Time of Fate (Wealth of Time Series #6) by Andre Gonzalez (e book reader online txt) 📗

on the horizon, wanting to be in the city of their new headquarters for whatever might ensue.

One Road Runner in particular, Kelly Winters, made the trip down from Casper, Wyoming, where she lived alone, enjoying life as a Road Runner in a cozy cottage where she spent the days painting pictures, writing books and poems, and cooking challenging meals every night.

She had heard about the protests well before the blackout was issued, and was already on her way, not willing to turn back. Kelly wanted to be part of the movement that would lead to the Revolution’s downfall, and understood that any gathering of Road Runners would come with little to no risk of personal harm. She had seen the initial march down Sixteenth Street Mall on the Road Runners’ network, and that’s what prompted her to pack an overnight bag and get in the car.

Kelly arrived downtown at eight in the morning, after having spent the night at a hotel, unsure where exactly to go or who to meet up with. She simply found the crowd and joined in, her thin frame and short height not ideal for pushing her way through a crowd of thousands. Helicopters circled above, Denver police manned the perimeter, and a group of four Road Runners stood on the stage of the park’s small amphitheater, speaking into a megaphone that echoed across the way.

The closer she got, the sturdier the wall of Road Runners became, making her move down the line to seek any soft spots that would allow her to inch closer to the stage. She didn’t drive all this way to stand in the back and not hear anything, let alone have no idea who was speaking. A woman’s voice carried from the front. “We’ve been here for two days now, and we think change is finally on its way. We must remain strong in this fight and demand the outcome we want to see. We have what it takes to stay here for much longer. The longer we fight, the harder it becomes for them to deny our needs.”

People applauded at different moments, but everyone was engaged, heads glued to the stage, nodding, minds open to the new day’s wave of confidence. It uplifted Kelly, being part of something so much bigger than herself, and she focused on the speaker, a middle-aged woman with short gray hair and a pair of glasses that kept needing to be pushed up as her head bobbed from speaking with such conviction.

Kelly stood on her tiptoes, now 100 yards away from the stage where she found the perfect gap between two people’s shoulders for a clear view.

The speaker paced back and forth, dropping her head as she spoke into the megaphone, and held up a free hand, index finger pointing high. “Something special is coming. It’s been a long two days, but we have to remain patient. When the news comes that we’ve been waiting for our entire lives, don’t be afraid to bask in its glory. Hug the person next to you. Jump for joy. Scream to the heavens above. Because when we win, we’ll know that we all played a part in making it happen.”

The crowd howled in deafening unison. A sound of fireworks exploded from the back. Kelly looked up to the sky to see, but none ever appeared. It was possible the sun was too bright for a clear view of fireworks, but they kept going off, nearly drowned out by the applause and hollering of those around her.

“RUN!” a frantic voice shouted from somewhere in the sea of people. Kelly spun around, but couldn’t see anything besides other faces staring ahead, a few others also looking toward the back.

The rapid explosions continued with no fireworks to complement them, and after another thirty seconds passed, a dozen people started charging toward the stage, barreling through the crowd, shoving people aside, blood oozing from their faces and limbs. They never looked back, keeping their heads forward, running for their lives.

Kelly whipped back around to the stage. The group that had been up there watched with dazed confusion before flinging the megaphone aside and sprinting in the opposite direction.

The crowd followed their gaze and reaction, bolting into action. Kelly remained frozen in place, hoping that people were overreacting, partly curious what had unfolded in the back of the audience. As the space cleared within moments, she caught a glimpse of a new wall of people running, mouths hanging open, fear brushed over their faces. The explosions continued, a handful of runners falling dead to the ground.

It wasn’t until this moment she realized the fireworks were not fireworks at all, but the constant chorus of gunfire. Her heart raced as this reality settled in, her thoughts scattering as she processed the fact that had she given up and stayed toward the back of the crowd, she would likely be one of the dozens of bodies lying face down.

A row of black vans barricaded the north side of the park, the easiest route to leave. Side doors swung open, stationary machine guns showering bullets in every direction.

The police had opened fire on the vans, but they were simply outnumbered, several blue uniforms splayed into the mix of death all around the park grounds. “LONG LIVE THE REVOLUTION!” screamed a masked man in the van, waving both of his middle fingers to the crowd that had dispersed.

Fires had been set in the trash cans, and Kelly saw a huddle of people lighting Molotov cocktails, tossing them onto the corpses. Across the street, beneath the glimmering golden dome of the capitol, more people dressed in all black had raided the property, deadly cocktails sailing toward the building and breaking through the glass.

The adrenaline had finally reached its peak, forcing Kelly to look away from the madness and sprint, guns still firing away with no mercy, no rest. The park had become a maze of death, dodging bullets and dead bodies as she fled for safety behind the