Tanner- Year One

by Remington Kane

  Tanner woke inside a small space enclosed with cinder block walls that were painted white. He was lying atop a thin mattress; the bare floor beneath it was made of concrete.

  As he sat up, the cool surface felt chilled beneath his bare feet. Looking up, Tanner saw that the low ceiling was a network of reinforced bars welded together in a crisscross pattern.

  Someone had taken his boots, socks, and shirt, along with his wallet, gun, phone, and belt. His mind still felt confused, but his head was clearing, and he hadn’t been harmed while he’d been out cold.

  Since there were no doors in the six-foot by five-foot space he found himself in, Tanner assumed he’d been lowered inside from above. That meant the metal bars were on hinges that were hidden from view, and logic declared there must also be a lock. When Tanner pressed his feet against the side of the walls to shimmy up and strain against the bars, he felt unyielding resistance. The lock was a strong one.

  The sound had woken him, or rather, the voice. It was the voice of Shasta Shah. A large monitor was suspended above the bars by a wire and had been set on a high volume. It displayed Shah’s lovely image and blasted her words into Tanner’s ears in a continuous loop.

  Stop resisting and let me take on your burdens. Accept my love and you’ll never be alone, lonely or lost. I am the reincarnation of the Egyptian goddess Saisis and I have returned to take your cares and worries away. Surrender yourself to me and you’ll never hunger or thirst again without being fulfilled. Surrender, surrender, surrender.

  Tanner could turn his gaze away from the image but there was no ignoring the voice, and so he didn’t waste time trying. After shouting as loud as he could and getting no response, Tanner assumed he was in a remote section of the cult’s compound. There must have been other sounds nearby, but the voice repeating the message drowned out everything else.

  Although it was difficult to concentrate, Tanner worked at coming up with a plan of escape. The thick walls were as solid as granite, however, a crack in the concrete floor revealed that it had been laid down in a thin layer. That was good. If he could get past that layer, he could reach soil and possibly burrow his way to freedom. But he’d never get through the concrete with his hands alone; he needed a tool.

  Tanner grabbed hold of each piece of the rebar that made up his steel ceiling. The individual bars had been welded together across each other but not all of the welds were equal. At the center of one bar, located near an edge, was a weak weld. It gave when Tanner pulled on it. That separated its middle section from its mate above it, however, its two ends stayed firmly attached. Tanner gripped the loose section in both hands, brought his feet up to press them against the other bars, then pulled for as long as he could.

  Nothing happened, and after numerous attempts he dropped to the floor of the pit with his energy spent and his muscles aching. And while all this was going on, Shasta Shah’s message of love continued.

  Stop resisting and let me take on your burdens. Accept my love and you’ll never be alone, lonely or lost. I am the reincarnation of the Egyptian goddess Saisis and I have returned to take your cares and worries away. Surrender yourself to me and you’ll never hunger or thirst again without being fulfilled. Surrender, surrender, surrender.

  Tanner did not surrender. He kept pulling on the same bar hour after hour until he succumbed to exhaustion and lay on the mattress panting. Despite his fatigue, sleep eluded him. Shah’s message was at such a high volume that it woke Tanner each time he closed his eyes.

  Sunlight faded as dusk arrived and the high temperature inside his cell lessened with the onset of night. He was thirsty, hungry, and had been forced to urinate in a bucket that sat in a corner, but not for one instant did he doubt he would escape his cell. He was a Tanner. A Tanner did not fail, whatever the task.

  He fought the urge to castigate himself for getting into the situation he was in. When Spenser passed the mantle of Tanner over to him, he warned that he would make mistakes.

  “You’re still young, Cody. You’ve got the training, the skills, and the right attitude but some abilities like instinct only come with experience. If things don’t work out the way you planned, concentrate on making it right and never give up.”

  He was young. Despite the six years of experience he had behind him he was only twenty-three. Still, it irked him to have allowed himself to be bushwhacked so easily.

  His thoughts turned to Joe Pullo. Tanner wondered if the mobster was somewhere locked away in a similar pit. He would have to search for the man once he escaped his own prison. When he and Pullo were free, then they could track down Isaac. Every time Tanner thought of killing Isaac it renewed his energy and resolve.

  Something struck him on the shoulder and fell into one of the darkened corners of his prison. The light given off by the monitor didn’t illuminate more than the pit’s center. Tanner could see that the object was shaped like a square, with a smaller rectangle resting above it. When he touched it, he felt a plastic surface, but as he brought it closer, he saw that it was food. Someone had thrown down a wrapped sandwich with a juice box attached to it.

  Looking up, Tanner saw the silhouette of a female cast in the side glow from the monitor. She was too small to be the Amazonian Miranda, and a long braid hung down the side of her face.

  Tanner tore away the plastic wrap and nibbled at a corner of the sandwich he’d been gifted. It was roast beef and cheese on wheat bread with mustard. The juice was apple. Tanner devoured the food after looking up and discovering that his angel of mercy had vanished.

  At noon the next day, with the summer sun dehydrating him, Tanner watched as a package dropped through the bars and hit the floor near his feet. It was four bottles of water taped together. The sight of the liquid sent a thrill of pleasure through Tanner. He was sweaty and exhausted from his latest effort to free the bar and had suffered cramps due to dehydration. The palms of his hands were sore, and blisters had formed. The same was true for the soles of his feet, although to a lesser extent.

  Looking up, Tanner saw Miranda gazing down at him. She pointed at the bottles and mouthed several words. “Read the note.”

  Tanner used his foot to pull the bottles closer and read the message attached.

  THIS WATER IS NOT DRUGGED.

  It didn’t matter, Tanner knew. He needed hydration if he were to continue his plan to escape. If he went a couple of more days without it, he would die. Tanner freed a bottle from the tape that held it, opened it, and sipped the warm water. He would risk being drugged again but not the threat of poison. The few drops on his tongue were pleasurable beyond description and eased his mind. Tanner tilted back the bottle and emptied its contents. As he did so, he saw that Miranda had departed.

  Tanner gazed at the remaining three bottles and fought the urge to empty them one after the other. If that happened, his stomach would cramp and cause misery.

  After urinating into the bucket, Tanner went back to work on the bar.

  As the sun began brightening the cell the following morning, Tanner fell to the floor from the ceiling. At last, another of the welds holding the bar had given way.

  Tanner looked up at the rounded shaft of metal. It was held in place with one remaining weld and hung down at a forty-five-degree angle. After a short rest, Tanner rose and gripped it with his bloody palms. The damn thing still resisted coming free and demanded another hour of effort before it broke loose. In its absence was a gap that was still far too narrow to fit through.

  Tanner ignored his exhaustion and went to work. He used one end of the bar like the head of a hammer and slammed it repeatedly at the crack in the concrete floor.

  When sunlight began entering the cell from overhead, Tanner ceased his work. Miranda had arrived at a similar time the day before; he thought she might do so again. He had widened the crack and made it through to the soft soil beneath it. There was a shallow depression where he’d been digging. His small shovel had been a broken off section of the concrete, along with his hands.

&nb
sp; After slipping the iron bar up his pantleg to conceal it, Tanner lay back atop the mattress. It was positioned over the loose dirt and chips of concrete. All should appear normal from above.

  He had cut it close, as Miranda arrived only minutes later. She smiled as she took in his exhausted state, then dropped a fresh package of bottles through a gap in the bars. They landed on Tanner’s chest and rolled off.

  He reached out for it while hoping Miranda didn’t notice the state of his hands. They were filthy from digging and bore numerous cuts and blisters. There were only three bottles instead of the four he’d received the previous day. The fourth bottle was in Miranda’s hand. She took a sip from it, then made a show of pouring out the rest of the bottle’s contents into the cell, wasting it. The evil grin on her face went well with the mean streak she’d just displayed.

  Miranda vanished while Tanner was downing his first gulps. He went back to work as the cell heated up again. Near sunset, rain swept in. Tanner stripped naked and used the rainstorm like a shower while tilting his head back to let the drops enter his mouth. The short summer storm was invigorating. Its moisture also made it easier to dig. By midnight, Tanner was able to fit his head, arms, and shoulders inside the hole he’d dug. That was when he began tunneling under the wall.

  13

  Suspicious

  At the militia headquarters, Gracie James finished taking inventory inside the pantry as she entered the totals by hand into a notebook. Gracie was in charge of the mess hall. It was her responsibility to make certain that the meals were ready on time each day. She had been involved in the work since she used to help her mother as a child.

  Her mother had grown tired of life inside the militia and had left after Gracie’s father passed away. Gracie figured she would never leave. The militia was her home and the people inside it she thought of as family, while a few were actual blood relatives. That is, she considered most of them to be her family. Of late, she disliked some of the newer recruits.

  That was one reason she asked to join Logan when he said he had found two men who might be a good fit. Logan agreed to have her and Linda come along. The man didn’t respect her opinion, Gracie sensed that. Logan had allowed them to tag along because he believed the men seeing that there were women in the militia would entice them to join.

  Gracie didn’t mind being put on display if it got her what she wanted. She traveled to town with Logan to make sure he didn’t hire on any more losers like Sullivan.

  Gracie didn’t like Sullivan, or any of the new group, which Nick Cannon referred to as his Inner Core. Cannon claimed the men had unique skills. Gracie wasn’t a fool. She had guessed early on that Nick was becoming involved in illegal activities to raise cash. They must have been successful. That crew always had money and Nick had begun building new quarters so that the militia could expand.

  Gracie grew up in an environment where she was made aware of how subjective and fickle the law was. At one point in the country’s history it was illegal to buy alcohol, although it was fine to own gold. A few years later, you could booze all you wanted but owning gold was against the law, and now, both things were legal. No, illegal activity didn’t worry Gracie, especially if it was as harmless as growing and selling marijuana.

  That was what Gracie assumed was going on. If she’d known about the gun running and heists the men were involved in, she would not have approved. That was the reason Nick Cannon kept her in the dark.

  After removing the white apron she’d worn over her jeans and blouse, Gracie settled on a stool and thought about Joe Pullo. A smile brightened her pretty face, which then turned into a frown.

  Gracie had felt an immediate attraction to Pullo that she was certain he’d experienced as well. Acting impulsively, she’d slept with Pullo the same night she’d met him, something she had never done before.

  In the hours after they parted, if she wasn’t asleep or involved with work, Gracie was thinking of Pullo, whom she knew as Joe Russo. She had known the man for less than a day when she realized she had fallen in love with him.

  Instead of reuniting with Pullo inside the militia’s compound, Gracie was informed that he and his friend Ray Hollis had decided not to join after all. Gracie had not only been stunned but heartbroken. She’d spent the next two days feeling like a fool who allowed herself to indulge in a fantasy of love at first sight.

  Only, Pullo had seemed eager to join her inside the compound, and he hadn’t struck Gracie as being heartless enough to play with her feelings.

  Deciding that she needed more answers, Gracie left the mess hall and walked over to the main house. She had a key to the rear entrance but never used it. The key had belonged to her late father and she was certain that no one knew of its existence.

  Gracie rarely traded on her status of being the grandchild of a founder, while Nick Cannon acted as if it made him special.

  After greeting the militia member who guarded the building, she informed him that she was there to see Logan. Guards at the building were something new. When Nick’s father was in charge, no one ever had to ask to see him. As for Logan, his designation as second-in-command was a position created out of thin air. Gracie sat on the militia’s council, and they had not authorized it.

  Not that it mattered, since Logan didn’t throw his weight around, as far as Gracie could tell, Logan was Nick Cannon’s lackey.

  Her request for a meeting was relayed by the guard. A minute later, Gracie entered Logan’s small office and sat in one of the chairs before his desk.

  Logan smiled at her. “How can I help you, Gracie?”

  “You said that Joe and his friend changed their minds about joining us, but did they tell you that themselves?”

  “No, they told Isaac when he went into town to pick them up.”

  “Isaac? Why was he involved?”

  “He was doing me a favor, or so I thought.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Logan smirked at her. “You do know Isaac has a thing for you, right?”

  “He asks me out all the time, but I’ve made it clear that I don’t think of him that way.”

  “Why is that? A lot of the other women around here are crazy about him.”

  “He’s good-looking, sexy even, but… I don’t know. There’s something off about him.”

  “I thought I was the only one that noticed.”

  “Aren’t you his friend?”

  “Isaac wants to take my place as Nick’s right-hand man.”

  “If you believe that, why are you always so friendly toward him?”

  “I’m sure you’ve heard the saying ‘Keep your friends close, and your enemies even closer,’ I keep Isaac very close.”

  Gracie smiled. “You’re smart to keep an eye on him.”

  Logan leaned back in his seat with a thoughtful expression. “When you hit it off with Joe Russo the other night it made Isaac jealous. I’m wondering if he ran off Russo and his friend.”

  Gracie laughed. “Joe wouldn’t be intimidated by Isaac.”

  “Maybe not one on one, but Isaac has his own people over at that cult compound. If he showed up with Marcus and Miranda, Joe Russo and Ray Hollis might have decided they didn’t need the hassle.”

  Anger reddened Gracie’s cheeks as she considered Logan’s theory.

  “That would mean that Joe was forced to leave.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Doesn’t that make you angry, knowing that Isaac went behind your back like that?”

  “It does if it’s true, but how can I prove it? If I went to Nick with this, Isaac would lie. I have no evidence, and who knows, maybe I’m off base and Russo and Hollis really did change their minds.”

  “What if I got you proof?”

  “If I had evidence, I’d have Isaac’s ass in a sling, but what proof can there be?”

  Gracie stood. “I don’t know, but I’ll find it.”

  “All right, but you be careful, Isaac is dangerous.”

  “Isaac?”

&n
bsp; Logan hesitated before speaking. Gracie had no idea what was really going on between the militia and the cult, or that it involved selling women into sexual slavery.

  “Gracie why not just let things be. Despite whatever happened, Joe Russo and Ray Hollis are long gone.”

  “If he did run them off, Isaac had no right to do so. I don’t want him to get away with it.”

  Logan sighed. “If you find out anything, let me know first.”

  “I will,” Gracie said.

  After leaving Logan’s office, Gracie headed into town. Her destination was the motel where Tanner and Pullo had stayed. Gracie was determined to find out the truth.

  14

  Naught

  Tanner broke through the ground outside his prison forty-six hours after being locked inside it. His hands were raw and ached with his every effort, while his shoulders and back muscles were knots of agony. None of it mattered. He had succeeded at gaining freedom.

  To his right was his cinder block cell. The monitor above it was still blasting Shasta Shah’s plea to surrender. It was monstrously loud even though Tanner was now out in the open. There was a printed sign on the wall stating the cell’s purpose.

  TRAINING CENTER — ROOM ONE

  A shock awaited him when he looked beyond the wall. There was another cell, with a monitor above it and a second network of bars. Tanner walked up a curving ramp on the opposite side of the structure, then looked down through the bars. He laughed with relief when he saw Joe Pullo.

  Pullo was lying facedown and had also been left with only his pants. Tanner opened his mouth to call down to him then remembered that it would be a waste of time. He could disable the monitors, however, the cessation of the message they blasted might be noticed by someone within hearing range.

  Tanner studied the lock securing the bars on Pullo’s cell. It was a good one that would likely withstand a blow from a rock. Crawling back through his makeshift tunnel, he reclaimed the piece of rebar he’d used to break through the concrete floor.