Episode #4
The Bank
“I am not exactly sure what the hell we are doing here, Abel?” Sean and Abel were two brothers sitting outside in their car staring up at a one story brown stone building. Abel was older with broader shoulder and had the body of a baseball player. His brown hair sat in shags as his neck was marked on each side with two tattoos. On the right side an angel holding a large sickle over his shoulder with the writing Harvester underneath, the left side contained an angel arms crossed reading underneath Redeemer. Sean didn’t match his brother’s rough exterior but they were brother from blood to both sets of pierced ears. Innocent face with shags of dirty blond hair and twinkling blue eyes, he didn’t have a tattoo except one that his parents had given to him and his brother when they were just babies. On their left shoulder blade a black rose with yellow blood oozing from the pedals. Sean had almost forgotten about his mother telling him that Abel and he were going to get their rose’s blood color changed to red. The purpose of the tattoo would forever be a mystery to the both of them. Sean was much shorter than Abel and was just about to serve his mandatory conscription in an armed forces branch in the district. The law states every citizen in every district must serve for a minimum of 10 years after your first semester of college. Abel had served in the border patrol as did his parents. Sean’s acceptance into the border patrol had been assured at the end of his first semester. Abel’s first semester returning from his mandatory conscription. However that all seemed to change after last night, the world that they had lived lay scattered and dead like the apartment they fled from.
“You heard what Uncle Les said,” Sean grunted in frustration, “he isn’t our uncle.” Abel pulled out a pistol from his pants. The same pistol that had killed an innocent older woman not more than twenty four hours ago, the way her face contorted in a confused plea. A plea to live, a sort of “why” traced in her eyes. “Look, all we have to do is go in and retrieve these stupid papers that they want.” Sean leaned his head against the window as if trying to cool himself down. “What is so big about these papers? Why should we care? We should be fleeing the country or crossing the border. We should go to the Chinese in the west. I heard the fishing is still amazing on the coast.” Abel loaded a magazine into the pistol, “And what are we going to do . . . hire a coyote pack to sneak us across?” Sean scoffed, “we don’t need a pack just the coyote”! Abel jeered, “And how do you plan on surviving out there without the pack”? They stared at each other, “look let’s just go and retrieve these papers and go from there ok”?
Sean’s head still rested on the windows as the sun slowly rose higher in the sky. People bustled around them as if the world had not even given a single pause in memory of their parents. “And what If they don’t want us in this group? Why are we doing this?” Abel tucked the pistol into his pants watching a particular happy family going into the bank. “It’s a Blood Security Box not a safe deposit box . . . only family can open this box.” Abel was now cleaning himself up, he continued saying, “we’ll get money out of them and if we can’t fight with them, then they will at least help us start a new life.” Sean gave surprised “money?” Abel nodded in an almost confused way, “yeah there is only a thousand dollars in the car, we need more money to survive and obviously these papers are important at least to them”,
Sean now had gone soft with his voice, “Abel can I ask you a serious question”? Abel nodded gazing lazily around the parking lot. “You always have been anxious about joining the resistance even after you left to serve in the border patrol. I have to know, would you really fight with the Underground Uprising if we are asked to join”? Abel still gazing into the parking lot didn’t look as if he was even considering the possibility, but with a surprise he responded, “Yeah, mom and dad are gone and whatever they were in was big and they were killed for it. I say we try and finish what they set out to do.”
They both hopped out of the car pulling down their baseball hats and sunglasses. “Keep your left hand in your pocket,” Abel whispered to Sean. Sean gazed down and realized that the reason for Abel’s concern was the sopping wet bandanna that was tied around each of their hands. Sean shoved it into his pocket as it made a squishing sound going all the way deep into his pocket. A water mark began to show through the pocket. “This is never going to work,” sang Sean as they approached the black double doors of the bank. Abel quickly put his finger to his lips as his hand rested on the handle for the door. He looked around as if eyeing for military police in the parking lot, but spotting nothing out of the ordinary, he opened the door and walked through.
They walked into the bank, which had a row of gray marble teller booths and a matching gray marble floor. The desks however were made from wood with a small green lamp on each of them. The bank was filled with tellers, citizens, and more monotonous long wooden desks. Abel and Sean walked into line behind a younger woman holding a crying baby. Abel and Sean stood silent waiting their turn in line. Water stains began to pear in there dark jeans, Abel could see the nerves starting to get to Sean. Abel leaned over “stop fidgeting so much . . . your stain is starting to show”. Sean eyes seemed to be scanning every inch of the room leaning into his ear, “get a grip and pull down your shirt alright . . . here we go”.
The ticket lady looked tired, she was an older woman with black glasses that reminded Sean of what a librarian would wear. Sean was about to speak, but his mouth seemed to be filled with marbles. Thankfully Abel spoke up “Hi, yes we need to recover a Blood Security Box.” Abel took a card out from his pocket and slid it towards the women. She took the white card in her bony fingers and eyed it as if she had not seen anything like it in awhile. “Oh yes, these are from our private boxes, I have to get special clearance for this . . . let me call Mr. Taylor.” The teller picked up a phone, Abel’s attention was withdrawn from the teller to Sean.
Sean seemed to be looking over the place continuing to study every detail of the bank. Chandlers hung over the room almost like giant floating bee hives. His eyes rested on a large fountain that sat in the corner of the room. The teller hung up the phone, “Mr. Taylor, will be right out to see you gentlemen.” The teller had said it in such a lazy way that it almost sounded as if she was about to fall asleep. Sean and Abel walked towards the fountain as it seemed like marble was used for everything in this bank. “So far, so good,” whispered Abel as Sean tried to hide his nervousness.
“Gentlemen it’s nice to see you,” a man walked over to them and immediately began to shake their hands enthusiastically. His hair was parted down the middle, and he had the thickest set of glasses, they had ever seen. He did not have the appearance of a banker more of a computer nerd. However he did fit into the world of numbers that was for sure. His suite was a light green with a bright red tie. When he smiled, his teeth were shining white he reminded them of a politician from the stories their father had told.
“I am sorry but I do not recognize you, have we met?” He released Sean’s hand, and began peering at them as if he was making sure he had the right people. “We need to get into this Blood Security Box,” Abel handed the white card to him, and he eyed it questioningly. He gave a little smile and said “yes . . . the B.S.B., these are reserved for only our most privileged.” He stood aside and waved them towards a pair of silver doors, which led down a hallway. Abel walked by quickly, but Sean happened to notice something. Mr. Taylor was eyeing them suspiciously, he walked behind them, both Abel and Sean’s left hands buried deep within their pockets. It was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable.
They walked through the doors and down a lit hallway which didn’t fit the banks marble décor. They walked down a carpet rug, staring at the pictures aligning the wall. Each with a different photo of different people until Abel saw to his great surprise, a family portrait of his family that he didn’t remember taking. Abel stopped suddenly as Sean crashed into him, “hey what the hell!” Abel turned back to him, “sorry,” he looked up at Mr. Taylor who eyed them suspiciously again. He nudged Sean motioning towards the portrait. They continued to walk ending up at another pair of sliding doors. They stepped on a large black pad, and a female voice echoed in the air, “Name . . . Relation . . . Box number.” Mr. Taylor eyed the two of them prompting them to speak Abel gave a loud “Sean Gatewood and Abel Gatewood . . . Son’s of Caine and Eve Gatewood . . . and box number,” Mr. Taylor handed the card to Abel who looked over the card, there were numbers all over it. A picture of his parents looked up at him from the card, “wow they look young and Sean you do look an awfully like mom pouting cheeks and all.”
Their mother had blond hair and looked to be in her twenties as did their father. “Yeah well you look like dad, why don’t you wipe that scowl off your face . . . by the way thanks for using my name first”. The women’s voice had broken their argument, “invalid, please state box number?” Abel flipped the card over, and on the back side of the card was a series of numbers in a double helix model of a strain of D.N.A. There in small black numbers, “number 61666 . . . 6?” A green light had appeared above the door and the sliding doors opened.
Abel and Sean walked forward through the doors into a room that had a computer system in front of them. It was more than just a computer. It took on the resemblance of a mixing board for engineering music. “I will leave you to it then,” Mr. Taylor gave a little courtesy bow, and the sliding door slid in front sealing them both in the room. Abel and Sean saw a giant room that had huge silver containers with a computer on the front. The same women’s voice spoke it was more computer now . . . more artificial. “Please insert card,” the voice asked and Abel took the card and slid it into a card reader that was flashing green. It sucked the card down deep within the mixer size computer. A plastic cover opened and a bright blue light appeared in a circle size hole. “Please insert deposit,” Abel looked at Sean, “well do you want too?”
Sean shook his head in confusion, “do I want to do what exactly?” Abel gave a patient smile, “give a deposit?” “What kind of deposit,” asked Sean in a curious tone. “It’s a . . . Blood Security . . . Box,” Sean’s head tilted back as if he had gotten hit by a spitball. “You don’t mean,” Abel’s smile grew a little wider, “well we have to prove that we are their sons, so they are going to match our D.N.A.” Sean eyed down at the blue hole which was now flashing. He shook his head and withdrew his only free hand like a child touching a hot pan. Abel’s smile vanished and he entered his finger into the hole. The sides of hole enclosed on his finger as he gave a soft little, “Ow.” Sean smiled as the color of the light now changed to an orange. Able gave another little “Ow!” His finger was ejected from the hole like bread from a toaster.
A mechanical arm fell from the ceiling of the isolated room through the glass. It slid down and moved its robotic hand around grabbing at a large silver looking box. It took the box in its hand and placed it on a tray that was opposite the glass. The arm returned to its place above the room, and the tray slid out to reveal the mysterious box. A couple of lights blinked from the keypad sized computer on the front of the box. This was it, this Abel could hardly breath. His muscular body seemed weak at the thought of lifting the box. Whatever was in that box, there parents had kept hidden. Abel knew that these plans would guarantee his brother and him a spot in the double U. Abel took out his hand whispering at Sean’s similar reaction, “no, don’t take out yours, if someone sees mine, I don’t want them getting you.” Sean returned his hand to the depth of his now sopping wet pocket.
Abel ran his finger over the box as a computer voice came from the box itself, “password, please?” Abel froze unable to recall any password. “Password,” repeated Sean, which was not helpful to Abel. “Les didn’t say anything about a password,” Sean looked at the box again studying it. “Yeah, well Uncle Les did not tell us anything about what is in the box either.” Sean looked up precariously, “He is not our uncle.” Abel rolled his eyes as the computer voice repeated, “Password, please?” Abel began to think what could be the password, “Abel and Sean.” A red flashed at the top of the computer, “Password not in form of a question.” “Form of a question,” Sean chuckled, eyeing Abel in disbelief. “Who are Abel and Sean,” the red light flashed again. “Maybe it has to do with the contents of the box?” Abel lowered his sun glasses in an impressed way, “ok smart guy, what’s in the box?”
Abel pushed the box towards Sean, who walked towards it carefully. “Well Less said it has to do with our parents and a mission for the . . . well you know.” Abel was now sitting on the computer, which did not seem to protest. “What did dad tell you when he died,” Abel was not comfortable talking about their father dying. He raised his hand to warn Sean, “What did dad tell you,” Abel’s hand was still raised. Sean walked a little closer, “what did dad tell you?”
Abel’s face had turned red, “I am sorry I was to busy protecting everybody, when the Security Troopers came busting into the house.” Sean put his hand on top of his brothers and gently put it down. “What did dad say when he handed you the letter.” Abel could feel his eyes getting hotter, “I don’t know?” He had to say something to comfort Abel. It was unusual to see his face like that. It didn’t suit him, he looked like a lost dog in the middle of a forest “look I am trying to help you . . . help our parents . . . . help the cause that our parents died for and that’s what you want us to do right? No border, no west coast, nothing, nowhere to run, we have to fight right?” Abel shrugged his shoulders as he tried to remember everything he could about what happened. “I remember you went with mom. The rest of the group was shot around the kitchen table. Their blood . . . their blood littered all their papers. The papers that mom hid like a R.A.C.I. item . . . and dad died right next to me.” Abel could tell that Sean did not really want to hear this either, but he tried to stay strong. After all if Abel was supposed to be the strong one, what would that make Sean? “Dad was dying, bleeding really badly. He handed me the envelope . . . told me that Uncle Les was still alive . . . something about Project Anarchy and said if Uncle Les gave us any problems just mention that we knew about PUMA.”
Sean’s eyes widened, “Project Anarchy,” he shouted into the computer which flashed that red light. “Password not in form of question,” Abel groaned in frustration, “well I guess that rules out PUMA right”? “This is ridiculous, I killed an older woman, and you shot a Military Police officer. I want to do something but I can’t, because this stupid organization sends us around in a wild goose chase.” Sean continued to stare at the silver box, his left hand still tucked into his pocket. Abel was angry and frustrated now all sense of sorrow long forgotten. Sean ignored him and focused on the box. It fell out of him. He did not know why he said it, it just felt right, “what is Project Anarchy?” The light flickered green and the lock clicked open. There was nothing to stop him for seeing the contents of this box. Their parents were killed for this information. Boom!!!!!
A large explosion shook the very room that Abel and Sean were standing in. “What the hell was that,” shouted Sean sounding a bit worried. Mr. Taylor was now opening the sliding doors to the security room. He waved them through with a “Hurry up Lobsters are here!” There came a booming voice from a person on what sounded like a megaphone, “Release Abel and Sean Gatewood in the name of Federal Districts!” The voice was loud and rough as if he was born to be in the military. Mr. Taylor waived his hand furiously as Sean grabbed the box exposing his tied up left hand. At this point it didn’t seem to matter all three of them were running down the hallway. “What the hell is going on,” exclaimed Sean again. Mr. Taylor was opening up the sliding door and everyone in the bank was looking out at Security Troopers amassing outside of the bank.
The man on the megaphone spoke up again, “bring out Abel and Sean Gatewood, and everyone will be able to go about their daily routines.” Sean slunk behind the wall still clenching the box in his hands, “that’s it, we are done for! They’ll send us prison”! Sean grabbed Abel by the shirt, “they could send us to Alaska . . . or make a deal with the Russians to send us to a Siberian Work Camp! I don’t want to go to Russia Abel, it’s a wasteland there!” Abel peered out the window. “Nice for you to keep a positive tone in this situation, don’t go loosing your head now at least their not Doom Troopers besides that Siberian Work Camp stuff is all just stories”. Sean gazed up at Abel pure terror in his eyes, “there not right . . . I mean they wouldn’t send them here for this”? Abel watched the bank become surrounded with troops, “why would N.W.O. send Security Troopers, I mean we are not even part of the U.U . . . at least not yet”. Abel’s comments had fallen on deaf ears as Sean looked around the bank, “why didn’t they send Military Police we are not that dangerous”? The whole bank was staring at Abel and Sean. A particular stocky banker was beginning to sweat a little, and the fear of the Federal Districts wrath had him thinking. “Look, I can hold onto the box for you,” Abel laughed at his comment. Sean shrugged, “maybe we should . . .” “And we are going to trust the contents of the box to him, a man that we don’t know and isn’t part of the U.U.”! Sean was now whispering, “we aren’t even part of them anyway, they don’t want us, please . . . please let’s just cross the border and . . .” Abel waved his hand angrily, “don’t start that again”!
Abel’s comment seemed to have hurt Mr. Taylor, “look I know you guys are with the resistance.” Sean made another mocking laugh, “Ha . . . no, we aren’t actually in the resistance, I thought you were eavesdropping too.” Mr. Taylor eyed them suspiciously, “well then why are your chips covered with bandannas?” Sean didn’t speak up this time and Abel was still gazing out the window. “We don’t have to be in the resistance, we could be . . . . just criminals.” Mr. Taylor smiled at Abel, “no your not, your part of the resistance and I sympathize with you and your group.” Abel reached in the back of his pants and pulled out a pistol saying, “those are very dangerous words.” Mr. Taylor eyed the pistol with a worrying look, “it doesn’t matter the N.W.O. will already jail me for giving your parents the box . . . zero tolerance towards terrorism remember”?
Security Troopers were forming outside they had on bright red camouflage outfits with a bright red bullet proof vest. There helmets were bright red, but the mask the covered their faces were black with a large black visor. They lined the parking lot and appeared to be forming for an ambush. “They might be . . .” but Abel didn’t finish his sentence. “If you do not bring out Abel and Sean Gatewood in ten minutes we will come in and execute anyone who resists.” The soldiers lined the parking lot and stood at perfect attention. They had giant m-16 machine guns which looked more situated for a heavy battle in warfare. “Guess we know why mom and dad were always so heavily armed huh,” Sean leaned over the counter as Abel finished, “guess we know why the news always called it the definition of urban warfare.” Abel turned lowering his, what he now considered useless pistol. “Why would the Federal District send Security Troopers to a bank,” Sean asked Abel, “Will you stop asking that their already here let’s just deal with it . . . Hey Sean, isn’t this the same battalion that was sent to our house the other night?” Abel gathered his thoughts which were soon interrupted by the stocky banker yelling, “Well I am not getting killed for these kids!” His voice was scratchy, and he made his way towards the boys, but Abel raised his gun and pointed it at him. The man froze in his tracks exclaiming “hey, hey, they are going to kill everybody here.” The pistol held firmly on the man, “they aren’t Doom Troopers so they won’t kill everybody alright”? Sean was now staring at the window. His comment had struck a thought in Abel’s mind. “We have to make sure they do not get the box,” Abel was now not even looking at the stocky man. He stood in place his hands slightly raised in the air, “you said that you sympathize with the resistance, do you have some place where you can hide this box?” Mr. Taylor stood in his spot not able to really think as the sight of the troopers started to terrify the man, “I . . . I . . .” he stammered.
“You have five minutes to comply,” the man on the megaphone sounded angrier and the troops seemed to be getting anxious as well. Their feet were moving ever so slightly in anticipation. Sean held onto the box, a women now sounding panicked, “Please just go out there, I don’t want to die, I have a family.”
“Sean, I am going to cause a diversion, and I need you to take the box, and get out of here.” Sean scoffed at the comment, “I am not leaving you here to be captured and killed.” The troops were now forming into a raid position. “Mr. Taylor, if you really sympathize with our cause you will get him out of here.” Mr. Taylor continued to stare, “it should be noted that it is a well known fact that this bank sympathizes with the resistance. I assumed it was only a matter of time before I showed my color. Mr. Taylor began to grow stronger as if he was finally revealing a dark secret. Unbuttoning his suit coat he opened it to reveal the inside color to be “blue” exclaimed Abel in mild shock. Sean saw Abel growing more confident in the man and dropped the pistol into the pudgy hands of the stocky banker. Sean stared at the man’s color, blue wasn’t a restricted color in this district so why was Abel so shocked by it? “Look all we need is a distraction and he can make a run for it.” Sean gripped the box tighter “no I am not leaving besides, how are you going to cause a distraction, when you have only one gun?” “I am not going to miss.” Shaking his head Sean laughed, “You’re a terrible shot”.
Smiling Abel gave Sean a quick hug, “I’m a better shot than you. I’ll see you soon . . . promise.” Sean couldn’t believe it, he tried to protest, but Mr. Taylor dragged him away. Sean screamed the whole way towards the office until Abel couldn’t hear him. His eyes fell on the Troopers who were now coming up the path towards the double doors. They would be entering the bank in a minute, Abel pulled back the chamber. The people of the bank began to run out of the doors, the scared lady screaming, “He is right there behind the counter, please don’t kill me!”
The lady’s screams were silenced by the bullets of the troopers. She fell to the ground as glass covered her body like shrapnel. Everyone in the bank ducked behind the desks for cover. The Troopers kicked in the doors sending the remainder of the glass sliding across the floor. They burst into the room as gunshots echoed off the wall. The sound of Abel’s pistol was drowned by the sound of fifteen heavy machine guns. People dropped to the floor as the Troopers came marching in the room firing in military precision and fashion at the only person resisting. Bullets were still flying as Abel slid out his empty magazine, and replaced it with a full one. Silence filled the bank as Abel heard the Troopers magazines hit the floor as well. Taking a deep breath he popped up quickly. Two shots rang from his pistol hitting the trooper right in the mask. No sound echoed from the man, but sparks did fly out of the mask almost like a computer being broken.
Abel fell down to the ground again as more Troopers started firing at him. One yelled out, “Hold your fire,” his voice was muffled from the helmet. Abel began to crawl on the floor, he didn’t know where he was going or what he was going to do he was surrounded. The truth of the situation came out with a “what the hell am I doing”? He could hear the Troopers beginning to pick up the people and escort the patriots out of the building. The ones that hadn’t fought and struggled but they were in vain. The soldiers carried them away as one man screamed, “nothing but slaves yourselves, long live the resistance”! Abel reached the end of the teller desk as he could almost feel them creeping closer to desk.
Abel leaned around the edge of the teller counter. A trooper stood ten feet from him pointing his machine gun across the way towards the spot he was at. Abel took aim with his pistol, but something had caught his eye. A man dressed in a long yellow shirt was waving a short blade at the solider letting it land into the shoulder pads of the soldier. “LONG LIVE THE AWAKENING,” he screamed as the several machine guns went off. The gentlemen fell to the ground and Abel watched the bearded man take his final breaths. Turning towards the soldiers he took the first shot hitting the lone soldier in the leg. He let out a groan of pain as he began to fall to his knees. The second shot hit him in the arm, which caused him to loose hold of his gun. The third was the kill shot, right through the helmet. The troopers screams had stopped, machine gun fire began to riddle the marble, chipping away inch by inch. Dust was beginning to settle in the air from all the marble being pulverized.
“Hey look what I found,” came a booming voice from somewhere behind the counter. A chill went up Abel’s spine, they had caught Sean. The box was discovered, all was lost and Abel didn’t even know why he was going to be killed. Abel began to feel around his pants, he had no more ammunition. His last bullets were contained in his current magazine. A body was thrown to the floor and Abel felt the chill growing inside of him. A person spoke, only it was not Sean’s. “Please, I didn’t do anything! I was just in my office.” “Mr. Taylor,” whispered Abel, his chill lessened slightly, but he was still stuck. With the greatest difficulty, and with no option left besides death, Abel yelled, “I’m coming out, don’t shoot!”
“Toss the pistol out first,” yelled one of the guards. Reluctantly Abel tossed it out around the corner. He heard it slide across the stone floor, “now stick out both your hands”! Abel complied and stuck out both his hands. Then he felt a Trooper grab him as he was forced from behind the counter. He was shoved down onto the ground and felt a tie go around his hands. He was pulled up and one of the Troopers removed his bandanna from his hand. “Damn rebels,” muttered the Trooper as another Trooper took out a different looking gun. It looked like one of those guns the dentist used to heat up braces. The neon blue light even came out of it. The chip in Abel’s left hand began to blink red, and the blue light cut off. “Yep, this is Abel Gatewood,” the Trooper took both his hands and walked him outside.
He was strolled out under heavy guard, and placed into the back of a giant black paddy wagon. He was shoved into the truck with other people from the bank. Many stood up and protested, “Please I have nothing to do with the resistance”! Abel sat down next to the only man who was not protesting, he eyed him the whole time as Abel was forced into his seat. A mysterious voice came out of nowhere, “so, you are the famous Abel Gatewood?” The voice came from a man in a bright red trooper uniform, but instead of a black helmet he had on a beret. Stars aligned over his shoulder, and a scar ran down from his eye to the corner of his mouth. He had icy blue eyes, which matched his icy tone and temper. “So, I don’t suppose you are going to tell us where your brother is?” Abel spat angrily at him, “he is dead you government sheep.” “Sheep,” said the Trooper, who seemed to take this comment more as a compliment. The officer stood there emotionless without any pity, “why can’t you just follow the laws.” Abel actually laughed at his, “what Laws, there not laws . . . more like orders. Laws can be challenged and removed.” “Laws are meant to be obeyed,” Abel laughed at this too, but his response was not to be heard. A Trooper came running over to the officer, “Col. Briggs, Sean Gatewood is not in the building.”
Just as the Trooper spoke, Abel saw out of the far corner of his left eye, somebody ducking between the many cars and trucks of the Troopers. It was Sean, “well, find him he probably has escaped, check the surrounding area!” Abel spoke, “no, he is not here, I don’t know where he is but he is not here.” Col. Briggs eyed him suspiciously, “first you call me a sheep now you want to be helpful?” Col. Briggs turned back to the trooper as Sean was now heading towards the tree line. “Gather up all the men you can spare, we are going to check the forest.” “Sir,” Col. Briggs’s icy eyes were now piercing the Trooper as if questions were not tolerated. “Please sir,” he said again trying to sound more polite. “Troopers don’t go into the woods . . . that is for the Military Police.” Sean had slunk into the tree line and disappeared. “Are you disobeying my orders,” Col. Briggs hand moved down to his side arm, which was clipped to his belt. The Trooper shook his head, “no . . . no, sir!” The Trooper turned and began to order the troops together as Col. Briggs returned to Abel “we will find your brother be sure of that.” Abel squeezed his hands trying to break the tie, “screw you Lobster!” Col. Briggs slammed the doors to the wagon smiling and knocked twice. I hope Sean can run. Abel’s head rested on the wall of the paddy wagon, “Please God, let him be ok.” Col. Briggs smiled at Abel staring at all the Security Troopers, “your just lucky we need you, if it were me I’d put a bullet in you right now”.
(To Be Continued)