World War Forever (Highway To Armageddon Book 2)

by Harold Bloemer

  Krystal must notice me moving around because she suddenly blurts out, “Boom Boom, you’re awake! About damn time, you’ve been asleep for hours!”

  “Boom Boom, are you okay?” shouts Lance from the right side of my cell wall.

  “I’ve been worse,” I shout back, clutching my throbbing head. I remember how he was freaking out about his drugs just moments before we were attacked. “Are you okay?”

  “Like you, I’ve been worse,” he replies. He’s probably going through some traumatic withdrawal symptoms (I remember how bad mine were when I gave up my pills), but he’s putting on a strong front. Now is definitely not the time to show weakness. We need to remain calm and collected and wait for our captors to screw up and give us the opening we need to escape.

  “Don’t worry, Boom Boom, we’ll get out of this mess,” Alex says from the left side of my cell. “We’ll get out chance.”

  I rest my head against the cool metal separating us and quietly say, “I know we will.”

  I glance around the room (at least, what I can see from my limited vantage point) and notice two mercenaries digging through a massive pile of weapons and body armor. Most of it belongs to us. If one of us can get loose, we should have no problem blasting our way out of here. We just need an opening.

  Grenade stops banging against his steel door long enough to say, “If you chumps let us go, we promise we won’t cause you any problems. We’ll walk out of here and never look back. Just do the right thing and let us go.”

  “Shut up, you cyborg freak!” snaps one of the mercenaries without looking up. He’s currently playing with Lance’s robotic glove, watching the electricity dance across his fingertips. I know it’s killing Lance that he’s messing with it. He acts like that stupid glove is his baby or something.

  The main door to the prison ward slides open, flooding the dark room with brilliant light. The door slides shut again, plunging us back into quasi-darkness.

  I peer through my bars at the three people who have just entered. The man in the center appears to be of Hispanic descent. He’s tall and slender, with greasy black hair, pock-marked skin, and a scar lining the right side of his face. His mouth seems to be frozen in a permanent sneer. He exudes creepiness and sliminess. On either side of him are two massive, angry-looking black bodyguards.

  The mercenary digging through Lance’s belt looks up and says, “Hey, what’s up, Ramirez? You come down to check out the new booty?”

  The Hispanic man (who I’m guessing is the man River told us about, Salvador Ramirez) flashes a perverted grin. “If by booty you mean the ‘treasure trove’ of weapons and body armor that we acquired from our new guests, then no. But if by booty you mean our ‘treasure trove’ of new women, then yes.”

  All four of Ramirez’s goons burst out in laughter. Grenade’s feral growls grow ever louder, as do the sounds of his bionic hand banging and clanging against his steel door.

  Ramirez slowly looks around the room and says, in a low, sleazy voice, “Where’s the jungle girl? Chief Thiago’s daughter?”

  The mercenary holding Lance’s belt lazily points toward a cell door off to my left. “Over there. She’s the hot chick with no bra.”

  Ramirez flashes his demented grin and walks out of sight. I press my face up against my bars and listen as he says, “Hello there. You will be the bait we use to lure your troublesome Chiquito tribesmen out of hiding. We will finally be able to eradicate every last man, woman, and child. We are… indiscriminate… when it comes to acts of genocide.”

  Ramirez cackles as the other natives start shouting and shaking their bars.

  I hear a spitting sound, followed by Ramirez shouting, “Don’t spit on me, you stupid cow!”

  One of the bodyguards whips out a taser gun and marches over to River’s cell. There’s a loud zapping sound, followed by River crying out in pain.

  “Leave her alone!!” Lance shouts from my right.

  The zapping continues for several torturous seconds before finally dying down. This is followed by River moaning in pain.

  Ramirez marches back to the middle of the room, wiping away the spit clinging to his cheek. “Nasty jungle savages,” he mutters.

  Ramirez starts grabbing his crotch. I’m repulsed to see his ‘bulge’ has grown considerably larger.

  Sounding like the world’s creepiest pervert, Ramirez says, “I’m feeling a bit horny. Which one of you fine ladies want to spend some quality time with Salvador Ramirez, the richest man in South America? I promise to show you a good time!”

  Ramirez walks around the room, leering at all the women and young girls cowering in the back of their cells.

  When Ramirez walks by Krystal’s cell, she hollers, “Your nasty ass better not even think about trying to hit this.”

  Krystal rubs her hands all over her flabby body. Like everyone else, she is wearing nothing but her undergarments. And judging by how tight her bra and panties appear to be, Krystal seems to be under the delusion that she weighs 100 pounds less than she actually does.

  Ramirez sticks out his tongue and feigns retching noises. “You are disgusting. Trust me, I have way better taste than to hit on a morbidly obese black woman with fat rolls coming out of her ass.”

  Krystal gnashes her teeth together and gives Ramirez the finger. “Screw you, asshole. Ain’t nobody wanna sleep with your nasty, greasy ass, either!”

  One of Ramirez’s massive bodyguards bangs on Krystal’s cell with a nightstick and barks, “Shut up, bitch!”

  Krystal wags her finger and hollers, “Aw hell naw! You did not just tell me to shut up! When I get out of here, I’m cutting your balls off with a dull knife!”

  Krystal’s violent, visceral descriptions on how she plans to exact vengeance against a perceived wrong always cause me to cringe. Her unquenchable thirst for perpetrating violence against bad guys is extraordinarily helpful when we’re in the heat of battle. But when we’re being held captive without any way to defend ourselves, they only exacerbate our problems. Maybe one day she’ll realize that. If we even live to see other days.

  In what I can only surmise is an attempt to buy us some extra time, Lance says, “So you were the assholes who blew up our plane, huh? How did you pull that off without anyone at our compound seeing you?”

  Ramirez turns toward Lance and says in a bored voice, “Don’t be so presumptuous, boy. We had no reason to attack you. We’ve never even met. Hell, we didn’t even know you were in the Amazon. Although I must say you do look very familiar. Yeah, now that I think about it, I do know you. Not personally, but I’ve seen you on the news. You’re that famous teen bounty hunter who took down Klaxton, right? What’s your name again? Larry?”

  “Lance, jackass.”

  Ramirez sneers. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. But to answer your question, no, we are not the ones who blasted you out of the sky. But it is ironic that your plane exploded right over one of our encampments. We have several encampments situated throughout the Amazon, to keep an eye on restless, troublesome natives. That’s how my men found you. They heard your plane explode, saw some of you parachuting into the jungle, and came to round you up. You were then brought back here, our base of operations. We affectionately refer to it as ‘The Farm’, seeing as how that’s basically what it is… a glorified farm.”

  I scoff and mutter under my breath, “Well that’s creative.”

  Ramirez turns and stares at me. A sick, perverted grin spreads across his disgusting pock-marked face.

  Ramirez saunters over to my cell and runs his dirty, grimy fingers through his greasy black hair. “Well hello there, gorgeous. And what’s your name?”

  Keeping my fear in check, I snap, “I’m Boom Boom, asshole. I’m the woman who’s going to slit your throat once I bust out of here.”

  “You tell that sack of monkey shit, Boom Boom!” Krystal hollers, pumping her fist. “Although I personally would have made it a little more violent. Tell him you’re going to gouge out his eyeballs and shove them up his-
--”

  “Shut up, you stupid bitch!!” explodes one of Ramirez’s bodyguards.

  This only results in Krystal ranting and raving even more. Ramirez ignores her and gestures toward my cell.

  “I want the redhead. Take her to my bedroom.”

  “Hey, leave her alone!” Alex shouts from his cell.

  Not to be outdone, Lance explodes, “Don’t you dare lay your hands on her, you son of bitch!”

  Grenade growls and goes back to ferociously banging against his door. He creates some indentations, but that’s about it.

  One of Ramirez’s bodyguards shoves a key into my door and swings it open. I attempt to rush past him, but all I end up doing is running into his outstretched arms. The bodyguard wrenches my left arm, causing me to cry out in pain. He then grabs me by the back of my neck and shoves me to my knees. I blink back tears and struggle not to cry out again. I hate showing weakness, but the bodyguard’s iron-clad grip is hurting my neck to the point that I’m on the verge of screaming in agony.

  Ramirez towers over me and twirls a strand of my hair around his finger. “I love redheads. You all are so fiery and passionate, especially in bed. You see, to keep my men happy and satisfied, I make sure they have a steady supply of vivacious jungle vixens to help sate their raging libidos. Most of my men are young and full of testosterone. If I didn’t give them an outlet to release their sexual aggression, then my master plan to mine the Amazon of every last available natural resource would implode overnight. To keep my operation going I need an army of exultant, complacent young men. And nothing makes young men happier than an endless buffet of beautiful young women.”

  “You’re sick,” Lance snarls, his fists gripping his iron bars so tightly that his knuckles are white. I have rarely seen him this angry. But I also detect a sense of hopelessness in his eyes. I know it’s killing him to see me like this, vulnerable and helpless… privy to the sadistic whims of a madman.

  Ramirez doesn’t even give Lance a fleeting glance. He remains focused on me, his eyes roving over my half-naked body. He cups my chin in his left hand and runs his fingers through my hair with his other one. “Oh yes, you are beautiful indeed. My men are going to love you. But I always get the first taste. And today I’m eating good. You and I are going to have a helluva good time, darling. Well, at least I will.”

  Lance rattles his cell door like crazy, his face engulfed in rage. “You goddamn bastard! I’m going to kill you! Do you hear me?! I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!!!”

  The bodyguard holding me down releases his grip around my neck and reaches for his taser, presumably to fire it at Lance. This is all the opening I need. In one fluid motion I jump up and punch Ramirez square in the face. He yelps and falls flat on his back, clutching his nose. I spin around and deliver a roundhouse kick to the bodyguard’s left temple. The bodyguard topples over and lands with a thunderous crash. The dozens of prisoners suddenly come alive and cheer me on.

  I reach down to grab the bodyguard’s gun, but that turns out to be a stupid mistake. The other bodyguard rushes over and wraps his hands around my neck. I gag and wildly kick my feet as I’m hoisted several feet into the air. He then throws me down on the ground. The back of my head slams into the concrete floor, and an explosion of stars rain down in front of me.

  I ignore the throbbing pain in the back of my head and try to push myself up. Before I can get to my knees, however, two electric hooks slam into my stomach and a barrage of electricity crackles over me. I scream and thrash around on the ground, the explosion of stars returning in earnest. Boots begin raining down on me, kicking me in the face, the chest, the abdomen, you name it. I’ve been subjected to a lot of torture throughout my fucked up life, but this is definitely up there in terms of pure, unadulterated brutality. I feel like my entire body is on fire. I get to the point where I would actually rather die than continue being subjected to this abuse.

  Over the deafening sound of crackling electricity and my own screams, I hear Ramirez shout, “No, don’t hurt her! I don’t want her blood getting all over my bed sheets! You can teach her some manners after I’m done with her.”

  As soon as he says that, the vicious beat down stops and the taser wire is ripped from my belly. I lay sprawled out on the concrete floor, looking up at the ceiling, still seeing stars. Even though I’m no longer being tased, every nerve in my body feels like it’s under assault. I turn my head to the side and spew vomit all over the ground.

  “Disgusting,” one of the bodyguards says, scowling down at me.

  The other bodyguard reaches down and grabs me by my arms. He then slings me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing at all. I look up and glance at the prisoners as I’m carried out of the room. Their rebellious spirit has been destroyed after bearing witness to my sadistic assault. Lance and Alex both look like they’re about to cry. River and Krystal are horrified. Grenade continues banging against his door, howling in rage. Then the door to the prison ward slams shut and his howls dissipate.

  The bodyguard carries me up a flight of stairs. Ramirez and the other bodyguard follow behind us. I look at Ramirez and find him still leering at me. If I had the strength I would fight back and try to escape again. But I’m so beat up that I can’t even muster the energy to spit in Ramirez’s face, let alone whoop the asses of three full-grown, heavily armed men. My best bet is to ‘play dead’ and wait for a more opportunistic time to strike.

  Ramirez’s goon carries me into a massive room with a king-size bed in the back. The bed has velvet sheets and lots of heart-shaped pillows. Photographs and portraits of Ramirez in ‘heroic’ positions adorn the walls. I snort in derision when I catch sight of one portrait of Ramirez clutching a smoking machine gun with one hand while the other arm is wrapped around the waist of a beautiful blonde woman looking up at him in adoration. This guy seriously has some arrogant delusions of grandeur about himself.

  Ramirez’s bodyguard tosses me onto the bed and yanks my arms behind my back. I squirm and kick my feet, but no matter how hard I struggle, I can’t get loose. I yelp as the bodyguard slaps a pair of handcuffs across my wrists. The cuffs are so tight that they dig into my skin. The bodyguard then flips me onto my back, so that I’m staring at the ceiling.

  “Thank you, gentlemen,” Ramirez says, slapping his goons on their backs. “I can handle things from here. Wait outside until I’m done, and then you can have your turn with her.”

  The goons chuckle and saunter out of the room. Ramirez closes the door and turns back to me, smiling like some frat boy who’s about to score. I lift my head and snarl, “If you so much as touch me, I will slaughter you.”

  Ramirez cackles and leans over top me. I gag as his horrific body odor infiltrates my nostrils. “I like my girls with a little fight in them. I find it exhilarating when the fire in their eyes slowly dies as they’re raped again and again and again….”

  I try to keep myself from panicking, but it’s a battle I’m rapidly losing. I jerk myself forward and slam the front of my forehead into Ramirez’s mouth. He cries out and staggers backwards. I leap to my feet and try to run toward the door, much the same way Pocahontas did when we were interrogating her in Sanctuary 41. And like Pocahontas, I don’t get very far. Ramirez lunges toward me and shoves a stun gun into my lower back. I cry out in agony and collapse to the ground. Ramirez keeps the stun gun pressed against me, cackling like a maniac as I spasm on the ground, sobbing from the horrific pain coursing throughout my entire body. After what feels like an eternity, Ramirez turns the stun gun off.

  Ramirez kneels down beside me and wipes away my tears with his grimy finger. “You ready to behave now, beautiful?”

  Not knowing what else to do, I nod my head. All I know is I don’t want to be tased again. Ramirez lifts me up and throws me back onto the bed. I land on my stomach, but I roll over so I can at least see what’s coming.

  Ramirez continues laughing as he takes off his shirt and pants. He then removes his underwear. A paralyzing wave of fear washes over me as I becom
e flooded with flashbacks from my youth. I spent more months than I’d care to remember being passed from pervert to pervert, suffering horrific sexual abuse I’ve tried my best to repress over the years. I thought my days of being a victim were over, and yet here I am, about to relive my traumatizing past.

  Ramirez hovers over me and starts kissing my neck. I turn my head and plead for him to stop.

  “Salvador… please… don’t do this….”

  Ramirez whispers, “Yes… beg… that turns me on.”

  Ramirez goes back to kissing my neck. I lay there and whimper. I feel so humiliated… so violated… so dirty….