He could hear the thumping of heavy leather boots behind him, the sound echoing in his mind as he ran. Reaching out with both hands, he swatted tree branches away from his face, though sometimes he would miss one or two and they would snap back at him, leaving nasty cuts on his face and bare arms.
The thumping was unrelentless. There was no stopping them now that they knew what he and his family were capable of. The most he could do was lead them away from his sister and father, but he didn’t know how much longer he could keep it up as his legs began to grow weary and his throat throbbed as he gasped for breath.
“Over here!”
He forced himself on as the shout was heard too close for comfort. Pumping his legs, he flew in between the trees and over the roots that stuck out above the ground, taunting him with their disguise, ready to trip him up at a moment's notice.
He skidded to a stop as the treeline abruptly ended, and he looked down, his worst fears confirmed. Below him was a sheer drop of about one hundred feet. There was no way he could slide down the rocky slope; he knew he was cornered. All he could do was wait for the men to arrive and drag him away, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going down without a fight.
The sky above him told him it was almost six o’clock PM as the sun began to set in the West, partially blocked by the trees. He turned around, panting as the men began to break free from the limiting forest. As soon as they spotted him, he noticed a change in their behavior. The men slowed to a walking pace as they cautiously made their way towards him, as if he were a wounded animal.
All of them wore the same attire: black police uniforms, leather boots, and hard helmets with the single letter V painted in a light grey across the front. However, the thing about them that worried him the most, was the pistol strapped to every man’s belt. He watched anxiously as some of their hands itched for the weapon, but none of them grabbed the guns. Not yet at least.
One man in particular stepped forward before the rest, his chest puffed out slightly to show he was the one in charge, and that all bowed under his rule. He was singled out by a plus sign painted after the V on his helmet, which somehow made him the boss. He eyed the boy in front of him curiously, and the boy glared back at him, his thin lips pressed tightly together as his harsh breathing forced its way out of his nostrils. His stance was firm and unmoving, and his hands clenched into fists.
“Xavis Andrew Lodger,” the V+ man said. His tone was dark and had a hint of amusement to it as he spoke the boy’s name, which was soon followed by a slow clapping, his black leather gloves muffling the noise.
Xavis’s glare hardened, his usually bright blue eyes turning to dark slits. He stood at the edge of the cliff, mentally processing his chances of jumping and which situation would have the worst outcome. He guessed going with these guys would be worse than death, yet he was too afraid to take the leap; death can be a scary thing if you don’t know what will happen after you enter its dark grasp.
“Grab him,” V+ commanded his men. Xavis immediately shifted into a ready stance, fully aware of the men advancing on him. As one tried to grab his arm, he lashed out, hitting the man square in the nose. He hurriedly punched another on the temple, causing him to jerk back, before kicking yet another in the groin. It didn’t take long, however, for Xavis to come to the conclusion that in this unfair fight of one against twenty-two, he was destined to fail from the start.
The men had soon piled on top of him. Xavis grunted and crashed to the ground as one of the men kicked him hard behind the knees, and another settled his own knee into Xavis’s back as he forced the boy’s hands together. A few others worked on pinning his legs down so that he couldn’t kick out, and with nearly all of the men on top of him, Xavis gave up and allowed the side of his face to be ground into the sharp rocks that made up the floor.
V+ was soon kneeling down beside his head, and he took a fistful of Xavis’s hair and pulled it up, forcing the boy to look at him through the pain-filled tears that had developed in his eyes as a few strands were torn from his scalp.
“Where are the others?” V+ asked menacingly.
“Like I...would ever tell...you,” Xavis spat through gasps as the result of hardly being able to take a full breath.
“Hm,” V+ grunted as he let go of Xavis’s hair. The boy cried out in protest as his head crashed back down onto the ground forcefully, and V+ ignored it as he stood up once more and addressed his men. “Take him. We will find the other two later, and he may just be the key to their hiding place. It’s also no secret that he’s the most useful.”
Xavis growled as he was lifted from the ground. The pressure of nineteen men being released from his body was a heavenly feeling though, he had to admit that. He would never take his run-down pull-out couch bed for granted ever again after this.
As he had promised himself, Xavis really didn’t go down without a fight. He continued to thrash about, pulling on his arms as the grip of many men cut off the circulation. He kicked up once or twice, but was soon forced to stop as a few men grabbed his legs and began to carry him instead.
It would have been a truly interesting and terrifying sight to see for any passer-by. A fifteen-year-old boy trying to break free from the grip of several soldiers as he was dragged off to who-knows-where.
V+ took the lead and didn’t think twice about slowing down for his struggling minions. Eventually, enough was enough for them. A man that held one of his legs growled in frustration as he used his free hand to grab the pistol from his belt, and shoved the barrel up against the side of Xavis’s kneecap, his finger ready on the trigger.
“Stop your movin’, boy, or I won't hesitate to shoot ya,” he warned, a slight southern accent caught in his tone. Xavis attempted with all the willpower he had to keep the unrelenting fear from revealing itself on his face, but when the man smiled as he looked into the boy’s eyes, Xavis realized that it was already too late.
It took great effort, but he finally forced himself to relax as the thought of his kneecap being blown off didn’t sound too appealing at the moment, or in any moment for that matter. The men continued on, slowly but surely lugging him through the trees and toward Xavis’s new definition of hell.
ns 15.158.61.54da2
