Saving Lucas

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The drive didn’t last long, forty minutes tops. Anton remained quiet during the entire drive, and the people inside the car were considerate enough not to disturb his short moment of peace. Everything was a blur to him. He chewed on the details of the events earlier, and still hadn’t come up with an answer. What, per say, did these men want from him? He was just an ordinary bum, living his hell of a life. He wanted to demand for answers, but he also didn’t want his guts splattered out the pavement, did he? So—using what was left of his common sense—he decided not to push it. 

The car turned left, into an unpaved road. The road was so narrow that the driver had a hard time making the car fit. They finally arrived at a dead end, revealing a battered, abandoned building. The people got out—the man beside him dragging him along with them.

“Here we are, Mr. Diaz,” the man said.

“What are we doing here?” he asked, his voice trembling. “Can you at least tell me why I’m here?” 

“It’s not that simple Mr. Diaz,” he said. “We still need more information,” the man said then finally walked away.

Just as the man turned around, Anton saw the pistol dangling from the man’s belt. Without even the initiative to think twice, he pulled the gun free from its holster and aimed it at the man. 

“Stop!” he exclaimed. Then he handed his palm out. “Give me the keys,” he said, his voice wavering. “Give me the keys or I’ll shoot your head off. Now!”

“Okay, just relax. There’s no need for violence whatsoever,” the man said, taking a tentative step towards Anton. His two companions turned and just stood there. There was no trace of panic in their faces, or if there was, they hid it well.

The man motioned for the driver to throw him the key, which he did. The key landed on the dirt road, not far from Anton. With his urge to flee, Anton forgot one essential element. Common sense. As he bent down to pick up the keys, the man grabbed his arm and twisted it hard, so hard, that Anton almost felt his tendons ripping off. The gun fell off from his hand and thudded on the pavement. The man picked it up instantly, and aimed it at him.

“Rule number one when trying to escape: never take your eyes off your opponent.”