Conscription- Dossier Feldgrau by Tyler Hanson

Author:Tyler Hanson [Hanson, Tyler]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781733836173
Publisher: Two Doctors Media Collaborative LLC
Published: 2019-09-02T22:00:00+00:00

Oregon, United States

March 8, 2012-B

Aquifer stood next to Shadow at the crossroads of Fourth Avenue and Dardanelles Street, looking to the left, then to the right. In one direction, City Hall waited for them with its elected officials and public records. In the other direction were the millers and machinists, blue-collar townspeople, gathered at their final bastion of sanity, the Longbranch Saloon. Both Faction members traded glances.

“Want to check out City Hall?” Aquifer asked.

Shadow signed only two words, [Loose lips,] before walking in the opposite direction he had suggested.

He huffed and followed her toward the saloon, catching up to walk next to the woman in her black clothes and leather jacket. She sported an addition to her attire today: A tall black messenger bag, draped in a diagonal line across her body and bumping against her hip. Aquifer himself was in blue jeans and a white, button-down shirt with the cuffs unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled down to hide his pearl-white implants.

They walked through the doors of a bustling saloon, filled with workers just relieved from their shifts. Many were already drunk, laughing and shouting and crying, releasing their daily cares into the open air. One man stumbled in front of Shadow and Aquifer in a mad dash to the restroom. Shadow reached the bartender first, pointing at a bottle of whiskey on the shelves and holding up two fingers. She sat down at a stool in front of the bar top, and Aquifer sat next to her, feeling uneasy.

“I can’t imagine this is the best use of our time,” he said.

She ignored him and looked around the saloon, stopping to stare at some of the other patrons.

She’s going to start a fight if she doesn’t stop staring, worried Aquifer.

As they waited, two glasses of whiskey were placed in front of them.

“Opening a tab?” The bartender asked.

Shadow shook her head and held up a roll of cash, more than enough to cover the drinks and a tip.

“Well . . . thank you, dear,” the woman said, surprise in her voice; someone else called out to her, and she hurried off to serve them.

“Shadow, are you sure—”

The huntress held up a hand to silence Aquifer. [We’re limited on time. I shouldn’t always have to explain everything I do when we’re in the field. Just trust me.]

“Okay.” He took a sip of his whiskey but nearly choked on it, covering his mouth to hide it from Shadow.

A few minutes passed before Shadow stood up and grabbed Aquifer’s hand, pulling him to his feet. She gestured to two men in flannel shirts—one red, one green—sequestered away in the corner of the saloon. [Them. Come translate for me.]

They walked up to the tables, where Red Shirt was speaking to Green Shirt.

“. . . and I kept telling him, he and his buddies are gonna get shot out there some day. The government’s got things to hide, and they won’t hesitate . . .”

He stopped speaking when Shadow reached the table and plopped down in a chair across from them.

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