Page 71 of Claymore
He grinned, laughing hard, slapping the walls like the fucking druggie he was.
“You’re here because you’re useful. My first prisoner in a while. We’re gonna have some fun, you and me. Until your buddies come looking for you,” he said.
He bent down in front of me, grabbing my head, slamming it into the tray of cocaine in his hands. I tried to fight him off. I tried to hold my breath, to not get any of that shit up in my nose, but it was no use. He gave me the involuntary hit I told myself I’d never take, the one that would dull what little senses I had left. He let me go, the silver tray falling to the ground with a loudclang!and Ray smiled.
“In all my years dealing with you Rebels, I’ve learned just how much you detest drugs. You don’t have an ounce of tolerance in you. Enjoy the ride. Enjoy trying to get your ass out of here because I already know that’s what you’re planning. Oh, don’t look so glum. It’s a wild time if you just sit back and let it hit real good.”
Ray had to be off his rocker if he thought giving me a hit was a good idea. He was hoping that I didn’t have a good trip, that it would rattle me to the bone and I’d curl up in a corner trying to ride it out, but I had other plans. He strolled on out of the room, shutting the big iron door behind him, enveloping me in darkness. I fumbled around for the shard of glass I had earlier, getting it between my fingers just as my head started to feel woozy.
It was a strange sensation. My body kicked into high gear, my mind running a mile a minute, and within seconds I felt like I was crashing. The world around me shook violently. My head was spinning and I pressed my feet firmly into the ground to get a grip. It felt like I was barreling through the open air at a speed I couldn’t wrap my goddamn mind around.Focus. You need to get out. You need to get out now!
I took a deep breath, cutting through the zip ties with what little energy I had left and a few minutes later, they came loose.Bingo.I patted the holster underneath my shirt, looking for my gun, but it wasn’t there. I grabbed a hold of that shard, holding onto the wall for support while I rose to my feet, but something stopped me. I took a long sniff, wiping the remaining powder from the top of my upper lip.
“Nah, this son of a bitch,” I spat.
The smell of smoke filled the entire room. I managed to get close enough to the iron door, touching it slowly to see if it felt hot, but it didn’t. I heard the sound of footsteps approaching from the other side, and I held my ground, waiting with the glass shard firmly in between my fingers.
“You need to get Ray’s birdie tray. He wants the thing before we get out of here,” said the voices behind the door.
The lock clicked and in came two men, each armed, but not very quick on their feet. I pummeled one of them, driving the shard into the neck of the other before I grabbed his gun. I shot them both to make sure they wouldn’t come after me and I rushed up the stairs. The pain in my head made me wince and cringe every time I moved, but once I got up to the main floor, it all started to dissipate, replaced by adrenaline.
The main floor of the house I’d been holed up in was completely engulfed in flames. I dodged a few wooden beams barreling down from the second floor, feeling the smoke fill my lungs as I begged my legs to carry me out to the open air. I kept walking, away from the burning home just as it completely exploded. Flames spewed out from the broken windows, the walls had started to cave in on themselves, but I’d made it out.Guess the birdie powder saved someone tonight. Your men weren’t so lucky, Ray, but I was.
I trudged out into the dark night, the flames illuminating my path as I spotted a few footprints in the sand. I followed them, slipping the gun I stole into my holster, trying to find a way to the main road. The smoke still collected in my lungs, making it hard to breathe, and I turned around once to see it billowing up into the sky.Looks like he didn’t have a use for me after all. Maybe he finally realized he didn’t need me alive to hold me over the Rebels’ heads.
I kept moving, feeling my legs grow wobbly, but when I stopped at a tree to catch my breath, I heard a deep groan. There was a man at my feet, grabbing onto my jeans with all the strength he had. I bent down, noticing how his gray beard was stained red, how the blood collected around his chin after being beaten bloody.
“Sir, who are you? What happened?”
It was clear to me this man wasn’t a biker, nor did he look like someone any of those fuckers would be involved with. He was old, frail, and terrified.
“The man.”
“What man?” I eyed him carefully.
“The man. My house. He burned down my house!”
“This was your house?” I asked.
“Yes. He threatened me, but I complied. His men brought me out here and nearly killed me. I need a hospital. I need a doctor.”
“Do you have a phone on you?”
“My pocket,” he said, glancing down at his pants.
His arms were too bloodied and bruised to move. I grabbed the cell phone, dialing Tank’s number from memory.
“Tank.”
“Claymore. What the fuck happened? Where are you?”
“Look, I’ll explain later. I need you to get to me. Now. Ray was here. He stuck me in a basement and set the damn house on fire. I’m okay, but the man who owns the place, he’s in bad shape,” I explained.
“We’ll be there soon. Stay out of sight in case those fuckers come back.”
“Yeah, I will.”
Chapter Sixteen
