Chapter 59

"Hands up, climb out of the car."

Jack couldn't believe this was happening. Nicole's health had improved; she was no longer so afraid, "Jack, don't climb out."

"We have to; they will kill us if we don't."

"We are not climbing out. These guys are wearing the Taliban's clothes. I don't trust them. We are not in Iraq." Said Angela

"These guys' faces are covered; their identities are hidden from us. They can kill us and walk away."

"You guys stay here. I will climb out."

"No, Jack, I owe this to you and Angela. Let me go."

The guy wearing the scarf over his face walked up to them, pointing his rifle at them, "move, move." He insisted as he swung his gun at them.

"Relax, I am climbing out." Jack had his hands in the air as the gunmen waved his gun at Marcus, "everyone out."

They were stranded on a dry gravel pathway surrounded by bushes. The narrow, gravel, straight path had to lead them to these Taliban hands. A white 4x4 stood and blocked them from reversing. Google maps indicated this was a road, which is why they had used the Ferrari.

These eight gunmen wore thawbs and sounded foreign. Why would they be out here? They heard a women scream from a distance. Jack had now known they were not the only ones. Whatever these people were doing was dangerous and cruel. Jack looked back at Marcus, thinking the only way out of this was if he was on his game. They had taken away Marcus's gun, leaving him at a disadvantage. Jack turned and looked over his shoulder. The next moment he was knocked out, "where are we?"

He opened his eyes, and they were all in one cell; their hands tied behind their backs. They were sitting on a concrete floor, and the smell stenched of rotten eggs laying for days; the dried-up blood was on Jack's jacket. Angela looked over at her brother, "are you okay?"

"I would be better if I knew where we are."

"We are where I was kept all this time, Jack."

Marcus turned and looked at his sister, "is this the cell they kept you locked up in?"

"Yes, it is."

Nicole was calm; she handled it surprisingly well. They heard heavy footsteps. In the center of the steel door was a piece of metal that slid up and was forty-five centimeters long. The piece of metal slid up, and a piece of meat got shoved through it. It was black, burned, and had an off smell. After shoving the meat through the hole, which dropped down to the ground, the piece of metal closed.

"Did you notice something?"

"Notice what, Marcus, that we are trapped in this shit cell getting fed human or dog meat?"

On top was a red light flickering, "Look up, guys."

"What are we looking at?"

"That light flickering, it's recording us."

"Nicole, was that there before?" Said Angela.

"I dont know too much was happening, but now is our chance to get back at this, guys."

Jack and Marcus looked at each other. Nicole showed no emotion as she stared up at the roof. "I would never think I would be back here again. There was screaming and crying, people pleading to be left out. Some others have just accepted death and wait patiently for their organs to be sold."

"Wait, did you say they sell organs?" Said Angela.

"Yes, they sell organs people will pay millions for a kidney." Blood started to run under the door.

Jack has trained himself to be calm in all situations. Becoming anxious and scared could increase your heart rate and make you sweat more, and since there is no water around, you could get dehydrated and tired and eventually sick.

"Is that blood under the door?"

Nicole shook her head, "that's the red stain on the concrete. It flows to the drain. That's the hole in the center of the room."

"Does all the rooms have this? And that disgusted blood is running over the meat," Jack sat cross-legs, silently with his hands over his knee.

"Bro, are you meditating in this crisis?"

Jack opened his eyes and looked at Angela. "If you believe you are stuck between these four walls, you will stay here."

"And how exactly is your meditating getting us out of here?"

"It's not. It's preparing me for what's about to come."

"So you are telling me you will let those assholes hurt us?"

"No, nothing will happen to any of you?"

"You are forgetting we are tied up, and we can't do anything."

"Look again, guys."

"Am I tied up?"

Everyone was so fixated on getting out they had not noticed Jack broke loose from the handcuffs. Everyone's attention was on Jack in that room. Nicole smiled, "that's why I know we will get back at them."

"How did you break loose?"

Jack showed them his thumb. He had dislocated his bone.

"Hold on."

He cracked it back into place, "can you please get us out of these cuffs." Nicole had hair pins in her hair.

"Do you mind?"

"No, of course not."

"Just please get me out of this."

Jack stood up and used the pin to open the coughs.

"You well skilled. Who taught you all this?" Said Marcus stretching out.

"Wait, you let them catch us and bring us here, didn't you."

"Now is not the time for questions, sis."

"That light will stop flickering approximately ten minutes from now. You will see the cell door opening, with more than just one of them."

"Marcus, you will be on the right side. I'll grab a gun."

Jack removes his top, throwing it over the camera. Immediately voices and footsteps were running toward the cells.

"Hold on," said one of the guys. "That kid Jack has something planned. He is a highly skilled assassin."

They took tear gas and shoved it through the hole. Jack was fast enough to throw it back at them, holding the piece of metal close. The men dispersed as the tear gas filled the passage, and there came coughing sounds from the guys as they ran back up the stairs.

"This never played out as well as I imagined."

Nicole started to cough; Marcus removed his shirt and placed it at the bottom of the door.

"What now?"

Jack walked over to the door, pushing on it, "this thing is pretty solid."

"Yes, it's as thick as a vault door."

Jack paced back, "what if we remove the shirt from the camera and pretend the gas had got to us?" Angela suggested.

Claire sat in her room, her eyes filled with tears. The doorbell rang, and Claire's heart started beating faster, "do not open the door," she shouted from upstairs as she ran downstairs with her gun in the back of her pants. Her dad had already opened the door, "it was who she thought it was." The reaper was wearing his dark black hoodie with a butcher knife. Her dad's eyes grew wide, and as his heart raced, the reaper turned and looked at Claire. Without uttering a word, he walked towards her, "your leave my daughter alone. I am a powerful man."

The reaper turned around and looked at her dad, "don't you dare lift your hands for my dad."

The reaper turned, looked at her, and, in a deep voice, said, "I'm not here to hurt anyone. "

Four men who appeared out of nowhere, wearing suits, stood at the side of the doorway as a tall guy wearing a black suit, hair neatly combed to the back with the words tattooed death across his neck, stepped in. The reaper went down on one knee, looking downwards, "My lord," the men in the grey suits went down on one knee and "My lord." The man wearing a black suit had a twelve-centimeter scar down his face; one eye was white, and the other was blue; he was in his early fifties.

"What's going on here, honey? Who are these men?"

Claire's dad shook his shoulder, "I don't know, my dear, but they are here for daughter."

"You do not speak in the presence of my lord," said the reaper. That's when the mother noticed the reaper. His looks could make the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

"I am sorry." Claire gulped. She had never met this man before, but for everyone to call him their lord, he had to be powerful.

He stepped through, looking up at the roof and then at Claire's mother, "I can see where your daughter gets her looks from, lovely home."

Claire's mother was not sure whether or not she could speak.

"I am not sure if you know me, but I know all about you, Claire. Would you mind if I have a chat with your daughter?" He said, removing his black hat and the upside-down cross tattoo on his forehead appeared.

Her dad was too scared to say no. All words that could escape his mouth were, "sure, of course, you can make yourself at home."

"For someone in your position, you are not quite a father of the year trusting us with your daughter. It shows weakness in character," he looked up as he was sitting, "and I feed on weakness."