False Flag Read Online Free PDF Page A

along. As they walked swiftly down the sidewalk, their feet crunched on broken glass. Sarge glanced up and to his right, noticing some residents of another building watching their movements. He could feel their eyes. I don’t like this at all .
    They crossed the median and walked along Back Street before finding the sidewalk. Sarge turned and glanced toward the top of 100 Beacon. Steven stood on the wall with his hat turned backwards. He was giving Sarge the middle finger. Yeah, fuck me too, bro .
    Dozens of stalled cars dotted Storrow as they walked briskly up the sidewalk. As they crossed Pinckney Street, some residents of a nearby building were standing on a balcony and began to shout at them.
    “Hey, where are you going?”
    “Do you have any food?”
    “Do you girls wanna come up and party?”
    Sarge moved between Julia and the fence and picked up the pace. He glanced at Katie to see if she was going to shoot them. Fortunately, she walked faster as well, but turned and walked backwards, not wanting to lose sight of the men.
    Two hundred yards later, they caught their first glimpse of the river and Longfellow Bridge. The three stopped to take it all in. From the middle of the river, toward Cambridge, the bridge was gone. Both the east- and westbound lanes were collapsed. Emergency vehicles blocked the entrance ramp in front of them, but there were no officers accompanying the vehicles.
    They made their way past Cambridge Street, which resembled a parking lot full of abandoned cars. The infamous Liberty Hotel, where the Bilderberg Conference was held just three months ago, was barricaded, and the entrance was manned by security personnel.
    “Let’s go this way,” said Sarge as they entered Grove Street and followed the sign to the emergency room entrance. What they saw caused them to stop in their tracks. Hundreds of people lay in the open promenade typically used for patient drop-off and the emergency room entrance. A makeshift triage had been established for the victims of the pipeline explosion.
    As they got closer, they could hear the moans and cries of the injured. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air. Julia and Katie immediately held their hands over their mouths. Julia was fighting back the tears. Sarge stopped them before they crossed Fruit Street.
    He looked Julia in the eyes. “We don’t have to do this. None of us are prepared for what we are about to see.”
    She looked at him and then surveyed the rows of temporary cots and the personnel scurrying about. “We have to try, Sarge.” She pushed past him towards the barricades, where a single police officer was attempting to hold people back. A frantic hospital candy striper was attempting to check on the status of loved ones for the distraught family members gathered around.
    Julia approached the officer. “My name is Julia Hawthorne, with the Boston Herald . We’re here to—”
    “Miss, no reporters,” said the officer. “These folks have their hands full, can’t you see that?”
    “No, you don’t understand,” started Julia, but Katie interrupted.
    “We have medical training and we’re here to help,” she said to the officer. “My friends and I can lend a hand wherever needed.” Katie grabbed Julia’s hand and pushed forward past the crowd, attempting to walk past the officer.
    “You stop right there,” he shouted. “Medical personnel only.”
    A doctor dressed in blue scrubs overheard the scuffle and approached them. “What’s the problem here?”
    “No problem, Doc, these people are trying to force their way in,” the officer replied. “Now move along. I don’t have time for this!”
    The young doctor turned his attention toward Katie. “Did I hear you say you had medical experience?”
    “We do,” replied Katie. “All of us are trained in advanced first aid. You look like you could use a hand, or three.”
    The officer became distracted by a woman trying to walk around the other end of his barricade. The young doctor