Cloak Games_Last Judge by Jonathan Moeller

Author:Jonathan Moeller [Moeller, Jonathan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B07BVM25WQ
Publisher: Azure Flame Media, LLC
Published: 2018-04-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7: Last Judge

The next day was July 1st, and we were ready to go at 6 AM.

A lot of preparation had gone into it, though.

Murdo insisted that the three of us each carry a survival pack loaded with food and water. He pointed out that a lot of Nevada was empty countryside far from any road or town, and Nicholas might decide the most efficient way to get rid of us was to dump us in the desert and leave us to die. That was a good thought, so I didn’t complain as I hoisted the extra weight of the pack.

I dressed as I usually did – black jeans and running shoes, and then a tank top, a sweater, and my black navy pea coat. That’s warm for the Nevada desert in July, but I suspected I wouldn’t be able to spare any concentration to keep the magical chill at bay. From the Rebels’ weapons, I took a pair of .45 caliber Royal Arms pistols and a gun belt. I holstered the weapons on either hip and stuffed extra magazines into the belt’s loops. Between that and the survival pack that Murdo had prepared, I was carrying a lot of extra weight, but better to have it and not use it than to need it and go without.

Murdo dressed in full tactical kit – army boots, black cargo trousers, a ballistic vest, and a belt with pistols and a bandoleer with ammunition across his chest. He also carried an AK-47 from the Rebels’ armory and had several grenades in his bandoleer. I insisted that Russell also take a ballistic vest, and he armed himself with a pair of pistols and another AK-47.

“Have you ever used a fully automatic weapon before?” I asked.

“A couple of times at rifle club,” said Russell. “Some M-99 carbines. It’s really hard to aim. Spray and pray, the instructor used to call it.”

I nodded. “Yeah. Keep it on single shot. That lever…yeah, that one, there.”

“You think we’ll need to shoot?” said Russell, face grim.

“I don’t know,” I said. “We might. There’s no telling what’s inside Last Judge Mountain.”

And no telling what tricks Nicholas might have for us.

“Better to be ready for anything,” said Murdo. He glanced towards the opened warehouse doors. “Looks like they’re finished fueling up the helicopters. We should join them.”

“Yeah,” I said.

I looked at Russell, said a silent prayer for God to look after him, and then walked outside.

The sun was just starting to come up, the eastern sky turning rosy pink. Two good-sized surplus Homeland Security helicopters sat in the yard. Most Homeland Security choppers were blue, but these two had been repainted with desert-camouflage. A crew of Rebel soldiers worked over both helicopters, doing the final safety checks. Geoffrey Turner supervised one of the crews. Nicholas had recruited him before the raid on the Royal Bank, and he was a nervous man incapable of making eye contact with anyone.

Good helicopter pilot, though.

Leonid Rogomil supervised the second crew, eyes hidden beneath aviator sunglasses.

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