Read Online The Final Trade by Joe Hart - Free Book Online
Authors: Joe Hart
Tags: Science-Fiction
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her nerves that are beginning to tighten by checking her handgun’s load. It’s ready. She surveys the landscape as they trundle on, making sure all of her hair is tucked beneath her hat. Rita hands her a bulky jacket and she dons it, making her form shapeless enough that a man wouldn’t notice. The other women do the same.
After another minute of driving, a bend in the road appears beside a small hill. In the distance a curve of cliffs juts into the sky. Merrill pulls to a stop and Ian gets out, not saying a word as he moves up the rise and is lost almost at once in the gathered sage. In the Jeep, Eli switches to the passenger seat and Benny climbs behind the wheel.
“I don’t like that he’s driving,” Zoey says.
“Can’t do it any other way. They’ll know something’s up if he’s not,” Merrill says.
They wait for nearly ten minutes before continuing on, Merrill signaling Eli with a short blip of the horn. They creep around the bend and Zoey’s stomach tenses at the sight that meets them.
Riverbend lies at the end of a dirt road on the other side of what was once a river, the dry bed only a groove in the land that runs beneath a heavy steel bridge. Beyond the bridge is a tall chain-link fence, its top looped with razor wire. A gate sits directly beside an empty guardhouse that has been partially torn open. Inside the fence are dark domes set evenly apart before several squat buildings, the missile caps Merrill described before they left so much larger in real life. A narrow two-story tower dominates the center of the installation’s clearing; a figure mans the open space at the top.
“Here we go,” Merrill says.
The two vehicles cross the bridge, tires rattling on reinforced grating. Zoey glances into the backseat of the Suburban. Calm faces meet her. Even Rita and Sherell appear collected. She gives them a small smile that they return.
Eight months ago we would’ve been at each other’s throats ,she thinks, readjusting herself in the seat. Now she would gladly die for either one of them.
The Jeep pulls even with the guard shack, stopping before the gate. She tenses, wondering if this is a trap. But her apprehension bleeds away as the gate snaps into motion, rumbling to one side with a growl.
They have electricity here. It’s a good sign. She allows a fraction of hope to slip through the armor she’s worn since learning of the missile facility. The information she’s craved, since before she can remember, might be inside at this second: where her home was, what her parents’ names were, what her name is.
Who she is.
Zoey swallows and regrips the H&K, keeping the weapon low and out of sight beside her seat.
They pull through the gate and it shuts behind them, the sound of it locking loud even with the rumbling engines. The tower looms beside them and she can’t help but glance up. The guard’s rifle follows their progress.
The Jeep comes to a stop and Merrill parks a car length behind it. Zoey’s heart quickens, adrenaline beginning to stretch its legs in her veins.
A door in the largest building ahead of them opens, and several figures pour out. She counts them.
One, two, three, four, five.
All of them are heavily armed. Submachine guns hanging from slings. A confident swagger to their walk. They are dressed in military fatigues and button-up shirts. Combat boots puff the dry soil with each step.
The man at the front of the group wears dark sunglasses below a straw hat, the brim curled up on either side. His shirt is open to his navel, revealing a chiseled physique. Dog tags jingle against his chest. He eyes Benny behind the wheel of the Jeep before peering directly through the windshield of the Suburban.
“Steady,” Merrill says. “Be ready to move if anything looks wrong.”
The man in the hat says something to Benny through the open window of the Jeep. Shakes his head and motions to the largest building. The other four men span out in a loose half circle around the cars.
After another minute of driving, a bend in the road appears beside a small hill. In the distance a curve of cliffs juts into the sky. Merrill pulls to a stop and Ian gets out, not saying a word as he moves up the rise and is lost almost at once in the gathered sage. In the Jeep, Eli switches to the passenger seat and Benny climbs behind the wheel.
“I don’t like that he’s driving,” Zoey says.
“Can’t do it any other way. They’ll know something’s up if he’s not,” Merrill says.
They wait for nearly ten minutes before continuing on, Merrill signaling Eli with a short blip of the horn. They creep around the bend and Zoey’s stomach tenses at the sight that meets them.
Riverbend lies at the end of a dirt road on the other side of what was once a river, the dry bed only a groove in the land that runs beneath a heavy steel bridge. Beyond the bridge is a tall chain-link fence, its top looped with razor wire. A gate sits directly beside an empty guardhouse that has been partially torn open. Inside the fence are dark domes set evenly apart before several squat buildings, the missile caps Merrill described before they left so much larger in real life. A narrow two-story tower dominates the center of the installation’s clearing; a figure mans the open space at the top.
“Here we go,” Merrill says.
The two vehicles cross the bridge, tires rattling on reinforced grating. Zoey glances into the backseat of the Suburban. Calm faces meet her. Even Rita and Sherell appear collected. She gives them a small smile that they return.
Eight months ago we would’ve been at each other’s throats ,she thinks, readjusting herself in the seat. Now she would gladly die for either one of them.
The Jeep pulls even with the guard shack, stopping before the gate. She tenses, wondering if this is a trap. But her apprehension bleeds away as the gate snaps into motion, rumbling to one side with a growl.
They have electricity here. It’s a good sign. She allows a fraction of hope to slip through the armor she’s worn since learning of the missile facility. The information she’s craved, since before she can remember, might be inside at this second: where her home was, what her parents’ names were, what her name is.
Who she is.
Zoey swallows and regrips the H&K, keeping the weapon low and out of sight beside her seat.
They pull through the gate and it shuts behind them, the sound of it locking loud even with the rumbling engines. The tower looms beside them and she can’t help but glance up. The guard’s rifle follows their progress.
The Jeep comes to a stop and Merrill parks a car length behind it. Zoey’s heart quickens, adrenaline beginning to stretch its legs in her veins.
A door in the largest building ahead of them opens, and several figures pour out. She counts them.
One, two, three, four, five.
All of them are heavily armed. Submachine guns hanging from slings. A confident swagger to their walk. They are dressed in military fatigues and button-up shirts. Combat boots puff the dry soil with each step.
The man at the front of the group wears dark sunglasses below a straw hat, the brim curled up on either side. His shirt is open to his navel, revealing a chiseled physique. Dog tags jingle against his chest. He eyes Benny behind the wheel of the Jeep before peering directly through the windshield of the Suburban.
“Steady,” Merrill says. “Be ready to move if anything looks wrong.”
The man in the hat says something to Benny through the open window of the Jeep. Shakes his head and motions to the largest building. The other four men span out in a loose half circle around the cars.
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