Free The Glooming (Wrath of the Old Gods Book 1) by John Triptych Page B

choose our wives.”
    Buck frowned. “Ah, that’s too bad then.”
    “Too bad about what?” Mark said to him before he started chuckling again. “Oh, so you wanted to screw her too, didn’t you? You horny armadillo. I thought all that prison sex must have made you queer or something.”
    “I never had any kind of sex when I was inside,” Buck hissed. “Screw you.”
    Lance walked over and sat on an old armchair facing them as he placed two fully-loaded assault rifle magazines into the ammo pouch on his tactical vest. “Calm down, boys. I think we may need some target practice just to cool both your heads off. Let’s think about this for a minute. What kind of live targets can we practice on?”
    “Let’s go drive around in your pickup and find us some niggers to shoot,” Buck said.
    “I know a few buddies of mine that’s been doing that since yesterday,” Lance said. “I don’t know if there’s any blacks still in Odessa. From what I heard, a lot of them started moving up north when a lot of the cops started quitting.”
    Buck thought about it for a minute before he answered. “Let’s go shoot some wetbacks then. A couple of them beaners came at me with a shank while I was in the joint. I got a long scar on my belly and I need some payback.”
    “Whoa, I think he’s onto something here,” Mark said. “Remember the news last night? I dunno if you watched this in your house, Lance, but last night the reporters said that several million Mexican refugees were now in El Paso and the Border Patrol and the National Guard couldn’t even stop them.”
    Lance nodded. “Yeah, it was something like ten million I think. Too many wetbacks for the authorities to shoot and that traitor president of ours probably let them in anyway.”
    “The news weren’t sure of what’s driving them up north,” Buck said. “I didn’t understand what that anchorman was sayin’.”
    “I was on the internet in my house just before it got slow two days ago,” Lance said. “Some reports said it was packs of chupacabras that was killing ‘em down there, but then I saw some of those videos they posted from the survivors who made it here, and those things looked more like vampires or zombies.”
    “What’s a chupacabra?” Buck said.
    “Some sort of monster dog or bear or something like that,” Mark said. “Stupid Mexicans and their dumbass religious crap.”
    “Whatever is causing it shouldn’t be our problem. It’s theirs and they should be dealing with it,” Lance said. “Those goddamned Mexicans have flooded into our border states. Before it was just a few hundred thousand and now its millions of them brown-skinned scumbags, we gotta do something.”
    “Sounds like a good idea,” Mark said before turning his head to look at Buck. “You cool with shooting a few hundred wetbacks today?”
    Buck grinned. His yellow teeth were crooked and it made him look like cartoon character so he didn’t smile much except for special occasions. “I got no problem with it.”
    Lance got up and took out his mobile phone as he went to the kitchen. “Hang on, since I can still get a cell signal, lemme call up a friend of mine. He personally knows Obediah Smith.”
    “Obediah Smith? The chairman for AFAF?” Mark said.
    Lance waved at them from the kitchen as he started talking to someone on his hand phone. “Yeah, that’s him. Hold on….”
    Buck leaned over to Mark. “What’s AFAF?”
    “America for Americans Foundation,” Mark said. “They are one of the biggest anti-immigration groups in the country. Obediah Smith’s their chairman and a local boy from Houston. He’s been on TV a lot of times and a regular commentator on XOX News.”
    “I think I might have seen him once or twice when I was in the hole,” Buck said.
    “Obediah’s a good man. If he ran for president, I would vote for him in a heartbeat. The only good times this country had was when a Texan was president,” Mark said.
    “Okay,” Lance said as