I'm so sorry everyone, but somehow the bottom bit of the Prologue was missing. I apologize to everyone who has already read this. The FULL prologue has been upload.
Prologue
Slums of outer Cali, Valle del Cauca, Columbia
He couldn't run anymore. He just couldn't. He didn't have the physical strength to move one more step, even if his spirit was still willing, still yet to be broken.
He was beyond exhausted; he hadn't eaten in days, had had only a small amount of brown foal-tasting water and on top of that he'd been forced to endure several brutal beatings over the past two days since he'd been abducted by the man with the eyes of the devil.
He didn't even know what time it was. It was night, that was all he knew, but the sun could have just gone down or maybe it was just about to cast it's glorious rainbow of colours on the horizon, he just didn't know and without the aid of some kind of time keeping device – which he didn't have – there was no way he could find out the time.
Maybe he could have kept pushing himself even further beyond his physical limits even more than he had already had if he'd had somewhere or someone to run too, but there was nowhere and no one.
Because he was in their backyard, their country. If he had been back home in the states he would have had options. Hell, if he even knew exactly where he was he might have been able to come up with something.
But he knew nothing more than it was night and he was somewhere in the slums of what he could only assume was a Colombian City.
He laughed ruefully to himself. He couldn't even be sure of what country he was in! How could he possibly escape those who hunted him, those where knew the answers to his questions?
It was ungodly hot and humid so he was most likely still in South America but that wasn't much to know. There were a lot of countries and hundreds, maybe even thousands, of major cities in South America.
For all he knew he could be far from Colombia. Hell, he could be in Brazil or Argentina for all he knew.
With his luck he probably was far from where he'd been abducted from his hotel room two days ago in Bogota, Columbia's capital city.
With no strength left in him, he staggered over to the nearest solid wall of some unknown crumbling structure, and planted his back against it, only then did he allow his legs to give out. He slid down the wall the land softly in the dirt, but at least he had a chance to try to catch his breath.
And there he waited.
His entire body ached and throbbed. He was so exhausted his body felt like it was made of lead. He wanted to sleep but he knew that he wouldn't have that much time.
He was right.
The hounds of hell, the henchmen of the devil who'd been hot on his heels stepped out of the shadows as silently and as stealthily as if they had been one with the shadows of the night.
The full moon above clearly illuminated the black assault rifles, mostly Russian made AK47's and various other weapons they all held. All pointed at him.
Not one of them made a sound and none of them moved, not even when the devil, well dressed in a white suit and wearing the face of a handsome South American man, stepped into the moonlight not four feet from him.
In dismayed defeat, Andrew reluctantly and exhaustedly looked up into the eyes of the devil, the eyes of the soulless man who was once again his captor.
"No hay donde usted puede esconderse de mí, roedor."
The man spoke in Spanish, a language Andrew knew well enough to translate.
"There is no where you can hide from me, rodent."
Andrew couldn't help himself, brushing a strand of his dirt-smeared blond hair out of his eyes, he grinned smugly up at the Columbian devil who had no idea that Andrew knew a devil of his own.
Except this devil Andrew also called brother.
"Hide?" Andrew scoffed with dark amusement up at the Colombian in English rather than the man's own tongue. "No. I'm not hiding. What I have done is sealed your fate, my friend."
"What does this 'sealed fate' mean?" The devil asked with his heavy Spanish accent and arrogant tone.
Andrew very well knew that he might be facing his own death but right now he was too exhausted, to beaten up, to care.
Besides, he had accomplished what he had escaped to do. And his captures didn't even know what he had set in motion, something that couldn't be stopped whether he lived or died.
Andrew looked directly into his captor's eyes, letting him see the truth of his words in his eyes.
"It means that hell is coming for you, regardless of what happens to me."
Black rage flared in the eyes of the man they called Diablo de los Malditos meaning the Devil of the Damned, and then the Devil attacked him.
Within moments Andrew knew nothing but black nothingness.
A little further down the street, hidden in the black shadows, the sound of the expensive Sony digital camera clicking away remained unnoticed, the sound too low and too far away to be heard over the sound of the canopied truck backing up.
The camera kept clicking away even after the limp man had been loaded into the back of the old mostly-run down vehicle.
Only when the men and the truck was gone did the figure step out of the shadows, taking only the moment to check that the coast was clear before turning and fleeing in the opposite direction.
Chapter 1 is coming I promise, I've already started it and I know where it's going, so hopefully it shouldn't take too long.