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WARNING: Oooh, this is way bad. If violence bothers you then skip this chapter. In fact, skip the story completely. This is a dark trip. It is...
by Phair
Savage watched as the automatic baton elongated during the draw back over Mr. Jones’ shoulder. The swishing sound as it viciously arced through the air made her cringe. But, it was the solid thud of connection to Brady’s face that made Savage wince. Quickly, the rope that tethered her to the other captives pulled hard around her neck and dragged her to the ground. Her bound hands clutched at the thick rope wrapped around her neck and she struggled to keep it from tightening any further. Death by slow strangulation was not something on her to do list.
“Stop hitting her!” Beckworth demanded between gasps for breath around his own contrasting noose.
Another blow hit the stricken woman across her back. “Shut up! I’m sick of her sniveling!”
“Jones, she won’t stop crying if you keep beating her,” Savage tried to reason with the man as she pulled herself to her knees in the dirt behind Beckworth who was behind Woody who was behind Brady; the roped linked trail of bound prisoners.
Another blow struck a sobbing Brady across the ass. “You’re next, big mouth.”
“Mr. Jones,” Smith trotted back from his advance position and explained, “if we keep up this pathetically slow pace, we’ll be late to the check point. That will cost me a great deal of money. So, stop hitting the girl. Let her cry her heart out. Who cares? Just keep them moving along. The quicker the better, if you get me.”
The singular recipient of the ‘money’ was not lost on Savage.
“Smith, she’s making me crazy with her sniffling and snorting. You know, I hate crybabies!” The young man announced with a small stomp of his foot for emphasis. “I’m stuck back here with her and you’re up ahead away from the moaning. It ain’t fair.”
“Okay, okay friend, your right. I’ll fix it for you,” Mr. Smith patted Mr. Jones on the cheek. “UP! GET ON YOUR FEET, BITCH!” Smith commanded with a strong arm pull to the tether looped around Brady’s thin but heavily bruised neck.
“Fuck you! Fuck him. Fuck your dog loving bitch in heat mother!” Brady screamed as she was dragged upright. “Kill me now. Go on and kill me, you cock sucking faggots, kill me, do it now. Kill me where I stand you dickless wonders!”
Jones tensed with the words but Smith just smirked. He pulled his side arm free of the holster and the curses fell silent. The barrel of the .45 was shoved into Brady’s mouth. She seemed to sigh in relief.
“NO!” Savage shouted. “Don’t!”
“God in heaven, please,” Beckworth prayed, “spare her. Please. Spare her. Take me.”
“FUCK THIS SHIT!” Woody launched himself at Jones who was standing to his left and Smith’s right.
All the tethered prisoners were pulled after Woody, as the tall man crashed into his unsuspecting guard. Brady was dragged away from Smith’s hold. The impact swept his gun off to Woody’s right side. The tumble of bodies at his feet blocked Smith from easily retrieving his gun. There was a general scramble of arms and legs as both Beckworth and Savage realized there was a chance to get Jones’ gun before Smith could recover his weapon.
“Got it. Got it.” Savage announced as she leveled the liberated weapon at the only member of the group on two feet.
She came up; knees to face with Smith. He smiled. It was a disgusting gesture in its arrogance. His knife was pushed against Beckworth’s tender neck. Out of the corner of her eye, Savage could see Jones was still held down by Woody. Brady remained near them on the ground but shivering in fear or rage, Savage couldn’t tell which.
“Drop the gun and I won’t slice his jugular open,” Smith gave his version of a negotiation. “His death or his life, is in your hands but that’s’ the only thing in your control. It’s the best deal you’re gonna get from me. I promise you, regardless of this outcome, you’re gonna take the whipping of a lifetime when I get you to the camp grounds. And, there ain’t nothing you can do to stop me. Just ask Brady how the whip will feel against your silky soft skin.” After a short silence, he screamed, “Tell her what it’s like suffering under the blows from my whip!”
“Heartless.” Brady sobbed. “He don’t care how much you beg for mercy. He just does the whole count. He does my Master’s bidding.”
“So, drop your weapon and save Beckworth and accept your fate.” Smith waited a few seconds. “Or, hold on to the weapon and I cut Beckworth’s head off and you still have to accept your fate. Doesn’t matter to me.”
“Don’t give up, Kendall!” Beckworth pleaded even with the knife slicing his skin and blood pooling in the open trail behind it.
Smith grabbed Beckworth’s tether and pulled hard. “Shut up! Nobody asked you to say anything.”
Kendall watched as Beckworth struggled for breath. Woody had a good hold on Jones but Brady was a shaking mess. She would not be able to help them with Smith and Jones in a fight. Kendall’s aim wavered as she considered her next move.
“Shoot me. Please. You promised. Please, kill me now,” Brady begged without tears. “You promised. Kill me. Don’t let them take me back to my Master. Please, kill me.”
Savage shook her head slowly as she turned the gun over and offered it by the handle to Smith. “I can’t. I’m sorry, Brady.”
Smith shoved Beckworth into the dirt with a satisfied snort, “You should have shot me, you stupid ass!” He hissed as he grabbed the gun.
Without missing a beat, Smith leveled a hard blow across Savage's face. She went down easy. Fighting the darkness that was descending didn’t interest her as the anguished cries from Brady and curses from Woody filled the air. For the second time in a day, Kendall Savage surrendered.
Kendall blindly put one foot in front of the other in response to the pull of the rope wrapped around her neck. The wound on her forehead was still dripping blood into her eyes; burning her vision. She stopped trying to wipe it clear when the task proved fruitless and instead opted to keep her eyes shut. The move plunged her into blackness but eased the stinging sensation enough to make up for the loss. Smith had her well in hand anyway. He kept her on a short tether and guided her with a remarkably steady hand.
“He must’ve had horses,” she allowed an idle thought. “That’s probably where he learned to use a whip.”
She let herself shutter at the word. Smith promised Savage he’d whip her raw when they got where they were going. After seeing the damage he’d done to Brady’s back, it was not a threat Kendall was able to ignore.
“HALT! State your purpose!” A shout from the distance broke Kendall’s concentration and she stumbled into Smith.
He snorted as he shoved her back on her feet, “Oh, there’ll be plenty of time for cuddling later, sweetie. But, big daddy’s got work to do at the moment.”
Kendall shrunk back as far as her leash would let her.
“We are on schedule, Soldier. Mr. Smith and prisoners for Commander Esau are front and center.”
Remaining in her self imposed darkness, Kendall took special notice that Smith only announced himself and the prisoners. She started to get the feeling Mr. Jones was a dead man walking. Or, perhaps, he would become a slave himself.
“The idiot probably hasn’t even noticed he’s a lost cause yet. He’ll be the last to know,” Kendall thought.
“You are recognized, Mr. Smith. You may move onward to Heaven with your party,” the voice which had stopped them previously instructed them to continue.
“Right you are, my boy,” Smith chuckled and snapped Kendall’s leash to get her moving again.
Kendall realized the ground under her was changing. Her feet were now hitting a well worn path. Each step forward into the enemies hold made it easier to keep her balance physically. Emotionally, it was quite a different story. She was almost overwhelmed by the feeling of confinement. The comforting sense of open space around her evaporated like August rain on hot tar as the human presence surrounded her. Smoke stench mixed with bitter odors of sweat, fear, blood, and death filled her nostrils. Voices mixed with cries to blend into a chaotic din of want and need and desire drilled her eardrums. The air was thick with ash and her dry mouth filled with the gritty residue. Her mind told her to focus on the present while her heart remembered her fifth grade CCD teacher’s description of eternal damnation.
“Hell,” Kendall grimaced at the thought as the group ground to a stop. “I didn’t plot out the road to Armageddon; I made a map to Hell.”
