GMO 24- The Coalition- A Tale Of Prepper Survival (GMO 24- A Tale Of Prepper Survival Book 1) by James Hunt Read Free Book Online
Authors: James Hunt
to a torn country were words everyone wanted to hear. But as Alex looked at the sentries with assault rifles lining the steps of their headquarters, peace seemed to be the lowest objective on their totem pole.
Unlike the corrupt sentries at Junction City, the sentries that Alex would be searched by here shared the same mechanical efficiency of the sentries in his own community. Once his pack was handed over to them, he braced himself for when they found the seeds. The sentry who pulled them out flipped them over in his hand a few times.
“What are these?” the sentry asked.
The sentry had a wide face, almost as if someone pushed the front and back of his skull together, and that turned his head into more of an oval.
“Seeds,” Alex answered.
“What?”
“They’re seeds, dumbass.”
Alex wasn’t sure if it was his salty language or the fact that he was in possession of unregistered seeds that caused the bum rush of sentries slamming his face onto the hard city hall tile, but regardless of the reason it still hurt.
The bash to the side of his face didn’t help the still-present head pain from last night. He could feel the side of his face swelling, and the addition of his wrists being handcuffed only furthered his discomfort.
Once Gordon heard that someone had seeds and discovered exactly who it was, Alex knew he’d get the audience he desired. He just hoped his bargaining chips were worth the freedom of two farm workers.
***
Jake watched Sydney peel his fingers off the armrests after they landed. He’d thought the brainiac would go into shock and die before they even took off. Jake stepped out and took in the open land that stretched for miles. It was a far cry from the skyline of Philadelphia. He hadn’t seen a major city for almost nine months, but he didn’t miss it.
When everything first went to shit, the cities took the brunt of the blow. The supplies of food trucks shrank every day. First the daily deliveries stopped, then the trucks only showed up once a week, then every other week, and it wasn’t long after that the trucks were hijacked before they even made it into the city, and then the food trucks of relief supplies were replaced by men with guns.
Screams and gunshots seemed to be the only sounds the city offered after that. He remembered walking to a friend’s house three months after the first failed harvest when he heard a gunshot the next street over.
Once Jake made it to the connecting street, he saw a group of people crouched over something on the asphalt. They yanked and pulled at the object, taking greedy bloody handfuls of whatever they surrounded. A few of them turned to look at him when he passed by, but he kept his eyes forward. In his peripheral vision, he could see the limp hand of the person who had been shot.
When Jake showed up at his friend’s house, no one answered. He walked around back and let himself in. The power had been out for almost a week, so the heat blast that greeted him upon entering wasn’t surprising, but the smell of rotten meat that stung his nostrils was.
The living room wall was decorated with his friend’s brain matter. Flies swarmed around the bullet hole in his head. The used pistol rested in his lap. Jake didn’t even bother burying him. He grabbed the pistol, the holster he knew was kept in the closet, ammo, whatever food and water was left in the house, and then sprinted out of the city that festered with death.
The tech that Jake had flown with finally stepped out of the cabin, leaning to one side with his luggage weighing him down. Sydney waved his hand sheepishly.
“Um, Jake? Right?” Sydney asked.
“You plan on staying here?” Jake asked.
“I’m sorry?”
“The bags, Einstein. Why’d you bring so much baggage?”
“Well, I wasn’t sure how long we’d be staying.”
“Not long.”
“Oh, well, I was hoping you could help me
Unlike the corrupt sentries at Junction City, the sentries that Alex would be searched by here shared the same mechanical efficiency of the sentries in his own community. Once his pack was handed over to them, he braced himself for when they found the seeds. The sentry who pulled them out flipped them over in his hand a few times.
“What are these?” the sentry asked.
The sentry had a wide face, almost as if someone pushed the front and back of his skull together, and that turned his head into more of an oval.
“Seeds,” Alex answered.
“What?”
“They’re seeds, dumbass.”
Alex wasn’t sure if it was his salty language or the fact that he was in possession of unregistered seeds that caused the bum rush of sentries slamming his face onto the hard city hall tile, but regardless of the reason it still hurt.
The bash to the side of his face didn’t help the still-present head pain from last night. He could feel the side of his face swelling, and the addition of his wrists being handcuffed only furthered his discomfort.
Once Gordon heard that someone had seeds and discovered exactly who it was, Alex knew he’d get the audience he desired. He just hoped his bargaining chips were worth the freedom of two farm workers.
***
Jake watched Sydney peel his fingers off the armrests after they landed. He’d thought the brainiac would go into shock and die before they even took off. Jake stepped out and took in the open land that stretched for miles. It was a far cry from the skyline of Philadelphia. He hadn’t seen a major city for almost nine months, but he didn’t miss it.
When everything first went to shit, the cities took the brunt of the blow. The supplies of food trucks shrank every day. First the daily deliveries stopped, then the trucks only showed up once a week, then every other week, and it wasn’t long after that the trucks were hijacked before they even made it into the city, and then the food trucks of relief supplies were replaced by men with guns.
Screams and gunshots seemed to be the only sounds the city offered after that. He remembered walking to a friend’s house three months after the first failed harvest when he heard a gunshot the next street over.
Once Jake made it to the connecting street, he saw a group of people crouched over something on the asphalt. They yanked and pulled at the object, taking greedy bloody handfuls of whatever they surrounded. A few of them turned to look at him when he passed by, but he kept his eyes forward. In his peripheral vision, he could see the limp hand of the person who had been shot.
When Jake showed up at his friend’s house, no one answered. He walked around back and let himself in. The power had been out for almost a week, so the heat blast that greeted him upon entering wasn’t surprising, but the smell of rotten meat that stung his nostrils was.
The living room wall was decorated with his friend’s brain matter. Flies swarmed around the bullet hole in his head. The used pistol rested in his lap. Jake didn’t even bother burying him. He grabbed the pistol, the holster he knew was kept in the closet, ammo, whatever food and water was left in the house, and then sprinted out of the city that festered with death.
The tech that Jake had flown with finally stepped out of the cabin, leaning to one side with his luggage weighing him down. Sydney waved his hand sheepishly.
“Um, Jake? Right?” Sydney asked.
“You plan on staying here?” Jake asked.
“I’m sorry?”
“The bags, Einstein. Why’d you bring so much baggage?”
“Well, I wasn’t sure how long we’d be staying.”
“Not long.”
“Oh, well, I was hoping you could help me
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