Cargo: an edge of your seat thriller
Page 24
Door number six-six-six.
More orders were shouted, and guns were cocked.
Peterson stood slowly and painfully in the thin air. Every joint he had popped, and although everything hurt, he didn’t change the stoicism in his face.
Anthony Peterson was resigned to his fate.
He walked to the middle of the container and stood there, staring at the double metal doors and waited.
He was ready.
More guns cocked, more shouts echoed, and finally he could hear the distinctive sounds of locks being cut and chains being thrown aside.
He took a step forward as both doors creaked open in unison, letting in a hiss of fresh, full air and a blinding burst of white light.
He had been in total darkness for…how long? Hours, he guessed. His phone, his erstwhile lifeline, was now smashed and even had it not been, the battery was surely long dead. Regardless of how long he had been in the darkness, this new light was like the very sun. Any light would have blinded him, but this was like staring into the core of a star.
He squinted at the onslaught of light and waited until his eyes adjusted. Everything had gone completely quiet. Peterson guessed that meant the time was finally up.
Slowly, his vision went from a painful bright blur to some form of clarity. The light was still bright, but now he could see the heavy dust in the air.
And then, he saw red.
He looked down and saw a red dot on his chest and followed the beam through the dusty air into the amorphous glow before him.
It was the laser sighting of a gun. Soon, it was joined by another red dot. And then another and another and another.
He looked down again and noticed there were over a dozen of them on him. Ready.
Every one of them was redder than the blood he kept seeing. The light before him was a violent white, like the glow from a polished skull.
Death had come for Anthony Peterson and had brought friends.
Whoever was out there, they just stood where they were as if to taunt him by making him wait. Was it the commandos? The police?
It didn’t matter. There was nothing more that could be taken from him. The raggedy man had been pulled to shreds.
Anthony Peterson was not even a man anymore.
He was cargo.
He looked out into the deadly light, beaten, bloody, and weary as he stood before the invaders to accept his fate.
And Anthony Peterson remained unafraid, even when a new, yet somehow familiar, laser sight appeared right on the dead center of his forehead.
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Acknowledgments
[Cargo] would literally not have been possible without my good friend and collaborator James Dylan. We began discussing the film version of [Cargo] back in 2012 and over the years we developed the concepts that lead to James’ original screenplay. Special thanks to James for directing this film we produced together, for writing this intense screenplay and for trusting me to expand his concepts “outside the box” into a full-length novel. There is much, much more to come!
I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge the contributions of the cast and crew of [Cargo] who influenced the voice of the novel. Thank you to actors Jose Rosete, Eliot, Danika Fields, Mark Wood, Corbin Timbrook, Ivy Burns, Matthew Rosvally and especially our star, Ron Thompson. A bit of each of you is in this book. Thank you also to Thorsten Quaeschning of Picture Palace music and Tangerine Dream who composed our compelling score.
Thank you to everyone in “The Bloodhound (Books) Gang” and especially Publishing Director Betsy Reavley. You encouraged me to expand the novel to its full length and gave the complete version another look. [Cargo] would not be the book that it is without you.
Special thanks to my supportive family including both my parents who remain two of my biggest cheerleaders even from their separate homes far across the country from me. I especially wish to extend both acknowledgement and thanks to my daughters Lexi and Nixie and my wonderful wife and muse Christine. Your encouragement, love and patience truly made all of this possible. Thank you! I love you!