Read Charlie's Requiem: Democide for Free Online Page B
Authors: Walt Browning, Angery American
smoke belched from its vertical exhaust pipe. That’s when Beker noticed the clearance under the monster moving toward him.
As the giant military vehicle rolled toward him, Beker made a last, desperate decision. He dropped to his belly and crawled under the truck he had been hiding behind. Within seconds of him worming his way under the giant Jeep, the other vehicle pulled into the space next to him, right where he had just been hiding.
Had he been seen? There was nowhere to go. He was flat on his stomach, pressed under the massive steel car. If they saw him, he was done for! Beker held his breath, not even daring to exhale for fear of being discovered. He could hear the agents in the next space talking.
“Finally made it!” The first man said. “That was a hell of a ride.”
“This where we check in?” the second one said.
“Yeah,” a third voice replied. “I got the map from the armory. We check in across the street.”
“What about our gear,” the first man said as he opened the driver’s door.
Beker watched the man’s boots hit the ground not three feet from him. A second set of boots came out of the other side, that agent exiting out the passenger door. Beker watched as a third set of boots followed out of the other side.
“Let’s leave it in the HUMVEE,” the driver said as he began to walk back down the lane towards the DHS building. “We’ll grab all of it when we find out where we’re going to be living.”
The three men’s voices began to fade into the distance, their laughter echoing off the freeway overpass above.
Beker dared not move. Maybe the gunner is still in his turret ? He thought. “There could be four of them!”
After what seemed like forever, he slid out from under his vehicle. So this is a HUMVEE ! He said to himself. Beker gingerly rose and peered above the HUMVEE’s front hood. The agents were crossing the street, never bothering to look back.
Beker crept to the other still-cooling HUMVEE and looked inside. On the back seat were backpacks and duffel bags. On the floor were plastic cases and a metal box. The young man stole another look down the street; and seeing no one watching, he opened the rear door and began checking his potential loot.
The bags all contained clothing and other personal items. But the metal box was pure treasure. It was loaded with bullets. The box had printing stenciled on the outside. It read “1000 CRTG 9mm;” and under it was printed in the same yellow stencil, “BALL M882.” Beker unlatched the lid and found cardboard boxes stacked inside.
Next to the large green metal box with the 9mm ammunition were black plastic boxes. When he opened the latches on one of them, he about jumped out of the vehicle. It was a pistol, black and menacing.
Beker had never handled a gun before. He didn’t know what to do with it; but he was sure Taurus would know how it worked.
The ammunition box weighed a ton and there was no way he would be able to run with the thing. So he grabbed what looked like a messenger bag that was lying across the back seat and shoved a pistol box into its main compartment. The bag was loaded with papers, including orders and instructions for the arriving agents. Beker opened the metal ammo box and pulled out five of the smaller cardboard boxes from within and added those to his loot. He folded the large bag’s flap back over and secured its straps. He also grabbed a bottle of unopened water and closed the door.
The young man glanced back at the parking lot and DHS offices. Seeing no observers, he quickly ran down the lot’s backside, staying under the freeway until he made it to the last of the spaces. Keeping cars and HUMVEEs between him and the DHS building’s front door, he made it across the street and back into the abandoned arena.
Weed immediately met him, his face as white as a ghost.
“Dude!” Weed gasped. “I thought you was a goner.”
“Yeah!” Beker replied with a smile. “What a rush!”
“Well,
As the giant military vehicle rolled toward him, Beker made a last, desperate decision. He dropped to his belly and crawled under the truck he had been hiding behind. Within seconds of him worming his way under the giant Jeep, the other vehicle pulled into the space next to him, right where he had just been hiding.
Had he been seen? There was nowhere to go. He was flat on his stomach, pressed under the massive steel car. If they saw him, he was done for! Beker held his breath, not even daring to exhale for fear of being discovered. He could hear the agents in the next space talking.
“Finally made it!” The first man said. “That was a hell of a ride.”
“This where we check in?” the second one said.
“Yeah,” a third voice replied. “I got the map from the armory. We check in across the street.”
“What about our gear,” the first man said as he opened the driver’s door.
Beker watched the man’s boots hit the ground not three feet from him. A second set of boots came out of the other side, that agent exiting out the passenger door. Beker watched as a third set of boots followed out of the other side.
“Let’s leave it in the HUMVEE,” the driver said as he began to walk back down the lane towards the DHS building. “We’ll grab all of it when we find out where we’re going to be living.”
The three men’s voices began to fade into the distance, their laughter echoing off the freeway overpass above.
Beker dared not move. Maybe the gunner is still in his turret ? He thought. “There could be four of them!”
After what seemed like forever, he slid out from under his vehicle. So this is a HUMVEE ! He said to himself. Beker gingerly rose and peered above the HUMVEE’s front hood. The agents were crossing the street, never bothering to look back.
Beker crept to the other still-cooling HUMVEE and looked inside. On the back seat were backpacks and duffel bags. On the floor were plastic cases and a metal box. The young man stole another look down the street; and seeing no one watching, he opened the rear door and began checking his potential loot.
The bags all contained clothing and other personal items. But the metal box was pure treasure. It was loaded with bullets. The box had printing stenciled on the outside. It read “1000 CRTG 9mm;” and under it was printed in the same yellow stencil, “BALL M882.” Beker unlatched the lid and found cardboard boxes stacked inside.
Next to the large green metal box with the 9mm ammunition were black plastic boxes. When he opened the latches on one of them, he about jumped out of the vehicle. It was a pistol, black and menacing.
Beker had never handled a gun before. He didn’t know what to do with it; but he was sure Taurus would know how it worked.
The ammunition box weighed a ton and there was no way he would be able to run with the thing. So he grabbed what looked like a messenger bag that was lying across the back seat and shoved a pistol box into its main compartment. The bag was loaded with papers, including orders and instructions for the arriving agents. Beker opened the metal ammo box and pulled out five of the smaller cardboard boxes from within and added those to his loot. He folded the large bag’s flap back over and secured its straps. He also grabbed a bottle of unopened water and closed the door.
The young man glanced back at the parking lot and DHS offices. Seeing no observers, he quickly ran down the lot’s backside, staying under the freeway until he made it to the last of the spaces. Keeping cars and HUMVEEs between him and the DHS building’s front door, he made it across the street and back into the abandoned arena.
Weed immediately met him, his face as white as a ghost.
“Dude!” Weed gasped. “I thought you was a goner.”
“Yeah!” Beker replied with a smile. “What a rush!”
“Well,