Patrick Griffin's Last Breakfast on Earth by Ned Rust

Author:Ned Rust
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781626723436
Publisher: Roaring Brook Press

CHAPTER 30

Field Operations

Although he’d been born one of them, Novitiate Frank Kyle didn’t harbor a grain of sentimentality for the people of Earth. All one had to do was look at what they’d done to themselves for the past several millennia (plagues, wars, famines, economic collapse, and … repeat) and the only rational assessment was the very one that Rex himself had made: the world was in need of a forceful reset.

It was almost time. Now that the novitiates had delivered 4G informational technology into the hands of the leading corporations, now that Earth’s billions of mistakes could be recorded, rebroadcast, reexamined, and ultimately corrected …

Now that, finally, the leading governments’ security organizations were investing heavily in mass communications and data technologies so that the infrastructure would be almost entirely in place for the 2.0 to come …

Now he and his fellow novitiates had just to stifle this last-ditch ploy by the rebels and it would be clear sailing: Next week, the Purge. The week after that, the survivors could be rounded up, and education could proceed—and thanks to all this advance groundwork, the reboot would proceed much faster than it had on Ith.

He pulled his silver Mercedes into one of the puddle-pocked guest spots behind the Hedgerow Heights Country Club. Turning off the engine, he swiped his BNK-E from its cradle, exited the vehicle, and—after first smoothing back his newscaster hair—removed his golf bag from the hands-free, self-opening trunk.

All novitiates had received bags just like it. They were props to help them blend in with their influential clientele, although a close examination of this particular bag’s contents would have set him very far apart from the average golfer. For while the bag did hold a pretty standard assortment of expensive clubs, it also contained a sniper rifle with a full magazine of depleted uranium bullets, each capable of punching through a decimeter of hardened steel.

He heard a tinkling noise as he rested his bag on the pavement and looked to see a big-bellied, skinny-legged man tottering down the footpath, jangling the keys inside the pocket of his salmon-colored pants.

“Course closed with all this rain, you know,” said the stranger.

Frank Kyle gave the red-nosed man a hard look and flexed his right hand, his knuckles crackling with a noise like hail on a metal roof.

The man coughed nervously. “But I’m sure they’ll open it soon—maybe you can get in a few rounds!”

“Yes, I will get in a few rounds,” said Novitiate Frank Kyle as his dark eyes watched the man’s car speed away across the parking lot.

He slung the golf bag over his shoulder, slammed closed the trunk, glanced at the sensor app on his BNK-E, and headed toward the seventh green to put a fatal hole in one unwanted visitor.

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