Beneath the Mask
Gerard stared out
at the ocean in anticipation as Archer recovered the pistols and other gear
from the raiders' bodies. They let Sage make his way to a nearby camp to rest,
but they told him not to speak of the coming raiders yet. The goon who had
fired the flare was still hobbling along the beach, so Gerard slowly made his
way to him. Sand crunched underneath his feet as he reached the injured
man.
“Please, don't kill
me,” he pleaded.
“Keep quiet,”
Gerard instructed as he stomped down on his wounded leg. The man cried out in
pain.
“I need you to
deliver a message to Moore for me. Tell him he can send as many men as he can
muster, but it won't matter. The time for subjugation has passed. We will be
the ones standing on this beach tomorrow, when the sun rises. Now, one last
thing. Where are the Jet Skis you used to get here?”
“Down that way,
another half mile,” he pointed. “We pulled them into the treeline to keep them
hidden from your people.”