Devil's Stop by Scott Blade

Author:Scott Blade [Blade, Scott]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Goodreads: 40107276
Publisher: Black Lion Media
Published: 2018-08-07T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

T EN MILES OUTSIDE of town and earlier in the day, at the first murmurs of dawn, Attack Dog was the only man in view at the lodge’s front porch. He stood there, wearing motorcycle gear like he was a part of a gang, which he was, technically.

He blended in with the occupants of the lodge.

He was alone. He looked at his watch, ten in the morning, but he wasn’t looking at the dials on the clock face. He stared onward, past his watch, off into the wilderness around the lonely T-shaped lodge as if he was signaling to someone in the woods, but didn’t want to be seen.

Attack Dog stepped to the front door and raised a gloved hand and knocked on it, hard. Six hard fist pounds like a sledgehammer pounding down on the thick wood.

He stepped back and heard muffled voices.

“Who’s there?” a female said.

Attack Dog answered. He said a made-up name .

“Sorry to bother you this early in the morning, ma’am. The name’s Spencer. John Spencer. I’m having car trouble. Back on the main road. Yours is the first house I came to.”

Silence.

“I need to use your phone.”

No answer.

“I really do apologize for the inconvenience.”

Another long moment of silence passed. Attack Dog heard more muffled voices. Arguing. Whispering. Contemplating. A serious discussion about the dangers of opening doors for strangers. Then a serious talk about helping someone in need. And the generosity of small-town folk. Then a rebuttal about no one in their little town was that generous. Then the female voice argued for being the better man and setting the proper example.

After this went on for five minutes, bordering on six, with Attack Dog very impatient, the female voice behind the door asked, “Where’s your cell phone?”

An excellent question. A wise observation. A scenario that he’d prepared for, naturally. Major had hand-selected him for this mission for more than just his brute force.

Attack Dog said, “Ain’t got one, ma’am. If I had one, then I wouldn’t be knocking on your door at this time of the morning, now would I?”

He gave her a bit of attitude, a bit of rudeness, which was also a part of the strategy. Be unusually nice to people, and it makes them very suspicious. Be completely rude, and they won’t help you out. But be a little of both, and they buy the lie. Hook, line, and sinker.

Attack Dog added, “Sorry, ma’am. I’m just frustrated. I walked two miles to get here. I don’t believe in cell phones. I’m kinda the outdoors, off-the-grid type. You know what I mean?”

More silence. And more muffled voices.

“I know. Ironic, right? Now’s when I need one.”

The voices went back and forth some more. Finally, Attack Dog heard a chain on the door, and a deadbolt unlock, and the hinges creaked as the occupants opened the door.

Standing there in the doorway was an older couple and their two sons, maybe. They looked just like them. The sons stood behind them.

The sons were huge, scrappy guys.

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