Dead Moon (Four Moons Book 3) by Richard Amos

Author:Richard Amos [Amos, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2020-07-30T16:00:00+00:00

“You killed him,” the woman said as I stuffed the gun into my back pocket. “You actually killed a soldier.”

“More than one.”

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Someone who wants to shaft the system. Can you help me? He,” I gestured to the pantry leader guy, “said yes to another way out. Can you show me?”

“The back way,” she said. “But they’ll notice. They always notice.”

“Then you’d better show me quick before someone sees our friend over there.”

She smiled, the lines around her mouth stretching. “I’m Nina.”

“Cool. Pleasure. Now, this way out.”

“See that door over by the pantry?” She pointed to a blue door tucked into an alcove.

“Yeah.”

“Takes you down to the boiler rooms. Turn left at the bottom of the stairs and keep going. You’ll find the way out.”

“Feel free to come with me, all of you,” I offered. “But I’m leaving now.”

Nina shook her head, and the others backed off like I’d just dropped the loudest fart ever.

“Why not?” I asked.

“My husband tried,” she answered, “and failed. His head was fixed on a spike in my bedroom for two weeks, rotting. The smell, the flies…”

How the hell was she still standing after that? “I’m sorry.”

“I just pray his second death is better. If there is even such a thing.” She waved a hand. “Never mind that. Get going.”

“You?” I said to the guy. “Fancy your chances?”

He shook his head.

“We need to take the body for you,” Nina said.

“What? No. I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t ask.”

“But—”

“Go. Please. If you really can bring down this place, then do. You killed him. That’s enough for us to know a possible revolution when we see one.”

“No, I—”

“It doesn’t matter if you fail in whatever you’ve got planned. This is the best thing to happen in our afterlives in a very long time. Now go.”

Talk about bravery. “Take the gun.”

She shook her head. “No. I don’t want to touch it. No one does.”

They all shook their heads as a unit.

“You sure?”

“Go. No more time-wasting.”

I nodded and headed for the door, sliding the bloody knife into a front pocket, sending Bob and Rose ahead to scope it out.

Dark. Creepy. You know—a boiler room.

There were people down there, further in, enough of a distance away for me to sneak inside first.

I opened the door gently and slid into the crack fit for a skinny git like me. Getting one last look at the slaves, I eased the door closed, waiting at the top of a stone stairwell under an anemic light. A couple of moths danced around the bulb, trying to suck as much joy out of it as they could.

Good luck with that.

The whirring of machinery, a cloud of steam up ahead. Pipes and grates and cylinders everywhere. From what I could see through my babies, this was one big mama of a place.

Okay. Time to go down and start the revolution.

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