MELTDOWN - Part 1: A Sam Jameson Espionage & Suspense Thriller: A Sam Jameson Espionage & Suspense Thriller (MELTDOWN Series) by Lars Emmerich

Author:Lars Emmerich [Emmerich, Lars]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Polymath Publishing
Published: 2014-06-14T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

Near Ardmore, Oklahoma

Stalwart walked slowly into the brick rest stop building, Jimbo’s shotgun pressed into the small of his back. Fat, slovenly, smelly Jimbo appeared to be the second-in-command behind Clem, the policeman-turned-highwayman. Stalwart wasn’t sure where the kid with the rat’s face, who flanked the procession and giggled occasionally when nothing was funny, fit in the pecking order. Village idiot maybe. Or the community fluffer.

“Shoes off,” Jimbo commanded.

“If it’s all the same, I’ll keep them on,” Stalwart said.

Rat Face’s rifle butt caught him in the ribs. He doubled over in pain.

“It ain’t. Shoes off. And your shirt.”

Stalwart knew from his Air Force training that the best chance of escape was during capture. Once they locked you up, your odds decreased dramatically. From the Great War on, the vast majority of hostages and prisoners of war who got thrown into a concentration camp either died in captivity or had to await the cavalry. From the sound of things, Stalwart didn’t think the cavalry was coming – especially with a cop at the top of the vagabond pecking order.

He stayed doubled over longer than necessary, feigning pain even after the pain had subsided, using the time to assess the situation, evaluate alternatives, calculate his odds.

Pretty shitty odds.

There were two shotguns and a pistol trained on him. He wasn’t a ninja.

He took his shoes off, then his shirt. Rat Face snatched the shirt, held it up, produced a lighter, and set it aflame. Not a good sign. The kid then disappeared outside with Stalwart’s shoes in one hand and burning shirt in the other.

Stalwart heard two loud shotgun reports, interspersed with a feral cackle. Rat Face returned to the building holding the remnants of Stalwart’s shoes, the fine leather shredded by buck shot. Stalwart felt his spirits sagging. Doesn’t look like it’s going to be a short stay. “What do you want from me?” he asked.

Jimbo smiled a wicked, dirty smile by way of reply.

“You’ve already taken the car. Let me go.”

“Nah.” Jimbo spat on the floor. “Reckon we’ll keep y’all a spell.”

“Why?”

Another blow to the ribs from Rat Face. And more cackling. As he recovered from the strike, Stalwart noticed a set of double doors in front of him, secured by a chain wrapped through both handles.

As he stood back up, he watched Jimbo produce a key from the front pocket of his overalls, unlock the padlock, and unwrap the chain from around the door handle.

“Yer new home,” Jimbo said, opening the door. “Play nice with yer new friends.”

The stench hit him first. The chamber was full of people, shirtless and shoeless, sweating in unventilated semi-darkness. Their heads turned as one to look at him.

A hard shove in the small of his back vaulted him into the room. He stumbled over a small child seated on the hard tile floor. The door slammed shut behind him, and he heard the chain snake its way through the handles on the other side.

As he surveyed the room full of people, he couldn’t help but wonder whether he had just experienced the iron fist of instant karma.

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