Read Online Cheap Thrills (6 Thrilling reads) by Luis Samways - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Luis Samways
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could see how much this woman cared about saving lives. He gets up from his kneeling position overlooking the downed officer and extends his hand. Donner looks up at Ray and smiles a sad but warm smile. She grips his strong hand and gets herself up on her feet. She looks around at their surroundings and quickly refocuses.
‘How far away is the camp?’
Ray laughs
‘It’s no camp…but it isn’t that far, maybe a ten minute walk if we hurry’
‘Good, I want to meet the rest of them,’ she says
‘You will, don’t worry. I’ll get us there’
Donner picks up her bag of supplies and lets Ray lead the way into the dark tunnels of the New York sewer system.
Two
The Black Ops style army commander looks through the viewfinder of his night vision binoculars. He sees a group of armed United States marines patrolling the south bank of their barracks. The night sky glistens with stars and satellites. The US marines seen through the viewfinder don’t look like they are in a war setting, and that is because they are not. They are domestic marines. They patrol their barracks not because of the fear of attack but because they are told to by their drill instructors.
The base the covert army men are surveying is a boot camp for the fifth regiment of the United States Marine Corp. They are not in a warzone; they are situated just south of Arlington, Virginia. The base in question is the Henderson Hall base. It’s been in commission since the Second World War and in its present state, it is used to house the marines of Virginia and to train the future marines of the United States.
The covert army’s orders are simple. Take the base hard, and take it fast. Anything less than that would be unsatisfactory. Mr Conway has assured them that the element of surprise will be in their favour. With the US worrying about people self-combusting in New York and other cities, it gives the covert army and Mr Conway himself, the chance to strike at their true targets; The United States itself.
The army commander draped in black with war paint on his face puts his binoculars down on the dirt mound in front of him. He turns around and whistles quietly. A slight rustling sound is heard in the bushes as he looks on in anticipation. A few seconds pass and a large group of men spanning the whole south bank of the Henderson Hall outpost emerge through the brush. There are at least two hundred and fifty armed men. Each of them has an assault rifle strung around their necks. All of them have the same outfit on. The left shoulder of the army commander dons a patch that reads “The Covert Militia”
Three
48 th street is nothing but a graveyard today. After the attack on the street a few hours prior, no one dares walk those streets today. They couldn’t if they wanted to, seeing that the FBI are on task, trying to determine what happened to the people on 48 th that fateful morning. One of the detectives in question patrolling the area for clues is Jesse Manteo, a New York homicide detective with deep roots towards the Native Americans of yesteryear. He’s a young guy, long hair and bares a certain resemblance to a rock star, even though he lacks the good looks. He’s sipping his Mocha Latte on the cusp of 48 th overlooking the destruction left behind by the armed covert army. His partner Ricky Pastori approaches Jesse with a grim look on his face.
‘I have bad news Jesse, all the CCTV has been taken out,’ says Ricky as he too sips on a Starbucks coffee he has in his hand.
‘Well I figured that much at least, I mean how couldn’t they take the CCTV out? They shot the whole place up. I’ll be surprised if there is a single piece of equipment on this street that doesn’t have a bullet hole in it’
‘Why do you think they hit 48 th street like this?’ asks Ricky
‘I don’t know; I don’t even know who these guys are. Why would anyone hit 48 th anyway? I mean, it wasn’t a robbery that much is clear. They had the chance to hit
‘How far away is the camp?’
Ray laughs
‘It’s no camp…but it isn’t that far, maybe a ten minute walk if we hurry’
‘Good, I want to meet the rest of them,’ she says
‘You will, don’t worry. I’ll get us there’
Donner picks up her bag of supplies and lets Ray lead the way into the dark tunnels of the New York sewer system.
Two
The Black Ops style army commander looks through the viewfinder of his night vision binoculars. He sees a group of armed United States marines patrolling the south bank of their barracks. The night sky glistens with stars and satellites. The US marines seen through the viewfinder don’t look like they are in a war setting, and that is because they are not. They are domestic marines. They patrol their barracks not because of the fear of attack but because they are told to by their drill instructors.
The base the covert army men are surveying is a boot camp for the fifth regiment of the United States Marine Corp. They are not in a warzone; they are situated just south of Arlington, Virginia. The base in question is the Henderson Hall base. It’s been in commission since the Second World War and in its present state, it is used to house the marines of Virginia and to train the future marines of the United States.
The covert army’s orders are simple. Take the base hard, and take it fast. Anything less than that would be unsatisfactory. Mr Conway has assured them that the element of surprise will be in their favour. With the US worrying about people self-combusting in New York and other cities, it gives the covert army and Mr Conway himself, the chance to strike at their true targets; The United States itself.
The army commander draped in black with war paint on his face puts his binoculars down on the dirt mound in front of him. He turns around and whistles quietly. A slight rustling sound is heard in the bushes as he looks on in anticipation. A few seconds pass and a large group of men spanning the whole south bank of the Henderson Hall outpost emerge through the brush. There are at least two hundred and fifty armed men. Each of them has an assault rifle strung around their necks. All of them have the same outfit on. The left shoulder of the army commander dons a patch that reads “The Covert Militia”
Three
48 th street is nothing but a graveyard today. After the attack on the street a few hours prior, no one dares walk those streets today. They couldn’t if they wanted to, seeing that the FBI are on task, trying to determine what happened to the people on 48 th that fateful morning. One of the detectives in question patrolling the area for clues is Jesse Manteo, a New York homicide detective with deep roots towards the Native Americans of yesteryear. He’s a young guy, long hair and bares a certain resemblance to a rock star, even though he lacks the good looks. He’s sipping his Mocha Latte on the cusp of 48 th overlooking the destruction left behind by the armed covert army. His partner Ricky Pastori approaches Jesse with a grim look on his face.
‘I have bad news Jesse, all the CCTV has been taken out,’ says Ricky as he too sips on a Starbucks coffee he has in his hand.
‘Well I figured that much at least, I mean how couldn’t they take the CCTV out? They shot the whole place up. I’ll be surprised if there is a single piece of equipment on this street that doesn’t have a bullet hole in it’
‘Why do you think they hit 48 th street like this?’ asks Ricky
‘I don’t know; I don’t even know who these guys are. Why would anyone hit 48 th anyway? I mean, it wasn’t a robbery that much is clear. They had the chance to hit
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