The Island
“In the back, with only the light from the narrow post box windows high on the vehicle sides to illuminate them, sat the eight heavily armed mercenaries, five on one side of the truck and three on the other, each of them cradling their M16 machine guns as they prepared to disembark. They were guns for hire, paid to fight for whoever was the highest bidder. All, that was, but one of them.
Nicholas Ingleby was sweating as he sat on the bench in the corner furthest from the door, cradling the brown bag he had brought with him. Unlike the mercenaries, he was neither a fighter nor particularly brave and had no problem admitting that he was deathly afraid even after two weeks of following this same routine. He wiped sweat from his eyes, staining the blue boiler suit he wore a few shades darker. The truck came to a halt, wheels struggling for purchase as it skewed into a half turn. The second its forward motion had ceased, the rear doors opened, letting the light flood in as the mercenari...es exited, fanning around in a protective half circle around the rear of the truck, weapons drawn and pointed away from the vehicle, all of them tense and ready.MoreLess
Nicholas Ingleby was sweating as he sat on the bench in the corner furthest from the door, cradling the brown bag he had brought with him. Unlike the mercenaries, he was neither a fighter nor particularly brave and had no problem admitting that he was deathly afraid even after two weeks of following this same routine. He wiped sweat from his eyes, staining the blue boiler suit he wore a few shades darker. The truck came to a halt, wheels struggling for purchase as it skewed into a half turn. The second its forward motion had ceased, the rear doors opened, letting the light flood in as the mercenari...es exited, fanning around in a protective half circle around the rear of the truck, weapons drawn and pointed away from the vehicle, all of them tense and ready.MoreLess
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