Read Online Radio Hope (Toxic World Book 1) by Sean McLachlan - Free Book Online
Authors: Sean McLachlan
Ads: Link
“Information is power”? Maybe sometime s, but the ability to pierce military-grade body armor at 1,500 meters was more powerful than any information she’d ever know.
She took out a nearly empty box of .338 Lapua Magnum rounds and slid one into the rifle’s magazine. Her mouth set into a grim line when she saw that only left four extra bullets in the box. She took the bullets out, stuffed them into her breast pocket, crumpled up the cardboard box, and set it on a pile of kindling next to her stove. Zipping up the rifle case again, she strapped it to the pack, put the pack on her back, and returned to the front of the bar.
Roy and Pablo were sitting at the bar laughing and playing coin football. Pablo shot a coin through the goal Roy made with his fingers and cheered.
Annette’s gut tightened. “Time to go, kiddo.”
Pablo looked at his mother, his face falling.
Roy tousled his hair and gave him a handful of coins. “I’ll check in on you. Here, don’t let anyone give you a bad trade.”
“OK.” Pablo mumbled.
“Cómo se dice, Pablito? ” Annette prompted.
“Thank you.” Pablo shuffled to the door.
Roy looked at her. “Take care in the wildlands, now.”
Annette nodded. “I will.”
As they walked out the door Annette took her son’s hand. “Got a surprise for you.”
“What?” Pablo asked without enthusiasm.
“One of the people I’m going on patrol with works at the radio station. That’s where we’re going right now.”
Pablo perked up. “Really?”
“You’re getting a free tour.”
Annette left her weapons at the gate, with a sharp reminder to the guards that Abe would hear of it if the rifle was touched, handled, or even looked at funny, and led Pablo around the warehouse to the low concrete shed with the tall radio tower next to it. Above the door was a painted sign reading, “New City Radio”.
Mitch Evans lounged on a wooden bench by the door. A pack and an AK-47 leaned against the wall next to him. Mitch was a tall , muscular man in his late twenties. She knew him because he was a regular at the bar. Most citizens didn’t venture out of New City after dark but Mitch liked to go to the whorehouses after getting liquored up. He had cold blue eyes and a crew cut. A bit of flour clung to his cheek.
Looks like Abe made him work his shift at the bakery before heading off into the wildlands. Typical.
“About time you showed up!” he barked at them.
“Good morning to you too,” Annette grumbled.
“We need to get going. Abe wanted us gone an hour ago!”
“Abe can wait,” Annette dismissed him, pulling her son through the door.
The little building was all one single room divided by a wooden partition with a large glass window. The front half was cramped with tables full of unfamiliar electronic equipment. Through the window Annette could look into the back half and saw Ha-Ram Lee sitting at a table that had a computer, more electronic equipment, and something she had heard called a microphone.
Although the radio technician was barely out of his teens, he was an expert at anything electronic thanks to his fath er, who had died from cancer a few years before. Fresh faced and eager, with straight black hair above a round Asian face, he sat talking into the microphone. She could hear his voice faintly through the glass.
“Next up is an oldie for all you oldies out there , Born to Be Wil d by Steppenwolf.”
Ha-Ram pushed a button and a guitar riff started. He pushed another button, looked up, and motioned to them to pass through a door in the partition.
“Don’t touch anything,” Annette told her son.
“Hi guys!” Ha-Ram said.
Annette looked nervously at the microphone. “Can they hear us?”
“No, I turned it off,” the radio technician laughed.
Annette looked around at all the switches, dials, and flashing lights. Pablo did the same, eyes wide as saucers.
“Hi, you’re Annette’s kid, aren’t you? Would you like to be on the
She took out a nearly empty box of .338 Lapua Magnum rounds and slid one into the rifle’s magazine. Her mouth set into a grim line when she saw that only left four extra bullets in the box. She took the bullets out, stuffed them into her breast pocket, crumpled up the cardboard box, and set it on a pile of kindling next to her stove. Zipping up the rifle case again, she strapped it to the pack, put the pack on her back, and returned to the front of the bar.
Roy and Pablo were sitting at the bar laughing and playing coin football. Pablo shot a coin through the goal Roy made with his fingers and cheered.
Annette’s gut tightened. “Time to go, kiddo.”
Pablo looked at his mother, his face falling.
Roy tousled his hair and gave him a handful of coins. “I’ll check in on you. Here, don’t let anyone give you a bad trade.”
“OK.” Pablo mumbled.
“Cómo se dice, Pablito? ” Annette prompted.
“Thank you.” Pablo shuffled to the door.
Roy looked at her. “Take care in the wildlands, now.”
Annette nodded. “I will.”
As they walked out the door Annette took her son’s hand. “Got a surprise for you.”
“What?” Pablo asked without enthusiasm.
“One of the people I’m going on patrol with works at the radio station. That’s where we’re going right now.”
Pablo perked up. “Really?”
“You’re getting a free tour.”
Annette left her weapons at the gate, with a sharp reminder to the guards that Abe would hear of it if the rifle was touched, handled, or even looked at funny, and led Pablo around the warehouse to the low concrete shed with the tall radio tower next to it. Above the door was a painted sign reading, “New City Radio”.
Mitch Evans lounged on a wooden bench by the door. A pack and an AK-47 leaned against the wall next to him. Mitch was a tall , muscular man in his late twenties. She knew him because he was a regular at the bar. Most citizens didn’t venture out of New City after dark but Mitch liked to go to the whorehouses after getting liquored up. He had cold blue eyes and a crew cut. A bit of flour clung to his cheek.
Looks like Abe made him work his shift at the bakery before heading off into the wildlands. Typical.
“About time you showed up!” he barked at them.
“Good morning to you too,” Annette grumbled.
“We need to get going. Abe wanted us gone an hour ago!”
“Abe can wait,” Annette dismissed him, pulling her son through the door.
The little building was all one single room divided by a wooden partition with a large glass window. The front half was cramped with tables full of unfamiliar electronic equipment. Through the window Annette could look into the back half and saw Ha-Ram Lee sitting at a table that had a computer, more electronic equipment, and something she had heard called a microphone.
Although the radio technician was barely out of his teens, he was an expert at anything electronic thanks to his fath er, who had died from cancer a few years before. Fresh faced and eager, with straight black hair above a round Asian face, he sat talking into the microphone. She could hear his voice faintly through the glass.
“Next up is an oldie for all you oldies out there , Born to Be Wil d by Steppenwolf.”
Ha-Ram pushed a button and a guitar riff started. He pushed another button, looked up, and motioned to them to pass through a door in the partition.
“Don’t touch anything,” Annette told her son.
“Hi guys!” Ha-Ram said.
Annette looked nervously at the microphone. “Can they hear us?”
“No, I turned it off,” the radio technician laughed.
Annette looked around at all the switches, dials, and flashing lights. Pablo did the same, eyes wide as saucers.
“Hi, you’re Annette’s kid, aren’t you? Would you like to be on the
Similar Books
