Tiger
Page 81
“We have teams of your men and mine going around the area asking questions,” Tim Oberto said. “Some of these hate groups have been known to camp out in the woods since no motel wants to put them up. They might still be close if they are the ones responsible for this kidnapping. There’s a hell of a lot of ground and we don’t have enough air support with one helicopter down.” He paused. “Thank you for lending us your helicopter from Homeland, Justice. It has helped, having two birds in the air.”
“I could hire out local helicopters and pilots if it will help,” Justice offered.
“Let’s do that,” Tim agreed. “The more land we search around here, the better. Just tell them to report any signs of life they find. Our teams will check out anything they spot.”
“I’m on it,” Justice stated before he broke the connection of the conference call.
Tiger closed his eyes, his thoughts on Zandy. Where is she? Is she still alive? The rage inside him built. She needed him but he didn’t know where to find her. He hated feeling helpless and he’d experienced that emotion often since he’d grown to care so deeply about the human female.
* * * * *
Pure terror gripped Zandy as they strapped her to their crazy contraption. She fought back a scream for a second but then let it loose. They’d kept her strapped to the bench but had tied that to a large cross that had been flat on top of the motor home roof. They used a winch from the front of the vehicle to raise it upright. The cross was connected to some welded-on hinge system.
She hung a good fifty or so feet from the ground and knew that at any second the ropes attached to the bench or even the belts holding her body could break. She’d plummet to the roof of the motor home or worse, fall farther to the ground. She frantically searched the area, seeking help from her high perch but didn’t see anyone in the surrounding woods. Miles of trees seemed to stretch around her and the only signs of life came from the group who had kidnapped her.
“Do you feel closer to God?” Brother Adam grinned at her from below, his hands on his waist, looking smug.
“Fuck you.” She really wanted to kill him.
“We’re going to pile wood and pour gasoline all over the roof up there with you. A tarp will hide you and cover the smell until it’s too late for anyone to help you.” He looked totally pleased with his insane plan. “We’re going to drive right up to the gates of hell, hoist you up for all to see and show the world what happens when someone submits to sin.”
“I’ve marked the cable line,” one of his men called out. “We’ll be able to get the cross raised quickly without fear of snapping the line.”
“Great.” Brother Adam beamed. “How many seconds will it take to get her up there? I need to prepare my speech accordingly.”
“We’ll test it.”
Zandy squeezed her eyes closed as the cross shook violently as it lowered. Her stomach rolled from the sick feeling of fear that the wood would just snap at the base where it had been connected to the top of the roof by the hinge they’d created. The entire thing finally rested on the roof and she breathed a sigh of relief when she lay flat again.
“You count, Brother,” someone shouted. “Ready?”
“Oh shit,” she muttered, afraid of what would happen next, not wanting to find out.
“Here we go!”
Her eyes flew open as the motor from the winch increased in sound. The entire cross and bench shook and another scream tore from her throat as it rose quickly, flinging her upward until she was suspended once again high in the air. Wood creaked and groaned, she could have sworn that the ropes holding the bench made a sound of protest but it stopped as suddenly as it had started.
“Six seconds,” a new voice announced. “Is that enough time?”
“Sure,” Adam nodded, no longer looking at her but digging into his pants to remove a pen and a palm-sized notepad. “Any longer and it might give them time to react. I’ll get to say my lines before the show begins.”
Show? They were talking about killing her as if it were a Broadway production. Hot tears filled her eyes and she blinked them back as some of the people below her started a line to pass kindling and chopped wood to the top of the motor home. They lined the edges first until someone suggested they lower the cross.
The ride down made her clench her teeth to avoid giving them the satisfaction of hearing her scream again. Once flat, she watched them stack wood closer to her sides, covering the entire roof surface with at least two layers. The smell of cut wood usually appealed to her but not under those circumstances.
The five people silently working avoided making eye contact with her. She decided to try though. “Please help me. You know this is wrong. My name is Zandy. I have a family and a life. I’m not evil.”
They kept working, refusing to look her way or speak. Frustration rose and she closed her eyes. The warm sun beat down on her but she felt cold inside. None of Brother Adam’s followers were going to grow a brain. They had a cult mentality and thought the idiot could do no wrong.
“Should we soak the wood with gasoline now?”
The voice belonged to the teenager with the holey clothes. He had climbed on top of the roof and held a dull red gas can in both hands. The sight of it made Zandy hyperventilate, each breath a fight for her to control.
They were really planning on setting her on fire. It was barbaric, horrific, and worse—idiotic.
“I could hire out local helicopters and pilots if it will help,” Justice offered.
“Let’s do that,” Tim agreed. “The more land we search around here, the better. Just tell them to report any signs of life they find. Our teams will check out anything they spot.”
“I’m on it,” Justice stated before he broke the connection of the conference call.
Tiger closed his eyes, his thoughts on Zandy. Where is she? Is she still alive? The rage inside him built. She needed him but he didn’t know where to find her. He hated feeling helpless and he’d experienced that emotion often since he’d grown to care so deeply about the human female.
* * * * *
Pure terror gripped Zandy as they strapped her to their crazy contraption. She fought back a scream for a second but then let it loose. They’d kept her strapped to the bench but had tied that to a large cross that had been flat on top of the motor home roof. They used a winch from the front of the vehicle to raise it upright. The cross was connected to some welded-on hinge system.
She hung a good fifty or so feet from the ground and knew that at any second the ropes attached to the bench or even the belts holding her body could break. She’d plummet to the roof of the motor home or worse, fall farther to the ground. She frantically searched the area, seeking help from her high perch but didn’t see anyone in the surrounding woods. Miles of trees seemed to stretch around her and the only signs of life came from the group who had kidnapped her.
“Do you feel closer to God?” Brother Adam grinned at her from below, his hands on his waist, looking smug.
“Fuck you.” She really wanted to kill him.
“We’re going to pile wood and pour gasoline all over the roof up there with you. A tarp will hide you and cover the smell until it’s too late for anyone to help you.” He looked totally pleased with his insane plan. “We’re going to drive right up to the gates of hell, hoist you up for all to see and show the world what happens when someone submits to sin.”
“I’ve marked the cable line,” one of his men called out. “We’ll be able to get the cross raised quickly without fear of snapping the line.”
“Great.” Brother Adam beamed. “How many seconds will it take to get her up there? I need to prepare my speech accordingly.”
“We’ll test it.”
Zandy squeezed her eyes closed as the cross shook violently as it lowered. Her stomach rolled from the sick feeling of fear that the wood would just snap at the base where it had been connected to the top of the roof by the hinge they’d created. The entire thing finally rested on the roof and she breathed a sigh of relief when she lay flat again.
“You count, Brother,” someone shouted. “Ready?”
“Oh shit,” she muttered, afraid of what would happen next, not wanting to find out.
“Here we go!”
Her eyes flew open as the motor from the winch increased in sound. The entire cross and bench shook and another scream tore from her throat as it rose quickly, flinging her upward until she was suspended once again high in the air. Wood creaked and groaned, she could have sworn that the ropes holding the bench made a sound of protest but it stopped as suddenly as it had started.
“Six seconds,” a new voice announced. “Is that enough time?”
“Sure,” Adam nodded, no longer looking at her but digging into his pants to remove a pen and a palm-sized notepad. “Any longer and it might give them time to react. I’ll get to say my lines before the show begins.”
Show? They were talking about killing her as if it were a Broadway production. Hot tears filled her eyes and she blinked them back as some of the people below her started a line to pass kindling and chopped wood to the top of the motor home. They lined the edges first until someone suggested they lower the cross.
The ride down made her clench her teeth to avoid giving them the satisfaction of hearing her scream again. Once flat, she watched them stack wood closer to her sides, covering the entire roof surface with at least two layers. The smell of cut wood usually appealed to her but not under those circumstances.
The five people silently working avoided making eye contact with her. She decided to try though. “Please help me. You know this is wrong. My name is Zandy. I have a family and a life. I’m not evil.”
They kept working, refusing to look her way or speak. Frustration rose and she closed her eyes. The warm sun beat down on her but she felt cold inside. None of Brother Adam’s followers were going to grow a brain. They had a cult mentality and thought the idiot could do no wrong.
“Should we soak the wood with gasoline now?”
The voice belonged to the teenager with the holey clothes. He had climbed on top of the roof and held a dull red gas can in both hands. The sight of it made Zandy hyperventilate, each breath a fight for her to control.
They were really planning on setting her on fire. It was barbaric, horrific, and worse—idiotic.
