March to War by Timothy W. Long

Author:Timothy W. Long [Long, Timothy W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: Action & Adventure, Civil War, Dystopia, Fantasy, Fiction, Mystery, Thriller
Amazon: B07BNCWG4M
Published: 2018-03-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

B radley went prone on the kitchen floor and didn’t dare breathe. Next to him, Andy cursed but also did the smart thing and laid down, but not without emitting a few groans of protest. Andy wasn’t a young man and complained about his knees and hips all the time, but this was probably more of an ego thing.

“Toss the weapons away!” the man ordered.

Bradley lifted one hand in the air and used the other to unsnap the Taran from his three-point sling. He slid it in front and then pushed it away. The expensive gun he’d taken from one of the black ops assholes scraped across the floor. Someone moved in through the door and put their boot on the gun, then pushed it outside.

“Hey. We’re minding our own business in a private residence. You can’t pull this Nazi shit,” Andy protested.

“Shut the fuck up,” the man ordered.

“I’m telling you. This is completely illegal,” Andy continued to argue.

“Tell it to a court when they’re back in session. Until then, it’s our way or you can go out in a fucking body bag,” the man warned Andy. “I’ve had enough of you civilians shooting at us so it won’t bother me one bit to waste you both.”

“Andy, just do what they ask, okay? Don’t get us killed,” Bradley said, thinking of the two bikers who had been shot.

“Fine. Fine!” Andy said and shoved his gun away.

“I have a side arm under my waist. I’ll take it out real slow,” Bradley said.

“Don’t bother,” the second soldier ordered.

He put the gun barrel on Bradley’s head while another figure moved around his side. Then his left arm was grabbed and wrenched roughly behind his back. Bradley didn’t fight, but he did groan in pain. Assholes. He wasn’t a threat to these kids.

A hand dug in his back pocket and took out his wallet.

“This is him,” the kid said.

“Pardon?” Bradley said in confusion.

“Son of a bitch. So, you like going to the park with automatic weapons?”

“What are you talking about!” Bradley tried to turn and glare at the men.

“You dropped off a body at the hospital. You participated in the shooting at the protest.”

“I did no such goddamn thing,” Bradley wanted to spin and deck this kid. “My son was murdered by you assholes.”

“I didn’t shoot anyone,” the kid leaned in close and whispered. “Asshole. It was one of you that started the shooting.”

“I swear to God, I didn’t have anything to do with it,” Bradley tried to reason, but it was like talking to a brick wall.

Another man hovered over Andy and gave him the same rough treatment, then they were both yanked to their feet without warning and hauled out of the house and into Bradley’s yard. Andy stumbled and nearly bowled over one of the men and got a fist to the gut for it.

“Hey. You can’t do that!” Bradley yelled before he could stop himself.

The kid in front of him smiled, and then spun his rifle around and jammed the butt into Bradley’s stomach.

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