Serial Fiction | Cry Havok and Release the Dogs 3
I'm in an all wheel drive truck. Bouncing in my seat as we snake our way up the gravel road. Watching silently out the window as trees pass by. Thinking of my first trip to the compound.
My arms and legs were bound with paracord. A gag was shoved in my month and buckled around my head. A black out bag put over my head and tied. If that wasn't enough they used duck tape too and foam to muffle the sound. They wrapped the tape so tight and so many times they nearly suffocated me.
That was seven years ago. This time I'm doing the transporting. I've used a taser several times. Causing the subject to lose consciousness. Better to sleep your way through this trip than to lay in confused terror.
He did shit himself. Not the first time this has happened, but I got a dirty look as if it was my fault we're surrounded by the filthy smell.
"Fuck! What did this guy eat?" I'm saying to know one in particular.
Sitting next to me and driving is a stocky six foot tall man. His name is Amos and I have worked with him several times these past years. He is maybe thirty, I noticed a few grays on his unshaven face. From his formal mannerisms I think he is former military.
The subject is a leaner but well built man about the same age as me. I'm twenty six. We picked up the subject on his way home from work. We stopped in front of him at a redlight, pulled him from his vehicle and tossed him into ours. His name is Benton.