Free Sons of Mayhem 3: War and Vengeance by Nikki Pink Page B

heard Bottle moving his hands along the fence. “Here.”
    Jase passed the end of the hose over to Bottle, who carefully fed it through the hole in the fence that had carefully been cut out the night before. He could see the dark outline of Bottle’s face pushed up against the fence. He was peering through the eye-hole that was conveniently placed above the hole for the hose, watching as he fed it through.
    The hose snaked its way across the grass. It didn ’t need to go all the way. Jase checked his watch. 10:30. They had fifteen minutes to finish preparing.
    Jase emptied the rest of his backpack. Six glass 2 liter bottles. Finding them had been the hardest part of their shopping expedition - everything was fucking plastic these days.
    “Here.” Jase tossed three rags and three of the glass containers over to Bottle. They removed the rubber stoppers that sealed them. If the area hadn’t already reeked of gasoline, it would now.
    “Think they’ll smell it?” asked Bottle.
    “No. The amount of weed they smoke in there, they wouldn’t smell shit if you put it in their burrito.”
    “Maybe we shoulda done that.”
    “This is better.” Is it? Are we doing the right thing? Then Jase remembered Brodie. We’re doing the right thing.
    They shoved the rags into the bottles, turned them upside down for a moment, removed the rags and re-inserted them the other way around. The rags were now soaked in gasoline, and what they held were basic, yet deadly, crude bombs.
    Bottle went back inside to check on the family. Jase lined the bottles up in two sets. A line of four next to Bottle’s position, and then a pair next to him. He placed two lighters in front of each set. Gauge had made them run through it a dozen times, checking every last detail. We never could have done this without him.
    When Bottle returned giving the all clear it was five minutes until go-time. Jase began to work the hand-pump. Up and down, up and down. The gasoline ran through the hose and spouted out in front of the back door of the house. The ground there was concrete, and gasoline soon spread in a wide puddle, some of it forming little streams which rolled onto the dirt and scraggly grass behind.
    As the container began to empty, Bottle began to pull back the hose slowly.
    “Not too fast.” He needn’t have said it. He knew Bottle wouldn’t go too fast. But he felt like he needed to say something anyway.
    “I know.”
    Soon the gasoline trail was complete. Jase checked his watch again. 10:43 and thirty seconds. He took a fire lighter from his pocket, where he had half a dozen more secreted. Usually used for lighting a charcoal barbecue, today they ’d be lighting something much more impressive.
    Jase stood up and peered over the fence. In his camouflage he ’d be invisible from the house. He could see movement in the windows ahead of him. It was the kitchen, and two men were visible holding a bottle between them. Enjoy your last drink fuckheads.
    Jase took a Zippo from his pocket. The other lighters were just backup. He lit the fire lighter in his hand, and before it could burn him, he dropped it over the fence to the beginning of the trail of gasoline.
    He stared down as the fire lighter burned and the ground didn’t. Fuck . He stared, and he stared. His eyes flicked back to the window. One of the men was looking in his direction. He can’t see me, can he? Fuck. I think he’s seen me.
    Jase glanced back down. The man hadn ’t seen him. He’d seen the flames. The flames that were now making rapid progress towards the house.
    “Go, go, go.” Jase’s furious whisper was unnecessary. Bottle, right on schedule, had already lit one of the Molotov cocktails. With a powerful, practiced overhand throw Jase watched the bomb fly through the air. He held his breath. His aim was true. With a tinkling of glass the bottle flew through one of the two visible upstairs windows. On the ground the flames reached the small lake of gasoline at the same