by Casey, Ryan
He didn’t know where he was, or what this was, but he knew one thing, and it was something he had to be grateful for. Even if it was the smallest victory.
He was perceiving.
So he was alive.
He thought back to the event. So close to optimism. So close to victory. So close to hope. Staring at those helicopters in the distance. Staring at that wall. Two groups, united. Moving forward. Together.
And then out of nowhere, he’d heard the shout.
Turned around.
Watched Gloria fall to the ground, throat cut.
And then he’d seen…
His stomach turned. His eyes welled up.
Susan.
One moment, she’d stood there. Looking around. Braced to fight.
And then the next, the knife through her belly.
And that smiling bastard standing behind her, grinning away.
He gritted his teeth. Went to stand, fully expecting to be handcuffed, or held down by something.
But nothing held him down.
He walked around a little. He was in something metal. Like a crate. A container. He lifted his hands. Touched the sides of the walls of this place, cold and rusty metal.
He put an ear to the metal. Tried to hear outside. But he couldn’t hear a thing.
He walked further around the crate when he felt something right in front of him.
Something that made him freeze.
A person.
The warmth of a person.
He tensed his fists. Lifted them. Readied himself to fight.
Then he heard the voice.
“Jack?”
He froze. Just a few seconds. Didn’t understand who it was. Thought it might be some kind of trick.
And then he lowered his fists, squinting at the outline of a figure in the darkness.
“Candice?” he said.
He heard footsteps. And then he felt her, wrapping her arms around him. “Thank God you’re okay.”
“Thank… Thank God you’re okay. The others?”
He just about saw her shake her head in the darkness. “No sign. Just us in here. I’ve been awake for a bit. Searched the place. There’s no way out. We’re trapped here, Jack. We’re trapped. And… and Susan…”
Jack’s stomach turned. He sighed. “I know. I saw it.”
“She was a good person. She’d been through so much. She didn’t deserve this. Not—not when we were so close.”
Jack looked around in the darkness. “Nobody deserves that.”
He walked around this container. Felt his feet slushing through stuff he knew was shit. Signs that others had been here before him.
And all he could think of was that pretzel shape in his head.
“What’re we going to do?” Candice asked.
Jack swallowed a lump in his throat. That urge to give up. To sit back. To accept his fate.
But no.
He wasn’t giving up.
He wasn’t stepping back.
And he wasn’t accepting any fucking fate.
He looked around at Candice, and he smiled.
“We’re getting out of this.”
Candice frowned, a little clearer in the darkness now. “How?”
Jack’s smile widened. His fists tightened. He stood there in the darkness, and in the lowest of moments, he clung onto something.
Something that drove him, now.
Something that fuelled him.
Hope.
“How, Jack?” Candice asked. “How are we getting out of this?”
He looked around at the solid metal walls of this container, and he smiled.
“We’re getting out of it because we’re the Heathwaite’s group. Whether there’s ten of us or two of us. We survive. That’s what we do. And these smiley, pretzel-smearing fuckers have no idea who they’re messing with.”
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The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any reference to real locations is only for atmospheric effect, and in no way truly represents those locations.
Copyright © 2019 by Ryan Casey
Cover design by Damonza
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Published by Higher Bank Books
