Independence Day Read Online Free PDF

for me!”
    Doris waved her arms, stopping the countdown.
    Over the crest of the hill, a boy came sprinting down Main Street. He was shirtless. His face was painted black and green in some sort of hellish-looking camouflage. He wore Nantucket red cutoff shorts and was barefoot. He was holding a boot in each hand, though one was long and orange, the other short and brown.
    A smile spread across Dewey’s face. He looked in Reagan’s direction. She was shaking her head.
    “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she muttered.
    The sight of thirteen-year-old Sam Andreas, charging down Main Street, elicited laughter, a few cheers, and some clapping, though most people just watched the kid in silent amusement.
    He barreled down the last few yards to the starting line.
    “Sorry, Aunt Doris,” said Sam, panting as he came close. He shot his older sister a demonic stare as he sat down on the curb to put on his boots. “Reagan hid my boots.”
    “I did not,” said Reagan.
    “Yeah, right,” he said. “Which is why I gotta wear these stupid things.”
    Sam pulled a bright orange knee-high rubber boot onto his left foot. Then he pulled a worn-out L.L. Bean hunting boot onto his right foot.
    “I don’t even know who these belong to, for chrissakes.”
    “Watch your language, Sam,” came a voice from the crowd.
    “Sorry, Grandma,” said Sam. “I didn’t know you was back there.”
    “ Were back there,” corrected Margaret Andreas. “And even if I wasn’t, young man, you do not have license to use the Lord’s name in vain.”
    “I know,” he said, eyeing Reagan with a huge grin on his face. “I apologize.”
    Sam finished tying his boot and stood up. He ducked under the tape and walked up to Reagan. He stood in front of her. He was at least half a foot shorter than her. His blue eyes stared out from the dark camouflage.
    “Good luck out there, sis,” he whispered derisively. “You’re about to learn what it feels like to lose to a thirteen-year-old wearing his grandma’s boots.”
    “Actually, the Bean boot’s mine,” said Dewey.
    Sam looked up. A smile creased his lips.
    “Hey, Uncle Dewey,” he said, still eyeing his sister. “Thank God you’re here. I thought I wouldn’t have any competition.”
    “Glad to be of service,” said Dewey as Reagan gave Sam the finger. “What’s with the makeup?”
    Sam suddenly looked crestfallen.
    “It’s camo,” said Sam. “I got it at the Army-Navy store in Brewer. What, you think … it doesn’t look good?”
    “No, you’ll blend right in. If there are any Viet Cong in the woods, you’ll be fine.”
    Doris clapped her hands, then whistled again.
    “Okay, everyone, now that we seem to have the entire field of runners here, let’s get going. On your mark, get set, go!”
    Doris ripped the tape down from in front of the runners and the tightly packed throng moved out, Reagan Andreas at the lead. The crowd was cheering as the runners moved up Main Street.
    Dewey started in last place, at the back of the pack. He smiled at Doris as he ran by her.
    “I’m rooting for you,” she said as he passed by.
    As he crossed the starting line, Dewey’s eyes were drawn to the right, down a side street. Parked halfway down the block, tucked in behind a line of Subarus and pickup trucks, was a black sedan, its engine idling. A spike of warmth jabbed at the base of his spine, then shot through his body, a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time. He scanned the sedan one extra moment, then turned back to the race.
    *   *   *
    The sedan was a heavily customized Cadillac CTS with tinted bulletproof windows, steel side paneling, an undermounted bomb plate, and low-profile steel-meshed escape tires. In the backseat sat a large, dark-haired man in a navy blue suit. On his lap were two sheets of paper. He studied the documents as he sipped from a coffee cup adorned with a red-and-yellow Tim Hortons logo.
    Both documents were printed on the letterhead of the Senate Select Committee on