Kill Jill
Page 18
If Jack wasn’t so drugged and weak from the hog attack and subsequent loss of blood, he’d jump in the truck and hit the highway right now. But in his current state he wouldn’t be able to drive a straight line.
What he needs is time. Time to build his strength and let the drugs wear off a little more.
Revenge isn’t the motive for hoisting Ray over the hog pen. The reason for doing it is simple.
Jack needs an alarm clock.
Not to wake him, but to keep him from falling asleep.
He needs rest, but not too much. What’s the perfect amount?
Something between fifteen and forty-five minutes.
What he can’t afford is to fall asleep. If he falls asleep he could die from seizure, internal bleeding, trauma, loss of blood, infection, or who knows what else?
So the idea is to hoist Ray up and hang him by his feet over the hog pen. Jack plans to keep him on the hook and bring him to a height that’s low enough for the hogs to make contact, but high enough to keep them from killing Ray too quickly.
Ray’s screams will keep Jack from falling asleep.
It takes him an inordinate amount of time to get the hoist working properly, and he nearly passes out from the pain of trying to maneuver it. But at last he gets it right, and when Ray shrieks, the hogs listen. They stop feeding on the dead hog and scurry over to see what the live goon has to offer. Jack marvels at the desire these hogs have to continue feeding long after he’d expect them to be satiated.
With Ray in place, Jack lies down on the ground beside the truck and closes his eyes.
Jack was…
He was right.
His body’s crying desperately for sleep. Time and again he nods off, but thankfully the hogs never tire of attacking the goon on the hook.
Eventually, the entire truck shakes and groans, as if it’s about to topple over. Jack decides it’s gone on long enough. Regardless of his ability to drive a straight line, he needs to get out of here. He needs a doctor, or at least some serious antibiotics and a sewing kit.
Wait. Not a doctor. A doctor would send him to the hospital, and the hospital would call the police. Nor would a sewing kit be of much use. Half his wounds will be difficult or impossible for him to reach.
What Jack needs is a veterinarian. A veterinarian could stitch him up and give him drugs.
If he lives long enough to find one.
When Jack climbs into the truck he can practically feel his body raging with infection. He feels the end is near. He sees the gun and knows most people would probably give up. It would be so easy to put the gun barrel in his mouth and pull the trigger. He’s got what, four bullets left?
And all he needs is one.
But Jack’s not most people. He thinks of all the reasons he has for living. Like seeing Jill again, if she’s alive. And if she is, he’ll want to make sure she’s safe.
Of course, he also needs to kill Bobby and the house goons, and free the prisoners in Bobby’s basement.
The plan he’s formulating to kill one group and free the other is so simple. Bobby and the goons are above ground, the prisoners stay in the basement. The basement is well-built, and those within its walls would almost certainly survive an explosion concentrated on the first floor of Bobby’s house. All it would take to create such an explosion is a rocket launcher and three or four warheads similar to the one Bobby claimed Decker was using to blow up Jack’s lake house.
Jack takes a moment to wonder if Decker actually bombed the lake house, then decides those thoughts are a distraction to his immediate plan. He sees a newspaper wedged between the console and passenger seat. If he takes the time to look, the paper’s date will tell him how long he’s been held captive.
He grabs it, then hesitates.
Is he prepared for the answer?
He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath.
What if it’s been years?
He lets the breath out slowly.
It hasn’t been years.
More likely, it’s been six months, eight at the most. It feels like years, but then again, he saw Bobby just hours ago, in the basement, and he didn’t appear much older than the day they met.
Jack attacks the paper with confidence, but is startled to learn he’s been a prisoner for exactly…
He does the math…
Four days.
What?
That can’t be true. This must be an old paper.
But why would the goons hold on to an old paper?
They wouldn’t.
And there’s this: a receipt in the cup holder from the bar the goons visited earlier tonight.
Same date.
Okay, so he’s only been a prisoner for four days. That’s weird, but good, right? It means his vocal cords were removed what, three days ago? Is that possible? And if so, maybe the doctor gave him some antibiotics during the operation that could help him stay alive tonight.
He backs the truck up, cuts the wheels, puts it in gear, and follows the dirt road all the way to the highway, turns right, and does his best not to weave. His immediate plan is to get to Baton Rouge, find a veterinarian who’ll sew him up and give him some antibiotics. Then he’ll track Decker down and score the munitions necessary to blow up Bobby’s house. If it turns out Decker killed Jill, he’ll kill him after getting the weapons.
What if he can’t find Decker?
What? Can’t find Decker? Is he serious? Where did that thought come from? Jack would laugh out loud if he could. Of course he’ll find Decker! Finding people is what he does best. But if he can’t find Decker in the next twenty-four hours he’ll have to score the munitions from someone else, because it won’t take long for Bobby to find out Jack’s alive.
So what’s the plan?
It’s…um...uh…blow up Bobby’s house, haul ass, and leave it to the cops to sift through the rubble, find the prisoners, and set them free. Then he’ll find out if Jill’s dead. If she is, he’ll find Decker and kill him. If she’s alive, he’ll ask if she can find it in her heart to give him another chance.
Even though he’s lost his voice. Even though his body will look like a jigsaw puzzle when the vet finishes stitching him up. Even though…
Jack’s distracted by the car coming up behind him at breakneck speed. Within seconds it pulls up beside him, adjusts to Jack’s speed. The passenger window goes down, and a stoner dude points behind Jack’s truck.
Jack waves.
The stoner car honks twice, and roars off like a scalded owl.
Thirty seconds pass as Jack watches the car become a small red dot on the horizon. Then he checks his rearview mirror and sees nothing. Not that he expected to. After all, it’s the wee hours of the morning, and pitch black out here, in the middle of nowhere.
Jack touches the brake pedal lightly, to illuminate the area behind him, and is surprised to see the bottom half of a man’s torso hanging from the hoist.
He slows down some more, to get a better look at what’s left of Ray, the naked goon, who’s flapping in the breeze.
For a minute he thinks about taking the next exit and getting the fuck off the highway. But then he remembers what happened the last time he did that. He wound up smack in the middle of the Virgin Boat Festival. That was what, five days ago?
Something like that.
And look at all that’s happened since!
Jack decides to pull a FIDO, which stands for Fuck it, drive on!
After a few minutes Jack passes an exit and wonders if maybe he should at least pull over and dump the body on the side of the road. Wouldn’t that be the sensible thing to do?
No.
Because every time he deviates from a plan he takes a step backward. He planned to not sleep with the local girls in Willow Lake. He planned to not fall in love with Jill. He planned to take her straight to Bobby’s house. He deviated from all those plans, and look what happened.
Wait, did he think that already?
Enough.
This time, no deviat
ion. Jack will stick to the plan, which is…which is…to drive straight to Baton Rouge. Yeah, that’s right. He’ll drive to Baton Rouge, where he’ll find a vet to sew him up and give him drugs. Then he’ll score munitions to blow up Bobby’s house. Then he’ll kill Bobby and the goons and help free the prisoners. Then he’ll find out if Jill’s alive. If so, he’ll try to talk her into living with him.
Except that he can’t talk.
No problem. He’ll learn sign language. But will she?
Probably not. So big deal, he’ll have to find a way to communicate. That’s fine, he’ll figure something out.
The key is to make a plan and stick to it.
He taps the brake and watches Ray swing in the breeze.
Jack’s fully aware some people might think he’s taking a chance by driving on the highway or through the streets of Baton Rouge with half a blood-soaked, leaking, naked torso hanging from a hook behind his tow truck. But Jack’s always been more of a “glass half-full” kind of guy.
An optimist.
He’ll stick to his plan. It’s a good one. A sound one.
And anyway, he’s made it this far, hasn’t he? After all he’s been through, what’re the chances something could possibly go wrong?
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JOHN LOCKE:
NEW YORK TIMES BEST-SELLING AUTHOR!
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First self-published author to hit #1 on Amazon/Kindle!
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Sold 1,100,000 eBooks in 5 months through word of mouth!
Wrote and published 6 best-selling books in 3 separate genres in 6 months!
Had 4 of the top 10 eBooks on Amazon/Kindle at the same time, including #1 and #2!
Had 6 of the top 20, and 8 books in the top 43 at the same time!
John Locke has written 17 books in three years, all best-sellers!
John Locke
New York Times Best Selling Author
#1 Best Selling Author on Amazon Kindle
Donovan Creed Series:
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The Love You Crave
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