Deadlocked 7 by A.R. Wise Read Free Book Online

“We’re the youngest. That’s the way it works with us, the youngest get the shittiest jobs.”
    Arthur glanced back at Benny, and past him at the camp that was about twenty yards away now. The young man smiled at him with his arms still crossed, his right hand tucked into his jacket, probably on the hilt of his pistol.
    “I know how that feels,” said Arthur. “I spent some time training with a group of former soldiers and police down south. It was pure hell, but I learned a lot.”
    “Oh yeah?” asked Benny. “Like what?”
    “Like how to kill a man before he kills you.”
    Arthur tucked his fingers back, tightening up his fist as if it were an animal’s paw, and then swung backward. The side of his hand caught Benny in his Adam’s apple. The young man’s eyes grew wide and his body went rigid, his hand still tucked into his jacket. Benny’s arm quivered and then the boy collapsed to his knees.
    Arthur let Benny fall to the snow as he drew his pistol and pointed it at Paul. The other young man was stunned and fumbled for the gun in his coat. “Hold up, little guy. Just stay still and you’ll make it out of here alive.”
    “What’d you do to him?” Paul stared at his friend as Benny lay face down in the snow.
    “I stopped him from shooting me in the back of the head.”
    “You’re nuts, man. He wasn’t…”
    “Quit with the act,” said Arthur. “Put your hands on your head and get on your knees.”
    “Is he dead?” asked Paul as he knelt down in the snow.
    “If he’s not, then he’ll suffocate in a minute if you don’t do everything I tell you to.”
    “Fucking hell, what are you, some sort of commando or something?”
    “Something like that.” Arthur took a revolver from Paul and tucked it into his pocket. “So when did you guys kill the traders?”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Paul was shivering, but not from the cold. His hands were on his head as Arthur walked around the back of him.
    Arthur put his gun away and pulled out his preferred weapon, a custom-made six inch blade that was diamond shaped, tapering to a point, instead of a standard flat design. It was a weapon that he’d been given by the soldiers that had trained him in the southern area of Colorado. They were known as The Department, and were friends of the original captain of the High Rollers, Reagan.
    Flat blades, which were what most people carried, were good for menial tasks, but inferior for killing. The knife that Arthur had been given wasn’t made for slashing, but rather for plunging into a victim. Its unique shape caused wounds that would take a long time to heal, and often left the victim to bleed to death if they survived the initial attack. That’s how the knife had come to be known as The Bleeder, and Arthur treasured it.
    He set the blade on Paul’s shoulder and twirled it so the edge scratched against his prisoner’s neck. “I don’t give second chances, Paulie, so let’s just pretend you didn’t say that. Now I’ll ask you again, and you’d better not lie. When did you kill the traders?”
    “About a week ago,” said Paul.
    “And you’ve been ambushing folks that come to trade here?”
    Paul nodded.
    “Do you have any prisoners?”
    Paul shook his head, and then nodded. “Just one. Look man, I’m sorry, I never wanted to be a raider. I swear, man.”
    “Just answer my questions. Where’s the prisoner?”
    “She’s in the fuck truck,” said Paul. “She’s a red head, like the one you had in your group. Mac’s a fan of the red heads. He’s got her tied up in the truck, and calls her his girlfriend, but she’s got a big mouth on her. He might’ve killed her by now.”
    “How many are in your group?”
    “Twelve.”
    “All men?”
    “Yeah,” said Paul. “We sent the womenfolk off with the kids. This was my first time with the men. I never done nothing like this before, man, I swear. Please don’t kill me.”
    “Be quiet, I’m not going to kill you,”