Prisoner of Glass Read Online Free PDF

and drop off his unconscious carcass earlier in the day.   Presently, he was awake and yelling at his neighbor, another new arrival who was sobbing uncontrollably.
    “Leave him alone,” Elspeth yelled back.   She could never stand a bully.
    “Hey.   Who asked you, Stretch Armstrong?”
    “Just because you’re a tough guy doesn’t mean everyone here is.”
    “How many Twitter followers do you have?”
    “What?”
    “How many?”
    “Oh that.   I don’t do that.” Doctors hate anything that can reach us on our off time.   Don’t you people know that?
    “Good.   That means I have more Twitter followers than you, which is what’s important in life.   Now come here and say hello,” the voice said.
    Oh, what the hell.   Allies in here were bound to be useful, even annoying ones.   She rolled of her bed and pressed her face against her bars.   Her new neighbor was a middle aged guy with sloppy blonde hair and a paunch.   He was still in the tattered remains of his business suit, minus the tie, with his dress shirt untucked.  
    “James.   James Card,” he said, slinking a few fingers out.   She took them with her own lanky digits and finger-shook.
    “Elspeth.   Doctor Elspeth Lune.”
    “Eh.   A doctor.   That’s good to know.”   He licked his lips and then said, “So what is this place?   Where am I?   The mother of all drunk tanks?”
    “You’re in a prison.”
    “Yeah.   I can see that.”   She shook her head at this Card character.   “Well.   It’s finally started, then.”   When she gave a quizzical expression he said, “The FEMA camps.   The Federal Government’s been building them for years.   Between that and every branch of the government buying up billions of rounds of ammo — hey.   Did you know that even the Post Office is armed to the teeth now?   What does the Post Office need with hollow point bullets?”
    Elspeth shrugged.   “Target practice?”
    “Look at this place.   Does this look like target practice to you?”
    “I dunno.   These guys don’t seem like Feds.”
    “Of course not.   They’re New World Order.   You know.   NSA spying.   Agenda 21.   Black helicopters, 9-11 was an inside job.   This is it.   The end game is here and now they’re rounding people up.   Pretty clever, putting the actual FEMA camps underground like this.   Just like the Denver Airport, they —”
    “No,” Elspeth cut in.   “It’s medical.   They’re testing out something on us.”   She wiggled her pinky, still in denial at the very existence of her digit.
    “Medical?” James Card seemed to shrink.   That was worse than the New World Order.   “Like … what? Germs?”
    “How should I know?”
    Card suddenly looked like he wanted nothing more than to scrub himself bloody with Purell.   “I thought you were a doctor!”
    “That doesn’t mean —” She was interrupted by the sound of an iPhone ringing.   “Hey.   What was that?”
    “My alarm,” Card said, fumbling around.   “Huh.   Weird.   If I was home right now, I’d be waking up for a run.”
    “ You still have a phone?   How’d you manage —”
    “Oh.   There’s a special compartment in my suit, under the arm.   Goddamn TSA, no way I’m going to trust them with this.   All my contacts and everything are in here!   Anyway … this YouTube guy proved it’s pretty easy to defeat the nudie scanners: all you have to do is keep a gun flat against your body and it looks like bodyfat.   I figured, hey if a gun … why not a phone?   Of course, when I lose this weight in a few weeks, that won’t work any more …”
    Never mind that!   “Have you tried calling anybody?”  
    “Yeah,” Card said dejectedly.
    “Yeah?   What do you mean, yeah?   What happened?”
    “It was weird.”
    “Weird?   Like how?”
    “I called my brother and he acted like he didn’t know me.”
    “But — you got a signal! ?   You were able to make a call?”
    “They got to