Survivalist - 24 - Blood Assassins Read Online Free Page A

rocketed back toward him. Michael dashed left, barely getting his glove on it. But he caught it. He threw the ball again, caught it more easily this time. He could get a baseball and glove of his own. If he stayed here at Pearl Harbor long enough, he might get involved with one of the teams. Every unit had its own, and there were several teams from among the ranks of the civilian employees, too.
    Michael Rourke had discussed this with Paul. “You mean you really played on a team?”
    “Well, it wasn’t as if I played for the New York Yankees, Michael. I just played with some teams on the Air Force Bases my dad was assigned to. It was kind of fun.”
    “Can you teach me to hit?”
    “You serious?”
    Michael told his brother-in-law that he was serious.
    Paul agreed to teach him to hit.
    Michael nearly missed the ball—but only nearly. As a boy, his father had played catch with him, swatted flies with him, done all the father-son stuff. But his true boyhood ended the morning after the Night of the War when he saw his mother about to be molested and, rather than stand there, or cry, he took the boning knife out of their hastily put-together cache of supplies and killed the man who was about to hurt his mother. He put the knife in the man’s kidney. He hadn’t known anything about where to place a knife for killing, and he doubted that instinct was working upon him—more like dumb luck.
    But, childhood ended.
    If this was his second childhood, it would really be his first
    He kept playing with the ball, getting generally
    better at getting his borrowed glove on it each time. He was worried for his sister. Paul had said she was upset, restless, dreaming. That did not bode well. But, Michael supposed, Natalia was the best to keep Annie company, take care of her, comfort her if Paul himself could not be there.
    Paul had not said where he was going.
    And, that was odd, very unlike Paul.
    Michael stopped throwing the ball, took off his glove, just stood there. He decided to go see Natalia and his sister after a quick shower.

Six
    It took a moment before Paul Rubenstein was able to see John Rourke. John lay against a rock, as if asleep.
    Tears filled Paul Rubenstein’s eyes as he forced his legs to move along the narrow, rocky trail.
    It was full daylight now. Admiral Hayes had offered to detail some men to accompany him, but he had told her simply that some things had to be done alone. First Martin, now this, one life that was evil and vile by any judgement, another that was noble and good, yet both lives shared the same genes. And, how would he tell Annie? He’d have to tell her; it was only right that he did. He was as used to being orphaned as anyone ever got to it, Paul Rubenstein supposed. But how did one tell someone that a parent, a loved one, someone who had become quite literally larger than life because of circumstance, was dead?
    Paul reached the top of the rise, the end of the path. He stooped over to pick up a spent brass cartridge case. It was from a .45 ACP, one of the German production
    rounds, of course, but headstamped as if it were made by Federal Cartridge, John’s perennial brand of preference.
    Paul stared at John Rourke. Paul sniffed back a tear.
    He started to walk closer to him and the rock against which his friend lay. Why had this had to happen? It wasn’t right.
    “It’s not like you to come up so quietly, Paul. What’s up?”
    Paul Rubenstein breathed. There were more yellow brass cartridge cases on the ground near Paul’s feet. He crouched, began picking them up.
    “Came up here to think. I haven’t shot for anything but self-defense in longer than I can remember. I can police up that brass. I just hadn’t gotten around to it.”
    “Gives me something to do,” Paul told his friend. “Uhh—”
    “What?”
    This was needless cruelty to John, prolonging it to save himself. “The cryogenic facility in New Germany was hit by Nazi commandoes. Blew it up. Sarah and Colonel Mann are both