Page 95 of Battle Mountain

Allison approached thebar and stood next to Peaches Tyrell, who was reading out a list of orders to the two bartenders, who were manically in the process of filling them.

“This’ll be the last call until the initiation ceremony is over,” she told Allison. “Some of ’em may try and order more, but it’s going to get too dark to see along those gravel pathways. Plus, some of ’em get angry when we block their view of the stage while we deliver drinks.”

“Got it,” Allison said. “How long will the ceremony last?”

“Half hour, forty-five minutes,” Peaches said. “Then they’ll all get invited to come back in here for the rest of the night. That’s when things will really get wild.”

Yes, Allison said to herself.That’s when things will really get wild.

Rather than call out each order to the bartenders, Allison detached the top page of her notebook and handed it over the bar.

“I’ll be back in five minutes,” she said.

“We’ll be ready for you,” the nearest bartender promised.

Allison rushed ahead of Peaches as she was headed back to the lawn so she could open the door for her. Peaches could balance a full tray of drinks with grace, Allison thought.

“Thank you, honey,” Peaches said as she passed Allison at the open door.

“My pleasure,” Allison replied. Thinking:You’re going to be spared if I have anything to do with it.

—

Allison followed Peachesoutside and then turned sharply to her left and walked the length of the wooden porch. As she did, she dug the folded cash from the top of her jeans. The secretary had given her five dollars made up of single ones. She whispered, “Cheapskate” to herself.

Before going out through the opening at the end of the porch, she glanced around to see if anyone was watching her movements. There was no one on the porch, and all of the Centurions had their backs to her out on the lawn. They were glued to the speech of the Imperial Legate.

“…I would now like to introduce our camp prefect, who will present to you a short biography of our new Centurions beforethey appear here after their torchlight march down the mountain…”

—

Allison entered thehidden vegetable cellar and felt around on the shelving for a headlamp she’d stashed there the day before. It was completely dark inside until she clicked it on and secured it to her forehead.

She approached the three boxes marked with “X’s” in the back and used a box cutter to unseal them. All were filled to the top with canned vegetables and canned fruit cocktail.

Allison emptied the first box on the floor of the cellar to see that it was entirely filled with the cans. Then she spilled the second one out. The top row was, in fact, fruit cocktail. But beneath the containers was a large, misshapen plastic bundle of bubble wrap. She lifted it out and was surprised how heavy it was.

Then, using the box cutter, she sliced through the bubble wrap to reveal two matte-black .40 Glock 23 semiautomatic handguns. She lifted each one up and inspected them in the beam of her headlamp. She looked carefully at the squared-off back of the receivers to confirm that each of the weapons had been converted as promised.

They had. Devices known as “Glock switches,” which had been manufactured illegally by a 3D printer, had been installed on each weapon. The Glock switch was designed to bypass the trigger bar and turn the weapon into a continuous-fire submachine pistol. Also in the package were four long thirty-one-round magazines filled with hollow-point .40 rounds.

Allison fitted the magazines into the grips of the pistols andsnapped them into place. Then she stood and aimed them at the back of the cellar wall, one in each hand.

The guns were heavy due to the weight of the extended magazines, but she had no problem holding them steady. As they were fired like a machine gun in manic bursts, they’d become much lighter very quickly.

She racked rounds into both, then lowered the weapons and laid them on the top of the third, unopened box, where she could find them and snatch them up in seconds. She laid the two extra magazines next to the pistols. Those, she’d jam into the back pockets of her jeans for quick access after the first sixty-two rounds had been emptied on the crowd.

She stepped back and looked at her phone. She’d been gone four minutes and knew she needed to get back to the bar quickly to get her full tray and deliver it.

Allison held out her hands and looked at them in the full light of her headlamp. They were trembling, and she hoped they wouldn’t fail her. She took a deep breath to calm herself, but it didn’t really work.

Was she actually going to do this? she asked herself. Was it really the right thing? Would it change anything at all, despite what Axel assured her?

Then she recalled Abbey Gate. Her friends were dead, while the men outside in lawn chairs sipping cocktails had simply moved on to the next war.

—

As Allison halfwalked, half jogged across the porch toward the bar door, she heard what she thought must be errant poppingsounds up on the dark side of the mountain. She recalled that Peaches had mentioned something about fireworks accompanying the graduation of the new Centurions.

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