Gavin's Song (Road to Salvation A Last Rider's Trilogy 1)

“Nothing to say?”

“What do you want me to say? Why don’t you shove that gun barrel up your own ass and see how you like it?”

“I’ll pass.”

“I thought so. You’re the only coward here, but we both know that, don’t we?”

Slate’s eyes grew dark and mean. “I’ll send Ink and Hock down with something to clean that mess up. When you’re done, you can eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I’m only going to feed you once a day, so I’d think twice before you refuse to eat. And don’t worry about me putting anything in your food. It’s too much fun poking you with a needle.”

Backing back up the steps, Slate left him alone. Gavin heard the door slam shut and the sound of a lock clicking in place. With Slate gone, he studied the room, looking for anything he could turn into a weapon. The room was bare except for the Army cot he was sitting on. There wasn’t even a fuse box, and there was only one set of track lighting on the ceiling.

Lightheaded, he got to his feet to walk alongside each of the walls, searching for an installed camera. Discovering there wasn’t one showed Slate was confident there wasn’t a way for him to escape.

The only way out was going to be up the steps and through the door. Gavin knew Slate would have guards on the other side. The irony of the situation was that he was a military strategist, and the only way out was going to take a miracle to achieve.

Slate took the same courses he had and was familiar with the same tactics. It was like playing chess with someone who had learned from the same chess champion.

They disliked each other on sight, which had only grown the longer they served together. Ultimately, Slate had underestimated Gavin, thinking that he would be able to intimidate him as he had the others in their unit. He would have continued his rise through the ranks, leaving destroyed lives behind him.

When a young mother was wrongly accused and nearly beaten to death because a relic belonging to the village was gone, Gavin suspected Slate was buying and selling artifacts—among other things. It had taken him a week to track down the evidence against Slate, and when he showed his supervisor the proof, Slate had agreed to return the artifact and several others that he’d stolen. He spent two months in a military prison before being discharged for bad conduct. Gavin suspected that stealing artifacts was the least of his crimes, but it was the only one he could prove.

Gavin went to stand in the middle of the basement, when he heard the door being unlocked. From there he’d be able to see up the stairs and what was beyond the door. As soon as it opened, he only got a brief glimpse before Ink’s and Hock’s bodies blocked the room from view. From what little he could see, it was a bedroom.

“Stand with your back against the wall.” Ink motioned with the pistol to get him moving.

Gavin followed his directions, and not because he was worried Ink would pull the trigger, but he didn’t want another physical altercation before his body recovered from the beatings they’d given him. His head still felt like a fucked-up mess, and his ribs hurt every time he breathed. One more punch, and his lung could puncture. And Gavin had every intention of living. He wanted to live for the express purpose of killing each and every one of these fuckers.

Ink kept the gun trained on him as Hock came from behind him to set down a gallon of water and a bucket. Afterward, Hock went to the steps to stand behind Ink. Together they started back up the steps.

“I need to use the bathroom.”

When they’d finished with him the day before and while he was still out of it, he remembered being led to a bathroom and held under the shower where he had relieved himself.

“Use the bucket when you’re done cleaning the puke.”

Gavin wasn’t stupid; he knew that was what the bucket was for. Making a disgusted face, he held up his hands, palms up. “Come on; give me five minutes to take care of my business. I’ll even let you handcuff me.”

“You can take it up with Slate when he comes back down.”

Gavin had used the opportunity of them stopping on the steps to take another look through the doorway.

After they left, Gavin went to the bucket and saw a roll of paper towels and a sandwich wrapped in aluminum foil. Setting the sandwich on the cot, he used the towels and water to clean the floor. He then grabbed a new towel, pouring a small amount of water on it to wipe the sweat from his brow from doing the simple chore. Throwing the dirty towels in the bucket, he placed the bucket in the farthest corner of the basement.