Desperate Times Three - Revolution by Nicholas Antinozzi Read Free Book Online Page B

dash of the small Dodge. “I’ve got something to say.”
    “Blow it out your ass, old man,” replied the husky kid.
    Ken casually drove his knee into the kid’s stomach with enough force to send him flat on his back. The young man rolled on the grass, moaning as he held his stomach. Ken reached inside the Dodge and shut off the music, and all eyes slowly turned on Jimmy and Ken.
    “Hey, buddy,” Mark Dundlemore said, a confused smile playing at the corner of his lips. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
    “We’ve got a problem,” Ken said.
    A beer can suddenly hit Ken in the chest and exploded, showering both Jimmy and Ken in cold liquid. A cheer erupted from the crowd of young men that was followed by roaring jackass laughter. Ken slowly wiped the beer from his face and stared coldly at Dundlemore, who looked amused by what had happened.
    “Turn the music back on, Ken,” Dundlemore ordered. “And then go back home.”
    “Not until you hear what I have to say.”
    Another beer can flew by Ken’s ear, and Jimmy could plainly see who had thrown it. Ken’s face was bright red, and the veins in his neck were pulsing with blood.
    “You’re an asshole,” Dundlemore said. “You and your buddy had better go home before you get hurt.”
    The beer can thrower was reaching inside the cooler as Ken withdrew the Smith & Wesson and began walking toward him. The kid shrieked at the sight of the blue steel and held his hands in the air. “Dude, it’s cool,” he moaned as Ken stuck the barrel of the pistol under the young man’s chin.
    Jimmy had also seen enough and pulled the .357 from the back of his jeans and trained it on Dundlemore. “If you open your mouth again, I’ll blow your goddamn head off!”
    “There’s been enough killing tonight,” Ken shouted to the group, which Jimmy calculated to number somewhere between twenty and thirty. “I’m sorry to have to tell you that one of my people lost his mind tonight and killed the owner of that there motorhome,” Ken added, pointing with his free hand. “There’s another of your group just on the other side of my wall. He’s dead too. I think he choked to death on his own puke. The man who killed your friend also killed that pretty blonde that was over here. He then killed himself. Like I said, there has been enough death.”
    Ken paused, and a hushed murmur rose from around the crackling fire. Mark Dundlemore looked as if he were about to protest, and Jimmy drew back the hammer with a loud, satisfying click.
    “I’m going to need four guys to come over and retrieve the bodies of your people,” Ken said. He moved closer to the fire and pointed at a group of young men with the barrel of the .38. “You four, come with me,” Ken ordered. “This won’t take long.”
    “You too,” Jimmy said to Mark Dundlemore, waving him to follow the others. “I want you to see this.”
    “How do we know they’re safe?” asked a voice from the crowd.
    “Because I goddamn said so!” bellowed Ken, twisting back to stare wild-eyed at the throng of interrupted partiers.
    He was met by only silence.
    The four young men Ken had chosen began to hurry away from the firelight ahead of Ken. They were followed by Mark Dundlemore and Jimmy. The group said nothing as Ken led the way with the beam of his flashlight. A moment later they were inside the wall, hovering over a pasty-faced Kyle.
    “You two,” Ken said, motioning to the smallest of the young men. “Drag him out of here.”
    “It’s Kyle,” one of the young men whispered.
    They stood and waited as the limp body was dragged across the grass and out the open gate into the blackness. Ken motioned with the flashlight to the side of the house. “Come on,” he said. “The other one is in the basement.”
    “How do we know you’re not going to kill us?” Dundlemore asked, raising his hands in the air. “I don’t trust either of you assholes.”
    “You should have thought of that before you