Relentless (Boundless Book 3) by Damien Boyes

Author:Damien Boyes [Boyes, Damien]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-12-09T16:00:00+00:00

21

Lady Liberty

When I arrive on the roof overlooking the Gardens there’s a sniper already there. Good thing for him he’s hunched over his gun, looking down over the crowd, and I’m able to creep to the stairs and get away without having to deal with him.

Down on the street there are even more men with guns. Some are cops in riot gear, and others are in red, military-style outfits, armored up and carrying mean-looking assault rifles. Then there are the ordinary citizens with guns on their hips and slung over their Miller T-shirts like accessories. Like the deadly weapons are part of their outfits.

The sides of the stadium are lit up red, white, and blue and twinkling with stars, and vendors on the sidewalks are selling flags and foam fingers and flashing signs and other President Miller merchandise. Three blocks north it’s a war zone, and down here it’s a carnival.

The people here are older than the protestors, and whiter, and are waving flags and smiling at each other like it’s Christmas morning. There’s a few other shades of skin, but not many, and more often than not they’re wearing a bright red “My Man Miller” hat or a “Make Mine Miller” T-shirt or holding a “Miller the Thriller” or “Third Time’s the Charm” sign. Trying extra hard to fit in.

There are lots of Lady Liberty fans too. Her face is on their shirts, and smiling down from posters, and it’s like every other woman has their hair cut short and dyed stark-raving blonde. Even a few of the men.

I mix in with them as they approach the Garden entrance at 8th Ave and 31st. This seems to be where the regular folk are entering from. The VIPs have a cordoned-off area across on 7th where a line of limos is dropping off celebrity after celebrity. At least I think they’re celebrities, based on the flashbulbs and heavy security and the density of drones hovering in the air, but even though they keep showing their pictures on the big screen over the entrance, I don’t recognize any of them.

I must be staring too hard because I get a few strange looks from people. I don’t exactly fit in here, either. I’m younger than almost everyone, and look just different enough that I get a stink-eye or two. If I wasn’t positive none of them could hurt me, I’d think twice about being here right now.

No one seems to be holding a ticket, so I just go with the flow, but as we get closer to the entrance it seems like everyone is clutching a red-and-white picture card or has their ID up on their device. Must be the Firstie cards the woman back in Lolene was asking for. And I don’t have one.

The guards at the door are checking everyone as they pass, running them through scanners and handing claim tags to the people trying to bring their guns into the arena. I don’t know what’s going to happen if

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