help I can provide.”
“You’re doing great, Special Agent,” Katie said. “And we’re very grateful. Aren’t we?”
“And you’re hot,” Samantha noted. “So that helps.”
I said, “This place is perfect. Temporarily. We’ll lay low until its time to move out. Where are we staying?”
“The guest room at the Infirmary. But I’m not positive where that is. I’ve never been here.”
Our journey in the jeep did not go unnoticed. Four strangers in civilian clothes were uncommon on a Joint Forces base. Katie especially stuck out.
“Here,” Samantha growled and stuffed a duffle bag into Katie’s lap. “Hug that to your chest. You’re too attractive and curvy, especially in your pjs. All these half-wits are staring.”
Los Alamitos is not pretty. It’s old and utilitarian and without adornment. No grass, just soldiers jogging in cadence over dusty earth. Anderson said there was a pool and golf course, but we’d never use them. We motored through cinderblock housing and offices and armories, all painted military grays and khakis, until we stumbled across the Infirmary. A small apartment was built into the back, just a bathroom and small bedroom. Several bags of McDonalds were steaming on the bedside table. I ate a sausage biscuit in one bite.
“One cot?” Samantha arched an eyebrow at the rickety mattress.
“I’m not your concierge,” Anderson yawned. “Go check into a hotel if you want. See how that goes. Colonel Jordan should be here soon. I don’t want to be spotted, so I’m leaving the base immediately.”
The jeep roared, and he was gone. Samantha glared at the door, hands on hips, for a full fifteen seconds before announcing, “I look military. I’m not staying in this tiny room. Back later. And I’ll bring clothes for Miss Pajamas.” She grabbed a McDonalds bag and slammed the door.
The room was small. No windows. No televisions.
Katie said, “Well…”
“That was an interesting morning.”
“Shall we eat?”
“Let’s snuggle first.”
She smiled. “We’d be fools not to.”
Chapter Six
Friday, January 5. 2019
I couldn’t stay quiet. I was too amped. Too juiced. Too much adrenaline. I paced back and forth until after lunch, when Katie grew tired of my simmering energy and pushed us both outside. We found a rec hall with a television but we could barely see the screen. The hall was standing room only, way above capacity, bodies crowding for a better view. The video footage of Chosen rioting over Glendale startled everyone, even me and Katie. Those freaks were fast . How on earth did we escape? The newscast displayed the wreckage which used to be my home, as well as the ten-mile backup on the interstate. Fortunately our names weren’t being used, even though our helicopter dash had been caught on several cellphone cameras.
“It’s only a matter of time,” Katie observed. “A few hours. And then they’ll be confident enough to release your real name.” Katie did not fit in, even wearing camouflage fatigues. She was too soft, too pretty, too feminine, her voice too bright.
I wanted to fight. My blood boiled. I’d been attacked. The Chemist sent monsters to my house ! To Katie’s! He came early, hoping to catch us asleep. He invaded our private lives. And Tank sold us for his freedom, breaking our rule about no families. I wanted to break things. I needed justice. A reckoning.
We found Samantha Gear at an outdoor firing range. Where else. A small crowd gathered to watch. She stood perfectly still, her left elbow propped on her left hip, glaring down the length of a sniper rifle. She was still dressed in camo cargo pants and a tight black shirt.
A buzzer sounded. Targets moved. She fired five times, sharp blasts, spinning copper cartridges, and she shattered five mechanical moving targets.
Two soldiers stood in front of me, whispering.
“See how fast she works the bolt? Christ almighty.”
“Not even using a scope.”
“Scope? How could she?
“You’re doing great, Special Agent,” Katie said. “And we’re very grateful. Aren’t we?”
“And you’re hot,” Samantha noted. “So that helps.”
I said, “This place is perfect. Temporarily. We’ll lay low until its time to move out. Where are we staying?”
“The guest room at the Infirmary. But I’m not positive where that is. I’ve never been here.”
Our journey in the jeep did not go unnoticed. Four strangers in civilian clothes were uncommon on a Joint Forces base. Katie especially stuck out.
“Here,” Samantha growled and stuffed a duffle bag into Katie’s lap. “Hug that to your chest. You’re too attractive and curvy, especially in your pjs. All these half-wits are staring.”
Los Alamitos is not pretty. It’s old and utilitarian and without adornment. No grass, just soldiers jogging in cadence over dusty earth. Anderson said there was a pool and golf course, but we’d never use them. We motored through cinderblock housing and offices and armories, all painted military grays and khakis, until we stumbled across the Infirmary. A small apartment was built into the back, just a bathroom and small bedroom. Several bags of McDonalds were steaming on the bedside table. I ate a sausage biscuit in one bite.
“One cot?” Samantha arched an eyebrow at the rickety mattress.
“I’m not your concierge,” Anderson yawned. “Go check into a hotel if you want. See how that goes. Colonel Jordan should be here soon. I don’t want to be spotted, so I’m leaving the base immediately.”
The jeep roared, and he was gone. Samantha glared at the door, hands on hips, for a full fifteen seconds before announcing, “I look military. I’m not staying in this tiny room. Back later. And I’ll bring clothes for Miss Pajamas.” She grabbed a McDonalds bag and slammed the door.
The room was small. No windows. No televisions.
Katie said, “Well…”
“That was an interesting morning.”
“Shall we eat?”
“Let’s snuggle first.”
She smiled. “We’d be fools not to.”
Chapter Six
Friday, January 5. 2019
I couldn’t stay quiet. I was too amped. Too juiced. Too much adrenaline. I paced back and forth until after lunch, when Katie grew tired of my simmering energy and pushed us both outside. We found a rec hall with a television but we could barely see the screen. The hall was standing room only, way above capacity, bodies crowding for a better view. The video footage of Chosen rioting over Glendale startled everyone, even me and Katie. Those freaks were fast . How on earth did we escape? The newscast displayed the wreckage which used to be my home, as well as the ten-mile backup on the interstate. Fortunately our names weren’t being used, even though our helicopter dash had been caught on several cellphone cameras.
“It’s only a matter of time,” Katie observed. “A few hours. And then they’ll be confident enough to release your real name.” Katie did not fit in, even wearing camouflage fatigues. She was too soft, too pretty, too feminine, her voice too bright.
I wanted to fight. My blood boiled. I’d been attacked. The Chemist sent monsters to my house ! To Katie’s! He came early, hoping to catch us asleep. He invaded our private lives. And Tank sold us for his freedom, breaking our rule about no families. I wanted to break things. I needed justice. A reckoning.
We found Samantha Gear at an outdoor firing range. Where else. A small crowd gathered to watch. She stood perfectly still, her left elbow propped on her left hip, glaring down the length of a sniper rifle. She was still dressed in camo cargo pants and a tight black shirt.
A buzzer sounded. Targets moved. She fired five times, sharp blasts, spinning copper cartridges, and she shattered five mechanical moving targets.
Two soldiers stood in front of me, whispering.
“See how fast she works the bolt? Christ almighty.”
“Not even using a scope.”
“Scope? How could she?
Similar Books
