Jennifer Government: A Novel by Max Barry Read Free Book Online Page A

pretty scary. Billy globbed the soldier, then walked out into the clearing.
    Calf met him in the middle. “Hey, good work, Mouse. You got a good eye on you.”
    “Thanks.” He eyed her pants. “Hey, Calf…I think they got you.”
    “What? Aw, shit!”
    “Well, well!” Finch said, arriving. “A good day for the blue team!” He walked to the flagpole and began tugging at the ropes. “I think the blue team will all find secure NRA positions.”
    “You got everyone
shot,”
Billy said. “Everyone except me.”
    Finch looked around. “Well, perhaps not all of us, then.”
    “You asshole!” Calf said. “You let them know we were coming!”
    “I did not,” Finch said. “That was your own fault, snapping branches and so forth.”
    “You did, man,” one of the enemies said. “I heard someone say, ‘Go, attack!’”
    “Thanks a lot, Finch! You probably cost me a job!”
    “Your ineptitude in combat isn’t my fault,” Finch said. He began folding the flag, tucking one end under his chin.
    Billy said, “You think you’re a real squad commander? This is a
game!
You think they’d ever put you in charge for real?”
    Everyone fell silent. Finch raised his paintgun. “Shut your mouth, Mouse.”
    Billy laughed. “What are you going to do? Shoot me?”
    “I said stand down!”
    “Give me the flag. You don’t deserve it.” He reached for it.
    Finch pulled the trigger. Billy felt something sharp strike his chest. He looked down and saw a mess of blue paint on his jacket. He raised his head. Finch said nervously, “Now, Mouse—” and Billy punched him in the face.
    Finch fell to the ground. Arms grabbed at Billy. He flailed wildly and connected with something soft. Someone yelled, “Ahh, my nose!” Then Billy was on the ground and a lot of angry people were holding him down.
    “What’s the matter with you?”
    “Get out of here,” a man said. “The NRA doesn’t need thugs like you.”
    “The NRA will hear about this, Mouse,” Finch said, his voice shrill. “You can forget about your job!”
    Billy looked at Calf, hoping for support. She looked at the ground. “You’d better scoot, Mouse.”
    “Fine!” He scrambled to his feet. He tore off his blue armband and threw it to the ground, but no one seemed very impressed. He almost shouted,
Screw you all
, but strangled the impulse. He turned on his heel and walked away.
    Twenty minutes later, he realized he didn’t have a solid grip on his bearings. The bushland looked the same in every direction. In places it was so thick he had to scramble over fallen trees and hack through bushes. The blue paint on his jacket dried to form a hard layer that chafed against his skin, and he pulled it off and hurled it at a tree. Ten minutes later his arms were attacked so violently by mosquitoes that he headed back for it.
    But this was harder than it sounded, and Billy realized he was well and truly lost. He spent half an hour smashing through the bush, getting increasingly irate at himself, the NRA, and misleading blue birds. He wished he’d never met those NRA suits at the firing range. When he got out of this, the first thing Billy was going to do was cancel his membership.
    About three hours later, he stumbled across a dirt road. He was so relieved he fell to his knees. He was dirty and tired and his throat made clicking sounds when he swallowed. He was also dying for a cigarette, but scared of how much worse his thirst would get if he smoked one. He peered down the road, first one way, then the other. Neither looked especially promising.
    He walked forever. Not a single car passed him. The sun began to fall below the tree line and a chill settled in the air. Billy was now really regretting pitching that jacket. He was thinking he might be in real trouble. He was beginning to think he might die.
    Then he glanced to his right and saw the Jeep. There was a tiny track off the road, just a gap in the trees, really, and a few hundred yards down it, a red glow