Fractured Minds (Rebels of Sandland 3)

I swallowed nervously, not bothered for a minute about my uncle in that chair, but scared shitless about what these sick fuckers would expect me to do, what they could do, and who they might tell. This was blackmail at its finest, and they had me right where they wanted me.

“This is how the game works. We text you. Give you a mission to complete. You submit the evidence of its completion to us by our deadline and it’s all good. You live to see another day. Uncle Tony here doesn’t though. If you fail to meet our deadline, there will be consequences for you. Comply and that consequence falls on his head.” He pointed his bat over towards Tony, who sat slumped forward in the chair, snivelling and whimpering.

“Do you want to know what your first challenge is?” The five of them stood in a row in front of the camera, but the speaker stayed in the middle, standing slightly forward to give him an edge.

“You have until sunrise tomorrow morning to add your own artistic touch to our town sign. The one on the wall that reminds everyone what we stand for here in Brinton Manor.”

All who come here, abandon all fear.

“Repaint it. Make it look good and we won’t make your past come back to bite you in the ass.” One of the men held up bolt cutters and started snapping them open and closed. “We’ll also use those on your dear old uncle here.” The main guy pointed at the cutters. “Relieve him of a few unwanted body parts.”

Tony started to thrash in the chair behind him and grunt like the animal he was.

“It’s your choice, Mr Knowles. Take a photograph of your work and send it to this number before sunrise. If we like it, you get to live another day, and Uncle Tony gets the snip. But don’t get too comfortable. We’re starting you off with an easy task. They will get harder. What you need to remember is, we run this game. We say when and we say how. Try to trick us and you will regret it. This is your waking nightmare, one that you will never be free from. Not until we set you free.”

The video cut out and so did my heart. I threw the phone down on the airbed and just stared blankly ahead, blinking and trying to make sense of the head fuck I’d just watched.

They’d kidnapped my uncle.

They knew what he’d done.

And now, they were using that to blackmail and control me.

The Soldiers of Anarchy were going to destroy me, but not before they’d ripped me to pieces like their fucking Rottweiler would a toy. They had the conscience of a rabid dog too. They wouldn’t care what this did to me. This was fun for them. A distraction from their own shitty lives.

But what choice did I have?

I didn’t.

If I wanted this to end, I needed to see it through.

I dragged myself off the bed, my head in a daze and my body shaking. I was moving on automatic pilot because I didn’t know what else to do. Without even noticing what I was doing, I freshened up as best I could, while everything I’d seen on that video played on repeat in my head like a sick horror movie. Then I headed into the living room, hoping my deathly pale complexion didn’t give me away.

Zak was typing at his laptop at the table in the corner. I had no idea what he was working on, and I was too consumed with my own shit to care. Like a zombie, I sat down in the chair opposite him and concentrated on breathing and not letting on that I was consumed by fear.

“I’m heading over to Brandon’s in a bit. They’ve got a problem with their internet and they’ve asked me to take a look. Do you wanna come or do you have to go to work?” he asked, without stopping or looking up from his screen.

“I don’t have work,” I responded, keeping my voice as even as I could. “They laid me off after I landed myself in the hospital. Said they needed to make cut backs, but I’m not stupid. They didn’t want me there.” I didn’t care. I’d hated that job at the call centre. It was fucking draining on the soul. I couldn’t even imagine trying to drag myself into that place with all the rest of the shit going on in my life at the moment.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Zak glanced up at me now. “Are you okay for money?” This guy was solid gold. He’d given me a roof over my head and now he wanted to put money in my pocket too.

“I’ve got savings.” I shrugged, wishing I could sound more grateful, but I felt numb to the world around me. “I’ve been doing some work on the side for a guy I met through the call centre. He runs an online art website.”

“Oh yeah?” Zak sat back in his chair and put his hands behind his head, giving me his full attention.

I don’t know why I’d never really told anyone about it. I wasn’t the type to brag or make small talk though, and the opportunity to tell someone had never come up before. I didn’t really want to talk about it now, but I owed Zak a conversation at least.

“Yeah, people send in photos of themselves,” I explained. “Their dogs, pets, anything really. Then we cartoonify it or cartoonize it, whatever the word is. I’ve done a few for him. It’s good money.”

Zak cocked his eyebrow and nodded his approval.

“Sounds cool. You should use this time to look into something better to do, maybe doing that full-time would suit you more? Make the most of your talents. You were dying in that office anyway.”

I smiled in agreement, but all I could focus on was since that night, when I’d found out he’d been freed from jail, every part of me was dying. Even more so now I had the soldiers breathing down my neck. I had enough to think about without trying to give my life a complete overhaul. I needed to focus on one fuck-up at a time. I was struggling to even have this conversation. My mind was all over the fucking place and I couldn’t concentrate.

“So, Brandon’s? You coming or staying here?”

I doubted Zak cared either way, and I had a shit load to prepare for if I was going to get this street art done tonight.