Chapter Eight
W
iping beads of sweat from my forehead, I fought to keep my eyes clear as the scathing sun punished us. The hot weather in Phoenix was a welcome retreat from the cold of the Pacific Northwest. Yet, this welcomed heat served to exhaust me and Alex. Mustering my resolve, I reached into the back of his SUV and unloaded another fifty-pound ammo can.
Carrying it back to the mounted cannon, I sat the heavy can of bullets next to the feeder before flipping open the top. After linking several rounds into the magazine, I turned on the battery and performed a functionality test. Using the remote, I was able to move the cannon’s heavy barrel up and down, left to right with ease. The tripods range of motion was extensive, and its reactions to my commands were instantaneous.
“It’s a
