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“Be real still.”
The voice came from behind him and to his right,
his blind side, of all places. It was deep and low, accompanied by the
chilling touch of a 30.06. rifle muzzle on the back of his neck. Not the
kind of toy you'd want to come up against. They used them in prisons, so you
know they did the job.
“Stand up. Ah-Ah! Take it slow and easy,
buddy-boy. Now, hands on the back of your head. Yeah, good boy. Let’s walk
real humble-like back to that fire.
Helpless to do anything else, Benny snarled a
grimace. He stepped into the small glen. There, by the fire, was the
bitch-warden herself. And she was chowing down on his quail. At the sight of
him she gasped and the bird dropped into the fire. Benny didn’t know what
hurt worse, getting caught or seeing breakfast go to waste.
“You slut.”
Teeth bared he reached for her. A rap on the head
from the 30.06. Stopped him cold.
“Hello, Benny.” Cindy couldn't help it, she
smiled. All those millions spent to capture her little man, and here he was.
“Christmas is a tad early this year. My, my.”
With a leer as old as Adam, Benny looked Cindy up
and down.
Hand creeping to her throat, Cindy took an
involuntary step forward.
Her foot came down in the middle of the unpleasant
remains of the quail. She slipped and he dropped to the ground to snatch a
rock from the fire ring as big as his fist. The rifle came to bear and the
rock smashed between the guard's startled blue eyes. The muzzle exploded and
Benny was already on his feet, shaking his hand and spitting on water
blisters.
“Shitfuckdamn,” Benny yelped and shoved the
hand into the dirty remains of a snow bank. His eyes closed. “Yeah . . .
on yeah.”
The rifle's cold eye touched him at the top of his
spine.
Benny snarled at the ground and shook his head.
What a day.
A pair of cuffs hit the snow near his knees.
“Put them on, Benny. And please, don't try
anything untoward. I know you better than you know yourself, boy.”
Never underestimate the power of human stupidity.
Especially your own. With a shake of his head, he snapped the cuffs on.
Benny rose to face the woman, his lips mocking.
“Think you'll be able to keep me this time?”
“On the horse.”
“What about joy-boy there?”
“He's dead. I'll send out someone discrete for
the corpse.”
“You know,” Benny drawled, “I'm starting to
like knocking off your dogs, Cindy-babe.” Benny ask in a seductive
whisper, “Wanna do it here? Right here, where I’m at my very best? Do it
like injuns, baby, like True-Human beings. Make like wolves.” Benny
rumbled a soft, hungry growl at Cindy. Eyes half closed, his hand slid down
inside the front of his jeans and he moved towards her.
Her eyes grew butter-soft. Seeing a knowing smile,
she snarled and jerked the muzzle at the horses. Cocking his eye at her, he
swung up on the gelding the guard had ridden. He half closed his eye. Cindy
was having a little trouble mounting the horse. But that dammed muzzle
stayed firm on him.
“Benny?” she said, quiet and serious, “Do
please be very cooperative. We really don't need you cognizant to get your
donations, you know. Only alive. Cognizant means to be not in a coma, by the
way.” She smiled at him. Benny snarled back.
“Using bitch.”
With peals of soft laughter, she directed him up
the trail.
An hour later he was locked in a windowless room
in what Cindy called the beer cellar of her home.
“And I know how you love a good brew, honey.
I’ve already sent for a load from your Uncle Charlie. Now,” she slapped
the paneled walls, “This is steel reinforced concrete bunker divided into
office space and below that is my Daddy’s bomb shelter.” Feeling
indulgent, Cindy pointed out the rest of the room’s adornments.
“The room is cooled by a couple of very small
ventilation shafts. So small a child would have trouble putting his fist in
one, let alone the rest of him. The paneling is black walnut variegated with
English walnut. The furniture is like you, sparse, but quite serviceable.”
She smiled at Benny sullen scowl. “A bed.” She glanced at the bed and
her eyes grew dreamy. Cindy caught herself inching towards Benny and
frowned. “A nightstand, lamps, an overhead fan to keep the air from
getting too stale.”
Already it felt like the walls closing in to him.
“‘Bye, sugar. If you need me, just . . .
whistle.”
A string of curses followed her cheery laughter
out. Through a slot in the bottom of the door came a tray. Tantalizing
aromas filled the room. The wolf within snarled at the thought of eating.
Like the wolf, he continued to prowl the confines of his prison, battling
the hiccups fear had brought.
According to the ‘wolf,’ about sundown, the
tray was withdrawn.
Benny squatted on his heels in the middle of the
room and slipped into a light trance. At what felt like dawn, another tray
was slipped in.
He was still. His heart slowed to the bare minimum
to keep him alive. He could go lower still, but at his age that would weaken
him. Benny wanted to be ready. At some time or another they'd open the door
to his cage, and he would take out anybody stupid enough to come through
that door.
At noon the tray was replaced, then again at
sundown. The dogs here must get fed good. The wolf in Benny snarled a smile
at the carpeting under his feet.
©2003 StoriesByEmail.com
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