“I will never forget you two, and I have no doubt you guys will be fine. I think I’ve made my own decision about the future. I want to see what’s out there, you know.” He fished around in the pocket of his overalls and withdrew a small, ovoid metal object. He looked at it thoughtfully, before placing it in Chana’s hand, closing her fingers around it.
“I don’t really have anything, but I was hoping you guys would give this to your kid, something to remember me by.” Roman turned and walked toward Matthias and Scotts.
After a silent moment, Petor asked Chana, “What is it?”
Chana uncurled her hand to reveal Roman’s police badge. It was a little scratched and slightly tarnished but in remarkable shape considering what it had been through with Roman. Petor read the badge’s inscription out loud. “Detective, Metropolitan Police.” He traced the raised lettering and continued, “Badge number 442.” Petor looked up and started to call out to Roman. This memento of Roman’s life was too much to accept. Roman, however, had walked away to join his friends.
“Geez, you guys aren’t playing round!” Roman said, letting out a long whistle as he watched several U.S. Army soldiers loading large pallets into a solitary drop pod. Every pallet appeared to be loaded with beer.
“We’re also loading up ice cream and DVD’s,” Scott said. “I like watching the DVD’s made here. Jean Claude Van Damme is my favorite.”
Scotts produced a can of Natural Light from a cargo pocket and opened it, taking a long swig.
“So when are you guys out of here?” Roman asked.
“We need to talk to you about that,” Matthias replied. “We’re leaving tonight as soon as they finish loading. Your government wanted us to take some people with us to study and document our journey. Johann didn’t seem to mind. But obviously, you need to make a decision. Sorry to put pressure—”
Roman cut him off. “No worries. I want to go. As a matter of fact, I’m ready.”
Scotts slapped him on the back. “That’s great!”
Overhead, a formation of three U.S. Air Force F-15’s flew in formation, followed by three of the marshal’s tactical fighters.
“Maybe could you teach me to fly one of those things?” Roman pointed skyward as the fighters roared overhead.
Scotts threw back his head and laughed. “Why start small? Have you ever flown drop pod? I’ll show you how to get this hunk of junk off the ground in no time.”
Matthias and Scotts threw their arms around Roman, and together the trio walked inside the drop pod, the cargo doors closing behind them.
THE END
Table of Contents
Acknowledgements
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 47
TWO MONTHS LATER
Dawn of the Mad Page 35
