Read Online Republic of the Living (Novella): Vengeance by Taz Gallaher - Free Book Online Page A

 He paused at the truck and plucked
the rifle from the hood.   Dropping this staff and grasping the
rifle, he dashed past the front of the station entrance and found the steel
door.  He rested the rifle on the ground and carefully wedged the piece of
lumber under the door handle, pressing the other end into the crumbling macadam.
    Scooping up the rifle, he jogged into the swath of
light in front of the camp gates.  Holy shit, he exclaimed silently as he
pulled a pipe from the gate latch, they didn’t even lock the damn thing.
 He pushed the gate open.  The only sound was the rasp of metal on
concrete.  
    The cooking fires were banked low and flickered a
dull orange.  He ran to the first tent and struggled with the long seam in
the flap.  Voices on the other side of the canvas whispered back and
forth.
    “ Open it up, goddammit,” Chewy
wheezed.  “Please.”
    A pair of hands appeared between the flaps and he
whipped them apart.  A middle-aged Asian man in dirty jeans and a
sleeveless t-shirt scowled at him.
    “ Quick,” Chewy whispered.
 “Mai sent me.  It’s time to go.  Real fast.”
    The voices in the dark tent rose in pitch and
volume.  The man studied him for a moment and then turned.  He
snapped something in Chinese to the people in the tent, his voice low and
steady.  The voices stopped and the silence was followed by the sound of
cots moving and feet shuffling.
    “ Get the other tent,” Chewy
said.  The man spun to face him.  “Go back to Oakland.  The kids
are waiting.”  He gulped air into his lungs.  “The children are
waiting.  Do you understand?”
    The man nodded his head curtly and retreated into
the shadows of the tent interior.
    He waited by the gate and glanced down at the
rifle in his hand.  He recognized the wooden stock and the short barrel.
 It was same one the guards used at Lompoc.  He flicked the safety in
front of the trigger guard.
    A crowd of people was assembling in front of the
tents.  He waved his hand and the man he’d spoken to, his face obscured by
a hoody, led his group toward the gate.  Chewy flashed him a thumbs-up and
the man wagged his head, turning sideways to urge his group forward.  
    Chewy raced to the side of the truck and laid the
rifle on the hood, pointing its muzzle toward the station entrance.
 Something moved in front of the gate.  A pair of faded pink sneakers
appeared below the shadows cast by the globe lamps.  His hands were slick
with sweat and he had trouble keeping the gun steady.

 
    ******

 
    The others were already in their cots, blankets
pulled up over their shoulders.  Pearly stripped down to his boxers and
sweat-stained t-shirt.  He grinned.  Too bad they couldn’t hold their
liquor like he could.  He sat on the edge of the bed and, as he did every
night, he closed his eyes and focused on the silence of the station building.
Nothing.  Not even the tick of a breeze against the building.  Not a
peep from the chinks on the other side of the fence.
    Parker was a kid, he thought to himself as he
rolled onto his back.  But he knew how to handle himself.  He gazed
up at the ceiling.  Hanrahan had found a real good set-up.  Another
week or two and they could all get back to Elk Grove.  Get this load
shipped across the Bay.  Maybe make a quick run down to Hayward to pick up
some more.
    He closed his eyes.
    “ Aw shit,” he muttered as he
sat up.  Ace was waiting for him.  Shit.
    He staggered to his feet and swayed, surprised at
how unsteady he felt.  He groped through the darkness to his pile of
clothes and pulled out a long-sleeved shirt.  Fuck pants, he chuckled to
himself.  And shoes.
    He tottered toward the door.  Hanrahan sat up
quickly as he passed his cot.
    “ What’s up, big man?”
 His friend’s voice was thick with sleep and booze.
    “ Nothing, man.”  Pearly
flopped a hand against the doorframe to steady himself.  Just forgot to
give Ace his treat.
    “ Jesus,” Hanrahan swore as