Thy Kingdom Come: Book One in the Sam Thorpe series Read Online Free PDF Page A

trembled slightly. “You,” Sam said, pointing at him. “Let’s start with you. Please stand.”
    The young man stood but refused to look at Sam. His peachy face, curly hair, and slim, pointed nose gave him a look that Sam suspected women loved to mother. What the hell was he doing here?
    “M-m-y name is-s M-Marshall Pearson.”
    A voice called from the end of the table. “Come on, pussy, shout it out.”
    Sam glared at the bearded man. “Knock it off. Let him speak.”
    The man stood. “I ain’t gonna take no shit off you, Thorpe.”
    Sam stepped out from behind the wooden podium. He walked to the back of the room and stopped about two feet in front of the big mouth.
    The two men were about the same height. The guy had impressive shoulders, most likely from a life of working outside on a farm. He wore a red-checkered work shirt. Tan suspenders held up his jeans.
    Sam flexed his biceps and leaned forward on his toes. “You’ve got a big mouth. Maybe you’d like to start.”
    The man glared at him.
    Sam waited.
    “Call me Buster. Five years in the infantry.”
    Buster’s muscular arms twitched under the sleeves of his shirt. Sam shifted his weight in case the big man made a move.
    The smell of alcohol on Buster’s breath was strong, and the veins outlined along his nose and cheeks spelled a life of heavy drinking. Sam would have to face down Buster to assert his authority with the rest of the men. “What was your MOS?”
    “My what?” Buster snarled. “What the fuck is that?”
    “Military Occupational Specialty. You’ve been in the military; I shouldn’t have to spell it out for you. What was your job description?”
    “Goddamn infantry, man. A grunt—and proud of it. What the hell did you think?”
    Sam forced a smile. “Good, we’ll need a lot of grunts. You may be seated.”
    The man didn’t move.
    “You may be seated.” Sam returned Buster’s icy stare.
    “Maybe I feel like standing.”
    Sam stepped closer to Buster and looked him in the eye. “I asked you nicely to sit. Now do I need to order you to sit? I will if I have to.”
    “Goddamn it, Buster, sit the fuck down.” Sam whirled to see Popeye standing behind him, hands on hips.
    Buster sat.
    Sam stalked to the front of the room. He glared at Popeye, then turned to face the rest. “General Oliver is paying my company good money to assist you men with training and equipment. I hope you won’t continue to waste his money.” He let that sink in before concluding, “Any questions?”
    Silence filled the room. Most of the men stared at the floor.
    Sam pointed at Pearson. “All right, Marshall, I believe we left off with you. Please stand again and speak loudly so we all can hear.”
    The young man stood. All of him seemed to be shaking this time.
    “Give us your name and any military background.”
    “M-my name is M-marshall P-Pearson. I haven’t any military training.”
    A snicker sounded in the background. Buster elbowed his neighbor. Sam decided to let that pass.
    “Thank you, Mr. Pearson. You may be seated.” Sam made a mental note to have a talk with Marshall Pearson.
    It took about forty-five minutes for each man to stand, give his name, and summarize his military service. Except for Pearson, all the men were veterans. Two had served in the Marines, two in the Navy, and the rest in the Army.
    Of the Army veterans, all had spent time in the infantry. None were trained in explosives, although three had some experience in diffusing bombs. Most of the men were hunters. They seemed comfortable with guns.
    Sam walked down one side of the table. “All right, what questions do you have for me?”
    A rangy blond-haired man in his early thirties raised his hand. Sam pointed at him. “Hector.”
    Hector stood. “When will we get some decent commo equipment?”
    “Excellent question. You may be seated.” Sam paused while Hector slumped down in his chair. Sam would have to work on his lack of military bearing, but not tonight.