Every Thursday here at http://www.iamliberty.wordpress.com stay tuned for another exciting chapter in Tom Locke’s story. Its not dystopian but, have mercy, its one man’s survival
- A little star’s light in the darkness and desperation
Moments from what could be the most violent and agonizing death Tom Locke writhed under the weight of a man. A Muslim man who had fallen off the enlightened path of this religion and had been twisted by extremism. Now, he was not only under the weight of such a maniac but under his blade as well. The idea of death, here, alone, on a mountain top didn’t sit well with him and of course he fought with all his might to move his neck off the blade. When the pain flashed across his mind and he felt the prick of the knife as the tip entered his neck he went crazy.
The hidden faced men backed away. The two standing behind the man wielding the knife began to laugh at Tom’s fear. The man who had done all the talking so far sheathed his knife in a holster in his belt loop.
“It’s not time for you infidel. Calm down. You have much too much life in you. You need a day to starve. Take some of that fight out of you. I am sure your wounded from the crash. You think you are an American hero don’t you? You think you can beat the bad guys. DON’T YOU!!!”
Tom winced as he felt the warm blood streaming down his neck. He couldn’t establish how deep the wound was because his hands were shackled.
Neck cutter bent down and moved so close to Tom that his breath broke on his ear. Although his last comment ended with a scream of anger his next was encased in a cool whisper.
“You won’t leave here. Enjoy this cabin, my voice and the sounds of nature at night. You will know nothing else. We are the heroes. Our day is coming.”
He turned and walked out the door. His two cronies followed him.
Tom let out a sigh of relief that sounded more like he was coming up for air out of a free dive. The world around him began to fuzz again around the edges of his of his vision. The concussion seemed to be whispering to him once more. Maybe the crash damaged his inner ear? Whatever it was the crash or the brush with near decapitation a rush of nausea came over him. The tiny bit of food he had in his system wound up on the ground in front of him.
“Are you gonna make it man? Hey, how deep did they cut you?”
It was the voice from the dark corner of the cabin. The man who had been silenced by the gun butt just moments ago.
“Im fine,” Tom replied, “just a little nauseous and scared.”
“Listen I dont know where your from or what your about but none of tha really matters. Something terrible is going to happen to our Country two nights from now. We have to get out of here and warn someone.”
Tom raised his shackled arms and stared at the floors where they were connected, “Yeah? Well I’ll start chewing now.”
In the dark corner the sound of heavy shackles hitting the floor started Tom. The clang of the links collapsing was eerie and so loud he though for sure it would bring the soldiers back in.
Then out of the darkness slid a small ring with two keys on it.
“I didnt take that rifle but to the head for nothing.”
A young man of Middle Eastern descent walked out of the shadows. He was thin and exhaustion pooled inside his eyes. There was an old bruise on his face and a fresh knot just above his right eye.
“Get yourself unlocked. We gotta hit them hard when they open that door next time and there is no telling how many of them there will be. My name is Najair. Yes I’m a Muslim but we can talk about that later. Unlock your shackles why I search for some weapons.