The City Burns: A Prepper's Struggle for The Truth Read Online Free PDF Page A

the next group entered they would leave and head for the truck.  Jim and Coyle would suit up in Brett and Twink’s spare fatigues and Samantha and Annie would hide under the cargo gear. If they were stopped, Brett would just show them their return orders, since they were supposed to leave that day anyway.
     

 
    When the first dinner call went out Jim thought Coyle was going to puke. There was a green tinge to his face. Jim walked over to him and asked him if he was nervous. “Yeah,” he replied.
     
    “It can’t be worse than when we were getting out of San Diego,” Jim said reassuringly.
     
    Coyle shook his head. “No, it’s not that.” He put his hand over his stomach as they got closer to the food tent. “I’m just so tired of this military food.”
     
    The five of them entered the mess hall together. The plan was to have Annie and Samantha finish their meals first and leave. Then Coyle would finish next followed by Brett and Jim. Jim wanted to hang back last so he could see if Hult was in the first, second, or third dinner rotation.
    When they sat down Jim did a quick scan, but didn’t see him. Coyle reluctantly ate through half of his “mush” while Brett shoveled his down a little too eagerly. Annie and Samantha finished and set off for the truck where Twink was waiting for them. Jim gave Annie a hug and a kiss on the cheek and told her to remember what he said.
     
    She nodded and whispered to him. “I have to stay invisible until you tell me it’s safe.”
    “Right,” he said. Jim kissed the top of her head one more time and squeezed Samantha’s hand before the two of them disappeared out of the tent. Jim leaned in over to Coyle who was still staring at his tray of gray and white. “If they’re not there when you get to the truck you find me right away, got it?” Jim said.
     
    Coyle sat staring into his mush plate. “If I die from malnutrition on the way to the truck will you bury me in a coffin of cheeseburgers?” Brett chimed in. “Make sure I’m invited to that.” Jim tried to get them back on track. “Hey, did you hear—”
    “Make sure I find you if they’re not at the truck when I get there,” Coyle responded. “Yes, I heard you, Jim.” Coyle’s voice was raised a little too high and a few of the soldiers behind him turned their heads. When Coyle went to get up, Brett grabbed his tray before he could throw it away. “For Twink,” he said. Brett folded up the meat blobs in some aluminum and tucked it in his jacket.
     

 
    Jim and Brett waited another ten minutes before heading out. They tossed their trays in the wash line. As Jim turned the corner, he was met by Hult staring him in the face with his rifle over his shoulder. “Locke told me about you, Farr,” Hult said. “He said that with your record in the service that you could have been a general yourself, but instead you threw it all away when you were discharged.” Hult didn’t flinch, or move as he spoke. He was a rock. A robot. The perfect order-taking, no-nonsense, shoot-first-ask-questions-later reactionary.
     
    “A file doesn’t tell you everything,” Jim said as he walked past Hult with Brett at his side. “Your father’s file seemed to say everything that needed to be said,” Hult shouted.
    Jim stopped dead in his tracks. Brett started to go back after Hult, but Jim stopped him.
    Jim approached Hulk slowly and with calculation. He looked Hult dead in the eye until they were nose to nose. Hult gave the first smile Jim had ever seen him have.
     
    “Brian Farr was a deserter, coward, and all around piece of shit marine who didn’t have the balls to save the men in his unit.” Hult glanced down and thought for a second. “How many men died that day? Twenty?”
     
    Jim’s whole body tensed up. His teeth grinded as he drew in a deep breath, trying to keep the rage from breaking and rushing over him. He’d heard the stories of his father since he was a boy. When he first joined the Navy, his