The Purge of District 89 by D. J. Molles

Author:D. J. Molles [Molles, D. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781542345750
Google: SaNiAQAACAAJ
Amazon: 1542345758
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
Published: 2017-02-07T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

“Walter,” Virgil griped from the kitchen. “What the hell are you doing?”

Walter didn’t bother to respond to Virgil. Didn’t even bother to look.

His eyes tracked down to Hank’s left hand, his arm still pulled across his body, his hand hovering about the PD affixed to his inner left forearm. But it had stopped twitching about. The tendons and muscles of his right hand had stopped their movement. And Hank was staring back at Walter with eyes that both pleaded and threatened all at once.

Walter raised his rifle. “Take your hand away from your PD.”

Hank’s face seemed to writhe. His skin looked greasy and moist. He slipped a glance at the woman who was his nominal boss. “Tria. Help me out here. This fucker’s crazy.”

Walter could see out of the corner of his eye that Tria was facing him fully. Her head ducked to Virgil for a bare moment. “What’s this asshole doing now?”

Again, Walter ignored them, and focused on Hank. There was no mistaking it now—he was definitely pointing his rifle at the man. Threatening him with it. “Take your hand away from your PD.”

Hank jerked his hand away. Stammered, but got no words out.

He stood there with shaking hands half-raised.

Walter advanced a half-step. “Where’s your rifle, Hank? What happened to it?”

“I don’t know,” Hank said. “I lost it.”

“How did you lose a rifle?”

“I dropped it.”

“Where?”

“In the woods.”

“You didn’t grab it again?”

“I was running,” Hank blustered a bit, seizing upon some modicum of indignance to try and make himself seem right, but his wrongness was a billboard sign so brightly lit on his face that it astounded Walter that the others couldn’t see it.

“What were you doing on your PD?” Walter asked, not giving an inch now. He knew the truth. He’d latched on like a fighting dog onto a jugular. He wasn’t letting go now. Not with so much at stake. Not with his own life on the line. Not with Carolyn hanging in the wind.

“I wasn’t on my PD,” Hank said flatly, almost quietly.

Virgil spoke again, but this time his voice was hovering on that balance beam of incredulity and suspicion. “Walter, what are you doing?”

On the kitchen table, Getty let out a low wheezy noise and coughed.

“Let me see your PD,” Walter said.

Hank shook his head. “Why would I show you my PD?”

“You lost your rifle because you didn’t wanna get shot,” Walter suddenly asserted. “They knew where we were because you’d called them in on us. That was why you were ducking for cover when the rest of us were still trying to figure out what was happening. And you didn’t have your rifle then, either. You’d ditched it because you wanted them to know you were unnarmed. You knew they were coming and you didn’t want to get shot.”

Hank made blustering noises, but said nothing.

Walter went towards him another step. “You just signal them? Huh?” he could feel the anger in him, very rapid, very sudden, as his mind decided that he was right,

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