Dead Man Walking

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Dead Man Walking Page 8

by David Carter


  Abdul’s comrade delivered a blow to Blaze’s jaw while he was off-balance. It was a fair blow for a starved prisoner. Blaze felt every bit of it. Abdul seized the moment and shoulder-charged Blaze. He stumbled backwards and tripped on the dead body laying behind him. The men capitalised on their advantage and lashed out with a flurry of violent kicks to Blaze’s body and face. Blaze did his best to guard himself by balling himself up into the foetal position. He knew they couldn’t maintain their rage for much longer; they were weak and fading fast.

  The beating suddenly stopped. “Stand him up!” Abdul commanded.

  His comrade obliged.

  Slightly dazed, Blaze stood with his arms locked behind his back. Abdul’s hot, rancid breath husked his face. “You white men are so stupid,” he began. “Did you really think you could match the mighty hand of Allah!”

  Blaze delved into the dark space in his mind, summoning his strength. Abdul grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and beat him in the face.

  “Is that all you got, goat fucker?” Blaze asked.

  THUD! Abdul beat him again.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that–”

  THUD THUD THUD!

  Blood seeped from Blaze’s mouth. He spat it in the Abdul’s face. His head snapped back from the ensuing vicious blow. But it wasn’t enough to break him. “You’re gonna have to do better than that, Mohammad!” Blaze cackled like a madman.

  “My name is Abdul!” he bellowed. “I am servant of Allah!”

  Blaze chuckled. “You mean, Allah’s bitch, right?” Then before Abdul could respond, Blaze suddenly leaned forward and showed his strength by hoisting the lean man holding him from behind up and over his back, straight into Abdul.

  Both men toppled to the ground once more. Blaze lashed out with his right boot straight to the temple of Abdul’s comrade, then repeatedly stomped on his head to make sure he never moved again. After the tenth rapid-fire blow, his head looked like a melon that had been cracked open with a sledgehammer; his would-be captor was dead.

  Two down.

  “Now it’s just you and me, Mohammed,” Blaze taunted Abdul. He towered over the cowering Arab as terror filled his eyes.

  “Please! No! Allah is a god of love and mercy!”

  Blaze picked him up by the leg while he kicked and screamed, and dragged him across to the water torture board. “I think you’ll find I hold none of those qualities,” Blaze replied.

  Abdul’s struggle to free himself was futile as Blaze pinned him dawn and secured him to the device. “I kill you, infidel!” he screamed.

  CRACK! Blaze headbutted Abdul’s nose. He cried out and reached for his throbbing face.

  “Let’s see you breathe now, Mohammad,” Blaze snickered, then unzipped his fly. Abdul spat and gurgled as Blaze urinated on his face. “Can you see the virgins yet?” Blaze asked as the last remaining streams jetted down over his bloody mouth.

  “The mighty hand of Allah will strike you down!” Abdul choked defiantly.

  “Let’s give him one last chance, then. What do you say?” Blaze removed Abdul’s bindings and let him stand.

  Blaze stood there with his arms wide open. “Come on, Mohammad. Show me what you and your mighty Allah have got.”

  Abdul wiped the sour taste from his lips and charged at Blaze. He balled his fist and threw a punch at Blaze’s face. But it never got close. Blaze caught his fist in the palm of his hand and ruthlessly twisted his arm back on itself, dislocating his elbow before tearing it from its socket. Abdul screamed for Allah’s mercy. His prayers were ignored. Blaze threw Abdul face-down on the metal grate in the centre of the floor and ruthlessly whispered, “Enjoy paradise, goat fucker,” before ruthlessly grinding his face back and forth across the sharp steel, shredding his face to ribbons while Abdul convulsed on the floor.

  “Enough,” Doyle’s superior commanded from the observation room. “Consider your request approved, Doyle,” he said.

  The chamber door opened. Blaze looked up to see the same two men carrying pistols loaded with rubber bullets. “Step away from the prisoner,” one of the men ordered.

  Blaze knew Abdul was virtually dead. But leaving him alive wouldn’t suffice. Blaze let his head go and took half a step back.

  The men lowered their pistols.

  Without warning Blaze lifted his leg and brutally stomped Abdul’s face deep down into the grill. His body went limp. “Good luck cleaning that shit up.” Blaze smirked.

  BANG! BANG!

  Blaze fell to the ground with a satisfied grin on his face.

  Chapter 21

  Ryan and the SAS filed out of the subway station near downtown Manhattan. They were used to the hustle-bustle of the city back home in Brighton, but New York was like nothing they could have ever imagined. Ryan had no idea where they were going. Only Spider knew the necessary details to track Blaze down. And even then he was playing it by ear.

  “So where are we going?” Ryan asked Spider.

  “We need to find a bar,” he replied.

  “Oh, bloody hell. We’re not here to go on a drunken bender,” Ryan scolded him. “We’re here on official business. You lads can drink up all you like when we find Blaze.”

  Spider had never liked Ryan. It had always bothered him that Blaze had had a love/hate relationship with a man of the law. He scowled as he said, “Don’t jump to fucking conclusions.” He paused to bite his tongue and let his frustration simmer, then asked, “What are the three things Blaze loves most in life?”

  Ryan grinned. “Well, that’s easy: drinking, rooting, and riding Harleys— in that order. And you could also include brawling as his fourth love.”

  Spider nodded. “And why did you say drinking was his first love, detective?”

  Ryan suddenly realised where Spider was going with this. “Bloody hell; you’re right. We need to check all the bars and nightclubs in the area and see if anyone has seen or heard of him.”

  “Surely we’re wasting our time?” Trigger piped up. “Have you seen the size of this fucking city?”

  Ryan looked to Spider. “Did Blaze give you any details as to where he was staying when he last contacted you?”

  Spider grimly shook his head. “All he said was that he was in New York and was hanging out at some shitty bar near Times Square.”

  “Then that’s our first point of reference. Let’s split up into pairs and ask around. We’ll get some burner phones and keep in contact. We’ll meet back at this spot in exactly two hours from now. Agreed?”

  They all thought it was as good a plan as any.

  Ryan walked into the nearest convenience store and purchased two burner phones. When he returned, Ace snatched one from his grasp and took off with Trigger without so much as a goodbye; they were nigh-inseparable. His actions left Ryan and Spider alone together. Spider sighed heavily, and said, “Feels like fucking high school all over again: I was always picked last in gym-class.”

  “Come on, mate, I’m not so bad–”

  “Let’s get one thing straight: I ain’t your fucking mate.” Spider cut him off and lit up a cigarette. He inhaled long and slow, then blew a thick plume of smoke in Ryan’s face.

  Ryan knew he meant business. So he served up a spray of his own. “You know something, Spider? You’re right, I’m not your goddamn mate, and you should be scared of me. I’m certainly not here to be your friend. I’m here to save my own bloody skin. But it just so happens that I need your help, and whether you want to accept it or not, you need mine. So if you want your freedom and all that comes with it, shut your whining trap and start walking.”

  Spider flicked his barely smoked cigarette to the curb. “You’re gonna have to make me,” he threatened Ryan. “There’s only room for one leader while we find Blaze, and that’s me. I call the shots.”

  “You really wanna go down that road?”

  “Oh, you know I do,” he sneered.

  Ryan grinned. “You sound just like Blaze when I first met him,” he said. “Stubborn, se
lfish, arrogant, and most importantly: pathetic. It’s no wonder you’re best mates: you’re both assholes.”

  Spider returned a grin of his own. “Are you ready to play ball?” He removed a stray dreadlock from his face.

  “Fine, let’s get this over with.” Ryan removed his grey suit jacket and tossed it to the sidewalk, revealing his tall, muscular frame. He wished he’d brought his firearm along.

  Spider didn’t waste a second. He came at Ryan with fists swinging. He was built like a tank. Ryan backed up. “Last chance to concede and walk away,” Ryan said.

  Spider let his fists do the talking. He took a swipe at Ryan. He missed. Ryan manoeuvred out of the way just in time. “We can work together, Spider. You just need to get over yourself,” Ryan said as they side stepped, circling each other. Spider lunged at him again. This time he connected. Ryan felt the full force of Spider’s anger ripple through his ribcage. “Son of a bitch!” Ryan said, then took a swing of his own, connecting with Spider’s chin.

  Spider was taken aback. The blow jarred his neck. “So you can throw a decent punch,” Spider acknowledged him. “But how many can you take?” He sniggered.

  “I’d say about two more,” Ryan replied innocently.

  “Just two?” Spider scoffed. “Fucking pussy.”

  “We’ll see who’s the pussy soon enough.”

  Spider threw a hard left-right combo at Ryan’s face. Ryan blocked the first; the second connected. Spider threw a third but his fist never reached his target. Quick as a flash Ryan took hold of his arm and dropped to the ground. His strength was evident as Spider toppled over after him. Then before Spider could react he felt unbelievable pressure on his arm and neck as Ryan manoeuvred him into a submissive hold. He was a champion wrestler in his high school days. Blaze had succumbed to the same fate when he’d foolishly tried to take Ryan on during a disagreement early on in their relationship. Spider tried to wrestle himself free, but the more he struggled, the tighter Ryan squeezed.

  Ryan leaned forward, his mouth a mere few inches away from Spider’s ear. “Now, you will listen to me, Spider,” Ryan said calmly. “If you so much as make a whisper I’ll snap your arm like a twig without hesitation. Grunt if you understand.”

  Spider did so, reluctantly.

  Ryan continued. “I am not your enemy. I simply want my life back, as do you and the SAS. But as of this moment, I call the shots. You will do as I say; you’ll also influence the others to do as I say, or you can kiss goodbye the ability to wipe your own ass for foreseeable future. Do we have an understanding?”

  Spider held on to what was left of his pride and refused to answer.

  “All right, have it your way.” Ryan made a move to break his arm.

  Spider felt his bone on the verge of shattering-point. The immense pain won him over; he grunted for all he was worth.

  “What was that, Spider? You concede? I couldn’t quite hear you.” He bent Spider’s arm a fraction more. The pain on Spider’s face satisfied Ryan beyond measure. He roughly let him go.

  Spider rubbed his arm as he heaved himself up. A crowd of onlookers had stopped to watch the scuffle.

  “Fuck off!” Spider shouted. The small crowd dispersed immediately.

  Ryan tucked his slightly crinkled blue shirt back into his suit pants and calmly retrieved his jacket, then in a cheerful voice, said to Spider, “Come on, mate; let’s go find our boy.”

  Fucking asshole, Spider thought.

  Chapter 22

  “So, my superior has approved my request to use you as an asset, pending a psych evaluation,” Doyle said to Blaze as he lay back in the infirmary getting patched up by a doctor.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Blaze replied.

  “I wish I were, but I assure you it’s no joke.”

  “Well, you can tell your superior where he can stick his fucking evaluation.”

  “You will do it or I’ll be forced to let you go.”

  “If that’s the way you wanna play it...” Blaze hoisted his legs up and over the side of the bed. “See you round, Doyle.”

  Blaze headed for the infirmary door.

  “Wait!” Doyle pleaded.

  Blaze turned around and raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

  “I think it would do you some good if you’d just listen to reason.”

  “And what reason might that be?”

  “You obviously have some unresolved issues. Wouldn’t it be productive to get them off your chest?”

  “You think I wanna pour my heart out to some old geezer with a bald spot and a fucking master’s degree?”

  Doyle grinned. “Who said anything about an old geezer?”

  Blaze was confused.

  “Just follow me, all right?”

  Blaze sighed and reluctantly followed Doyle down a series of dimly lit corridors until they stopped outside the office of Dr Nikki Landis. Doyle knocked on the door.

  “It’s open,” a friendly voice called out from inside.

  Doyle led Blaze into the elegant office. Blaze was instantly aroused as Doyle introduced the two of them. Dr Landis tucked a strand of her shoulder-length dark hair behind her ear and held out her slender, manicured hand. Blaze hesitated a moment before accepting it. Her lust-filled eyes discreetly looked him up and down from behind her sleek designer glasses. She felt the rough skin on Blaze’s palm graze against her soft, delicate fingers. She felt a warm flutter beneath her tight black skirt. Tall, rugged, and mysterious. Just the way I like them, she thought.

  “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted,” Doyle said, and took his leave.

  “So, Blaze; take a load off,” Dr Landis said, snapping back into professional mode. She patted the black leather couch in the centre of the room.

  “I’m good right here,” Blaze held his ground. He folded his arms defiantly.

  “Oh, come on, I don’t bite—hard,” she grinned. “I just want to get to know you a little before Agent Doyle sends you on whatever suicide mission he’s prepared for you.”

  Blaze ignored her not-so-subtle persuasion. “If you think I ain’t coming back then this is a complete waste of fucking time.”

  Dr Landis smiled. “You’re a sharp one, aren’t you?” she asked rhetorically. “My job is to make sure you’re equipped to handle whatever mental hurdles you may encounter in the field.”

  “No need to worry, doc. I can take care of myself.”

  Dr Landis reached for a clipboard from her desk and scribbled down some notes.

  “What are you writing?”

  “What would you like me to be writing?”

  “This isn’t a fucking game.”

  She quickly jotted down something else, then firmly said, “Lie down on the couch.”

  “You gonna make me?”

  She strutted across the room and parked her gorgeous, thirty-something, fit body directly in front of his. “Would you like me to make you?” she whispered seductively in his ear while rubbing her hand up his rock-hard abdomen.

  Blaze inhaled the smell of her soft perfume mixed with the fruity scent of her hair and went weak in the knees; he went hard between his legs. It had been quite some time since he’d had any female contact. “Is this how you get all your subjects to comply?” he asked

  “Only the stubborn ones,” she replied, letting her hands wander down past his waistline.

  Blaze almost let his guard down as her hand brushed over his throbbing manhood. Then the image of his murdered girlfriend flashed through his mind. He roughly pushed Dr Landis back. “Get your fucking hands off me,” he said gruffly.

  Her seductive gaze vanished. “Then take a seat,” she said firmly, and jotted down some more notes on her clipboard.

  Blaze reluctantly slouched back on the couch.

  “So what was her name?” Dr Landis asked tersely.

  Blaze paused. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about...”

  She adjusted her glasses, sliding them up her nasal bone with her middle finger. �
�You pushed me away despite your obvious arousal, which means you’re either spoken for, which by all reports is not the case, or you lost someone close to you. Am I getting warm?”

  Blaze didn’t respond. The memories of Zoe hurt too much.

  “It’s completely normal to have a weakness,” Dr Landis said. “Why do you think I made a move on you? Obviously you’re no stranger to violence, and I’m sure there are reasons for that. But I want to know why you’ve come to the U.S. with a death wish. You lost someone close to you, didn’t you?”

  Blaze remained silent.

  “Maybe more than someone close to you?” she probed further.

  “So you mean you weren’t hitting on me?” Blaze interrupted.

  Surprised by his response, she replied, “I was merely getting to the root-cause of your apparent lack-of-desire to live.”

  “We’ll fucking see about that–” Blaze heaved himself off the couch and marched over to her desk. His biceps bulged as he literally shoved it aside, leaving her exposed on her armchair, feeling vulnerable, yet fully aroused.

  Blaze picked her up and shoved her down on the couch. “Wrap your master’s degree around this,” Blaze sniggered, and tore off her silk blouse. Her delightful, rounded cleavage bored through any memories of Zoe that may have been lingering in his mind.

  Dr Landis ripped off Blaze’s shirt and pulled his chiselled body down to meet hers as lust and desire overcame her professional boundaries.

  Blaze didn’t waste any time. He peeled back her skirt and gave her what she wanted. Dr Landis moaned as Blaze’s size and stamina sent her mind into a frenzy. The electricity between them was intense.

  Moments later, with one last thrust, Blaze was spent. He collapsed on top of her, before rolling off the couch and onto the soft carpet beneath.

  “Well, that was a rather stimulating session,” Dr Landis said with a playful grin. “I think you’ve made significant progress.”

  Blaze just closed his eyes as he panted for breath. I’ll never forget you, Zoe, he thought.

  Chapter 23

  “Our time’s nearly up. We should get back and meet the others,” Spider said to Ryan as they walked out of yet another fancy bar and restaurant without any luck. “We’ll never find Blaze like this. We need a new plan.”

 

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