Creative Writing: Holding Nurse Ratched AKA Killer Mccestie

Hearing the pull of the weapons, and a soldier yell Halt he forces both women into the bushes, rolling down the ditch on the side of the road. A hail of bullets rips through the truck striking the area like a swarm of mosquitoes. Holding steady in the darkened ditch, the many spotlights track their whereabouts. Under the cover of darkness the women hold steady as Freddie moves to the edge of the road watching as the soldiers approached the bullet-riddled truck.
“Come on you assholes,” He shouts, opening fire by way of a silent pulse, the result is mind boggling every living cell in their nervous system is shut down and four soldiers lay on the ground dead. More headlights are coming up the road. You have to be kidding me, as a brilliant spotlight

“We need to move, now,” Michelle speaks up with what sounds like a direct order, and they quickly make their way out of the ditch. Like a streaking bee whizzing by in a rush, the bullet strikes her in the head, dropping her instantly. She never saw it coming.
“Mere” Michelle screams, as her mother drops. The air disturbance caused by the trail of the bullets indicates where the bullet is and where it is going, and because of that, she hesitates to aid her mom. However, the gunfire is sporadic at best, and the fiery trails of bullets aggressively find the target, striking her mother once again. The night lit up like July 4 an impressive show of force. Sickened by the sight Freddie turns.
“Go; get the hell out of here,” He demands, while the hot lead rips through the bushes.
“You can't help her, now go!” he says, from the hate that is running through his veins, his facial features are become significantly distorted. Focused on the oncoming Germans, he shouts