Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 67263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Timur held my chest and back up so that I wouldn't drown.
Peace came in the silence of the liquid.
Then suddenly, something pushed hard at my side. Timur’s hands left me. I rolled over and sank deeper.
What?
Rising, I got my balance in the water and shook the blood water away from my face.
Grunts and screams sounded, but I couldn’t see shit.
What is happening?
I backed up fast and rubbed the liquid out of my eyes. My vision was blurry, but I caught enough of what was going on.
The brown door from earlier was open.
Jean-Pierre was in the water with the Ak-47 hitting it against Timur’s head over and over. And Timur was not happy. He growled and charged for him.
Oh yeah. Fuck the Great Eagle! I got to get out of here!
I dove Timur’s way, got on his back, and placed my cuffed wrists over his head. He fell back into the side of the pool and shifted his focus to me.
Jean-Pierre came for him again and slammed the butt of the gun against his head.
That did the trick.
Timur slumped against the edge and began to sink.
“Grab him.” Jean-Pierre panted. “Don’t let him drown.”
Fast, I got Timur’s heavy arm with my cuffed hands and barely kept a slippery grip on him. “I need your help."
Jean-Pierre dropped the gun into the pool. “Are there keys?”
It took all of my energy to keep Timur up. “Yeah. Get the keys over there by the wall.”
"Okay." Jean-Pierre panted some more and staggered into the water. The red sludge rippled around him. “You go. I’ll. . .hold him up as much as I can.”
“Okay.”
Jean-Pierre got to me and took over, but he wasn’t using his left hand. In fact, the fingers bent in the wrong direction. The skin around the wrist was puckered and scarred. Parts of his hand appeared dark purplish red and swollen.
I hurried to the stairs and rushed up. “You did our plan?”
“Yeah. I broke a bunch of things.”
“Damn.”
“It worked enough for me to slide the cuffs off.”
“Holy shit, man!” I stumbled out of the pool. Blood dripped from me. “Shout out to Alcatraz.”
“I must say. We do owe him."
"X was right. I wish he were alive for me to tell him."
"That's unfortunate." Jean-Pierre leaned against Timur's limp body. "Then, we should find out where this Alcatraz lives and send him some expensive cigars.”
I made it to the keys and took all of them off. “I wish we could, but we can’t.”
“Why not?”
I stumbled back with the keys. “The last time Alcatraz escaped, the cops shot him in the head and filled his back up with bullets.”
Chapter 10
Eagle-Fucker
N
aked and covered in dried blood, we handcuffed Timur’s wrists and then shackled his ankles twice. He was still out, but I hit his head one more time. I tried to give him a third hit, but Jean-Pierre stopped me with his good hand.
I didn’t know why he wouldn’t just let me kill dude, put a smiley face on his chest, and bury him in the backyard. Eden wouldn’t have known. Clearly, she had no idea how crazy he had become.
Once we secured Timur, we rushed through the brown door behind the pool. It led us down a black hallway. We went through there and it took us to a small two-level cabin.
Jean-Pierre rushed around the tiny living room and searched for a phone.
I ducked my head in the kitchen, bathroom and then hurried upstairs, looking for Boris or any sign of what happened to him.
Don't let him be dead.
At the top of the stairs, I spotted a surprisingly long hallway with at least ten doors.
“Boris, are you up here?!” I opened the first door.
A black bedroom greeted my eyes. It had a simple bed with a brown and white patched quilt. Tons of eagle paintings covered the walls. It reeked of mold and the overpowering stench of things being unwashed for a long time.
This must be where Timur sleeps with his stink smelling ass.
A massive, enormous eagle hung in the center of the room. Its wingspan extended from wall to wall. Its head pointed my way. The talons were outstretched and ready to strike.
It looked so real I thought it could be a stuffed eagle, but I didn’t think eagles grew that big.
Maybe he made this like he did the wood people.
Timur had missed his calling to be an amazing artist.
Regardless, there was no Boris in the room.
I checked the small bathroom attached to the bedroom. It was a simple spotless room. No washcloths or towels hung on the rack. Not one bottle of liquid soap, toothbrush, or toothpaste. No rugs were on the floor.
Of course it is clean in here. Dude never washes his ass.
I left the room, went into the long hallway, and headed to the next bedroom.
Jean-Pierre’s voice sounded from downstairs. He must’ve found a phone because he was speaking fast in French.