Page 4 of Reaper Released

I just keep sniffling and listening and hoping that fucking Shay doesn’t turn up or the bitch will ruin everything. One of the guys slaps me around a bit while spouting trash that they don’t think I understand, and it’s taking all I have to just take it and whimper, but I’m actually doing my own head in, fucking hell! I just need a little more and then I can kill them.

Through the day they hang me from the hook, and through the night they tie me to a cot, next to one of the main support beams.

I’ve been working on a plan. It’s only Wednesday, and I need to get out of here by Friday morning at the latest, so I’m just keeping my ear to the ground and crying when they slap me. It’s kind of awful. Jose hits like a fucking girl, preferring to slap rather than punch my face, so while it stings, there isn’t any damage as such. He does like to punch me in the stomach quite often whenever he passes me by, but I have to pretend it hurts more than it actually does.

Franco often gets a little handsy, grabbing me around the jaw and snarling in my face while groping my tits and arse. I bite the inside of my mouth and try not to headbutt the twat, but I’m gonna kill that fucker so good, that piece of shit’s gonna die. I know I’m gonna be left with bruising from his rough groping and he’s gonna pay with his motherfucking life.

Hugo’s a different story, never touching, but his penetrating gaze follows my every move. He seems to get hard watching the others do what they do, but stoically stands there all the same. Occasionally I catch him licking his lips or adjusting his junk, but always from at least six feet away.

After finding out a few more juicy bits of gossip, Franco lets slip that they are actually planning on selling me after they get the ransom. They are gonna double cross the club. They have been working with another club up the coast, the Hellhounds of Havenbrook. Once they overthrow the head of the Castillo Cartel, they are getting into the human trafficking business, and little ole me, I’m gonna kick start their little empire. But they have also let slip in front of me dates and places of other… let’s say less than legal activities, which I’m gonna make the Hellhounds pay dearly for. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s human trafficking. I think I just found a hobby, and I’m gonna destroy everyone involved.

After more of the same, more secrets spilled, a few more smacks around and plenty more groping, I’m ready to get the fuck out of here. Fucking amateurs haven’t even checked me properly, too busy groping me. They are gonna lose their lives for this.

It’s the middle of the night, early hours Friday morning. I reach down and slide my knife out of my boot, slicing through the rope and checking my watch. It’s 2.30 a.m. Franco will be in the van asleep. Jose’s on guard duty at the front, and Hugo’s at the back, which means they’re asleep by the doors. Fucking dicks!

Miguel won’t be here till around eight, and he will have Dumb and Dumber with him. I haven't even bothered to learn their names. From what I can make out, they’re Hellhounds, and they aren’t very bright. Grabbing a few lengths of rope, I make two nooses, sliding my socks off and my boots back on. I slide my socks over my hands. Hopefully that’ll help with the rope burn.

Throwing the ropes up into the hay loft with my blade in my hand, I sneak to the back side of the barn to where Hugo will be and climb up into the hay loft, sliding out of the door at the back. He’s below me, sitting on the floor, back to the barn, asleep with his head lolling forward. There’s what looks to be an AR15 laid half on his lap half on the floor with his hands palms up beside him. Time to hook a fucking duck!

I will only get one chance, and I need to snatch him up quickly so he can’t shout, or worse, grab for the rifle. Opening up the noose, I tie the other end round my waist. My plan is to hook him, then jump under the hay loft back into the barn, using my body weight to yank him up, spragging myself under the underside of the hay loft, hopefully giving me enough leverage. Here goes nothing.

I dangle the rope out the hay loft. It takes a few attempts to get it to land over his head. I pull it gently so It snags under his chin. I take some of the slack from the rope, wrapping it around my back and around my arm, taking a deep breath and taking a quick few steps back, while dragging on the rope, heaving the weight of Hugo off the floor.

Hearing a startled strangled cry before feeling the struggling, I lean back out of the hay loft, spragging my feet underneath the ledge and pushing so I’m standing upside down. I stretch out to my full height. If he has a knife and can get to it, this will go horribly wrong for me, so I hang on for dear life, and when the scraping of boots stops on the wood and the faint gasping sounds stop, I wait a tad longer.

I still stay there until I think I might pass out before easing slowly off and using his weight to pull me back into the hay loft. I tie the rope off and cut myself free before sliding down the rope and Hugo’s limp body.

I snatch up the AR15 and slide the knife back out of my boot. My trusty Emerson Karambit. I fucking love this knife. I sneak around the side of the barn to the van. I have a couple of lengths of rope with me. I need to disable Jose and Franco before Miguel, Goon One and Goon Two turn up.

Checking on the van, Franco’s spark out, so I creep around to Jose and slide up beside him, reaching a hand over his mouth. I stab him in the neck. I want to make it slow and painful, but I can’t afford to. I need to make this quick and clean and get the job done. Watching the life drain out of him, I drag a hay bale over and shove it on top of him to hide the blood. Heading around to the van, I check the time. It’s nearing four.

I know cracking the door will startle him, so I have to be fast. I crack the van door and slide it back. Franco lurches up as he gets to the opening. I dive in as he swings at me. I hiss as there’s a pain in my right thigh, but I just stab wildly at him, directing my blade at his chest. He falls back, clutching at the wounds. I reach up and stab him in the neck. He gasps at me while I grin down at him. I stab once more for good measure before he stops struggling.

I look down, and there’s a gash on my right thigh. Motherfucker. He has a Swiss Army knife in his hand. Well, fuck you, Franco. You missed out on the horrible death I had in mind for you, but tough, you’re dead now, anyway.

I cut a strip of fabric from the bottom of my shirt and tie it around my leg. I tie some of the rope around Jose’s body and attach him to the van. Work smarter, not harder, am I right? I start the van up and drive it inside the barn, where I drag Jose’s body with me. Checking my watch again, it’s nearly 6.30 a.m., so tossing Franco out of the van and dragging his dead arse out of the way, I cover the blood in the van with the blanket Franco was using. I drive the van back out to where it was and leave the keys in the ignition for my getaway, grabbing some granola bars from the glove box and a couple of bottles of water. I gather all the weapons I can find before heading back inside.

Chilling and regaining my strength, I have the AR15 from Hugo, the Swiss Army knife from Franco, a Glock I found in the glove box, a hunting knife and a Beretta from Jose. I also nicked Jose, Hugo and Franco's phones. I removed the face IDs from them, so I can open them without a password or facial recognition. I switched them all off, removed the batteries and stuffed them in the glove box. So now I just wait. I need to chill out and regain some energy, snacking on the bars and water out of the van. I sit up in the hay loft and wait, and wait, and wait some more.

This won’t be the bloody death I wanted them all to have, but dead is dead. It doesn’t matter how brutal or fancy you make it. Watching the time slip by is all I can do for now.

At 7.55 a.m., I hear Miguel pull up and Dickhead One and Dickhead Two pull up on their bikes. I jump out of the hay loft and slide around the front, watching Miguel pacing backwards and forwards on the phone near the van

“Fuck, Shay… I don’t give a shit… The deal’s done… She will be sold… I don’t care what you want… No, you don’t get to kill her, she’s gonna make me a fortune… Who do you think you’re talking to?” The line must have gone dead.

Ah, trouble in paradise. That makes me smile! I head back inside as I want to contain the mess to the barn. I wait with the gun in the shadows. I have used some of the straw to make up a lump in the bed and slipped the scratchy blanket they left me around it. It won’t fool anyone close up, but from the doorway where I’m hiding, you can’t tell it isn’t a person.

Dumb and Dumber enter first. Dumber has his gun drawn, so he’s my priority. Dumb still has his holstered. Miguel flanks them as he walks in. I pistol whip him and knock him out. I need him alive. As he drops, Dumber swings round and lets out a shot just as I return one. His hits me in the stomach, and mine hits him between the eyes. He crumples to the floor. Dumb is only just drawing his weapon so as I shoot, I take out his knee cap, dropping him to his knees. I storm over, and he tries to shoot again, clipping my left bicep. I shoot him in the chest and he crumples backwards onto the floor.

Walking over, I let off a couple of rounds between the eyes to be safe, then head over to Miguel. I bind him good, like a Christmas fucking ham, and bring the van round, throwing him hog-tied in the back. I fish everyone’s phones and keys out of their pockets and wheel the bikes into the van too. They're nice bikes and we may be able to strip them for parts or sell them. Dozer will know what to do with them.

I remove my shirt and force a lump of it into the wound in my stomach. Fuck, it hurts like a motherfucker. I think it’s only adrenaline keeping me going. It’s more my side than my stomach, looking at the damage. I tie a piece of my top around my waist, holding it in place, and I tie a piece around my bicep where I’ve been clipped. Fuck, I hate getting injured. It’s a massive inconvenience.

As I try to drag Dumb and Dumber closer together, I realise I’m exhausted. I've barely eaten all week, so I give them both a kick in the fucking face, and grab the jerry cans. There’s some fuel in them, so I douse Dumb and Dumber, and splash some around Jose and Franco, throwing some over Hugo still dangling outside. I take all their jewellery, watches, wallets and anything else that will be useful.

I strip anything valuable out of Miguel’s car and drive it into the barn, undoing the petrol cap and leaving a length of fuel soaked T-shirt hanging out of it, then I set fire to the fuckers using the rest of my T-shirt and a bit of left over fuel and the cigarette lighter from the van. All the dry hay really helps, and within minutes, the barn’s engulfed.

As I take off, the fuel tank in the car explodes and it makes me smile. I screech off with Miguel hog-tied and my bounty of two bikes, five phones, four watches, three rings, a fucking gordy bracelet, two necklaces, a Swiss Army knife, AR15, a smug arse fucking grin and a partridge in a pear tree!

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