No Fortunate Son A Pike Logan Thriller

17

 

 

 

 

Kylie felt a cold draft sink from the window, breaking through her small bit of warmth and causing her to glare at it in frustration. Their cellar prison was constantly frigid, with only sparse woolen blankets provided to keep them from going into hypothermia. When nighttime came, the cold of their subterranean cell increased, the dampness seeping into her bones and preventing sleep. Her only moment of warmth came when she was allowed out to use the bathroom. Just breaking the door at the top of the stairs provided a welcome blast of heat, and using the toilet allowed her to sit in relative luxury for a scant few minutes, but now the small window was robbing her of her only pleasure.

 

It was tiny, really a slat more than a viewing pane, maybe ten inches high and two feet wide, and looked as if it was shut tight, but the outside air was leaking through. She stood on the toilet, awkwardly pulling herself up with her tied hands until she was level with the bottom of the pane. She saw that it cranked outward, opened by a small lever—and it was cracked just a smidgen. She rotated the handle, cinching the wood tightly into the frame and sealing out the draft. She stood for a moment and looked through the pane at the freedom beyond. She saw a bed of gravel just below the sill and a concrete wall eight feet away. The window was only six inches above the ground.

 

Her guard threw a fist against the door, scaring the life out of her. She collapsed back into a sitting position on the toilet, her pants still fastened, saying, “I’m almost done. Please. Another few seconds.”

 

The man grunted something but didn’t open the door. She sat for a moment longer, then flushed. The noise brought the guard in, the man clamping down on her flex-tied wrists and leading her back into the hallway. She glanced back at the window, an impossible, lunatic thought flitting through her head.

 

Back in the cellar darkness, she waited for her eyes to adjust to the small glow escaping from the door at the top of the stairs. They no longer had to wear the hoods at all times, but the basement was still as black as pitch, the edges of the door providing no more illumination than a slice of the moon in a forest.

 

She whispered, “Nick?”

 

“Yeah, I’m here. You okay?”

 

“Yes. I’m fine. I see it didn’t warm up while I was gone.”

 

Nick chuckled and said, “But you got the heat of the toilet, right?”

 

The comment brought a smidgen of shame, as she was the only one allowed the luxury of a toilet. The men were forced to use a bucket in the corner, which would have been bad enough, but she’d told Nick about the warmth. About the brief respite from the dungeon they were in.

 

He sensed the pause and said, “Kylie, I was kidding. Don’t feel bad about what you get in relation to us. Use it.”

 

She said, “That’s what I want to talk to you about. I think I can get out of the window in the bathroom. It’s so small they don’t bother locking it because no man could get through it, but I think I can fit.”

 

“You mean escape?”

 

“Yes. If you think it’s best for me to try.”

 

Lieutenant Colonel Travis Deleon cut in, his voice floating out of the darkness. “No. No way. You heard the instructions. Someone even tries to escape, and one of us will die. This is a typical hostage situation, and we treat it as such. Let negotiations take their time.”

 

Kylie said, “I don’t think they’ll harm us while we still have value. We can do whatever we want right now, but they will eventually kill us. It’s only a matter of time. They have no intention of letting us go.”

 

“Young lady, you don’t understand how this works. I cannot allow you to attempt that. You’ll put us all in jeopardy.”

 

Nick said, “Sir, what the hell are you talking about? How would you know how this works? Trust me, I’ve seen what happens to people in this situation, and it isn’t pretty. Kylie’s right. Our one weapon is our value. There’s something these guys hope to get from it, and the minute they do, our value drops to nothing. Until then, they won’t hurt us no matter what we do.”

 

Kylie heard the words and thought, Seen what happens to hostages? Where? In the Air Force? He told me he was a weatherman. She wondered what else the vice president’s son had hidden from her.

 

LTC Deleon replied, his voice strained in a harsh half whisper, “Nobody is doing anything beyond what they tell us. Nobody. Do you two hear me? I’m not getting killed because of idiocy.”

 

Kylie said, “I’m telling you, we’re dead anyway. Have you not wondered why nobody bothers to cover their face? Why they don’t care how much information we can glean by simple contact? They’re even giving us their names. They have no intention of letting us go.”

 

Travis said, “You don’t know that. The names could be fake. One thing is for sure: You try to escape, and someone’s going to die. Probably me. I’ll take my chances on the negotiations. On the rescue.”

 

Nick said, “You fucking sicken me. Nobody is going to find us in time. These men know what they have and know how much pressure will be brought to bear. They’ve put a lot of thought into this, and they’re going to be a step ahead of our government. We need to plan for our own escape.”

 

“So you want to put your girlfriend in the line of fire? And you call me a coward.”

 

Nick said nothing for a moment, then, “No. That’s not what I want.”

 

She said, “Nobody’s putting me anywhere. It’s my choice. I think I could get out, and Nick’s right. These guys are smart. Anybody that’s looking for us is on the wrong trail, or they’d have been here already. If I can get out, I can fix that even if they move you guys later.”

 

Travis said, “Move us later? Seriously? Both of you are delusional. Even if you could escape, we’ll disappear. You’ll be no help. Nobody will find us.”

 

Kylie thought about her uncle, then about her uncle’s friend. About the stories she’d heard hovering among the groups of men during her uncle’s unit parties. She’d been much younger then, and impressionable, but she was sure the stories were real.

 

Just above a whisper she said, “That’s not true. My uncle is looking, and he has some scary friends. If I could escape, I could get to them. They would rescue everyone.”

 

Travis snorted and said, “Your fantasy isn’t worth my life. I’m telling you both again, as the senior officer, nobody is to do anything against the orders of our captors. It’s too risky.”

 

The door slammed open and the bearded man came stomping down, shouting, “Shut the fuck up or the hoods go back on.”

 

Caught in the light, Travis tried to get out of the man’s path, wrapping his arms over his head. Nick rocked back but kept a defiant look on his face. The man slapped Travis in the head, then saw Nick staring at him. He slammed a boot into Nick’s stomach, causing him to grunt and roll onto the ground. The man said, “You want to be taken down a peg and I’m more than willing to do it. We only need you breathing.”

 

Nick squeezed his hands against his gut but maintained his insolent expression.

 

The man advanced on Kylie, pulling her head up by the hair. He said, “You still want a pissing contest?”

 

The terror flooded through her, her eyes rolling in a fear that was reflected on Nick’s face.

 

Nick said, “Okay, okay. Stop. I won’t talk. Please.”

 

The man stared at him in silence for a moment, then threw Kylie to the ground. He walked away to the stairs without looking back, slamming the door and plunging the room back into darkness. Kylie began to weep.

 

She lay in the cold, stricken by their utter helplessness, her earlier bravery vanishing as quickly as the light from the door.

 

Nick wormed over to her and whispered, “It’s okay. He’s gone. I won’t do that again. I promise.”

 

She thought about the window. She sniffled and said, “I don’t know if I can do what I said. I don’t have the courage.”

 

“I don’t want you to do it. I don’t think they’ll kill us if you get away, but I’m sure they’ll kill you if you don’t.”

 

She started sobbing again, a low, desperate sound. “We’re going to die.”

 

He awkwardly brushed her shoulder with his bound hands. “Shh. Don’t think about that. Focus on anything else. Something to draw strength.”

 

She closed her eyes and rubbed her necklace. She pictured her uncle’s friend. An executioner who would eradicate every single one of their despicable, cowardly captors. A hunter she dared hope was searching for her right this minute.

 

 

 

 

 

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