E j deen, p.12
E. J. Deen, page 12
Zach stared across the clearing at a grubby, sweaty Pirate who stared back at him through squinty eyes.
Firelight played across the man’s face, making the sweat stand out in relief against his mud-smeared skin. Snake, they called him. He sat directly opposite him on a fallen palm log. They were all clustered around a fire, some sitting, some standing. Snake wasn’t the head dog of the greater faction, but Zach had gathered from the respect paid him by the other men around the fire that he was some sort of sub-general, or maybe even as low as a captain of some sort.
Despite the fire, mosquitoes swarmed above and beyond, some swooping in for a nip now and then, most of them lighting on Zach. He was the only one who wasn’t smeared with mud. Living in the
Everglades, the others had learned how to deal with the bothersome pests. Zach had not. Despite the itchy spots they inflicted, he ignored the insects. Disregarding the darkness of the night beyond, his eyes remained steadfastly fixed on the man in front of him, his gaze deliberately focused inside the circle. The swamp seemed like a surreal place, and the sensation was heightened by his own gut feeling that this meeting would not go well for him.
“So, you want something from us?” Snake said, his eyes never leaving Zach’s, not even when he
reached for the jug of whiskey that sat between his booted feet. For all his swamp-trash look, the man was surprisingly articulate.
Zach shifted uncomfortably on the log and tried to hide what he was feeling, something he’d been well trained in prior to the revolt. Defense attorneys had to be impassive.
“Yes.”
Snake followed his restless movement, his eyes narrowing slightly. He was no fool. Damn, this had been a stupid ploy on Zach’s part. Right about now he was wishing he had listened to all those dire warnings to stay away from the Pirates.
“What you ask has a price. A high price. These items aren’t easy to come by.”
“I happen to know you already have everything I want.”
Snake cut him off, his face screwing into a fierce scowl. “Of course, we have stock. But how we acquired these goods….” He shrugged. “As I said before, they were not easy to come by. That alone makes them expensive, not to mention the nature of them. This equipment is rare nowadays.”
“I don’t expect to get them for nothing.”
A round of laughter followed Zach’s statement, making him even more uncomfortable.
“You won’t,” Snake drawled, grinning so that he bared a hideous set of rotting teeth. Judging by his hygiene, he’d been in the swamps too long.
“I can pay.”
Frowning, Snake ran a skeptical eye over Zach’s attire. “With what? What do you have to give me that would make this trade worth my time?”
“Information. Valuable information,” Zach answered.
Snake was beginning to look bored with the game. “What can you tell us that we don’t already know?
We have factions all over the southeast. We know everything. And what we don’t know, we take by force.”
“Suit yourself. If you don’t want to know, then I won’t bother to tell.” With a casual shrug, Zach started to rise. Immediately, one of the men who stood over him forcefully pushed him back down onto the log. Zach pretended that it didn’t rattle him, and only just managed to maintain an impassive
expression. Inside, fear threatened to spill over and turn his hand.
“But I insist,” Snake hissed. “I want to know what you have that you think is so great.”
“Fuel.”
That one word was all Zach needed to say to get the attention of every man there. All eyes were riveted on him now, full of greed. He knew then that he’d placed himself in grave danger. They would do anything to get fuel.
Stupid to come here, he thought.
His bluff could turn deadly. He had no idea where they could get fuel. None whatsoever. He couldn’t even find fuel, not a large source, anyway. He knew others who had very small sources of their own, carefully guarded sources. Not that he would ever jeopardize his friends by telling these scum anything.
Besides, the Pirates wouldn’t be interested in such a paltry amount. They would want tons of it. So, where? Where was the fuel? Or where could he say it was?
“Fuel, you say?” Snake finally queried, spitting a thick glob of saliva and mucous near Zach’s booted feet.
He tried not to pull away in revulsion. He didn’t want the man to know he had any emotions
whatsoever. He wanted them to think he was just as ruthless and reckless as they were. He had hoped the fact that he’d been brave enough to penetrate the Pirate’s camp in the first place would gain him some respect, but he was beginning to wonder about that now. These men didn’t respect anything. They were psychotics who lived to kill. They didn’t need an excuse, just a little impetus.
“And where would this fuel be?”
“The goods….” Zach began, but the words were halted when the man standing nearest him bashed a fist into his mouth. His head snapped back in reaction and blood spurted from his mouth and nose. Despite the stinging pain, Zach ignored it, his eyes hooded in anger as he glared hard at the leader.
“That’s not how we do business. First, we investigate. If there’s enough fuel to pay for the price of the goods you want, then we might strike a bargain. After all, this is a business organization, and I am a businessman. Now, where is this fuel?”
“It would take days to even get there…” Zach started to protest.
Snake gave him a condescending smile. Zach marveled at how easily the man switched from anger to something akin to friendliness. “Come with me. Let me show you something.”
Snake stood up and motioned for the others to allow Zach to do the same. Zach got up slowly, not quite trusting them, and followed Snake a short distance from the fire. A dark mound of brush sat on the outer perimeter of the clearing, partially hidden in the middle of a stand of trees. As they drew near, he could see that the brush covered a brown tarp. With a sharp tug, Snake pulled it back and then stood aside to watch Zach’s reaction.
Zach stared in awe at what had been hidden under the tarp. Jesus, they had a Hummer! He hadn’t seen anything like it for years. It was army issue. A small tank in and of itself, not one of those little Jeeps that couldn’t haul a turd. This was a coup, and a damn fine one. No wonder they were so interested in the fuel.
“You see, distance is not a problem for us,” Snake drawled. “So, where did you say this fuel of yours was?”
“Texas.” Zach pulled a region out of the air. It sounded logical enough. After all, everyone knew there was oil in Texas. It just needed to be drilled, that’s all.
Zach saw the fist coming long before it connected, but he didn’t bother to deflect it. Fighting back at this point would only be a mistake. Best to let them think he was stupid, weak. Best to let them think he couldn’t fight, didn’t know how to fight. It would go easier for him that way. Maybe he could buy himself some time.
Coming here had been a big mistake. It wasn’t going nearly as well as he had planned. He’d long since lost control of the negotiations, if he’d ever had any to begin with. He didn’t give a shit about the equipment he wanted. Only one thing was important now. Somehow, he had to find a way to get out of this situation he’d gotten himself into.
Although it wasn’t sufficient enough to fell someone of his size, when the blow came, he deliberately hit the ground. He’d moved his head slightly to absorb some of the shock of the jab, so it hadn’t caused nearly as much damage as the last one had, the one that had bloodied his nose and still hurt like hell.
All that kick-boxing he’d taken in college had paid off, teaching him techniques these assholes probably weren’t even aware of. Although he hadn’t had any real opportunity to use it, he hadn’t forgotten it. Right about now he was wishing he was in better shape. He should have been practicing the damn moves all along, but he’d been too busy playing hunter-gatherer.
He would just have to wing it.
“Do you think I’m stupid?” Snake growled.
He came closer and bent down over him so that his mouth was close to Zach’s ear. When he spoke, his stinking breath fanned out against Zach’s face, making his stomach churn.
“No,” he answered. “There’s oil in Texas. Tons of it.”
Snake drew back and kicked him hard in the ribs. His body jerked into a ball, and the breath rushed from his lungs in one forced exhalation, leaving him gasping for air. Zach instinctively grabbed at his side. Damn, he’d heard something crack. Had that been a rib? Jesus, he felt like he had a collapsed lung.
“Crude oil! Not fuel! Not gasoline!” Snake raged.
“Fuel…oil…b-both,” Zach gasped, still clutching his ribs in pain.
“Roll him over,” Snake commanded his goons.
Zach felt hands on him, pulling at him, stretching him out on his back. He didn’t bother to resist. He knew it was useless. He was outnumbered. There was nothing he could do but wait, hope, and pray.
Wait for an opportunity. Wait for the men to be caught off guard. Hope they were stupid enough to believe he was weak, that he didn’t have the will to fight, that he would give in to them no matter what they did to him. And pray they didn’t kill him, although he knew that was inevitable.
A man held either wrist in a firm grip, pressing him down, pinning him to the ground. Zach searched wildly for a way out, and found none. All he could do was lie there, helpless to his own imminent death.
Snake pulled a knife from his boot and knelt beside him, leaning down close to his face. “I’m gonna show you what we do to people like you, people who think they can fuck with us. And it’s gonna be a lesson you never forget. I’m gonna let you live, asshole. I want you to be an example to others. I want your face to be a flag to everyone who sees it. Nobody fucks with me!”
Zach felt the blade bite into the flesh at his left temple, felt the tip slice through the skin, felt the pain burning into his brain. His fingers twitched convulsively, and his back seemed to arch up of its own free will as he struggled not to scream in agony as the knife drew a bloody path under his eye and across his nose. The man seemed to be taking great delight in cutting the path nice and slow so Zach would feel every inch of pain. A grunt escaped his throat as the blade slowly slid down his right cheek, finally ending just at the tip of his right ear lobe. He was shaking now from the pain. He could feel the blood dribbling down around to the back of his head, mingling with the dirt below, matting his hair.
“I like that. A man who doesn’t scream,” Snake hissed, taking one dirty hand and smearing the blood all over Zach’s face.
Some of the flesh along the wound tore away, widening the gash along his cheek. Blood got into his eye, blinding him on one side. He blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear his vision, afraid he wouldn’t see what was coming next. His abdomen heaved up and down as he breathed through the pain, but
other than a few garbled gasps, he didn’t utter a sound.
“Hey, boss,” the man holding his right wrist said. “Can I have his pinky?”
“Sure, why not?” Snake laughed, a strange, hyena-like sound that rolled through the darkness of the Everglades like the cry of an insane animal.
Zach allowed himself to scream when the man took his finger, the dull blade sawing through flesh and bone, blood spurting out onto the ground in a tiny river. His entire hand throbbed, and his face with it.
He began to sweat, the perspiration mingling with the blood on his face, salting his wound and making it sting even more. He tasted blood, his own, and it scared him.
“Take him into the swamps and dump him,” Snake ordered. “If he’s strong, he’ll live. If not, the alligators can finish him off.”
Zach was in a haze of pain as the two men hauled him off the ground and carried him to the Hummer, where they dumped him into the back like a sack of feed. A few seconds later, he heard doors slam. The engine cranked over and then the vehicle began to move. He tried to reposition himself, to take stock of everything around him, but it was difficult. He hurt. His shoulder was pressed hard against something.
A fuel tank. It was full. He could hear the liquid sloshing around in it. His brain tried to wrap around the knowledge, make something out of it, something useable, but he had trouble focusing.
His face was on fire, and his ribs hurt worse with every turn of the wheels as the Hummer jostled through the rough terrain. He was glad when they finally stopped. He was in so much pain he could barely move, but he had to try.
They hadn’t bothered to tie him up. They obviously didn’t see him as a threat. He saw it as his only chance of escape. Maybe he could use their ignorance. If he could catch them by surprise….
Zach jerked when he heard the doors slam again. The sound was a clear signal that he would have company soon. While he still had the chance, he glanced around quickly, trying to get his bearings.
They must have driven a few miles. They were far from the camp. It was pitch black out and he could barely see his hand in front of his face, but he knew they were near water. He could hear it slopping around the men’s boots as they came around to the back of the Hummer and dragged him out by his feet. Before he could do anything to prevent it, he hit the ground hard. The air wooshed out of him in a big rush, and for a moment he was stunned into immobility. The impact had jarred his cracked rib, sending molten pain through his body. He sucked in several breaths and tried for a moan rather than the scream that threatened to leap from his throat. He wanted them to think he was only half conscious.
Think, dammit, think! Have to think, he inwardly screamed.
The Hummer! It could be his way out of this mudhole. If only he could find a way to overpower these two men. But with a bad rib, a bum finger, and a gaping wound that was half blinding him, the odds weren’t all that promising.
His moment came when one of the men paused alongside him to take a piss, some of the liquid
splashing up from the ground and wetting Zach’s trousers where he lay half in the swamp, half out.
“The alligators are gonna smell that blood, boy, and they’re gonna eat you alive,” the pisser said.
“I don’t envy you,” the other man added as he casually leaned against the back of the Hummer.
Like all psychopathic morons, they had decided to torment him a little, perhaps even watch as the alligators tore him to pieces.
“Snake said he’d let you live, but he didn’t really mean it. He knew you’d never find your way out of this swamp,” the pisser continued. He finished up, put his dick back in his pants, and zipped it in.
Zach didn’t bother to answer. He just lay there, hoping he looked weak and puny. Although he was injured, he didn’t feel all that weak and puny. He felt angry. There was strength in anger. Strength he intended to take advantage of.
While he lay on the ground, half turned away from the goons, his eyes cut through the darkness, searching, looking for something he could use as a weapon. They had taken his bow from him the moment they encountered him entering their camp, leaving him defenseless. He’d expected that much, but he hadn’t been fully prepared for them patting him down and taking his knives, too. Even the most well placed weapons had been found and discarded. All he had left was his wits and a fat load of desperation.
Then he saw it. A stick. Nothing but a fucking stick. But it was sharp on one end, jagged, and it wasn’t rotten. It was still green, like it had recently been snapped off from its mother tree. Sturdy enough to use as a weapon. Now if he could only reach it.
He glanced back at the men. They were occupied, talking about dragging him out farther into the swamps where the alligators would find him quicker. While they were busy making their plans, he seized on the moment. Rolling his body as fast as he could and ignoring the pain in his ribs, he made a grab for the stick and was up on his feet before the men realized what was happening. He thrust the stick through the belly of the one closest to him and, forgetting his bleeding hand for a moment, jabbed a quick right into the second man’s face before he could reach for a weapon. Pain sliced through his hand and up his arm, momentarily causing him to go limp with agony. He quickly overcame it when he saw the second man coming at him with a roundhouse of his own. Zach ducked under it and came up with his left hand, thrusting his fist into the man’s balls as hard as he could. With a yowl of pain, the man slumped to the ground next to his friend.
Time was precious, and Zach didn’t waste a second. Perspiration and blood mingling to drip from his face into his mouth, he jumped into the Hummer and twisted the key in the ignition. The moment the engine fired, he slammed the Hummer into reverse. He didn’t even wince as the vehicle plowed over the two bodies lying behind it. He heard a cry of agony and knew some bones had been crushed, but he didn’t care. He was beyond that now, motivated only by his desire to survive.
“I guess you didn’t get what you bargained for, ay?” he muttered. “Shouldn’t have underestimated me.
Assholes.”
A few hundred yards from the swamp, Zach brought the Hummer to a halt and sat staring into the darkness. He automatically reached for the light switch to turn on the high beams and then thought better of it. Best not to alert the enemy.
Damn! He’d lost his sense of direction. Which way to go? Which fucking way to go? He didn’t want to drive straight back to the Pirate camp. Once they saw who was at the wheel, they’d blow him to kingdom come.
North. He had to head north. But which way was north? His head began to reel from the torture he had endured and the blood loss. The sudden exertion had been a little much. Get a grip, old boy, he told himself. God, don’t let me pass out. Stay in control. Gotta stay in control.
*
Zach awoke in near total darkness, perspiring despite the chill in the air. For a moment, he was
disoriented, but then he realized he was in the cave. The fire had died out, and only a tiny flicker remained from one of the candles in the corner. The nub on his right hand ached, a phantom reminder of when his pinky had been sawed off. He rubbed it as if to ease the pain, then absently reached up to touch the scar on his face. It was still there, and he was still here. Still a part of this freakish society.
