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 final hurtle of language and deception
At any other time this mountain top would have been a marvel. Its something brilliant to behold how the earth runs flat for miles and then juts upward toward the heavens. Colliding rock that was set to battle so many millions of years ago now covered in beautiful foliage and life….and death.
The tired wood seemed to echo as it slammed sharply into frame of the door behind Najair and Tom. Intuition screamed at them and the flight response clawed at their movements. The adrenaline pushed into their bloodstream. Still, they both turned to face the closing door. The threat of searing hot bullets ripping at their backs as they ran for the woods was terribly unappealing.
Standing at the door was a man with a strange look on his face. Nothing covered his face. His hair was shoulder length and dark, pulled into a ponytail. His complexion was fair and features that seemed carved from Eastern European heritage. A dirty white t shirt and black baggy khakis adorned the man. He looked at them confused and cocked his head a bit to the right while squinting his eyes. His right hand slid down to a holster on his belt. Squeezing his side arm he smiled a bit at Najair and Tom.
Najair began to speak in arabic incredibly quickly and walked towards the man with his hands up. He wasn’t surrendering instead looking as though he would embrace the man. Allahu Akbar was the only thing Tom Locke could make out of the language. Though it looked like Najair was taking the situation over Tom still kept his own, newly acquired, weapon close at hand.
Digging into his belt line Najair pulled out his own .45 that was gleaned from the monsters coming to terrorize the two of them at the old cabin prison. Holding the pistol more like a new toy rather than a weapon he was clearly boasting about his gun. The two of them laughed a bit and looked over towards Tom. Najair then gripped the gun by the barrel and look around quickly before driving the but directly down on the mans skull. He wobbled but didn’t fall. Again. This blow leveled him.
“We must drag him away. We must hide him.”
Tom obliged by grabbing a leg and sliding him back into the cabin from which he came. They took his gun too. These things were getting heavy but there couldn’t be enough firepower against a radical Muslim farm.
“Let’s get to the woods Najair. This guy will be up soon.”
The night would be a cold one. It would be a long and taxing one. The moon would stare down at them with only a squinted eye. This did them well for cover. Still, when these fallen men come too a party would be sent to annihilate Tom and Najair. Death by the most barbaric means comprehensible. It was the only thing that waited for them in the bowls of this dark night.