Cry in the Wilderness (Acts of Valor, Book 3) by Rebecca Hartt

Author:Rebecca Hartt [Hartt, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rise UP Publications

Sitting in the front room of a dilapidated farmhouse, dark due to the boarded windows that blocked the late afternoon sunlight, Rachel hugged herself against the chill and marveled at her circumstances. She was supposed to be arriving in Dallas right about now. Instead, she sat on an upended crate next to a single Sterno burner. Its flame cast light onto the large Nazi flag pinned to the wall. It also reflected in the eyes of Will, leader of the FOR Americans, and deepened the hollows under his cheekbones.

In the time she’d spent in his company, she had heard Will’s entire life story. While the youths who’d brought her there had merely made her wary, Will made her skin crawl.

“I was in the Army Rangers during the First Gulf War.” He paced before her as he talked. “We comprised the ground assault, and the Marines came in right behind us. I’ve still got mementos from that war. Wanna see ’em?”

Without her saying yes or no, he crossed to a jar sitting on his makeshift desk and carried it over to her. “Know what these are?”

It took her horrified mind a moment to process what she was seeing within the dusty glass container. Dear God, were those human teeth?

He grinned, exposing the fact that several of his own teeth were missing.

“My victims,” he affirmed. “Took us two weeks to storm Saddam Hussein’s palace.” He returned the jar to his desk and picked up a framed photo. “If you don’t believe me, take a look at this.”

He brought her a photo of himself, lounging on a silk-covered chaise in a setting that had to be a palace. He hadn’t changed much in almost thirty years. Whipcord thin, with leathery skin, he could have passed for forty, although he had to be pushing sixty.

“What’s the matter?” he demanded, no doubt seeing the revulsion she found hard to hide. “You think I’m evil, don’t you?”

Rachel swallowed against a dry mouth. “It’s not my place to judge you.”

“Why not? God gave us that ability, so why not use it? You think all people are the same?”

Unwilling to step into a trap, Rachel kept her mouth shut.

“Well, we’re not. God made the white man in His image and other races with the parts left over. We were created”—he moved his hands as if molding clay—“to rule over the other races. They don’t like that,” he acknowledged. “But that’s the way it’s always been, and that’s the way it will be. We will fight to keep our inheritance. You can’t just tear down history like it never happened. You can’t take down our flag. You do that and we’ll hoist this one.” He gestured to the Nazi flag hanging on the wall.

Then he whirled toward a box in the corner. “You see this?” He picked it up and gave it a gentle shake. “Grenades.” Flashing an evil grin, he put the box back down. “That’s not all, either. I’ve got shells for a FIM-92 Stinger. That’s a surface-to-air missile that’s being sent to me via UPS.

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