Dusk was setting in the soft spring sky, slowly drained of all it's shine, consumed by the cold, deep blue-black of night, They were coming out of the woodwork, creeps, killers, real scum, and I was hot on their trail. The night air was brisk against my skin, cruising along the old route 11, destination the Crawford mine, if I wanted to crack this egg, I was going to have to start there.
As I pulled up to the entrance, I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, "some thing's not right here" I said to myself, I had no idea what I was about to discover. Throwing the car in park, stepping out into the darkness armed with only a trusty old flashlight and my .38 caliber 6 shot revolver with and extended barrel for a real clean shot, beautiful to look at, but she can take a man's life in a heartbeat, I call her Ann.
Flashlight in hand, I began my descent in to the unknown. After what seemed like six maybe seven-hundred feet of hoofing it I cut the lights just in time, stumbling upon and open door, peering through the crack, I could see a man tied to a chair, his muffled pleas for help radiated throughout the stone walls of the structure, the cold smack of bone against bone, I witness the stooge deliver a ruthless blow to the man's gut, for now at least, there was some silence, I had to make my move.
What to do? Ann is ace in the hole, But, she talks pretty loud and there's no need to get sloppy. Glancing around a little more looking for a plan B, It came in the form of a loose 2x4, wielding my wooden weapon, I crept to through the open door, crouched with the approach of a lion on the hunt, I seek my prey. THUD! Looks like Mr. tough guy went bird watching, he's out for the count. To my right, the man is slumped over in the chair, whimpering like a dog who's just been punished for going through the trash. "It's alright, I'm here to help." I made quick work of the ropes and helped the poor guy to his feet.
"That was one hell of a hook you took back there, are you okay?", "Can you speak?" The voice of a man who's pride had been shattered called back shakily, "ye-yesss". Good, we were starting to get somewhere. "What are you doing here?" "What's your name?" asking the usual questions to get this balloon off of the ground. "I have no idea." He said "I was sitting at home having a drink or two with my wife and I blacked out, when I came to I was in the place, tied to a chair." His testimony sounds pretty bizarre, but, my instincts say he's too shaken to be lying. "My name is James Fields."
Just then I felt my gut sink to the floor like a lead weight, this is way too easy, something smells rotten here and it's not the sulfur. "We got to get you out of here Fields, there are people looking for you." almost as if in slow motion, he tried to warn me "look out!" I turned at breakneck speed just a see a silhouette in the doorway. POP! The shot rang out across the room, suddenly it felt, as if Satan's very finger was sticking in my chest, swirls of black plagued my vision, things are getting quiet "Who are y...." I gasped as I hit the floor. (to be continued)
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