CIA - The Slave Traders

by Joe Bob Newman

them.

  She walked for nearly twenty minutes, then she came to the main gate and fence around the compound. The gate was closed. She wedged the bolt cutters between the two gates and worked them until she had about ten inches of clearance. Most of her would fit through, but not her belly.

  Continuing to work the gates and bolt cutters, she got the opening to about fourteen inches. It would move no further. She worked partway through the gate, but was again stuck at her belly. She sucked in her belly all that she could and wedged her way through the small opening. At last she was through.

  Her belly was hurting as she walked to the new house. A dog barked somewhere in the backyard area, she hid among some bushes. The night was still, quiet and dark. She expected a guard, but saw no one.

  Lynda found the front door unlocked. She opened the door and slipped through. The house was quiet and dark, just like outside. Her steps were quiet on the thick carpet. She began to search each room.

  Elaina was sitting up in bed reading her book when the alarm beeped that the front door had opened. Probably the wind, but she had to get up and go check it anyway. It wasn’t the first time that the wind had blown the door open.

  She turned on the lights and just missed seeing the intruder hide in the front bedroom. She pulled the front door closed, locked it, and began turning off lights as she went back to bed.

  Lynda breathed a sigh of relief. She had not gotten a look at the woman. She had been too busy hiding. However, she did see the room that the woman had gone into. She continued searching the other rooms with her flashlight. No one else was in the house. Every room was empty of people. Good, she thought. She found a small pillow and took it with her.

  Lynda was standing at the master bedroom door; she knelt down and was trying to look under the door when the light went out. She sat down on the floor and waited. It seemed like hours had gone by, but by her watch it was twenty-two minutes when she tried to open the door. As she expected, the doorknob turned and the door opened silently. Her eyes had already adjusted to the dark, and she could see the bed with the two people in it. She entered the room and was halfway to the bed when one of the forms rose up. It was the woman.

  The woman began to scream. Lynda pushed the pillow down hard on her gun barrel and shot the woman twice. The man was up now; he was reaching into the drawer of the nightstand. He came up with a gun in his hand. But Lynda was too fast for him. She shot him twice in the chest. She was not sure how loud the shots had been, so she stood still and waited for something to happen. All was quiet.

  She felt of the woman’s neck. She did not have a pulse. She felt the man’s neck. He had a pulse. Placing the pillow around the gun barrel again, she shot him in the head.

  Lynda eased back through the bedroom door into the hallway. She was certain that someone had heard and would be coming. The dog was barking in the yard. She hoped that she would not have to shoot the dog. The pillow was smoking. She was afraid that it was smoldering. The smoldering pillow gave her an idea. She blew on the end of the pillow. A small flame erupted.

  She placed the pillow on the sofa and stacked all the other pillows around it. She would burn the house to the ground. Several different pillows were on fire now. The first pillow was blazing. She moved pillows around the room to spread the fire. She flung a pillow into the drapes, and almost instantly they were on fire. The room was full of the flickering firelight.

  She went to the front door. It was locked. She turned the knob and the door did not budge. It was stuck shut. She felt the first pangs of panic setting in. She pulled on the door with all her might. It would not move at all. Something else was wrong. She studied the door closely. There was a third lock, up about a foot from the other two. Lynda turned the knob on the safety lock, and it released. The door moved a fraction of an inch.

  She jerked the big door open and air rushed in. The flames leapt to the ceiling. She stepped off the porch step at an awkward angle and felt a twinge in her ankle. Only the boots had prevented her from spraining it.

  The fire was now licking at the front door. Lynda hurried to the main gate. The bolt cutters were still in place. She tried to edge through the gate, but again, her belly got caught. She let her breath out and sucked her stomach in all that she could. Her belly was stuck fast. Her shirt was caught in the gate.

  She heard someone yell, “Fire, fire, the big house is on fire!”

  She rotated slightly, and her belly was through the gate, but she had torn her shirt open. The buttons had all popped off and her bra was showing. She ignored the shirt and began to walk fast toward the middle gate. Men were running around behind her, fastening hoses to spigots and spraying the fire with water. Everyone seemed to be ignoring her.

  She got to the middle gate and realized that she had left the bolt cutters at the main gate. She did not want to go back for them. She wedged herself around the gate and easily slipped through. Walking as fast as she could go, she made it to the next gate. She stepped across the chain and was at her car. She was in the car when she saw headlights coming at her from the main gate. Someone was coming toward her. She hurriedly started the car and was off down the road without the lights on.

  She was careful to not step on the brakes. The car was still a good half-mile behind her. She pushed the gas pedal to the floorboard. The speedometer slowly climbed to sixty, and she let off. There was a huge dust trail behind her. She could not see the other car’s headlights anymore. She turned off on the main road and headed back to town. Her car was accelerating slowly as she felt the panic in her rising. The other car turned in behind her and she watched as it closed the distance behind her.

  The rear window of her car exploded. They were shooting at her. She tried to shoot back, but she could not turn around enough to point her gun. Actually, that was probably for the best. She would have used up all her ammunition without a good target being available.

  The other car pulled up beside her. She jerked the wheel to the right and slammed on the brakes. The other car shot by her and slammed on its brakes. Lynda was now in the position that she wanted to be in. Her car stopped and she opened the car door and struggled to get out. Again, her belly was caught on the steering wheel. She thought, I am just too pregnant for all this.

  She got out of the car, and stood behind the door. A head and shoulder stuck out of the other car’s passenger window. She aimed carefully and shot three times. The head sagged out the window. Lynda began to walk toward the car. The car took off down the road. She emptied her gun into the car. She pulled the empty clip out and threw it on the ground. She put the new clip in. The other car was now too far away to attempt a shot.

  The other car stopped and the door opened. The body was pushed out, and a man got from the backseat into the passenger seat. The car turned around and began coming at Lynda. She walked down the side of the car, and moved to the back of the car. She waited until the car was nearly on top of her, then she fired at the driver’s door. She hit it three times. The other car careened into the field.

  Lynda ran around to the driver’s side and got in her car. She put the car in gear and pressed the gas pedal to the floor. The car fish tailed onto the pavement. Then she was rapidly pulling away from the other car. It was still facing the other direction.

  The needle on the speedometer passed eighty, and then settled on a hundred miles per hour. The car bounced all over the road. She turned on her lights just in time to see a deer in the road. She eased the wheel to the right and went around the deer. She could see the lights of the town in front of her. She could also see headlights behind her. The big car was coming at her again. She wished that she had gotten a faster car.

  The town suddenly appeared. She slammed on the brakes and turned her lights off again. She was among buildings and she was looking for a place to hide. Everything was quiet and open. There was no place to hide. Lynda drove on
, in the near-dark.

  She came to the center of town. She was still speeding. She needed to turn at the next intersection. She pulled up on the emergency brake and rapidly slowed down. At the town’s main intersection she turned right and released the brake.

  At the hotel, she pulled into the rear parking lot and slid to a stop. She was quickly out and did her best to run to the front of the hotel. She still had the gun in her hand, and her shirt was wide open. Several people ran from her. The other car must have gone straight; she did not see it.

  Lynda pulled her shirt closed and put the gun back in its holster. There were only a few people out and about. She went into the hotel and found her room. She undressed and was quickly asleep. She did not even put her gown on. Just lay on top of the bed.

  Several hours later, she woke up to a knocking on the door. She got up. Pulled her house coat on, stuck her gun in the big floppy pocket, and went to the door. A woman was standing there. She opened the door. The woman said, “Housekeeping. When can I clean your room?”

  Lynda began to laugh. “Help yourself,” she said, and she laughed again.

  She went and sat out on the balcony while the woman cleaned her room. She did not see anything out of place at the