The Eye of Moloch by Glenn Beck Read Free Book Online Page A

of my rope, Molly. I’m not the man I used to be, and I’m afraid I’m not up to the task anymore.”
    “Oh,” she said, nodding. “So it sounds like it’s me that’s about to lose you.”
    “No, of course you’re not going to lose me.” Hearing her say such a thing aloud had made him realize there was at least one truth he still knew for certain. “I’m with you. Whatever comes, I’m with you.”
    “Good. That’s good.”
    The dog got to his feet, stretched and shook off a magnificent spray of rainwater, and then sauntered over to sit himself down between them, as though far too much fond attention was being wasted upon others. Molly reached out to find him and stroked his unruly fur as he nuzzled closer to her.
    Something arrived then on the tail end of a gentle breeze, and it was the dog who caught it first. He sat up straight, head cocked and hackles rising, sharp eyes intent and trained to the north—right along the path they’d been traveling.
    Hollis motioned for the others to be still, and after a few quiet seconds he heard it, too. The rain had all but ceased, so there was nothing but distance to obscure the sound. It was the deep, steady note of a heavy engine up ahead, maybe more than one, approaching from just beyond a narrowing valley of young pine trees and tall Wyoming sage.

Chapter 6

    T hey’d been found.
    There was nothing else this could mean. In the midst of this vast open land it was all but inconceivable that they could have crossed paths with someone by random chance alone.
    And they were neatly cut off, as well. At this juncture the terrain itself would allow only two ill-advised avenues of flight—either back the punishing way they’d come, or forward to confront these new arrivals. It was out of the question to just sit tight and hope to lie low. That would only delay the inevitable and forfeit their last remaining initiative, exceedingly weak though it might be.
    If this was to be a surrender—and short of a miracle that was the only realistic expectation—by any civilized code of conduct it would go better for the group if they gave themselves up without resistance, completely and visibly unarmed. But so far the ruthlessness of their enemies seemed unbound by any rules of engagement. They’d already made it clear that they would show no mercy.
    With that in mind he gave his handgun and its last full magazine to the man he judged most prepared to do what might have to be done.
    Hollis gathered them all close and made his instructions clear. He would walk out alone to face whoever had arrived in those vehicles they’d heard. In the far-fetched event that all was well, he would come back alone to tell them so. Any other development—for example, the distant sounds of a field execution by firing squad—was to be taken as a sure sign that something was badly wrong. He wouldn’t allow himself to be used as a front for their deception. If the group didn’t soon see him returning precisely that way—alone, unharmed, and unfettered—then he wouldn’t be returning at all.
    At that point they would need to quickly decide which of them, if any, wished to be taken alive. Even before their costly escape, George Pierce had made his designs quite clear: there was nothing but certain death waiting in his camp. As for their other adversaries, the government-sponsored men, indefinite detention without trial or charges appeared to be the prevailing standard of justice for those suspected of crimes against the homeland. But far worse fates had been reported at their hands, and in far better times than these.
    Everyone seemed to understand the need for decision, and they took on the weight of it with courage. For his part, Hollis spoke a few private words with Molly, slung the shotgun over his shoulder, and then set off down the valley to meet whatever fate lay beyond it.
    At the far edge of a thick brushwood the sapling timber thinned down toward a long grassy clearing, and he saw them,