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 last ditch effort of bits and shards
The next clang was that of Tom’s shackles falling to the cabin floor. Freedom! Though he knew nothing of his location but this tiny cabin, his three captures and those terrible shackles Tom was overwhelmed with hope. He felt the grated skin around his wrists from the weight and edge of the metal.
“Tom,” he approached Najair and offered his hand, “Thanks.”
“Please. Help me find something to bludgeon them with. If they return we must be ready.”
Tom searched around the dark cabin that contained very little. There were a couple of wooden chairs that could be broken up into weapons. Maybe even sharpened up if they could use the rough edges of the shackles. In the corner by the only door stood a tall wooden cabinet. Inside he found spider webs and an old pen. That pen felt like a machete in his hands.
He felt around on top of the cabinet, which was only a few feet tall. His hand ran through a thick layer of dust and then came in contact with something very familiar. The cool leather of his wallet and underneath that was a key ring of his own. The best thing was not that he had his driver’s license but that his micro mace was in his hands again. He could purify water and start a fire much easier with his EDC items attached to his key ring”.
“Najair, any luck over there?”
The tired man appeared from the darkness with what looked like an old fireplace tool. It was worn but it was metal and heavy enough to do the job. The job, however was not something Tom was looking forward to. Still, it was much more appealing than to die today or tomorrow, on camera.
“We are still on the mountain. Lets not be foolish and believe we can muscle our way down these hills. This is where they train Tom. Beyond this door you will see just what that means. In and out of consciousness I have learned much about this particular cell. Also that it is not the only one so well entrenched, funded and protected.”
“What do you mean protected? I survived a plane crash what seems like hours ago. My body is thrashed. Are we going to have to jump barbed wire fences or cement walls.”
“Your thinking of the wrong type of protection, Tom. These are not the archaic protections of stone and steel from centuries passed. I am talking about protections afforded by the political structure. The local government and even police have been paid to stay far away from here. My captures have told me ‘scream all you want. The police don’t come up here. If they do they’ll lose their job. ‘ This is much bigger than you or I .”
He moved for the door as Najair behind him wrapped a smaller length of chain he found around his knuckles. Their escape would have to be swift. He worried that the mountain towns below would be part of the coverup. His had went for the doorknob but stopped just shy as he heard approaching voices. These were not studded with accent. These were distinct and Northeastern in accent.