“Shit!” A low hum was coming from outside. He stuffed the papers under a cushion and ran to the window. “Fuck. A drone.”
Drone surveillance was regular and bad news. He snatched the papers and key and rushed to the spare bedroom. Under the bed was a false tile which had to be prised open with a long nail. The nail was kept on the pillow for occasions like this.
Tile open, he placed the papers with his other prized possessions. Fake ID, his last picture of Francina (bitch), his hand gun and ammo.
Tile back in place, he rushed to his study, found the book with the false compartment and hid the nail. He ran back to the living room window to see the drone was hovering around his garden, its camera peering in through the dirty windows.
“Fuck off.” Connor encouraged the drone to go about some other business. The drone ignored him and was joined by a second.
Despite the heat of the day, Connor rushed to close all the doors and windows. Drones weren’t supposed to come inside without a warrant, but warrants were a formality and could be backdated. The system was rigged, with every advantage given to the military police.
Then, to make matters worse, Connor heard a pounding on the front gate.
It was too early for the food parcel delivery. The real one. Everybody knew the daily deliveries were just an excuse for the hazmat-suited snoopers to keep an eye on the inmates. Oops. Let’s be politically correct. The “general populace.”
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Read Big Day Out in weekly installments on FaceBook or WordPress. Receive notifications via Instagram, Twitter, Tumblr, GoodReads, or Amazon, where you’ll find the whole mad mercenary romp through the dystopian nightmare that Covid-19 might have become. Might still become, if we don’t keep our self-appointed leaders on a very short leash.
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Check out the Beyond The Vale Bookshop, opening 1 October in the Edenglen Shopping Centre, Edenvale. You can find my books there, along with a huge selection of other local authors. Beer can be found nearby. Obviously.
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Cheers.
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