The Crimson Fall (The Sons of Liberty Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

He found the autumn warmth and humidity of Washington, DC almost maddening. He had always preferred the raw chill of winter to the heat of summer, but any sign of cold had been slow coming that year. Outside, the midsummer heat had held late into the fall season with little hope of diminishing. Ducks still crowded the middle of the long reflecting pool, swimming back and forth in a frantic fashion as they searched anxiously for the food that would not come for another day. The president had said the service would take place at the very steps of the Lincoln Memorial. He had the area sectioned off, preventing access to anyone other than the relatives of the victims and, of course, the ever-present drone media. No tourists that day would walk the edges of the iconic pool and throw in their small blocks of bread for the local ducks and geese to feast upon. His long-standing animosity for the filthy birds made him wonder if they would find other sources of food or if they had grown so dependent on the hands that fed them that they would die with their tiny stomachs twisted in knots after a day of hunger. His thoughts then turned to the American people and, like the ducks, how dependent they were on the order of the system just so they could stuff their fat faces with their cheeseburgers and fries.
    Blood-sucking vermin , Lukas thought.
    He then wondered how America would react during the initial days of the coming upheaval. Hunger was just one of the many instruments in the global orchestra that was less than five years away from sounding off with its magnum opus; a beautiful symphony of fear. He believed that with the right mix of chaos and love the citizens of the world, led by the frightened American population, would flock toward a new hope that only he and the Patriarchs could provide. Even with the vexing heat of the day, in front of those white steps of damned remembrance, the thought of a future paradise for a world finally set free from the corrupt brought forth a cool sense of peace that chilled him.
    The younger brother of the late senator, a relatively new and unknown congressman from Colorado, was wrapping up a long-winded memoire. Though Lukas knew very little about Adam Reinhart, other than his position as the youngest congressman in the House at the age of thirty-four, he had decided to study the man intently for the time being. He knew Joe had contacted him and him alone on the night of the attack, but Lukas had listened to the phone conversation dozens of times and reassured himself that his secrets remained buried with the senator.
    “I was the little kid that always followed his big brother around,” the congressman said in a wavering voice. “And though Joe was five years older than me, he was the kind of guy that would let me tag along, even when I couldn’t keep up. But I rarely held him back. If anything, he always pushed me past what I thought were my limits. We both walked two very different paths as young men but we came into politics for very similar reasons. We each had a passion for this nation and for those that didn’t know how to take care of themselves. I’ve never known anyone that loved to help others like Joe Reinhart. The country lost a great man last week.”
    The teary-eyed congressman turned to the wreath-framed picture of the deceased senator and spoke his final goodbyes.
    “Thirty-nine years is too short a time for a man like Joe Reinhart to have lived. Joe, you were the best friend, the best brother, I could have hoped for. I will always push myself to follow in your footsteps. And I’m sorry I didn’t say it more, but I love you too.”
    The crowd quietly applauded. The president clapped too if only for the needed appearance of grief. Lukas had no sympathy or patience for those who tried to cripple his carefully planned chaos. He would forfeit the lives of any, friend or not, that stood in his way without a moment’s hesitation.
    The president stood up half way through the soft