Read Online The Eye of Moloch by Glenn Beck - Free Book Online Page A

since seen which way the wind was blowing and quietly reholstered his gun. Pierce gave a nod to pass along the order, and when the man had left he looked across the table again with something like respect in his eyes. Close enough for today, in any case.
    “And what next?”
    “What next?” Landers said. “Next, Mr. Pierce, we’re going to spit upon our hands, hoist the black flag, and begin slitting throats.”

Chapter 9

    I n a sudden swoon of vertigo Thom Hollis snapped wide awake with a start, heart pounding, drenched in a frigid sweat and clutching the quilted comforter like a slick lifeline. His throat was raw and his breathing labored, and though he felt all these physical things and knew that the warm, darkened room around him must be real, it still took the solemn march of several seconds before he could assure himself he was alive.
    With the heavy curtains drawn there was just enough daylight seeping in to gauge the proportions of a large guest suite and trace the outlines of unfamiliar furniture. A silent figure stood backlit in the doorway with what appeared to be a basket in its hands.
    “Who is that?”
    “You called out just before,” came the quiet answer. “You’re safe now. Your friend Molly and all the others are okay, too.”
    Bedside lamps lit with the click of a wall switch and the woman who’d been standing there came into the room. The wicker basket she held was filled with pressed and folded clothes, and she placed it on alow dresser, pulled out a wide drawer, opened a closet, and began to put away the laundry.
    “You’ll have to pardon me, ma’am—but who are you, and where am I?”
    She spoke to him as she worked. Her tone was genuinely pleasant, though hued with the good-natured patience of one who was explaining something very simple for the second time around.
    “I’m Cathy Merrick. This is my dad’s place. This is your room, and these are your clothes—the tatters you wore when you got here, along with some other things I figured might just fit you. The rest of the family met you for a few minutes yesterday night. In the state you all were in, I guess I’m not too surprised if you don’t remember.”
    But he did remember, vaguely. The face reflected in the dresser mirror was handsome and mature, with clear brown eyes that seemed subtly amused by some unshared thought just behind them. These features were framed with dark brown hair that fell easily around her shoulders. A wisp of mid-thirties premature gray played here and there, along with the sort of highlights the sun would have left throughout a life lived in the great outdoors.
    She looked more familiar, in fact, than his own more distant image alongside her in the glass. The man there looked quite thin and substantially younger than he felt, all due to the extra weight he’d gradually lost over their long winter on the run. He touched his cheek—the skin was clean-shaven for the first time in years.
    “Oh, that reminds me.” She came over to sit next to him, then took his chin to turn the far side of his face toward the nearest lamp. “You’ve got a cut here at the jawline that probably should have had a couple of stitches a few days ago.” As he moved to feel the spot she stopped his hand with a gentle smack, as one might correct a greedy child about to take another cookie out of turn. “Just leave it be; we’ll see how it heals. I had to shave that part to treat the laceration, and then you looked kind of funny that way, so I took off the rest.”
    She must have noticed he was fixating again on his transfigured facein the mirror across the room. “For heaven’s sake, that bushy old beard’ll grow back if you want it to. And you told me you didn’t mind; you were talking to me all friendly just like you were downtown with the boys at the barbershop.”
    “I hope I didn’t say anything I should be ashamed of.”
    “Oh no, you were quite the complimentary gentleman, even if you weren’t strictly