This Machine Kills Read Online Free PDF Page A

continued, “He told me about the floats, the costumes the girls would wear…”
       “The girls, oohwee!” Spike snapped out of his daydream and shook his shoulders so his man-tits jiggled from side to side. They all laughed at this, even Taylor.
       “He made it sound so amazing, all the colours and the music…” Doyle paused again, searching for words, “I know it sounds insane but that’s what I kept expecting to see when we were walking through the streets today… Every corner we turned I was waiting to see the carnival.”
       When Doyle finished speaking, the group remained quiet. It was like each of them was rediscovering their own memories of the Old-Town.
       After a few seconds Rudy broke the silence,
       “Yeah,” he sighed, looking more human than Taylor had ever seen before, “that was a long time ago.”
        Taylor jumped up and loudly clapped his hands together, quickly snapping his men out of their pensive mood. He wanted them alert not walking around with their heads filled with memories. That was how people got hurt.
       “Come on then fellas, you’ve had plenty of time, we’re pushing on.”
       As the team got to their feet, Lennox suddenly bent over, clutching the back of his head.
       “Fuck!” he yelled out in pain.
       “What’s the problem Lennox?” Taylor asked.
       “Fuck,” Lennox said again, a little calmer, “I got hit by a rock. Those fucking ferals.”
       Taylor looked up at one of the rubble mounds, just in time to see one of the laughing urchins disappear out of sight. Lennox removed his hand and turned to show Taylor a small but nasty-looking bump on the top of his head. It reminded him of the old cartoon cat and mouse he used to watch on television when he was a kid.
       Rudy looked to Taylor with ‘I told you so’ written all over his face.
       “No sense, no feeling, right?” Spike said as he winked at his injured colleague.
       Lennox started towards him but quickly stopped to rub his head as the pain kicked in.
       “Why don’t you shut the hell up fat man? I’ve had enough of your shit today.”
       Rogers picked up his rifle and brushed passed Lennox, “Maybe you should keep your helmet on next time.”
       A loud crack of rifle fire pierced the air as Rogers’ body was lifted up and thrown backwards onto the ground with a dull thump. With the exception of his jaw and lower set of teeth, his face had been replaced by a bloody pulp of blood and gristle.
       “Get down!” Taylor screamed at the bemused faces surrounding him.
       As more shots rang out, the team did as commanded and dived behind the Rhino. Following them to safety, Taylor had just enough time to spot two men peering over the top of a large pile of rubble on the opposite side of the makeshift road. Judging from the noise and the massive damage that Rogers had sustained, he thought they were probably using a high-velocity sniper rifle. It was completely unnecessary; at that distance they could have hit him with a water-pistol.
       “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, realising the seriousness of the situation. They were sitting ducks.
       Taylor switched his attention to his men.
       “Is everyone alright?” he searched their faces for signs of injury as they nodded silently.
       “What about you Doyle?”
       “I’m good Sarge,” he replied, sounding frightened but calm. 
       Taylor turned and eased his head out to try and see if their attackers had fled. A bullet bouncing off the Rhino, inches from his head quickly answered his question. He retracted to safe ground, landing on his ass with a painful thump. With a sigh of relief at not ending up like Rogers, he focused his mind on how they would get out of the stinking mess.
       “Ok,” he said, his voice full of authority, “this is how it is. There are two snipers on the mound at twelve o’clock.”
       He motioned straight ahead through the centre of the