CW2, D.R. SMITH [little readers .TXT] 📗

in this area. I had been talking online with militia folk from out this way for a while” Suddenly the man jerked his watch wrapped wrist up into his line of sight. “Holy shit! Buck is going to kill me! Let’s GO!” He slipped a pistol from a belt holster and grabbed Shane’s forearm, yanking him towards the door. Shane’s body instinctively tightened into a defensive mode causing Trent’s shoving to become more forceful.

“I have to ask” Shane spit out as they made their way across the interior of the warehouse. “Just what is it Buck has planned for me?” Trent’s hurried pace was not slowed in the least, nor did his eyes turn in Shane’s direction as he answered.

“Well, we don’t waste bullets if we don’t have to. My guess is… he’ll be dropping you into an abandoned mine shaft”

“Hmm? And just how would you expect me to respond to that?” Shane said in a ‘matter-of-fact’ way.

“I guess…” Trent replied, pausing for a moment. “…I don’t care”

Realizing the ‘ally’ thing was not working out, Shane stopped suddenly and turned to face the guard.

“Hey…” Shane said in a calm, inquisitive tone. Trent, still holding his 9mm Glock out in front of him, did likewise, bringing them face to face for a fraction of a second. That very moment at which they confronted each other, Shane’s arm snapped upward instantly, grabbing the barrel of Trent’s gun and twisting it up and out to the side. The man’s index finger could be heard cracking as it wrenched backward toward his wrist. Trent was anything but an outdoorsy tough character and the pain of the snapped index finger brought him to his knees cursing. Fortunately, the motion disengaged Trent’s fingertip from the double trigger safety feature of the Glock, avoiding a shot ringing out. Shane was now in possession of the weapon.

“DAMMIT! What the…?”

“Shut up. Now!” Shane said softly but firmly. He already had the pistol trained on Trent’s head “There is no reason to kill me and you know it. So I’m not planning on dying today if I can help it. Where are my things and where are the keys to that plane?” he demanded. Through his moaning of pain, Trent started to laugh.

“You’re kidding right? You won’t get ten fee…” Before the man could finish, the barrel of the gun slapped the side of his face with full force, cracking his cheek bone and sending him reeling to one side. Shane stepped forward and went to one knee, grabbing the front of Trent’s shirt and pulling the man’s face right up to his own. Having now lost his patience with the whole situation, Shane spoke with fire in his eyes and teeth gritted and making sure Trent was feeling, not just hearing, what he said.

“Look. I meant what I said. I’m not dying today. You got that?” Shane emphasized. Trent just stared back. Shane now shook him and pulled him in even closer, now speaking in a quieted yell. “YOU GOT THAT?!?!” The man with the bloodied cheek now gave a wide-eyed nod. Shane pushed Trent back a foot or so and then shoved the barrel of the gun into his mouth. “Where… are… my… THINGS?”

Trent attempted to speak, prompting Shane to pull the gun out and give the man an opportunity to tell him what he was wanting to hear. Saliva dripped from the end of the gun and ran down Trent’s bloody chin. The Glock was now making a spit edged circle on the center of Trent’s forehead. The man’s eyes struggled to stay open as his facial injury was bleeding profusely and causing him to lose conscientiousness. Shane shook him awake and once again returned the gun to its forehead aim.

“I’m running out of patience my man” Shane said angrily. “I believe neither of us want to die today. Right?” Trent gulped deeply and then spoke in a shaky voice.

“Your guns and backpack are right over there” he whispered, turning his eyes toward a corner of the building. He continued trying to speak. “The keys to the plane are...” His voice trailed off as he started to look down towards his own pants. His mouth relaxed open as his eyes shut and the man blacked out, bloody drool stringing from his lip. Shane pulled the man up close and, in spite of the fact he knew the man was out cold, spoke quietly to his face.

“By the way… you’re NOT the only one who knows how to fly it”

Shane lowered him to the floor, not wanting to crack the guys skull on the cement. He stood quickly, realizing that Trent had said they were already late for a Buck meeting and figured someone would come looking for the now tardy guest of honor. His eyes nervously scanned the area Trent had indicated his possessions were in. There! He spotted what appeared to be ALL of his things.

Before dashing to grab his own stuff, Shane bent down and unclipped the massive wad of keys Trent lugged around on his belt loop. It only took him a few seconds to locate the Cessna key and remove it from the ring. To avoid any suspicion, he replaced the key cluster on the unconscious man’s pants. A forced speedy sprint had him standing in front of his backpack, hiking boots and, yes… even his AR… in a matter of seconds. Shane sunk to one knee to facilitate an inventory of the content of his backpack. Curiously, it appeared everything was there!? The only thing that appeared out of place was the fact that the contents of his wallet was tossed loosely into and strewn throughout the bag. But even a quick review of cards and ID’s found nothing missing. Still on his knee, Shane bowed his head in a momentary prayer of thanks.

Standing up, he ejected the chambered round from Trent’s Glock. 45 caliber, Shane observed. Useless to him as far as ammo was concerned. Glancing around for a second or two, he simply pitched the bullet across the expanse of the building. He then released the magazine from the weapon, flung it back-handed into oblivion, and finished by tossing the now unloaded pistol into a nearby trash can.

After hoisting his rifle and pack onto his shoulder, Shane moved in stealth mode towards the exit. He carefully peered through the window of the door to see if anyone was heading his way yet. Not a soul in sight. He spun to face inward against the wall next to the door, back and head flat and flush, rifle tight against his body at a slight angle. Shane felt that adrenaline surge beginning to mount inside him. His breathing kicked up a notch and his muscles began to stiffen. From the moment he heard about the Cessna from Trent, Shane had started to strategize how the aircraft could be used to escape and then some.

First, though, was the challenge of getting TO the plane and judging by the stressed out mood Trent had been in earlier, it was clear his time was short.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 6

 Chapter Six 

 

 

 

It was one of those moments in life when you awaken in a place other than your own bed in your own home and you become completely disoriented. Misplaced to the point of not knowing what day of the week it is or even the time of day. McKenna Rogers struggled to open her eyes, determined to pinpoint her phone in order to reset her misguided mindset. The throw pillow she had plumped up against the arm of the couch had fallen to the floor and the arm itself had now become hard and uncomfortable. Additionally, without the pillow, her neck had gone so stiff that she could barely turn her head to look for the electronic device. At that moment, orienting information flooded her mind. It was Wednesday and she had dozed off on her couch. As panic struck, she bolted to an upright position and reached for the iPhone shining up from the floor. Touching the screen, the time flashed before her. 7:20 am. Her eyes sprung open wide.

“Don’t panic Micky” she reassured herself and swallowed. “Call Ted right away. DO NOT try to make it there on time at this point”

The fingertip beneath her painted nail landed lightly on the biometric pad, causing Brandon's baby picture to dissolve, revealing its home screen. After a few taps, the ringtone of an outgoing call could be faintly heard. Ted's secretary spoke softly in a recorded message.

“Thank you for calling EnerTech Incorporated, The leader in energy research and exploration. We are currently closed. Our regular business hours are Monday through Friday, 8am to 5pm. If you wish to leave a message after…”

Her phone bleeped as she hung up on digital-Cheryl. Bad Idea to leave a ‘message’ as to why you’re late, she thought. I’ll just call Ted’s cell in about 15 minutes. Certainly, by then he would be en route to work.

She frisbeed the phone onto the couch cushion next to her and took a deep breath that morphed into a yawn on release. After what felt like mere minutes from when she had shocked out after waking, she was rolling down I-25 towards vindication.

The phone call to Ted’s cell yielded the same results as the call to the office itself. Voicemail. Mick concluded he was in early morning meetings with department heads and had silenced the device. She left an unnecessarily urgent sounding message stating she was dealing with family matters. Before she left the house, she had decided to confront the situation sitting directly in front of Ted IF, of course, the circumstance called for that. Micky’s day to day employee punctuality ranged from on time to dedicatedly early. A tardy here and there had never been a problem and any fears that it would be this time, were more than likely materializing from the ‘behind-the-scenes’ goings on, which of course, were unknown to Ted.

Once in the building, Micky couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling of underhandedness in her subterfugian stroll to her desk. Of course, other employees took note of the tardy entry. But it would take either Carlos watching over CCV or a genuine snitch for this to get back to Ted, she thought.

But of course, it did. A window appeared in the lower corner of her computer monitor and Ted’s voice came clearly over the PC speakers.

“Good morning Micky. Glad to see you finally made it.” Ted stated, tactfully accentuating the obvious reproach.

“Morning Ted” she responded. “I assume you got my message?”

“Most definitely” he replied “Everything OK? I mean I don’t want to pry or anything like that but… just asking”

As she was out of view of the web cam, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes before answering.

A split-second mental checklist of possible responses to that question concluded that indicating things were too ‘peachy’ might destroy any motive for having been late, while implying a major family crisis could see her trip to Arizona evaporate. It was office life juggling at its finest. The answer she chose kept the mystery alive while maintaining its magnitude.

“I believe everything will smooth out just fine.”

“OK. Good.” Ted said with a clear sign of relief in his voice. “Can I expect your