Chapter Nine

In the cab of the truck, Face sat quietly between Rusty, who drove down the rutted dirt road with redneck precision, and the henchman known as Jeff—a man with, judging by the stench of his sweat, an affinity for garlic fried foods. Face wrinkled his nose. He usually didn't mind the odor of garlic, but, exuded from the body in the form of perspiration, it certainly lost a lot of its charm.

"Don't get any funny ideas." Jeff growled, clasping his knife so tight his knuckles whitened.

Face sighed, rolled his eyes and then glared down at the floor. How many times was the guy going to threaten him with that blasted knife? It was getting a bit old. Yeah, he got it; he shouldn't try anything funny. Well, he could have since his hands were still free, but he wouldn't dare yet since good old Jeff was seated right next to him, eager to have something to stab…probably repeatedly.

The road wove up into the rolling foothills of the mountains. Pine trees loomed overhead. It was at least a good hour's hike, maybe more, back to town. Face sighed; he really didn't want to have to make that hike.

He glanced back at Murdock. Hands bound behind his back, the Captain sat in the truck bed, looking miserable, but that might have been due to the fact that Roger kept jabbing him in the belly with a rifle. Eyes narrowed, Face watched Roger carefully; he could see the man's mouth moving, but whatever he was saying was lost amid the din of travel. Murdock, however, seemed capable of hearing everything and whatever was being said had a grim effect on the pilot. Jaw clenched, eyes dull, he frowned down at his feet, a slow shudder working through his body.

Forcing himself to look away, Face tried to suppress his anger; they needed to stay in control if they had any chance of escaping. Still, when they were free…he was going to make these guys pay.

"Um, are we almost there?" He asked, keeping his voice calm, even. "I really do have a very tight schedule to keep."

Rusty sneered. "What's with all the comedians all of the sudden? Don't worry… " He gave a gritty laugh. "…you don't have to wait long."

Sure enough, the truck lurched to a halt.

As soon as they stopped, Face found himself being yanked out of the vehicle. Jeff held him firmly by the collar, pulling him backwards, still brandishing the knife.

Leaning close, garlicky aroma polluting the fresh mountain air, Jeff gave the low threat, "I'll cut you open if you try anything…"

"Funny, yeah, I know." Face couldn't help himself; it came out before he could stop it, but he regretted it as the knife tip pressed against his neck.

"That…" Jeff's breathing was low, hoarse. "…was pushing it."

In his peripheral vision, Face caught a flash of movement. Slowly, he glanced over.

Murdock was putting up one hell of a fight, but, with his hands bound, Rusty and Roger were easily overpowering him. There was a wild, blind fury in the Captain's eyes, and there was fear.

With everyone so distracted by Murdock, Face knew he had to act. He had to…

"If you try anything…" Jeff paused, obviously catching himself before uttering the word 'funny.' "Roger will snap your friend's neck in an instant. He knows how. I seen him do it before. "

Face hesitated, watching as Rusty pressed the pilot up against a tree and Roger secured him to the trunk with a rope. Held firmly in the coils, Murdock went limp. Their opportunity was gone, hopefully they'd get another.

Obviously satisfied that their rope would hold, Rusty and Roger left Murdock and strolled over toward Face and Jeff. No one spoke as Rusty gathered a couple more lengths of rope from the truck.

Cold blade still pressed to his throat, Face watched Rusty toss one of the ropes up and over a high, strong branch on a nearby tree. He swallowed hard, eyeing the knot Rusty started to dutifully work on, but…something wasn't right. That wasn't a noose; it was a common slipknot.

An anxious curiosity settling over him, Face glanced over at Roger; the man was filling a thick burlap sack with large stones and then stringing a four foot rope through two reinforced rings at the top of the bag. What were they up to?

Suddenly, Jeff shoved him forward; Face stumbled and would have toppled over if Rusty hadn't caught him. There was a flurry of movement; hands grabbed at him. Face struggled, but, unsure of what was happening, and concerned mainly with protecting his neck, he couldn't quite fend off his attackers.

The three men stepped away, eyeing their handiwork.

Around Face's left wrist, the rope holding the sack of stones was tied. He stared down at the bag; it had to weigh about a hundred pounds. He really didn't like the idea of being attached to a hundred pounds of dead weight, but…

He glanced up at his right wrist held aloft by the rope Rusty had secured. The slipknot had tightened a little before Face had managed to grab hold of the rope, easing some of the tension. He frowned. They were going to hang him by his wrist? Well, it was probably better than his neck, but he still wasn't very fond of this plan.

"Don't worry," Rusty laughed. "It gets even better."

Face glanced up, his eyes settling on Roger and Jeff as they took hold of the anchor end of the rope attached to his right wrist. The two men braced themselves and then yanked, but Face didn't see any more than that. His world spun, literally.

Lifted into the air, he spun wildly around. His arms burning as his muscles tried to support both the weight of his body and the extra hundred pounds. He could feel his shoulders strain, nearly dislocating. Slowly the spinning eased into a gentle sway, and Face spotted Murdock.

The Captain squirmed and fidgeted with his restraints, virtually unnoticed by the three goons now engrossed in Face's struggle. Ok, if Murdock needed a distraction, Face could give it.

"So…um…now what?" Face aske, finally finding it hard to remain aloof. "I just hang here like this?"

Rusty chuckled, turned and walked to the truck, reached inside and pulled something out. He strolled back, humming to himself.

"Now, we use this," he said, holding up a five iron, "on our human piñata."