THE KILLER ANGEL : Book Three "Journey" (THE KILLER ANGEL TRILOGY 3) Read Free Page B

have been more somewhere else. All ages, too, from sixteen to sixty, dressed mostly in hunting type camouflage clothing, but a couple were dressed New Jersey mafia style. They saw my granddaughters first, and it seemed that they had the intention of taking our girls as their ‘women’ since they made crude comments about not having been satisfied in months.”
    Brick and I knew where this was going, havingencountered similar unrestrained human animals on occasions in the past. It was a grim reality of the apocalyptic age – the strong dominating the weak, taking what they wanted by force.
    My blood was beginning to boil with a force within me that could not tolerate the crimes of power that have haunted and tormented the innocent for millennia. I could see that Brick was calmly studying my face; he knew how I felt and could anticipate how it would end.
    “It happened fast. Those thugs tried to take our girls, but our boy Andy was around the corner and intervened. Andy had so much courage...” Dan’s voice broke for a moment in emotion, then he continued, “But they shot him, right there and then, in cold blood. There was no talk; it was just plain murder. They even laughed about it. My daughter Tam and I ran to the commotion, and then everything went crazy. We were shooting, they were shooting, our girls ran for cover. Our dogs were everywhere trying to help - my old hound dog Blue was tearing up one of the bastards before they gutted him with a knife.” Dan choked up at the retelling.
    “So we made it out. We knocked down one of them in the process, but I don’t know how bad he was hurt. We had to leave Andy’s body behind, and Blue, too. So we took off, and here we are. I’ll never get over it...” Dan trailed off in soft weeping, to be consoled in the loving arms of his own daughter, the careworn mother of the young, deceased hero. The adrenaline in mysystem had me trembling slightly, but I quietly concealed my agitation from everyone but Brick. He and I would discuss and consider this unhappy news when we were alone.
    After a time of quiet contemplation, the conversation slowly shifted to milder matters, of youthful dreams and survivor plans, and eventually it became apparent that the teens were staring at me with very interested eyes. Ah yes...that look...fans. I had quite forgotten my scar, that slash on my left cheek. It was hardly noticeable normally, unless I exerted myself or was worked up over something. Given my agitation, even in the firelight that white line must look fluorescent on my skin.
    “I didn’t notice your scar earlier, Miss Redstone...wow...just like they said on the radio.” One of the girls popped out without thinking. “Molly!” The mother cut her off. The “radio” that Molly mentioned was undoubtedly the Camp Puller retelling of our fight in Pinebluff. That clash was nearly the end of Brick, Ben and me, but it was also where we met the determined soldiers of the 101 st Airborne Division and their remarkable leader, Captain Jack Carter. It was their twice daily radio transmissions, and also those of Hedley, that provided valuable assistance and advice to what remained of the world, to include the occasional updates regarding the adventures of Nicki Redstone, Brick Charbonneau and Ben.
    “It’s okay, I’m used to it,” I said with a smile.“Brick keeps on me about it. He says it tells him when it’s time to shoot.” A comment that gave everyone a small chuckle. The girls and their mother all looked at Brick with admiration. Tall, handsome, and exuding quiet confidence, his aura was magnetic to all, women and men alike.
    The remainder of the evening was spent in gentle small talk, as we shared histories, advice, and thoughts on the future. Ben stayed close to me, but was not unfriendly to the inquisitive sniffs of the Clayton pooches, and he was especially welcoming to the gentle attentions of the girls.
    As we sat on the ground enjoying the comfort of easy companionship, I