reagan's Corpse '08!" Not surprisingly, when I woke up the next morning after binging on caffeine and video games Obama had won the election. I muttered to myself, "Welcome to the end of the United States, Super Power." Greeting my brothers and father I grabbed breakfast, got dressed, and hopped the bus to school. I slid through the day, finishing my work in class a half hour before the bell. Then I hopped the bus home, grabbed a Coke and gamed away until I took a short break to eat, then continued until midnight. Thus continued the next 3 months, with regular visits to the local shooting range to exercise the right to bear arms while it still existed.