Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 67263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
“Yes, if anything I should be with him because my father can be very grumpy about unexpected guests.”
“I bet. But, what’s something your dad likes? Song? Movie? Food? How could we warm up to him?”
“Huh?”
“Anything, he loves, Eden—”
“Why?”
“Help me out.” I watched the Pansies take another step toward us. They were barely three feet from the first line of yellow fake leaves under the trip wire.
What will happen when it's tripped?
“Dad likes a poem called The Dragonfly and the Ant.”
“Why did he like it?”
The men were close to the line of leaves.
“It’s about two types of people. The ones that work and the ones that are lazy and think they can reap the benefits of those that work—”
One Pansy tripped the wire. A grenade set off with a loud crackling boom, echoing on the hill.
Everything happened in seconds. Boris and I fell back on the steps. One of the men flew backwards in the air, becoming a human cannonball and shooting up several feet.
My ears rang.
Shit.
Black smoke rose in the air. The other guy’s leg was gone, blown off and lying six feet to the right of him. Meanwhile, fire covered his chest as he screamed and hobbled forward. The scent of burning hair filled the air.
The French took cover, running behind cars.
Somewhere between all of that I dropped the phone.
No time to search for it, I grabbed at Boris’s arms. “Get up. Let’s go.”
I raced up to the porch, hoping Timur wouldn’t run out.
He didn’t.
Fast, Boris followed. “Where are we going?”
“To that dirt path around the house.” I frantically searched for yellow leaves and didn’t find any. “Let’s hope, God is still on our side.”
“What?”
“Jump.” I leapt off the porch and landed on the dirt path.
No explosion came.
Boris jumped by me, bumping into my side.
Another grenade detonated behind us, fucking up more Pansies.
I wasted no seconds, seeing who broke apart this time. I raced forward, letting the dirt path guide me. Boris kept my pace.
I wish I didn’t drop that fucking phone.
I could have just given Timur the phone and let Eden talk to her father.
Grumpy, Eden? That motherfucker is on some Vietnam war shit.
Running with me, Boris met my pace. “The French are following us.”
“Yeah. I figured that would happen.” I glanced behind me.
Jean-Pierre led the way with his guns out. Rage covered his face.
Laughing, I yelled back, “Your men should have spoken to the ancestors!”
Jean-Pierre roared back, “Who did you call?!”
“I called your chick and told her that Papi’s coming home to give her this dick!”
Jean-Pierre shot at me.
Fuck!
I shoved Boris to the side and dove the other way. I dropped to the ground, skinning my cheek on the rocky path.
You just can't help yourself, Max.
Boris groaned, but jumped back up.
Fast, I rose too. “Stay on the path!”
We ran forward.
A large moving figure appeared thirty feet ahead of us. It must've been Timur.
This dude is big like Rolan. If the Brotherhood called Rolan the Bear, then what the hell did they call him?
Boris's voice grew shaky. "What does he have on?"
"I don't know."
Timur wore all black, but not a suit or clothes. It was a black shiny trench coat. I couldn't tell if it was made from plastic or leather. The same material made up his pants. He stomped forward in these heavy black boots. He had a big black helmet on his head with a visor shielding his face.
Ummm. . .
Boris and I slowed our running down.
Jean-Pierre didn’t shoot again.
One of the Pansies yelled out something in French.
As he continued our way, Timur wielded this long, odd gun. Maybe, it wasn’t a gun at all. It could have been a strange long chain saw, but. . .
Timur rushed forward.
I stopped in the middle of the dirt path. Boris did too.
What is he holding?
The Butcher and Pansies made it to us. They didn't say shit and stared off in the same direction as Boris and me.
And Timur charged our way.
We all watched in shock.
I leaned my head to the side. “Is that a. . .flame thrower?”
“It is.” Jean-Pierre shook his head. “Run!”
You don't have to tell me twice.
Together—Pansies, Butcher, Boris, and I—turned and sped off in the opposite direction.
Chapter 5
Fire Baptized
T
he clouds above us turned black. Lightning flashed.
We had to act fast. My heart pounded in my chest. Adrenaline burst through my veins.
Racing back to the cars seemed like the only clear option. A few of Jean-Pierre’s men shot in Timur’s direction. Bullets whizzed through the air, narrowly missing Timur.
Running next to me, Jean-Pierre shook his head. “Don’t kill Timur!”
“Fuck that!” My legs burned. “He’s trying to kill us!”
Men shouted in French, their voices getting closer.
Some of Jean-Pierre’s men scrambled back in confusion, tripping the wires in the front yard.
Boom!
I fell to the ground. My teeth chattered. The ground shook. Men screamed in pain.
Boom!
Boris tumbled down next to me. High-pitched screams rode the noise of grenades being set off.