Chapter 28
LEGION
A dull, aching throb where I was struck, who knows how long ago, greets me as I open my eyes.
I find myself propped up against a galvanized steel wall.
The camping lantern set on the plywood floor a few feet from me subtly confirms all of my prior suspicions, summoning a smile to my face.
Though, to give myself credit, I was already certain.
Stanley is sitting on the ground behind it, facing me with his arms wrapped around his legs, head tucked behind his knees.
“Where are we?”
“I don’t know.” I barely hear his broken response. “They’ve got us locked in a shipping container.”
“No shit. How long did it take them to transport us here?”
“I don’t know.” Stanley whimpers.
“Did they knock you out?”
“No.”
“ Then fucking think about it!” I snap, shoving myself to my feet as I feel my pockets for anything they might have missed.
They’ve taken my weapons, my cellphone, but for some reason left me with my pack of cigarettes and pair of Zippos.
Strange. I expected them to take everything on me. “Well?” I prompt Stanley once more.
“They drove for an hour, maybe. I’m not sure.” He goes on while I check the mechanism on the door to see if it’s really locked. It is. “And they didn’t uncuff me or take off the hood until I was in here with you. We’ve been locked up for about an hour too, I suppose… Does that help?”
“Not really. But unless they drove in circles, we’re not in Bermuda County anymore.
We could be in some storage yard near the Wilmington Ports, I suppose.
” I walk back to stand before him. “Obviously, they’re on to our little arrangement.
What do they know? I warned you what would happen if we were found out. ”
“Nothing! I swear!” he sobs, “I had no idea they were on to me!”
I swoop down and snatch him by his stupid fucking throat. “ Keep your fucking voice down, you imbecile!” I hiss in his pathetic face. “ This container isn’t soundproof!” He swallows hard and attempts to nod before I shove away from him and step back.
He brings his hand to his throat, rubbing at the soreness my grip left in its wake. “Are they going to kill us? Are they going to kill my family? Is your crew going to kill my family?”
“That’s a little difficult to answer definitively at the moment,” I growl. “Though it’s a safe assumption there will be dire consequences! What did you tell them?”
“Nothing, I swear, nothing! They showed up at the Jocsan location I was working tonight and forced me to take them to our meeting spot. That’s all they’ve asked me so far. Tonight was just as much a surprise to me as it was to you.”
I grit my teeth, angered by my own shortsightedness. I anticipated there would be blowback, and all of these recent hits have had a singular common thread. Someone in this organization is observant. A little sneer pulls at my lips. Reaper learned well from me.
“I believe you, Stan.” I sigh, attempting to set him at ease. He is still a liability, and liabilities must always be dealt with.
I remove the pack of cigarettes from my inner pocket and quickly take a peek inside. The joint I wrapped in cellophane is still tucked inside for a special occasion, and this might just be the occasion I’ve been anticipating.
The loud clunk of the locking mechanism and screech of the door echo inside this steel trap.
I shove the pack of cigarettes back inside my pocket, and my hands instinctively move to grab weapons I no longer possess.
Stanley scrambles to press himself against the back wall like a frightened rodent, as two masked men step into the open doorway.
One of them is armed, and the other tosses two bottled waters into the crate with us.
“Someone will be here to speak with you shortly. The boss wants to make sure you’re comfortable in the meantime.”
That explains why they didn’t take my smokes.
I spare the bottled waters a quick glance.
The lighting in here isn’t adequate enough to determine whether or not these bottles have been tampered with, but they do appear to be sealed and unblemished.
However, I know there are ways to drug bottled drinks, especially water, without any indication of having done so.
“I’ll pass. Though, do you mind if we smoke?” I casually ask as if pococurante about our predicament. Stanley must die, and I can’t risk their interference if I were to simply attack him.
“Like I said, boss wants you comfortable,” the armed one speaks again. I can’t place his voice. He isn’t anyone on my hit list.
I step closer to Stanley and take a seat against the wall beside him.
“You’re tense, and we need to keep our wits about us when we’re eventually interrogated,” I speak calmly and quietly.
Stanley is dead regardless of how this plays out for me.
He doesn’t need to know it. Poor, ignorant Stanley still clings to hope.
Whatever they have planned for him will most likely be much worse than what I have in store.
He betrayed them, which makes him worse than an enemy, worse than me in their eyes.
Although this is a necessary move, it is still a mercy in a way.
I remove the fentanyl-laced joint from my pack of cigarettes, unwrap it, and hand it to him. “This will take the edge off.”
As his trembling hand brings the joint to his lips, I flick open my Zippo and hold the flame out for him to ignite it. He pulls in a few drags, barely coughing at first, then offers it to me.
“Just enjoy the first half, I’ll smoke the last,” I say, tucking True Love into my inner pocket.
The masked men shut and lock the door once again.
Stanley pulls another few drags. “I think about that night at the cemetery a lot,” he says, before coughing again, this time a little harder. “Part of me wishes you had just killed me.”
“ I have…”
He glances at me, perplexed. “Because of where we are now?” he takes another long toke while awaiting my reply.
“In more ways than one, I’m afraid.”
When he coughs now, he brings a clutching hand to his chest. Realization widens his eyes, and he stares at the joint in his trembling hand.
This time, his coughing fit doesn’t cease until it is silenced by death.
“ W hat the fuck happened?” one of the masked men demands upon their return to check on us. It’s been a good forty minutes or so since Stanley passed. I glance over at his slumped form beside me.
“Apparently, the FDA is right. Smoking kills .”
“Get the fuck up!” he demands, clearly unamused. He points the AK in my face. “Fucking psycho.”
“Fuck…” the other one mutters, jabbing at Stanley’s corpse with the barrel of his weapon. “He said not to underestimate this prick.”
“I’m flattered, gentlemen.” I smile as I stand, casually raising my hands. “Would either of you care for a smoke?”
“ Fuck no ,” they reply in unison.
“Let’s go. You try anything, and we’ll see what the FDA says about fuckin’ shooting you in the knee,” the taller one warns, then gestures with the gun toward the open door.
“That would be the ATF .” You fucking goon . When I step outside, we’re in the woods, and as far as I can tell, nowhere near the ports at all.
I’m led at gunpoint to another dark structure.
This one appears to be slightly more accommodating than the shipping container.
An old FEMA trailer with two motorcycles parked outside of it.
One is a newer model Harley-Davidson Road King.
A dark shade, perhaps grey or blue. I can’t tell exactly, it being night and all. The other motorcycle is mine…
I’m sure they searched my bike. Found the two burners and swiped those cellphones also.
Oh well…they were dead ends anyway. If Reaper is clever, at least as clever as I’m crediting him, and if he and Puppet truly are an item, he’d have her commit his contact information to memory.
It was a long shot. And now, I’ve got more pressing concerns.
Before I can comment, a man steps out of the trailer, and I’m ordered to stop walking as the dark figure strides toward me.
“Where’s the cook?” he asks, stopping short of reaching me by an approximate yard. I strain to listen more intently in an attempt to pinpoint where I know that voice.
“This freak killed him,” one of the masked men standing behind me informs him.
“Legion will not be pleased,” the guy who seems to be in charge of this situation mutters. His voice is familiar, but I can’t place him.
“I can assure you, I’m not . I’m rather inconvenienced if we’re being honest. In fact, I’d like to speak with the manager of this operation,” I joke.
“It’s your lucky night,” he says.
“As I see it, that has yet to be determined.” I smile.
“Then let me set your mind at ease. My name is Jagger, and I am here on behalf of Legion. We just want you to stop fucking with our operation. In exchange for your cooperation, we agree to pull out of Bermuda County, permanently. We won’t cook, we won’t deal, we won’t even cross the county line to have a beer at the Twisted Throttle again. ”
Again… Nice touch.
“However, if you persist, there will be consequences,” he adds.
“I’d like a meeting with this Legion .”
“Nobody meets with Legion.”
“Then tell him his deal needs significant sweetening.”
Jagger scoffs. “You’ve really got a set on you.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“What did you have in mind? I’ll relay the message.”
“ A face-to-face with Reaper.”
“Who’s Reaper?” His returning sneer grates my nerves.
“I’ve been accused of many things. Stupid ain’t one of them.”
He considers me for a moment. “You realize we could just kill you right here, don’t you? Bury you in some unmarked grave with your pal Stanley.”
I shrug. “That wouldn’t solve your problems. Do you honestly believe I give a personal shit where you conduct business? I’m afraid you have more to contend with than little old me.”