Bunker (A Post-Apocalyptic Techno Thriller Book 5) by Jay J. Falconer

Author:Jay J. Falconer [Falconer, Jay J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: BookBreeze.com LLC
Published: 2017-10-27T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 19

Bunker made his way to the left, working across the hillside to the next sniper. Burt was manning the second station, his hands inspecting the stack of reserve magazines. He, too, had one of the AR-10 rifles from Tuttle’s place. “Any questions, Burt?”

“Just one,” he said, striking a Wyatt Earp pose with the butt of the rifle on his right hip, barrel pointing toward the sky. His eyes, face, and chin looked ready, but Bunker knew from experience that appearances could be deceiving. Usually when the mayhem starts. “When do I get to kill me some of them Russians?”

“Soon. I just need to make sure everyone is ready up here, then I’ll get this party started. It’s imperative that you keep your position hidden until Apollo sets off the charges.”

“Easy pickin’s,” Burt said, turning his eyes to Apollo’s position. “The Sheriff better take good care of my rifle over there. I’m gonna expect it back in one piece.”

“He will. Thanks for working with me on this. I know it’s not what you wanted, but we all have a job to do.”

“I hope you realize, Bunker, I could’ve done Apollo’s job without breaking a sweat. It ain’t rocket science, you know. Just push them red buttons, then aim and shoot at whatever comes out of the smoke.”

Bunker went into spin mode, needing the brute to remain committed to the mission. False praise is almost as powerful as fake confidence when you’re manipulating a short-tempered man with severe ego issues. “I never had a doubt, Burt. Not for a second. But I need you here, to keep an eye on the Mayor’s grandson.” He swung his attention to Rusty’s position, twenty yards to their right. “You’re a lot more mobile than Apollo.”

Burt laughed. “That’s an understatement. Has he ever heard of a salad?”

Bunker ignored the comment. “If this shit goes sideways, I need you to make sure Rusty gets back to camp in one piece. We’ll figure out a Plan B later. You with me?”

Burt straightened his posture with his shoulders back, almost looking the part of an honorable recruit. “Sure, I can do that,” he said. “But what if the kid don’t listen to me?”

“He will. I made sure he knows you’re in charge.”

“He’d damn well better,” Burt said, bending down to pick up the gas mask he’d been assigned. “What if they have these as well?”

“They won’t. Troops hate to lug them around unless they’re expecting a gas attack. Which they won’t. They think they’re dealing with a bunch of backwoods farmers.”

“I hope you’re right,” Burt said, putting the mask down. He adjusted the rifle in his grip. “But either way, I’m taking out my share of Russians. Fuck ‘em.”

* * *

Dicky was next. The burly man was busy digging into sniper’s nest number three when Bunker arrived. He, too, was armed with an assault rifle, only his was an AR-15 chambered with 5.56 rounds stuffed into a thirty-round magazine. His reserve stack of ammo stood taller than Rusty’s. Smaller rounds meant less damage with each shot, but Bunker was sure his friend could handle it.

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