by Ryan Garner
Lekarl was a bit closer to the house then most of the rest of the crowd, but the crazy man that had been shooting at them from inside had stopped a few minutes ago. Now everyone was waiting to see if these rich people were going to come running out or if they would choose to be burned alive. Lekarl secretly hoped that they would attempt to flee. He wanted first crack at them, not to mention a chance to grab any valuables they might carry with them. White people always had expensive things, unlike the persecuted black man. Hell, Lekarl “knew” he worked harder in the fifteen hours a week he put in at his part time job than those lazy white people did in their forty or more hours a week. All they did was depend on the black man to do their dirty work for them and now they were even trying to take away his government check. It was finally time to exact revenge.
Just then, Lekarl heard some noise coming from the garage. Were the homeowners finally going to try to make a run for it? It was clearly the sound of a vehicle’s engine starting. Like a salivating dog waiting for a scrap of meat he positioned himself eagerly in the nicely paved driveway. A few other males moved up behind him. They too waited hungrily for their next victims. If these people tried to run in their car Lekarl and the other men all had different tools that could easily be used to deflate the vehicle’s tires; hammers, knives, screwdrivers, crowbars they all made excellent make shift tire deflation devices. The vehicle would be rapidly disabled and the occupants extracted in any manner that they saw fit. Lekarl’s weapon of choice was a long Philips head screwdriver. It was already coated with blood from the inhabitants of previous houses he had stormed.
Suddenly, the garage door was manually flung open and Lekarl saw the backup lights of a green Jeep Grand Cherokee. He was delighted. He had begun to worry that these people might choose to stay inside, robbing him of his chance to enjoy the fruits of this glorious protest.
Almost the second after the garage door was thrown open by hand there was an immediate barrage of gunfire. Round after round was fired in rapid succession out of the garage. Lekarl suddenly felt as if he had been hit in the chest with a baseball bat. Excruciating pain rocketed through his body and his extremities went limp. Before he knew what had happened he fell to his knees because the pain was so immense. He quickly realized he had been shot. That white bastard had shot him!! More rounds were fired and Lekarl saw another man drop to the ground next to him. People weren’t supposed to have guns, they were illegal; this wasn’t fair!! Lekarl thought to himself. The other men in his attack group immediately began to scatter in all directions. A few were struck in the back as they scurried away as the driveway turned into a literal firing range.
Still on his knees Lekarl attempted to stand, but the pain was just too great. Then he saw it. The Jeep inside the garage began to accelerate quickly in reverse. They were going to run him down!! He couldn’t get out of the way; his injuries prevented him from moving. Lekarl screamed just before he was struck by the rear portion of the vehicle and crushed like an insect under the tires. Other people in the crowd dove out of the way of the Jeep as it made its escape.
….
The bolt on David’s AR-15 locked to the rear, when it did so he quickly moved down the passenger side of the vehicle and dove into the open door of the Jeep Grand Cherokee.
“Go! Go!” he shouted to his wife as he slammed and locked the door. Debora pressed down hard on the gas pedal, harder than she had intended and the vehicle lurched out of the garage and sped in reverse down the driveway. Almost immediately after clearing the garage’s entryway they all heard a loud thud and the passenger side of the vehicle jumped violently. Not yet wearing his seat belt David was nearly thrown into the roof of the Jeep as Lekarl Watts was run down.
Other rioters ran and dove out of the way of the fast moving sport utility vehicle as Deborah rapidly accelerated down the driveway and out into the street, striking several people as she did so. After backing out, she shifted the vehicle into drive as quickly as she could, but the crowd was already surrounding the Jeep banging and slamming their hands and whatever other objects they had against the body of the vehicle. Others were standing in front of the Jeep and Debora instinctively hesitated to pull forward.
“Drive!!!” David shouted as he reloaded his AR-15. Debora slammed her foot down on the gas and the vehicle jumped forwards, throwing several people out of the way while others were knocked below the four wheel drive Jeep tires. The vehicle was rocked from side to side almost as if it were being driven over multiple sets of speed bumps. Debora felt as if she were going to be sick and visibly cringed. David felt the vehicle begin to decelerate.
“Keep your foot on the gas!!” he yelled. He wasn’t angry with his wife, but the gravity of the situation forced him to react in an aggressive manner. At this point stopping for or being stopped by the crowd would be a guaranteed death sentence for all of them. Debora accelerated onward, knocking people out of the way and crushing others. Realizing that she was not going to stop the crowd parted around the sport utility vehicle as people tried to avoid being struck by the heavy Jeep Grand Cherokee.
Numerous houses in the neighborhood had been set ablaze and thanks to the added light from the fires David and his family were able to observe the grisly chaos that had swallowed their community. They stared out of the windows of their sport utility vehicle in hushed silence. Beaten and broken bodies littered front lawns; men, women, and children were being dragged from their homes and brutalized in every imaginable way.
The Jennings were fortunate in two aspects, they were armed and had a large four wheel drive vehicle that was more than capable of performing the horrific task of plowing through the crowd. It was readily apparent that several unarmed families had attempted to escape in more economical vehicles. They never had a chance. After these cars had been forcibly stopped the occupants were dragged from the crippled vehicles and viciously assaulted without mercy.
After a few minutes of driving the crowd around the Jennings finally began to thin out. Their Jeep’s body had taken a beating and was covered in smeared blood. Objects were still being hurled at them by random individuals still moving about in the neighborhood, but it was obvious they were finally reaching the outskirts of the large riotous crowd.
“Where are we going?” Debora asked in a hoarse voice.
“I’m not sure…” David responded, “Just head west out of the city.” He then added. Debora nodded her head in response. David, Debora, Tom, Taylor, and Radar drove toward the exit of the destroyed residential community that now appeared more like a war zone than anything else. Burned out houses and cars, debris and dead bodies were strewn everywhere. It was a nightmare. Upon reaching one of the main thoroughfares they headed west to escape from Wilmington.
….
Lauren was in shock; too terrified to move she huddled in the far corner of the small crawlspace. The inside of the house had finally grown quiet; Wendy’s pleas for mercy and screams of anguish had at last died out. Listening to her sister endure an agonizing and atrocious death had been pure torture. Her injured hand was now throbbing and she could still hear Wendy’s cries echoing in her mind over and over again. She wasn’t exactly sure how long the entire ordeal had lasted; she had lost all track of time. It could have been minutes or hours for all she knew. Lauren was almost certain her entire family was dead, killed by the murderous horde that had assailed her home and wreaked havoc just outside the walls where she was hidden. The shouts and noises of the mob were still easily heard. They were obviously still outside her home. Would they ever stop?
The gunfire that had come from the Jennings’ home had also died out. Whether they had managed to escape or had been killed Lauren had no idea. She could still hear some far off gunshots from a few other neighboring homes, but nothing like what she had heard from the Jennings’ house. Other families must have simply not been as well prepared; a box or two of handgun rounds would not have been enough to fend off a crowd of this magnitude. Either way, it didn’t much matter now.
; Just then, Laruen began to smell something. She almost immediately recognized the scent; something was burning. There was a sudden and horrifying realization; her house had been set on fire. Forcing herself to move Lauren crept over to the small double doors of the crawlspace and pushed them open as carefully as she could. She winced when two of the boxes that had been placed in front of the door came crashing to the floor. In silent horror Lauren waited for several seconds for someone to come searching for her. When no one did she squeezed through the small opening and pushed open the closet door. Thick and heavy black smoke immediately hit her in the face and she gaged and coughed as she fell to her knees searching for the fresher air that was lower to the ground. The temperature inside the house was already stifling. She couldn’t see any flames, but she assumed that the bottom floor of her house must have already been engulfed by fire.
The house was dark and thanks to the thick smoke Lauren’s flashlight did little to help illuminate her path. She could barely see anything. She carefully felt her way along the ground through her sister’s bedroom searching for an exit. She clumsily explored the floor as she crawled on all fours across the room. Then suddenly, her hand touched something and Lauren felt nauseous upon instantly realizing it was Wendy.
Her sister’s body was horribly bruised and beaten. Multiple cuts, scrapes, and lacerations covered her exposed corpse and what little clothes her once beautiful sister had managed to retain were torn and frayed. Lauren began to weep at the sight of Wendy’s mangled body. She moved next to her and cradled her sister in her arms. The smoke and heat from the fire inside the house was getting worse and Lauren could still hear the unruly crowd just outside her home. She came to the realization that her fate had already been sealed; she had nowhere else to go. Strangely, she felt surprisingly calm about the situation. Being given the choice she accepted the fate of burning rather than being raped, sodomized, and brutally murdered; a destiny her dear sister and mother had not been spared.
Thick black smoke continued to fill the room and it was becoming more and more difficult to breathe. Lauren now assumed she would probably pass out from smoke inhalation long before the flames reached her; an even more merciful fate. Yes, Lauren believed she would just wait here for a little while longer rather than attempt to go any further. At least she and Wendy would be together.
CHAPTER 23
The warm water cascaded down Samantha’s soft, delicate body and even though every cut, scrap, and burn sent an immediate shot of pain to her mind the overall sensation was wonderful. Samantha couldn’t remember the last time she had been able to enjoy a relaxing shower. Yes, she did bathe regularly, but the water heater at her home barely worked and when she was afforded the opportunity to shower elsewhere it usually came at the cost of a sexual favor for the client; some requests were so disgusting that a warm shower just wasn’t worth it.
She massaged the shampoo through her orange hair with her fingers creating a thick lather. It was a man’s shampoo and soap she was using, but that was okay. She didn’t really expect John to have any woman’s toiletries lying around his apartment and feeling clean was much more important than smelling like flowers or some other “girly” scent. After working over her hair she began to clean the rest of her body with a washcloth. She noticed that the body wash smelled similar to the shampoo.
At least he matches his product...That’s more than most guys do. Samantha thought to herself with a slight chuckle as a tiny smile worked its way across her rosy lips.
Even though John had given her no indication that he had an ulterior motive Samantha still “knew” there had to be a catch somewhere. Male or female, everyone wanted something and it would only be a matter of time before he tried to take what he wanted from her. Since she had begun her shower fifteen minutes ago she had expected him to join her. She had even left the bathroom door unlocked for this reason. When she thought about it, she knew there could be far worse things he could request of her. John was an attractive male who had treated her quite well. If that meant sex in the shower or somewhere else in his apartment than this would be an acceptable outcome; it might even be fun and physically pleasing for once. Another brief smile came to Samantha’s lips.
But, as her time in the shower continued Samantha grew more apprehensive as her injured psyche began to eat away at her. She had already spent several hours with him and John had yet to even touch her. Maybe he was just shy or maybe it was something worse? Samantha considered the idea of just offering herself to him in order to get the exchange out of the way…maybe that’s what she would do after she was finished? Her more cynical side crept in and she concluded that at least she would no longer have to wonder when he was going to make his move or what he wanted to do to her. It would be over and done. John would be finished with her and she could go on about her way. Samantha didn’t want to believe this was the case, but her life experiences had taught her otherwise. After all that he had done for her it would be a sad turn of events, but under the circumstances it was far from the worst possible outcome.
In an even more pessimistic part of Samantha’s mind she wondered whether there would be some ghastly and perverted consequence for accepting John’s help. She didn’t want this to be true of him and hoped that he was simply a hurt and lonely man who wanted female companionship. He couldn’t possibly be more brutal than her last client…she doubted many other people could be. Either way, the more she thought about her situation the more she convinced herself that her time with John was rapidly growing to a close. She was sure he could only keep up the knight in shining armor routine for so long. Eventually every man finished with her and went on about his way so it was just a matter of time. This was a somber thought, but one that realistically she could not let herself deny.
Finally, conceding defeat to her darker intuitions Samantha convinced herself that it would be better to get the situation out of the way and not delay the inevitable any further. When she was done in the shower she would offer herself to him and force the circumstances to a conclusion.
….
Darren escorted Karina briskly down the darkened hallway of the seemingly abandoned building. They were both flanked by two muscular gruff men with olive skin, black unkempt hair, and full beards. Taking an educated guess from a few of the terrorism training classes she had attended as a dispatcher Karina assumed the men who wore Russian camouflage fatigues were of Chechen decent; each man also had an AK-47 slung across his chest.
Darren, who was now equipped with a sidearm lit their path with a bright flashlight while his tight grip on her right bicep hurt her arm. Along with the handcuffs that secured her wrists behind her back it was very clear to Karina that she could not get away. She did not know why Darren had brought her to this seemingly abandoned brick and glass building. From the exterior, the structure appeared to have once been a modern office building; quite a nice one actually. That, however, was before the recession; now it was just one of thousands of abandoned buildings that were littered across the country. The interior of the building appeared to have been in the middle of a renovation before it was discarded. Partially exposed walls, loose wiring, and visible plumbing were everywhere. Yanking at her arm Darren jerked Karina down a split in the corridor and towards a large wooden door. Reaching it he pushed the door open.
Nasir Malik Zahir Kamil glanced up at Darren from behind the large work bench where he was standing as the group entered the room. Along with Kamil there was another olive skinned man in the large, unfinished office. This one was strikingly different in his appearance than the others. Dressed in black and standing over six feet tall Surkho Khasmohmad Dudayev towered over the rest of the people in the group. With a herculean build, broad shoulders, black hair, scruffy beard, a jagged scar that ran from his left eye down to his jawline, and cold dead eyes that were almost black, Dudayev was an intimidating figure.
One of just a handful of terrorists who managed to both survive and escape the Russian Spetsnaz assault on School Number One in
Beslan Russia during the horrific three day massacre, Dudayev had learned that sheer brutality and savagery were the only ways to survive in his lifestyle. He looked Karina over like a hawk eyeing a small field mouse; she shuddered in response to his gaze.
Separated from the rest of the group and in the far corner of the room there was a sixth male. He was a much younger and thinner white male and his dress and appearance made Karina believe that he may have been a UNCW college student. The young man was diligently working away at a laptop and unlike Dudayev; he barely noticed the group’s entry.
“What is she doing here?” Kamil asked in a low growl of a voice.
“For now, a hostage if the need arises; after that, she may serve other purposes if necessary.” Darren responded in a brutal tone. Karina felt her heart drop into her stomach and she visibly grimaced at the thought of what these men could and would do to her.
Two of the three Chechen men looked at Karina as if they were hungry jackals that had not eaten in days, but the forth man, the tall one made no visible reaction at all except to continue to stare her down. For some reason this scared Karina more than anything else. Darren jerked Karina over to one of the metal support beams that were scattered throughout the large room. Uncuffing one of her hands he resecured it back in front of her and around a rectangular piece of metal. The support beam wasn’t large, only eight inches around, but Karina knew there was no way she would be able to free herself from it.
“Darren, what are you doing?” she asked as she heard the handcuff teeth clicking and tightening back around her wrist.
“You don’t need to concern yourself with that right now…soon all will be revealed to you…and the rest of the country.” He said in an ominous tone.
“Let me go…please. If you care about me at all then don’t do this.” Karina begged just as he was turning to move away from her. Instantly he spun back around and his hand shot to Karina’s throat gripping it tightly and pushing her away from the metal beam as far as her cuffed hands would allow. His other hand wrapped around the back of her neck, effectively locking his hands around her throat. Karina gagged and choked, her knees buckled and had he not been supporting her, she would have fallen to the ground as he clamped down tighter.