Free Radioactive and The Decay Dystopian Super Boxset- A Dirty Bomb and Nuclear Blast Prepper Tale of Survival by Roger Hayden, James Hunt Page A

own on the outskirts of cities all around the country. Any time he asked what was going on, however, he was met with the calculated response of, “we’re working on it.” He just wasn’t sure what “it” was.
     
    When Jim got to the front and held out his tray, the man in the hairnet slopped a pile of bland mush onto his plate. Coyle leaned over with a frown on his face. “Damn. And I was really hoping it’d be the charcoal mush.”
     
    Before Jim could scout a table for everyone to sit at, two MPs slammed into him, knocking his tray to the floor. Jim watched them make a beeline for Samantha and Annie behind him, still in line for breakfast.
     
    “Samantha Kearny?” the taller MP asked.
     
    Samantha pushed Annie behind her. Her daughter wrapped her arms around her mother’s legs, peeking up at the MPs between her mom’s knees. “Yes?”
     
    “We need you and your daughter to come with us,” the shorter MP said.
     
    Jim wedged himself in between the two MPs and the girls. “What’s this about?”
     
    “Sir, please stay back,” the shorter MP said. 
     
    The shorter MP reached for Jim’s shoulder, but Jim knocked the MP’s hand out of the way. The taller MP went straight for his pistol, and Jim kicked the side of his knee, collapsing him to the ground. Jim pulled the pistol out of the MP’s holster and clicked the safety off, pointing it at the shorter MP, who had his hand hovering over his pistol.
     
    “Don’t,” Jim said.
     
    The breakfast line had stopped moving. The crowd around Jim had spread out. People had their empty trays pressed against their chests like shields. The soldiers in hairnets behind the counter stood frozen over their vats of slimy meat. A rustling in the back of the crowd caught Jim’s attention.
     
    “Out of the way, move!” a voice shouted.
     
    A brash sergeant burst through the frontline of the crowd with a group of four soldiers with him. Jim kept the pistol aimed between the two MPs he disarmed. The sergeant and the rest of his men un-holstered their weapons. The sergeant inched closer, but Jim didn’t flinch. Not even when the barrel of the sergeant’s Smith and Wesson 9mm was jammed into the side of his temple.
     
    “Drop it, fucker,” the sergeant said.
     
    Jim glanced around the men circling him. He let the pistol go limp in his hand and handed it back to the MP he took it from. The sergeant grabbed Jim’s arms and threw them around his back, cuffed him, and slammed his face into the ground. Jim saw the other soldiers grab Samantha and Annie. The sergeant pointed a finger at Coyle.
     
    “He comes, too,” he said.
     
    The remaining solider lifted Coyle up between his armpits and dragged him from the breakfast line. “But I didn’t get to finish my mush!” Coyle said.
     
    Jim was taken into a separate tent and shackled to a chair. The MP he disarmed made sure to give him a nice pop in the stomach before he left. Once the MP left, an officer in fatigues entered the tent. Jim could only make out Locke’s silhouette, the circling smoke that rose from the tip of his cigar, and the four stars shining on his hat from the sunlight at the entrance of the tent.
     
    “Jim Farr, former officer and specialist in Navy Intelligence. Honorably discharged after twelve years of service and three combat tours during which he earned twenty commendations, two Purple Hearts, and the Navy Cross,” Locke stated.
     
    Jim saw that Locke was reading from a file. He paced around Jim, puffing on his cigar and intently focused on the contents of the file in his hands. 
     
    “Now why the hell would someone who was awarded the Navy Cross attack two MPs at a military refugee camp?” Locke asked.
     
    “The military and I haven’t really seen eye to eye over the past few years, General,” Jim answered.
     
    Locke chewed on the end of the cigar. “I can see that.”
     
    Locke’s assistant Chris dragged a chair inside the tent with him and handed Locke another