The Road to Lazarus (The First book in the diaries of Lazarus House) by Patrick T. McAlister

Author:Patrick T. McAlister [McAlister, Patrick T.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Create Space
Published: 2010-06-18T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Out in the in the stillness of the desert night Michael sat watching his prey. From his vantage point he had watched at least four dozen drug deals go down in the hours he had been sitting in his blind. Through his low light viewing scope he trained his eye on his target for the night. He watched each move the target made while on the porch with his crew. He felt pure satisfaction when the voices relayed through the parabolic listening device told the story of six of their brother’s that had come to a quick and painful death. Only adding to that level of satisfaction was the rage he could see building in the target as he heard the information. He decided that he would play with his emotions when he entered the house later. Taking out his cell phone he dialed the familiar number of one of his old buddies stationed at the Marine base about a mile to the east. He quickly provided a brief report on his plan and asked his buddy to have some military police stand by for the aftermath. Looking at his watch he told his buddy he would engage at 23:30 hours. All would be over within minutes. His buddy simply replied “Roger that, out.” the line disconnected.

Michael looked down again to take stock of the weapons he had. The knife with the handle made from the jawbone of an ass, a silenced modified M4 rifle chambered in 7.62mm instead of the standard 5.56mm round. This weapon alone would be all he needed. He, however, sometimes liked to go old school and personal. Securing the blind around him, knowing that to the naked eye he wasn’t even there, he decided to take a nap. He closed his eyes and was instantly asleep. He slept without thought or emotion, knowing what he was going to do and how he would do it. He had done it before and he would continue to do it as long as evil reined or until his Heavenly Father called him home.

He woke instantly without the need for an alarm. The time was 23:15. He opened his blind to the desert air, feeling its crisp cold kiss upon his face as he brought the spotting scope up to his right eye. The house had calmed down as the alcohol had taken over the remaining members of the motorcycle gang. He switched to a thermal view to make sure he had accounted for all targets. There were a total of twenty targets to take out with the rifle. All but one bullet would be lethal. The other bullet he took out and wrote the name of the Father, his little brothers’ killer. He brought the rifle up and kicked out the bi-pod legs, gauging the distance at 500 yards. He deftly made a slight site adjustment for the wind and temperature of the desert night. Once the adjustments were complete he trained the scope on his first target.

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