‘I wouldn’t try that if I was you boy, it can get mighty dangerous down the basement!’

‘Why am I down here tied up like some sort of pig?’ asks Nathan

The man shakes his head in disappointment.

‘Surely you should know by now star, it’s not every day you get to witness the going-ons from both sides of the fence.’

Nathan laughs, blowing up dust as he does so, covering his face in more muck.

‘True, but this wasn’t my department. I was more of an errand boy, you know, a grunt.’ Says Nathan

The man in the shadows smiles in understanding while nodding his head in a rhythm.

‘I know what you mean, I been doing the same ting down here, I be looking after your ass, till they decide what they want to do with you.’

Nathan nods. Closing his eyes to stop them straining.

‘What do you think they are going to do to me?’

‘That I cannot be sure of star, I imagine it won’t be pretty.’

Nathan opens his eyes once more to try and get a better look at the man in the shadows.

‘What’s your name?’ Asks Nathan

The man takes another drag on his cigar.

‘I can’t tell you that, you know the deal boy. Just stay calm in there, and I’ll try and get you out.’

Nathan’s eyes widen.

‘What do you mean out?’

The man flicks his cigar onto the ground and stubs it out with his army boots. He forces a smile loaded with gold teeth at Nathan. He signals Nathan to stay quiet with his finger pressed to his mouth. Another man comes out of the shadows; this one dressed differently to the Jamaican man Nathan has been talking to, less army and more of a mercenary style of dressing.

‘Who the hell are you’ says the other man

The Jamaican man pats the other man on the shoulder, while extending his right arm, he swings a heavy right hook at him, knocking him cold to the floor. He disarms the man, and takes his weapons and ammunition. Nathan looks on in shock.

‘Don’t you have enough ammo?’ Asks Nathan, still in shock of what he is seeing.

‘That’s the least of our worries. Come on star, I’m getting you out of here. The name’s Fredrick, Chief Shaw sent me here to rescue you. He had a feeling that you had been compromised, so here I am, and here you are. Let’s get gwaning.’

‘How the hell do you supposed I just “get gwaning”’ Asks Nathan

Fredrick nods and searches his pockets rapidly, as if his life depended on it. He finds what he is looking for and slaps it onto the steel security door of the cell that Nathan is occupying. The slapping sound reminds Nathan of bubble gum.

‘What the hell are you doing?’

‘Getting you out star, tuck and roll on 3’ says Fredrick

‘Tuck and roll? What the hell do you mean by that?’

‘1……2…..’

‘Wait goddamn it!’

‘3’

An explosion shakes the floor as the metal security door flies off its hinges and lands on top of Nathan in a cloud of dust and debris. Nathan lets out a moan as he tries to wriggle out from under the heavy set door. Fredrick walks into the cage and helps Nathan out. He uses all his might as he lifts the near 300 pound door with ease, the muscles on his arms bulging as he successfully tips the door away from Nathan.

‘I said tuck and roll star!’ Says Fredrick playfully.

He un cuffs Nathan and helps him up.

‘Firstly I don’t know what that means, secondly my name is not Star!’

‘I know what your name is, now let’s get gwaning, they can show up any moment’

Nathan shakes himself down, dust filling up the air as he does so.

‘Not very subtle you know, blowing the door of its hinges’

‘What you going to do ay, wait for them to open it up for us?’ explains Fredrick.

Both men make their way out of the basement and up the stairs. Fredrick turns to Nathan and signals him to hold his position. He slowly makes his way up the winding staircase while Nathan stays back. Nathan looks up at the winding stairs and sees Fredrick reach the top, shortly after he hears what sounds like a fight. Nathan quickly moves up the stairs but before he can take more than five steps, a body comes crashing down to his feet. He looks up again and sees Fredrick smiling down at him.

‘Let’s go star’

Nathan reaches the top and rendezvous with Fredrick, who by now is lighting up another cigar.

‘I don’t mean to be rude Fredrick but don’t you think smoking while trying to sneak out of a hostile building is a bit… I don’t know….unstealthy?’

‘I don’t see your point Nathan.’

‘Well I’m just saying, the smoke could give us away or something, they could smell us coming. I don’t think that counts towards good stealth practises’

‘Who said anything about being stealthy, don’t worry about them smelling us star, they are going to hear us coming breda!’

Forty Seven

Frank’s head hits the bars on the gate with a tremendous jar, blood spatters off of his head trickling onto the rusty cold metal finally finding its way to the floor.  He kneels down clutching his wounds, wiping the blood from his face. A mighty punch lands on the back of his head, knocking him down again, this time his hands break his fall. As he lays on the ground staring into space, the guard grabs his head, a hand full of hair, and repeatedly bashes Frank’s scull into the metal gate. With each impact the sound grows weary, until Frank can only hear his heartbeat. The pounding stops, his eyes focus once more; the once controllable wound is now bleeding profusely. He clutches at the gate and braces himself. As his head rests on the floor he can hear his tormentor’s every footstep. He hears them coming once again, a sharp kick to the ribs. Frank cringes. He braces himself again, trying to muster enough energy, another kick. Frank’s vision blurs. Consciousness slips.

‘Get up you son of a bitch!’ The guard yells

Frank awakens to another kick. His hands grip the rusty bars of the security door with all the will he can muster. Then a jab to the kidneys. Frank’s grip grows ever tighter. He hears the rumble of another run up by the guard. He times it. Two seconds. One second. Frank grabs the bars tighter and swings both of his legs to the right, catching the guard’s strides as he goes in for another swing. Frank snaps his hips and sweeps the guard off his feet onto his back, blood distorting his vision; Frank gets up and feels out for the fallen guard’s body. He finds his foot. He grabs at the guard’s shiny heavy duty boots and twists the man’s ankle. Snap. The man screams in agony. Frank twists again for personal enjoyment. The man screams once more, this time the scream is barely audible as the breath leaves the guard’s lungs. Frank gets up onto his knees and shimmies closer to the guard’s sternum; he lays in four heavy blows to the ribs. He hears them breaking. The sound is encouraging to Frank, he likes what he hears. Frank pounds the man’s chest like a mallet at the butchers. With each crushing blow, blood exudes from the guard’s mouth. Frank stops, out of breath and weak; he stands up and examines his handy work. The guard lays motionless in a pool of blood pouring out of his mouth; Frank looks down at the man’s chest, caved in, akin to a building imploding. The man’s breathing stops with a gargle of blood and one last plea. Frank smiles a smile only he can wear. He stumbles closer to the fallen man’s head. He kneels down and strokes the man’s hair.

‘Hush little man, don’t you cry, Frank is not going, to spare your life’ Sings Frank in a melodic tone.

Frank gets up and cracks his fingers in anticipation. He breaths in deeply and lets out a barrage of kicks to the man’s scull, each one of them splattering blood in all directions. Frank is covered in blood, his rage is ever growing as he demolishes the once human like corpse of the guard. His kicking taking chunks of humanity with them. Frank moans in enjoyment, almost orgasmic as he falls to his knees, mouth wide open in awe.