Morgan smiled and let out a little laugh. “That is a cute story... Now was that one real or was it bullshit too?”
“Hello,” Billie said from the couch.
“Hello there, I don’t believe we had the chance to meet yet. I’m Morgan, and I own your daddy.”
“No, she’s not mine,” John said. “She’s a family friend.”
“What happened to your face?” Billie asked, touching her cheek.
“Oh this?” He grinned and glanced at John. “Your doc tried to blow my head off, so, as a result, I sliced his in two!”
“Why are you here?” Rachel barked.
“And hello to you too!”
“She’s got attitude with everyone, it ain’t just you,” John explained, joining Morgan in the kitchen.
“That’s fine, kids will be kids after all!” Morgan sat down at the table and pulled a chair out for Rachel. “Come on, kid, join me and your daddy at the table.”
“I don’t think so,” she said, getting up and putting her hand on her revolver.
“God DAMN! That just made me all tingly inside!” Morgan laughed, hitting John’s arm. “Kid, I chopped off your daddy’s arm and killed four or five of your people.” He looked at John and mumbled, “You can’t expect me to keep count.” He looked back to Rachel. “What in the fuck makes you think I won’t do it to you?”
John stared at him. “She’s just a kid, she doesn’t know any better.”
“Unless you wanna join Logan and Thomas in the splattered brains brigade, I’d highly suggest you let go of that fucking gun, and you come over here, right fucking now, and tell me your sorry and that this’ll never happen again. Because your next fuck up, could very well be your last!”
John stared at her with pleading eyes. “Rachel, just... Let go of it.”
A couple hours later, after Morgan finished his visit, it was time for him to go back home.
“Lovely kids ya got, John,” Morgan said as they walked to the hospital to get Norman.
“I tried my best.”
“Well you did a damn. Fine. Job!” Morgan grinned. “Rachel’s a bit of a cock tease though, you don’t threaten a man with a gun unless you’re gonna use it! Fuck, I thought we were gonna have some fun in there,” he said with a laugh. “I can tell she’s a fighter. I can only imagine the fights I’m gonna have with that one when you’re dead and gone... Old age, you know how it goes.”
John bit his lip. “I’m forty-four.”
“Damn, really?” he asked, spinning his head around and staring at him. “Guess it must be all the stress and fights that’s got you lookin’ like a burn victims nut sack.”
“Funny.”
Morgan smiled. “Thank you.
“Now on a serious note, we need to get you out to the base sometime!”
“Why?” John asked as he watched Morgan’s men heading out of the gate with weapons.
“Why? Is that a real question?” Morgan asked as they stepped inside the hospital. “You can’t expect me to waste my gas on every date, do you? It’s not like we have a whole lot of it,” he said, putting his arm around him. “Fuck you have to see it. It’s this nice tall factory, surrounded by a deadite fence... The people back home’ll do anything for you- if you’re me anyway. And fuck if the food ain’t the best thing since your wife’s asshole!”
He glared at him as they walked down the hall and stopped at Norman’s door. “Can we hurry this up?”
“Lighten up a little, learn to laugh. God you just keep lookin’ at me with that stink eye of yours...”
John silently stared.
“Just remember, a look is one thing. But when you start acting on those urges that I sure as fuck know you have, that’s when shit really gets bad for you... Something to keep in mind.”
Morgan swung the door open. “How’s my special little man?”
Norman spit. “Piss breath.”
“Look who’s still conscious!” He laughed and looked at Davey. “I honestly didn’t see that coming..."
“Laugh it up now, cause when I get back on my feet, I’m turnin’ you inside out.”
“Was that a threat?”
“It’s a promise.”
“Je-zuz christ! This guy just does not make it easy!
Walking over to Norman, Morgan grabbed him by the shirt and threw him off the bed, booting him in the stomach. “It's like this, Norman! I’m taking you back to the base! You will listen to me! You will do as I say! And you most certainly will not disobey me, or, fucking threaten me!”
“Go ahead and kill me, do whatever you want. But when I die, I’ll be waiting at the gates, and if by some miracle you don’t wind up goin’ to hell, I’ll fight my way to the top just to bring you down.”
Morgan looked at John and smiled. “I am shaking in my boots!”
Morgan lifted Norman up and threw him across the room, head first into the wall. “I’ll be back soon, John, now go relax, clean up, and spend time with your family. Because the day's gonna come when you won’t be able to.”
Chapter 6:
Only the Tippity Top
The next morning, after watching the Acquainted’s jeep drive away from up the road, John, Janey, and the girls piled into the truck.
“Collin, Wyatt, we’re headin’ out, keep everybody safe until I get back,” John said into his walkie.
“Will do,” Wyatt’s gruff voice said.
“You got it, Boss Man.”
Driving down the road, leaving Argentina, Janey put her hand on John’s lap. “So how’s your arm?”
“Still hurts.”
“You think Norman’s gonna be okay?”
“Honestly? No. Not unless they help us.”
John looked in the rearview mirror, glancing at the girls as they chatted in the back of the truck.
“You could leave now,” she told him.
“What?”
“If you really want it to stop, we could just keep driving. Go to the camp you were stayin’ in before the Harbor... We don’t need to fight this.”
“I’m not runnin’.”
Janey patted his knee and leaned her head against the window. “I know.”
“He took so much from us and it wouldn’t be right. To leave people behind, to let the Acquainted get away with what they’ve done... I can’t.”
After a full day of driving, the group arrived at the white walls of Cascadia, the small community John lost his son in.
Stopping in front of the arched entryway, John and his group got out and began walking up the long dirt road toward the council building.
As they walked, they noticed many people staring at them, some from windows, others standing off the road, leaning against buildings.
“Fuck,” John muttered.
“What?” Janey asked.
Pulling out his revolver he fired a shot in the air. “LISTEN UP,” he shouted as everyone crouched down, cowering in fear. “I know somethin’s up. Whatever it is-” He stopped as he heard whistling.
The doors to the council building swung open, and Morgan slowly walked out, with his thumbs in his belt and a grin on his face.
John aimed his revolver at him.
Morgan snapped his fingers and pointed at him, causing Cascadians and Acquainted to aim their weapons at John.
“How?” he asked, holstering his revolver.
“Last night, after I paid you a little visit. I stuck a little surprise under the kitchen table. I heard the whole thing! About you thinking you were gonna use my own people against me, storm my home and kill the fuck out of me and my people.” Morgan laughed.
John looked around at the Cascadians.
“I own these people, just, like I own, you.”
Approaching John and getting in his face, Morgan spoke softly. “And now it’s time to show you your actions have consequences.”
He walked past John and stopped in front of Janey. He looked her up and down. Biting his bottom lip, he let out a laugh. “Fuck I’d tear into that.”
<
br /> “After everything you’ve done, what’s stopping you?”
“The fact that I’m a man, not a god damn animal.”
He stepped in front of Kesler, who was shaking slightly. “Cold?” he asked, running his gloved hand down her arm.
She shook her head. “No.”
He grinned and leaned to her ear. “How much would it suck if I killed John tonight?”
She sniffled and kept quiet.
He laughed as he stepped in front of Rachel, who was holding Billie’s hand.
“If you’re gonna do something do it,” she told him.
“And take all the fun out of it? Fuck you, kid. Seriously, fuck, you.”
Walking back to John, Morgan looked to the Inn and winked at Davey. “Bring ‘em out.”
John and his group watched as Davey opened the door, having the Cascadian council marched out at gun point. All five were gagged, their clothes covered in dirt and blood.
Morgan grinned from ear to ear as the council got on their knees in front of him and John. “You pick!” he said, pointing at John.
“What?”
“Pick,” he said with a smile.
“Pick for what?”
“Who lives.”
John looked down at them. Richard, Jodie and Joshua looked petrified, Crimson was just as emotionless as ever, and fire grew in Alex’s eyes.
“If I don’t choose,” he said, looking up at Morgan. “You’ll kill ‘em all?”
“Right on!”
Staring at them for a moment, he nodded at Crimson. “Her... Crimson lives.”
Morgan smiled and put his hand on Richard’s shoulder. “My turn!”
He threw Richard on his back and pressed his boot down on his chest. “Any last words, Uncle Ben?”
Richard mumbled, trying to spit out his gag as tears ran down his face.
“Sorry, I didn’t catch that,” he said, pulling out his Desert Eagle and blasting a hole through his face.
Jodie screamed as blood splashed up at her, her mouth open so far her gag fell out.
“Your turn, buddy,” Morgan said, thrusting his pistol at John.
He looked down at Joshua and Jodie, both crying hysterically. “I’m sorry,” he said, putting his hand on Alex’s shoulder.
Morgan laughed. “Fuck, you take no pity, do you?”
He glared at him. “They’ll need strong leaders.”
Morgan shrugged. “Fair enough.”
He put his hand on Joshua’s shoulder and threw him on his back.
“PLEASE DON’T DO THIS,” Jodie wailed.
Morgan smiled and rubbed the side of her face with his pistol. “Do you wanna trade places?”
She bit her bottom lip as tears flowed down her cheeks.
He shook his head and looked at John. “Fuck,” he said, looking at the anger in his eyes. “You grew some balls since the last time we met, there’s not a single twinkle in your dead-as-fuck eyes.”
John took a deep breath, and as he opened his mouth to speak, Morgan blasted Joshua’s face apart.
Morgan grinned. Holstering his pistol, he stared John dead in the eyes. “They’d still be alive if you just stayed at home.”
John’s eyebrow twitched as he held his hand by his revolver.
“But we’re not done just yet.” He looked at Davey and nodded. “Get Pat out here.”
“Patty Boy,” Davey shouted, looking back into the Inn.
Patrick stepped out onto the deck. He was wearing baggy black pants, and nothing else.
Morgan leaned ahead and stared at John. “And now, for one of the hardest choices you’ll ever have to make.”
John’s breathing grew heavier as he glared at Patrick.
“Johnny my boy, whose pussy is your BFF stickin’ his dick in tonight?”
Patrick licked his lips and walked up beside Morgan, the mud oozing between his toes.
Morgan laughed in John’s face. “Who gets the pleasure of pleasuring ol’ Pat-Attack?”
John stared deep into Morgan’s cold green eyes. “Don’t.”
“Yes.”
“Please-”
“John. Pick one.”
His lip twitched as he grimaced at him
Morgan grinned and licked his teeth. “Okay, Johnny. How about we try a different game? Who, don’t, you want your BFF stickin’ his dick in?”
“Morgan please-”
“I think I know your answer,” he said with a grin.
A single tear ran down his face as he tried to keep it together. “Me.”
Patrick jerked his head back. “Fuck no,” he said before spitting on John. “Morgs, how ‘bout I pick?”
Morgan bit his tongue and smiled. He looked to Patrick and nodded. “Okay, Pat. Who here would you choose?”
Patrick laughed at John. “His daughter looks pretty good. Maybe his wife.”
John jumped on Morgan, taking him down and slamming his head into his.
“YOU COCK,” Morgan shouted, kneeing John between the legs and throwing him off.
Jumping up to his feet, John pulled out his hatchet and swung, making Morgan jump out of the way.
“AIM AT HIS FAMILY, DON’T INTERFERE,” Morgan yelled, pulling his machete off his belt.
John took a swing at him again, and Morgan swung back, their weapons clashed and Morgan drove his fist into the side of John’s head.
Almost falling over, John swung his hatchet at him, catching his jacket and tearing a hole in it.
“MOTHER FUCKER,” he screamed, swinging his machete straight down, whizzing past John’s stump as he dodged.
John took another swing, and as Morgan jumped back, he booted John in the stomach, knocking him to the ground and making him drop his hatchet.
Rachel pulled out her pistol, stopping Morgan as he held his machete in the air.
“Put it away,” John shouted, keeping his eyes on Morgan.
Her lip shook. “I’ll kill him,” she yelled, aiming for Morgan’s head. “Put your weapon down!”
Morgan laughed and rolled his eyes, looking to Patrick as he stood in front of John’s group.
Patrick pulled out his pistol and swung it down into Rachel’s stomach, and as she lurched forward, he took her down.
Janey reached for her pistol and imminently a man ran at her from behind, striking her in the head with his gun.
Morgan laughed, watching the man hold Janey at gunpoint and watching Rachel struggle under Patrick. “Have at it, Pat” Morgan said with a laugh.
Swiping his hatchet, John jumped up and ran at Morgan.
Thinking fast, he dropped his machete, grabbed John by the arm and threw him toward the Inn, sending him shoulder first into the ground.
Walking over, Morgan lifted John and held him with his arms behind his back. “Watch this, daddy.”
Patrick, still holding Rachel down on her stomach, slid off his belt.
“PATRICK!” John screamed. “PATRICK, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”
“He’s Acquainted,” Morgan told him.
“Pat, Pat, come on, man. This is John, this is my family- think about this? What the hell are you doin’ here, man?”
Patrick pulled out his penis and yanked the back of Rachel’s pants down, exposing her ass.
“I COULD’VE KILLED YOU BACK IN ARGENTINA BUT I DIDN’T,” John screamed at him. “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?”
Morgan let out a chuckle. “I guess your ol’ buddy’s moved on...”
“Morgan, please, please don’t do this,” John said with tears in his eyes as he leaned his head back.
“Would it make you feel better if he kissed her first?” he joked, kissing him on the cheek.
“Please, Morgan, whatever you want, I’ll do whatever you want, just please, don’t do this to her."
Morgan laughed, staring at Patrick who was holding Rachel’s ass cheeks. “Ya know what, Pat. Get off the girl.”
John, shaking in anger, let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
Morgan held both John�
��s arms back with one of his and held his face with the other. He leaned ahead and turned John’s head to him. “But now, John. You, are gonna fuck her.”
Morgan stopped and stared as tears trickled down John’s straight face. “Damn, the fear I put into you is god damn delicious,” he said with a laugh. “Don’t worry. Instead, you’ll just be killing Jodie. After all, like you said, these people need strong leaders, and that girl, sure as the sun isn’t back, isn’t a strong leader.
“Have I broke you yet?” he asked softly. “Because trust me. This was only the tippity top of the giant fuck-berg. And one day, maybe sooner than later, that fuck-berg is gonna sink the fuck out of your titanic... That means Argentina, if you didn’t quite catch that.”
He grabbed John’s hatchet off the ground and drug him by the neck of the shirt over to Jodie.
Patrick slid his dick in his pants and walked away. “Maybe next time, Ghost-Ass.”
“Fuck you,” Rachel said, glaring at him as she got up and fixed her pants.
Morgan grinned and put his thumbs in his belt. “Okay, John. Kill the fu-”
He sunk his hatchet into Jodie’s face, making Morgan’s jaw drop.
Alex and Crimson watched on in horror as John fell on top of the body and began repeatedly sinking his hatchet into her face. Kesler and Billie were crying, Janey was tearing up, and Rachel couldn’t take her eyes off Morgan’s sick twisted smile.
Morgan kicked John in the ribs and swiped his hatchet. “I sure as shit hope that wasn’t you acting out what you wanted to do to me. Because if it was,” he said, tossing the hatchet away. “I’ll personally rip your family apart.”
John was shaking. His face covered in blood as he laid beside Jodie’s corpse. “I promise you, Morgan, if it’s the last thing I do, I’m gonna kill you.”
Morgan laughed. “You do not make it easy,” he said, pulling a cigar cutter from his jacket.
“What? You gonna cut my dick off, make me eat it? You gonna cut all the fingers off my only hand? YOU CAN CUT OFF ALL MY LIMBS AND I’D STILL FIND A WAY TO KILL YOU!”
Morgan’s jaw dropped as far as it could go and wore a ridiculous smile. “Holy fuck,” he said with a laugh, looking at Rachel. “Where was this attitude back home? Hell, where was this attitude when he thought you were about to get your ass blasted?”
When Was? (Book 2): Who Are You Acquainted With? Page 6