Danger Close by James Sumner (classic novels for teens txt) 📕

I want you to have a voice. But I also want you to understand. They were controlled by people whose only interests were their own, but my interests are your interests. My hopes are your hopes. My dreams are your dreams. Just because your way of life is all you’ve known does not mean it is the only way. It does not mean it is the best way!”

The speech was rousing. The crowd were turning back again. Half cheered for the president. The other half were shouting in spite of him.

Jericho looked out. More pockets of protestors were starting up all over the crowd. No one group was becoming a serious problem, but there were enough small groups that he was growing concerned.

He reached for his radio again. “All stations within the perimeter, this is Jericho Stone. I want you all in formation around your tents. Form a wide circle and fan out. Show your teeth a little bit. Let the protestors know you’re there. Let the supporters see you too—help put them at ease. Discipline and focus here. We’re peacekeepers, not mercenaries.”

The two hundred GlobaTech operatives among the crowd moved into position. The clusters of protestors reacted. The movement did nothing to quieten them, but they seemed to settle.

In his radio, Jericho said, “Perimeter East, sitrep.”

“Appears steady,” came the reply.

Jericho looked over at Herrera, who was mid-speech.

“—for too long. My pledge to you here today is to put this country to work for its people. I will invest in infrastructure, in welfare, and in each and every one of you!” He paused for effect. “And I know what you’re thinking. It would be my first concern too if I were standing out there beside you all. Where is the money coming from? Well, it won’t be coming from higher taxes!”

The crowd momentarily cheered in unison. Herrera let slip a small, satisfied smile.

“If we all work hard, pay our taxes, and obey the law, this country will prosper. But the government’s investment in its people cannot begin by asking them to pay more. So, I will begin a five-stage plan to reduce the size of our armed forces, reduce military spending, and put that money to work for you, the people of Paluga.”

The crowd turned. Herrera’s supporters remained, but the protestors drowned them out with their anger. The roar of disapproval grew. The pockets within the large crowd began shuffling together, forming larger groups with a louder voice.

Herrera hesitated for a moment, thrown by the reaction, but he quickly recovered and continued. “We will build more schools and hospitals. We will work to boost tourism and create new jobs and opportunities for those who want them.”

Jericho’s entire body tensed. Herrera was losing them. This needed to end before it turned hostile. He looked to either side of the stage.

“Men, with me,” he ordered.

Without hesitation, the eight operatives stepped up and joined him. He began directing them into position.

“I want one of you next to Miller. Another to the president’s left. The rest of you, form a semi-circle behind him. Go. Now.”

The men hustled into position.

Jericho took one last look around, then joined them. He pushed in to stand directly beside Herrera and leaned toward him.

“Sir, you should wrap this up,” he said.

Herrera kept his eyes and smile on the crowd. “I agree.”

The noise continued to grow. Plastic bottles and other small projectiles began whizzing overhead, across the intersection, from one side of the crowd to the other, as if two warring factions were taunting each other.

A bottle bounced off the podium and landed at Jericho’s feet. He looked down to see it was half-filled with black liquid. Concerned, he crouched to retrieve it.

The second his legs bent, he heard a sound like a hand grenade going off in the distance. A blast and a crack echoed as it trailed off just as quickly as it had arrived, followed by a high-pitched whirring, like a small drill.

Jericho’s knee rested on the stage when it registered.

Gunshot.

He stood in time to see President Herrera collapse to the ground. Half his head had been removed.

Jericho’s eyes bulged. The shock was instant. For a moment, he was paralyzed.

“Everybody down!” he yelled, his senses returning.

Screams burst forth from the crowd. Chaos erupted as common sense gave way to panic. People began running in all directions.

It was only when Jericho rushed to Herrera’s side that he realized just how bad the situation was. The man who had been standing to his left was also down. So was the man to Herrera’s right. Jericho looked at the first man, stunned and confused. He followed the splashes of blood and gray matter along the stage, to President Herrera… to the man on the other side of him… to—

“Oh, shit. Miller!”

He stepped over Herrera’s body and over to Miller, who now lay on his side in the same place Jericho had told him to stand only a few minutes earlier. A small pool of blood had formed around his head. He pulled the body toward him, revealing the extent of the damage.

“Oh, Christ! No, no, no…”

Most of Miller’s face had been blown apart. Jericho stared at his fallen brother. He heard movement around him but didn’t look up. Instinctively, he knew what remained of the GlobaTech operatives on the stage were forming a tight perimeter around him. Around the dead. Only when they were in position, guns raised, covering all directions, did he look around. Four men were dead. Decimated.

He frowned, forcing his brain to work. To remember what had just happened. He had heard the shot as he was crouching to pick up the bottle.

There was only one shot.

He looked at each of the dead bodies in turn.

How were four men dead from one shot? Most bullets—even high caliber rounds from a sniper rifle—would struggle to punch through two bodies, let alone four. Especially with distance between each target. No bullet could have done this much damage.

Jericho looked around. His mind was engaged with renewed purpose, searching for anything