The road ahead was dark, black mountains awaited in the distance. No stars appeared this night, thick smoke permeated the broken sky. Occasionally the full moon showed through, only to be hidden again by treacherous night.
The battered mini van rolled ever onward, four of its five occupants lay dormant. It was three a.m. and the only break from the monotony was the sound of jets overhead and the occasional burst of machine gun fire or a thunderous explosion, all distant though.
There it was again. A screeching sound, one of the fan-belts was loose. That wouldn't do. The car pulled off the rugged path, coming to stop under a sorry patch of burnt trees. Everywhere there was desolation. They had come without word or warning.
The driver side door opened and a teen stepped out. All was shadow. A popping noise and the hood was open, a click and so was a flashlight. The boy blinked as his eyes adjusted, then peered closely at the assortment of mechanisms in the engine block. Stooping, he checked the water and oil levels. Low, but they'd have to hold. He checked a belt, it was searing hot, and loose. Josh stopped to suck his hand, some fingertips had been seared. Painful yes, but had the dying light of the flashlight or the waning glow of the moon been brighter, one could have seen scratches, burns and scars across his body. It'd been over a month since the invasion.
He needed a wrench. The teen began heading for the trunk when a yellowish orange glow emerged from the seething smoke. Seconds later the flashlight was off, the jet's thundering engines could now be heard, as well as the click of a rifle. To the teen this had become routine, he didn't even wake the others.
The jet was alone so probably an enemy. You could never really tell at night, that is so long as the engine fire was orange. Any other color and it was most certainly an enemy.

He found the wrench. In a matter of minutes the belt was tightened. Seconds more and the engine was humming quietly. The boy drove up the small bank, and the dark road lay ahead once more.
You couldn't risk headlights, not here at least, not when but one hope remained. He looked back quickly, assuring himself the passengers were safe. Four were about his age, one much older. They all slept, some with pained expressions, bad dreams no doubt. Josh suffered from them too.

A ways off, a fire burned, the boy stopped the whirring car about fifty yards from the wreckage. Rifle and med-kit in hand he strode soundlessly to the burning hulk of a station wagon. He didn't expect survivors and found none. It was a family, they'd been lucky to make it this far. So many had never left home.

It'd been forty four days since word came of the invasion. Josh remembered the when the Emergency Broadcasting System had interrupted his mindless channel flipping. "STAY IN YOUR PLACE OF RESIDENCE. ENEMY FORCES ARE ENTERING THE AREA. CLEAR THE STREETS FOR MILITARY PERSONNEL. REMAIN IN YOUR HOMES"
That repeated for two days. Long after the South had been wiped out.
They were heading North and blindly so.
A light began to show, the sun was rising and it was time to find cover. An orange hue shaded the landscape as dawn broke. The moon was still up, now sinking below the mountains and amber fields.
Far ahead several fires ate at the once fertile land, black plumes of smoke rose malevolently against the wind. There came again that sporadic gunfire, closer now. They must hide soon. The road became atrocious as they passed signs of a battle; a convoy of jeeps, apparently ambushed, ammunition shells lay scattered about, craters and scorched potholes peppered the blackened area. There would be no survivors, the enemy made sure of that.
-ammo though, was another matter, several cases were quickly stored, no time to linger. A patrol would be by soon. No sooner than the thought occurred, three jets roared over the horizon, a glimmer of hope shone in seeing them as American forces. Josh plugged his ears as they unleashed a salvo upon the ground. Seconds later and an inferno roared to life. The boy felt a small victory as the shock wave reached him, the surge flattening the brush. No return fire came and the jets pulled away. Josh headed back to the car, but just before restarting the engine, he became aware of a massive presence above and a sonorous hum. Out of the black smoke emerged an enemy gunship. The jets scrambled, and sent off another salvo accompanied by machine guns. The gunship fired, beams of purple energy streaked across the orange dawn, three explosions, then a shock wave. Wreckage rained down. That was too close, the teen swiftly started the vehicle and bounced up the torn path into a patch of trees. We'd spend the day here. Time to wake the others. He slid the door open and found green eyes staring back, dispirited but unbroken.