Toward the Brink (Book 3) Read Online Free Page B

carried.
    “I got a full clip, or almost. You want to fill me in, Chuck?”
    “Okay, then, you ride shotgun. We’re on a rescue mission.”
    The Tall Man threw the army truck into reverse and planted his foot on the accelerator. The tires yelped in angry protest as they hurtled backward. He couldn’t see through the rear window because of the canopy, and he stuck his head out the window.
    “Tell me how I’m going on that side.”
    “We’re good so far.” Elliot had no idea of the Tall Man’s intentions but wasn’t about to trouble him with questions.
    Elliot looked back from his window, and as the truck rounded the front of the plane, he saw movement from the transport. He couldn’t hear any more shooting from that direction. The transport plane was now a roadside diner—for foamers.
    “Chuck, we got movement coming toward us!” Elliot warned. “Chuck, we got—”
    “I know, Elliot.” The Tall Man brought his head back into the cabin of the truck. “ That’s who we’re trying to rescue before the foamers become aware of them—or us!”
    Elliot nodded, then stuck his head back out to keep watch. He didn’t need to ask twice. The truck skidded to a stop in the grass of the field.
    “Get out there and tell those people to get in the back, and if anyone argues, shoot ‘em!”
    When Elliot got to the tailgate of the truck, he saw about fifteen people. He couldn’t make out any faces, but he saw that most were dressed in combat gear and were armed. After the run-ins they’d had with National Guard deserters and other armed mobs, Elliot didn’t feel all that comfortable with more soldiers, but after witnessing the sheer number of foamers, he thought having more armed men might not be such a bad thing.
    “I hope you know what you’re doing, Chuck,” he muttered under his breath before he hollered for the new arrivals to get into the back of the truck. No one complained or said a word. They did as Elliot instructed.
    Elliot started back to the cabin of the truck, when a sound that came from somewhere in hell drew his attention to the transport plane. The thousands of foamers on the runway that couldn’t get inside the transport for the banquet had begun to look elsewhere for their meal.
    “Holy shit!”
    The Tall Man had the truck on the move before Elliot had the door open. “Get in. Get in!”
    “I’m trying, Chuck, believe me, I’m—” Elliot slipped on the grass, now damp with dew. He held onto the door handle with one hand as he tried to regain his balance and prevent the AR-15 from falling.
    “Fuck the rifle, let it go, let it go!” the Tall Man yelled. Elliot needed both hands to get back into the cabin.
    Elliot dropped the rifle and clawed his way into the truck.
    “Thanks, Chuck.”
    “For what?”
    “Nothing.”
    The Tall Man gave his younger friend a suspicious look, then laughed.
    “You’re welcome. Now let’s get our people off the plane before those fuckers get any closer.”
    They stopped the big double-cabin M35 truck just short of the Express, as close as the Tall Man was prepared to go in the dark. No more accidents, no more accidents, he repeated to himself a few times.
    “You tell those people in the back to push forward because they’ll have company, okay?”
    “Got it.”
    “I’ll get everyone moving as fast as I can, so you have the tailgate open and help them in.”
    The Tall Man’s flashlight jerked wildly as he ran to the door of the Global Express. It was funny how the plane had started to feel like home in such a short time. Perhaps it was because of the relative safety it offered from the foamers that had stormed the other plane. Most had watched in shock, knowing they could have suffered the same fate if it hadn’t been for Elliot’s actions. He put the thought of the horrors on the other plane from his mind. Some were saved; that was positive, and he had to look at it that way. He’d lose his mind if he didn’t. He needed to focus on getting the