by W. A. R.
“I am not going to let them go as easily as you are willing to.” Amber bit out, her words making Bobby-Jean gasp in surprise as more tears filled her eyes.
“Amber…” Buddy began, concern now etched into his features.
Amber shrugged off George’s hand. “No, she needs to hear it.” She stated firmly. She felt an undeniable sense of rage flow through her as she stared down at the woman before her. “We will be discussing what happens next and that is final. If you don’t want to participate you don’t have to. But I will be.” Amber swallowed roughly against the emotion threatening to rise. “You’re either with me…or you’re not.”
“Amber!” Derek called from where the trucks were parked. There were three now; the red Dodge, the Silverado, and one of the trucks they had taken from Lance’s team. It had been loaded down with weapons and provisions when they had arrived and was now empty apart from the radio in the front of the truck.
Amber turned to him, as did everyone else. Derek’s voice was urgent and immediately they all sprang to life, rushing to the truck as he spoke into the microphone of a CB radio. Amber studied him curiously, wondering what he was doing and her heart pounded in her ears. A heavy rock settled in her gut. “Hello? Ryder? Still there?” he asked, releasing the button. He turned to Amber, his dark eyes lighting with a fire she had never witnessed of him before.
“What is it?” she asked, and he shuddered under her intense stare.
“They are trying to reach Lance’s group.”
Chapter Three
“Well, well…someone finally decided to wake up.” A voice rumbled from the doorway.
The silhouette Miles saw against the blinding sunlight straightened and there was a smirk sounding in his voice. The stranger’s words were nothing but a rumble, deep and penetrating. Though the voice should have made Miles angry and uncomfortable…it was strangely pleasant, as if they were friends instead of enemies. The stranger’s words were teasing, not taunting, and Miles was unsure of what to make of it. He squinted against the sun that poured in from the open door, his eyes slowly adjusting to the blinding light. A tall man stood, one hand on the doorknob and the other firmly on his hip, where a gun rested in its holster. Miles swallowed back his anticipation with what threat that weapon meant. Behind him stood a shorter, balding man and Miles knew instantly by the hardened glint in his eyes that he was the one that held Brian’s key to freedom.
“Is that so?” the shorter man replied. Now, Miles realized, his voice was taunting and cruel; he was vindictive and a frightening threat. He was crazed, fitting in perfectly with the horror of this new world. Miles gathered all of this from those three words, the simply tone of his voice.
Miles shifted and lifted his chin in challenge. “What of it?”
He laughed. “Great. The other one refused to tell us anything.” The shorter man spat harshly, stepping past the tall one. He glanced haughtily over at Brian, who glared back at him before rearing back and spitting in his face. Miles’s eyes widened in response to Brian’s actions. He was trying to infuriate him, to keep the man’s anger on him instead of on Miles. Miles bit his tongue, refusing to speak, refusing to fight. If he were put into chains as well, they certainly wouldn’t get out of there. He had to make sure that didn’t happen, regardless of how hard that was.
“Go to hell.” Brian growled. The shorter man immediately snapped his arm up, his knuckles connecting with Brian’s sternum. He had hit him…hard. Brian coughed and jerked back, searching for air as the tall man began taking slow, deliberate steps towards Miles. The chains rattled as Brian moved, gasping, and Miles was fuming, watching through narrowed eyes as the shorter man wiped away the saliva that coated his cheek and commenced to hit Brian again.
The tall man kept walking, his steps wide and decisive. He kept his shoulders back and his eyes trained on the man that rested on the floor before him. Miles never took his eyes from Brian and the shorter man who had hit him in the ribs once more. Miles was finding it hard to breathe and to keep his calm, his hands balled into fists behind his back, his shoulders aching with the tension. He wanted nothing more than to be free. The taller man finally stopped at Miles’s side and lowered himself to his haunches, his hands meeting before him, his elbows propped against his knees. He glanced at Miles’s angry eyes uneasily before following his gaze to the pair just as the loud smack of knuckles against skin sounded in their ears. Brian grimaced and still gasped for air, his face turning red.
“Hey man, that’s enough.” The tall man said, his voice tinged with anger and impatience, and Miles couldn’t help but feel astonished. The shorter man turned and stared hard at the man that was now kneeling by Miles’s seated form. They glowered at one another for a long moment before the taller man moved. He placed two hands firmly, yet calmly on Miles’s upper arm, urging him up. The taller man glanced apologetically at Miles, and Miles furrowed his brow in confusion, rising to his feet as best as he could while using the man as leverage. He wasn’t going to fall for the nice guy, bad guy thing, however. He wouldn’t be that much of a fool.
“What was that?” the shorter man snapped and the taller man tightened his grip on Miles’s arm as he supported most of his weight in bringing him to his feet.
The look in the shorter man’s eyes was wild and hurtful. He was an angry little man, Miles thought to himself. He tossed a quick glance at Brian and nodded, assuring his worried friend that he would be fine. Brian sighed and hung his head in defeat, knowing there was nothing else he could do. Miles felt regretful then, having taken away Brian’s reason. He knew Brian wanted to protect them; but it was Miles’s turn this time to protect him.
Once the taller man had Miles steady on his bound feet, he turned agitatedly to his counterpart. “We were given strict orders not to harm them and look at what you’ve done to the poor guy.”
“I’m just showing him some of our courtesy.” The shorter man sneered, stealing another glance at Brian. Miles ground his teeth together in frustration.
“Isn’t it enough that he has been taken from his family?” the taller man asked then, his eyes narrowed with challenge.
The short man glared and jerked Miles forward, gripping Miles’s arm so hard that Miles winced. He was pulled from his spot, his feet dragging behind him between the two men. The taller man’s grip held firm. “Don’t tell me you have a soft spot for these people.” He scoffed and the taller man stepped forward after tossing another apologetic stare at Brian, who stared back confused, as if unsure of whom the man was.
Miles let himself be dragged away from his friends and into the next room. There were windows, actual glass windows, not boarded and blocking the sunlight, in what appeared to be a living room. There was one man stretched out on the couch, hat over his face and arm dragging the floor. He was asleep it seemed. Oddly enough, he noticed that the floor was dusty and trash littered the tables that were in sight. He took notice of the front door, and the woods that surrounded them, judging by the open windows. He inhaled sharply. They were in the middle of nowhere…he could feel it in his gut. There were three guns leaning against the wall next to the front door, and two more on the table beside it.
The shorter man stepped a little to the side, releasing Miles’s arm and Miles, a thought forming in his mind, leaned against the taller man, shifting his feet just so. To an outsider, it would appear as if he had tripped, stumbling over his two confined feet but to him and Brian, who was leaning forward and watching the interaction, it was intentional. His feet slipped, moving before the shorter man’s step and tangling his feet with Miles’s own. The taller man held Miles up, catching him, but the shorter man stumbled and fell hard to the floor. His chest hit first, having been unable to catch himself on his hands. He grunted painfully as Miles straightened. The shorter man turned his narrowed and suspicious eyes to look up at Miles. Yes, Miles thought, he had every reason to be suspicious. He did, indeed, do it on purpose. It may have been slight compared to what he wanted to do to the man for his mis
deeds toward Brian, but it was all he could do right then. And, if he were honest, it was enough to get his point across.
Miles shrugged. “Oops.”
Quickly, the shorter man rushed to his feet, his neck heated red with embarrassment and anger. His hands balled into fists at his sides and Miles could hear Brian snickering slightly from the room. Miles forced himself not to grin with his superiority.
“Do that again and you will regret it.” The shorter man said, his eyes glassy and his cheeks flushed red.
Miles smirked. “It was an accident.”
Before the shorter man could get another word in, the taller one to his right pulled on his arm, urging him forward. Miles stared at the shorter man, moving willingly, and after a moment turned his head to face the direction he was being taken. His confined feet began dragging towards the left and he realized they were shoving him towards a room directly beside his previous one. He felt his chest tighten. It was the room with the radio, the room that Brian had told him about. His mind continued to race nonstop as the sound of the door closed behind them, sealing Brian and Shelly in the room.
“To answer your question, I’m just following orders. Like it or not we need to treat our guests with respect.” The taller man sounded and the shorter man glared at him before shoving Miles down into a chair. Miles fell back with a painful thump. He winced rolling his tender head in an attempt to ease the dizziness that suddenly came upon him. His eyes rolled and he felt nauseous. He willed the acid burning his esophagus back down before opening his eyes. The shorter man stood, arms flexed and his face red as if ready to fight. The taller man stared hard down at him, his big arms crossed and his stance defensive.
“If they were our ‘guests’, they wouldn’t be tied up. They are our prisoners.” The shorter man expressed hatefully. He wasn’t wrong, Miles thought ruefully. In fact, he was completely right. They were prisoners. If given the choice, they would be gone with the rest of their family, living happily without worry of invasion or experimentation. Miles watched as the taller man sighed; he seemed so very tired. Miles watched him, feeling a strange pull to trust him. He was defending them against the other man’s abuse. But what did that mean? Hadn’t he just a minute before vowed he wouldn’t fall for their games. Brian’s beaten body flashed across his mind, the facts of what they have done and have possibly done telling him that they were the enemy, that these people were horrid and desperate. There was no way that they could be trusted. They had taken and beaten Brian and Shelly and himself, and only God knew what they had done with the others. He gulped. He couldn’t think about them, about that possible loss. “And you can bet when we get back to the compound, Adrian will hear about this.” Adrian? Miles wondered…who exactly was he?
The taller man never wavered. “Good. I hope he does.” He returned calmly and the shorter man was fuming. He began reaching his hand for the gun that rested on his hip and Miles jumped in his seat.
“I’ll talk to you.” He wasn’t sure what came over him, or why he was protecting who was so obviously the enemy, but he couldn’t stop himself. The shorter man turned his cold eyes to him and glared. A knife to the throat would suit him, Miles thought as he returned the glare.
“Excuse me?” he asked and Miles nodded at the taller man. He wasn’t sure what provoked him to do it, but whatever it was, he went with it. The man had stopped Brian from getting beaten even more so than he already was. The least he could do was divert the shorter man’s anger.
“I’ll talk to him.” He then turned to the shorter man with the neck tattoo and shook his head. “I won’t be talking to you.”
The taller man lifted a brow in surprise, but other than that seemed amused more than anything else. The other man however turned red in the face from anger. This brought a sense of control over Miles. “I don’t think you have a choice in the matter.”
“I think he does.” Another voice chimed in. Another man ambled in and only briefly glanced at Miles seated in the chair before turning away and setting his gun on the table next to the CB radio. He kept his back to Miles and the other two men as he knelt and fiddled with the knobs on the radio. Static filled the room. “If he isn’t going to talk to you then I suggest you leave.” The man told the shorter one without looking at him. His fists clenched at his sides. Oh yes, this man had a temper on him. When he didn’t move, the newcomer turned and glanced over his shoulder at man with the neck tattoo. “Problem?”
“Yeah. We need answers.”
The newcomer shrugged. “And we can get them without you.”
“This is bullshit.”
“Go check the perimeter.” It was a command, a dismissal. Miles sat quietly, watching the interaction with interaction.
“Why can’t he do it?” he snapped and before Miles could even think about what was happening the newcomer stood and turned, glaring hotly down at the shorter man. His hair was slick with sweat and hung down in his face. His eyes were almost black and they were blazing in response to the shorter man’s hesitance.
“Because I saw what you did to the other man while you were on duty last night with Lenny and I think that if you value your life, I suggest you value theirs because from this point on I will be doing to you whatever you do to them.” His eyes were like fire and his tone left no room for argument. Miles swallowed, clearly surprised by the turn of events happening between the two men. And yet still, he analyzed all of this, taking in every aspect of their personalities and their relationships between one another. He hoped to use it to his advantage. The shorter man visibly shrunk under his glare before turning and stepping past him, towards the door.
He paused briefly, turning to face the three of them. Miles shifted on his seat, attempting to get more comfortable. “You are both just blind to what is really going on. If you think that they are going to be welcomed with open arms you’re wrong. You know what really goes on behind closed doors at the compound.”
The newcomer turned back to the radio. “I also suggest you stay away from the other two. As I’ve said, I will do to you what you do to them.” He said, dismissing the man as if he hadn’t said anything. The shorter man glared between them before storming out. They continued staring at the entryway until they heard the front door slam a few seconds later.
Miles had to admit relief and even disappointment at not having found his son among the four men. He wondered where he was, and when his thoughts took a sharp nosedive on his whereabouts and his doings he forced the thoughts away. The taller man reached over and pulled the door closed before letting out a huff of air and running his hands down his tired face. The newcomer turned and pulled a chair up to the small table that the radio sat on. Miles watched between the two curiously, ready to fight if they did try to do anything; even if he had told himself that he wouldn’t. He was conflicted with these two men, unsure why he was feeling both angry and calm. The tall man turned to him finally, offering him a small smile. He walked across the room and grabbed the back of another chair, pulling it in front of Miles. He set it with its back facing Miles before he lowered himself backwards into the seat. He crossed his arms along the top, lowering his chin onto his forearm. He stared at Miles for a long moment while static filled the air. Miles clenched his jaw, his fists tightening behind his back, slightly pulling from the bonds that held him.
“My name is Cory.” He threw a thumb over his shoulder at the man working with the radio. “And that is Ryder. Justin was the little asshole you just met.” He told Miles, who remained perfectly still, eyes wide and watching the two men before him.
“This is Ryder. If Lance, or anyone from Lance’s team is around please check in, over.” Ryder said loudly into the microphone transmitter of the device.
The taller man studied Miles and sighed, clearing his throat. “I know you don’t really intend to talk Miles, and I don’t blame you. But thank you for giving us a reason to send that jackass out of here.” The man stated, catching Miles’s attention. “I do apologize for what happened to Brian.
He didn’t deserve it. Just know that Ryder and I didn’t know that it had happened and it won’t happen again.” Miles studied the man’s saddened eyes and finally nodded his understanding to the man’s apology. Ryder stood and stepped out of view behind a wall for a moment before returning with a bottle of water in hand. He handed it to Cory and Miles watched it warily. His throat hurt so badly…if he could, he would be watering at the mouth for it. Cory stood as Ryder attained his original position in front of the radio. He rounded the chair and approached Miles while unscrewing the lid to the bottle. He held it out towards Miles uncertainly. “I know you’re thirsty. Here.” He said and he pressed the lip of the bottle to Miles’s mouth and titled the bottle up. The warm water filled Miles’s mouth and before he could rationalize his thoughts he drank, pressing his mouth against the opening of the bottle.
“Again, this is Ryder. If Lance, or anyone from Lance’s team is around please check in, over.” Ryder’s voice sounded again. Miles felt his mouth and throat moisten and it was a terrific feeling. After a moment, Cory took the bottle away and set it to the side after screwing the lid back on.
“I’ll be sure to give Brian some too whenever I take you back. Shelly, too, if she is awake.” Cory said gently, doing nothing but raising Miles’s suspicions.
“Why do you want us?” Miles finally asked, the question eating at him. Cory looked at him sadly, while Ryder turned and lifted a curious brow at him. “We have nothing to offer you or your people.”
Cory glanced over his shoulder at Ryder and lowered himself back into the chair facing Miles. “I can tell you what we were told…”
“I want to hear what you have to say about it.” Miles demanded and Cory shifted. He couldn’t shake the feeling that they were hiding something and he wondered what it was.
Ryder shifted in his seat and glanced over at Miles and stared hard at him, studying him. He set the microphone to the side without looking, his focus entirely on Miles. Miles narrowed his eyes at him. “I understand this is all a shock…” “
