crumpling the truck’s hood.
Smoke filled the alleyway, and Brooke kept the revolver aimed at the truck. Her boots crunched over the small shards of glass from the broken driver-side window as she approached. The driver’s head hung limp, and blood soaked his chest.
The man in the passenger seat moaned. He stirred, but Brooke kept her pistol aimed at him.
“I can’t feel my arm,” he said.
Brooke could feel the small sliver of steel that was the revolver’s trigger. All she had to do was pull. She had killed those Mexican raiders that attacked her. He was no different than them.
“Hey, lady, don’t do this,” he said.
She stepped closer, leaning over the dead driver’s body until the revolver’s barrel was only a few inches from the injured man’s face. Brooke’s heart was racing. The pistol in her hand wavered.
“How many people have asked you not to do it?” Brooke asked.
Brooke pressed the gun’s barrel into the man’s cheek. He shuddered. She pushed harder. He whimpered.
“Don’t do this,” the man said.
Just squeeze. One simple motion. As she jammed the pistol farther into the man’s cheek, spit flew from his mouth as he continued to beg. Then her concentration was broken by the rumble of another engine behind her.
***
One Humvee and four men were all that Eric was able to get approved. One armored vehicle against the potential violence of an entire city. He was less than thrilled.
They put on as much body armor as was allowed and headed into Phoenix to search for supplies and recruits. Eric knew Captain Howard wanted this excursion to act as an olive branch to the people of the city, but he decided against bringing any supplies with him. He wanted to scout the area before opening up a soup kitchen.
Eric had the pleasure of being accompanied by two Marines, an Army Ranger, and a retired Navy SEAL who had headed to Luke AFB the moment he heard the president’s announcement. Despite the odds, he felt confident in the knowledge and experience that surrounded him.
Jim Nabb was the Army Ranger. He was only in his late twenties, but the thick beard used to cover the scars on his face made him look ten years older. He had been sent to the AFB when orders came in for him to assist in “relocation” efforts. That was all the information that was given to him. It wasn’t until he made it to Phoenix and heard the president’s speech that he understood what it meant. While the rest of the base was shipping out, he was in the streets of Phoenix, trying to help citizens who couldn’t help themselves. It was a losing battle.
“Aren’t you hot wearing that fur coat on your face all the time?” Eric asked.
“A little, but I also never have to wear sunscreen. It irritates my sensitive skin,” Jim answered, smiling.
“The ladies won’t let me get rid of mine,” Tuck replied.
Tuck was the former Navy SEAL. In addition to the bristly beard, he had a bit of a gut, which Eric chose not to comment on because of Tuck’s sizeable frame. The man had bear paws for hands and towered well over six-four. It didn’t take Tuck long to put two and two together during the morning of the exile. Once the looting started, the safest place in his mind was the Air Force base. He knew most of the people inside, so it was easy for him to get in.
“Our Marines are pretty quiet back there. How are we feeling, jarheads?” Eric asked.
“Oo-rah, Lieutenant,” they said in unison.
Tuck looked back behind him.
“You don’t have to call him that. Technically, none of us are even in the military right now,” Tuck said.
“He’s right,” Eric said. “You don’t have to go through the formalities of ‘sir’ or ‘Lieutenant.’ ‘God of War’ will do just fine.”
Eric managed to get a smile out of both Marines. They couldn’t have been older than twenty. Still baby faced and fresh out of boot camp, they were
Smoke filled the alleyway, and Brooke kept the revolver aimed at the truck. Her boots crunched over the small shards of glass from the broken driver-side window as she approached. The driver’s head hung limp, and blood soaked his chest.
The man in the passenger seat moaned. He stirred, but Brooke kept her pistol aimed at him.
“I can’t feel my arm,” he said.
Brooke could feel the small sliver of steel that was the revolver’s trigger. All she had to do was pull. She had killed those Mexican raiders that attacked her. He was no different than them.
“Hey, lady, don’t do this,” he said.
She stepped closer, leaning over the dead driver’s body until the revolver’s barrel was only a few inches from the injured man’s face. Brooke’s heart was racing. The pistol in her hand wavered.
“How many people have asked you not to do it?” Brooke asked.
Brooke pressed the gun’s barrel into the man’s cheek. He shuddered. She pushed harder. He whimpered.
“Don’t do this,” the man said.
Just squeeze. One simple motion. As she jammed the pistol farther into the man’s cheek, spit flew from his mouth as he continued to beg. Then her concentration was broken by the rumble of another engine behind her.
***
One Humvee and four men were all that Eric was able to get approved. One armored vehicle against the potential violence of an entire city. He was less than thrilled.
They put on as much body armor as was allowed and headed into Phoenix to search for supplies and recruits. Eric knew Captain Howard wanted this excursion to act as an olive branch to the people of the city, but he decided against bringing any supplies with him. He wanted to scout the area before opening up a soup kitchen.
Eric had the pleasure of being accompanied by two Marines, an Army Ranger, and a retired Navy SEAL who had headed to Luke AFB the moment he heard the president’s announcement. Despite the odds, he felt confident in the knowledge and experience that surrounded him.
Jim Nabb was the Army Ranger. He was only in his late twenties, but the thick beard used to cover the scars on his face made him look ten years older. He had been sent to the AFB when orders came in for him to assist in “relocation” efforts. That was all the information that was given to him. It wasn’t until he made it to Phoenix and heard the president’s speech that he understood what it meant. While the rest of the base was shipping out, he was in the streets of Phoenix, trying to help citizens who couldn’t help themselves. It was a losing battle.
“Aren’t you hot wearing that fur coat on your face all the time?” Eric asked.
“A little, but I also never have to wear sunscreen. It irritates my sensitive skin,” Jim answered, smiling.
“The ladies won’t let me get rid of mine,” Tuck replied.
Tuck was the former Navy SEAL. In addition to the bristly beard, he had a bit of a gut, which Eric chose not to comment on because of Tuck’s sizeable frame. The man had bear paws for hands and towered well over six-four. It didn’t take Tuck long to put two and two together during the morning of the exile. Once the looting started, the safest place in his mind was the Air Force base. He knew most of the people inside, so it was easy for him to get in.
“Our Marines are pretty quiet back there. How are we feeling, jarheads?” Eric asked.
“Oo-rah, Lieutenant,” they said in unison.
Tuck looked back behind him.
“You don’t have to call him that. Technically, none of us are even in the military right now,” Tuck said.
“He’s right,” Eric said. “You don’t have to go through the formalities of ‘sir’ or ‘Lieutenant.’ ‘God of War’ will do just fine.”
Eric managed to get a smile out of both Marines. They couldn’t have been older than twenty. Still baby faced and fresh out of boot camp, they were
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