The anticipation tingled in July’s fingers as he fiddled with the radio and weaved through the static until he tuned into GreyWater Radio where the current song had just ended and the radio host started talking:
So a friend of mine who does a lot of work in the south-west recently told me that I’m a big hit in the fascist community these days and I gotta say I did nazi that one coming. I could go to jail for making that joke. But seriously guys, get your priorities right so I can love you without having to worry about disappearing in the middle of the night, actually I’m surprised that hasn’t happened already. Speaking of jail, this next track is called Rusty Cage by Johnny Cash. Enjoy.
There was a check-in station at the bottom of the slope where two men were posted, then the road twisted back and forth up towards the high walls of the prison and its many guard towers. A platform stuck out of the right side over the cliff upon which was a hangman’s noose. Alister’s crimes against the Royalists were worthy of execution, so why would they have kept him alive for so long?
The saggy-eyed guard at the check-in station window glared at July and then at the bike escort. “Supply shipment?” he moaned. July nodded and a second guard moved to check the back of the truck.
He heard a suppressed pistol being fired and a thump as the body hit the floor. The other guard stepped back as July drew and shot him down too. He wished there had been a better way, one without having to murder two supposedly innocent men just doing their jobs. That these men were his enemy during a war did not justify their murder; July never liked that mentality about war, but the success of this mission could not be risked for the lives of two strangers. July had no choice but to move on.
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