Mutilation. Amputation. Decapitation.That’s all I’ll say about it.He taped those poor girls in that isolated, windowless, bomb shelter. No one cou...d hear them scream.Morgan Fleetwood had left it up to Phillip Montgomery to tell me about M A D or not.Phillip didn’t hesitate, he knew how guilty we both felt about Bear.And I’m glad he told me. Glad that I forced myself to watch one grisly tape.I’d been sort of steeled by the two snuff tapes I’d watched with Sergeant Finch. But this, M A D was even. .. their tongues met for the first time. He caressed her back and sides firmly with his hands. She moaned softly into his mouth—he moaned in response.Her arms moved of their own volition around his shoulders. Her hands slid to his neck and the back of his head. Oh ... my ... God! The things you can do with those lips ... and that tongue! She was melting into him again. Suddenly, she envisioned him with his head between her legs—she could almost feel his mustache tickling her. She groaned deep. He wondered if it would hurt, or whether there would just be a blinding light and nothing. Would he hear the noise of the shot? He knew the rifles were cocked and loaded, ready to fire. They were too efficient for it to be otherwise; their eyes didn't blink or flicker in the moonlight.Suddenly the talking was over. Julia still stood, half in front of him, her right arm across his chest. The sergeant spat noisily, the betel nut he had been chewing now finished. "Piss off, just piss off, both of. “We only need to slip the by the Brits, right?”“Collateral damage, Reeds,” she answers with a shrug. “As much as it would be nice to keep them alive, they’re going to shoot first, ask question later.”“I guess diplomacy is definitely out of the question,” he mumbles.“If you got a problem with that, Reeds, then you’re more than welcome to march up to the commander and ask him to get out of the way.” Her tone sends ice through his veins.No. he doesn’t like it, but the lives of innocent civilians.
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