Free The Dark Trinity (Book 1): Shuffle by Steven Till

time.”
    Narrowing his eyes, Kapinsky lowered the shotgun. “You know,
son, you’re the first person today who’s been straight with me. In my
experience, the only men you can trust are honest ones. Plus, the fact that you
didn’t piss yourself where you stand while I held you at gunpoint tells me that
you‘ve got some grapefruits between them legs of yours. You’re gonna need ‘em
for what I’m about to ask you to do.”
    The roughneck walked by Nathan and headed towards the front
counter. “Grab your gear, son and follow me.”
    Picking up the backpack and duffel bag, he followed the
Master Sergeant past the counter and through a door that led to a small storage
room. The space was dimly lit, illuminated by a single naked light bulb which
hung from the ceiling in the middle of the room. Various military items lined
the shelves along the perimeter of the large closet. Situated in the center was
a small wooden table and an old office chair. Resting on the table was an
ashtray, a cigarette, Army issue Zippo, a shot glass, and a half-empty bottle
of Jack Daniels. He set the bags down next to the doorway.
    For some reason, a scene from Pulp Fiction flashed through
Nathan’s brain. He didn’t see a ball gag, or a large trunk holding a
leather-clad man anywhere in the room, so he doubted that his new Army buddy
was planning on sodomizing him. Well, that’s one thing that’s going my way, he thought.
    “Um, sir, I’m not sure what we’re doing in here, but maybe I
should just pay for all this shit and get you to the hospital.”
    Kapinsky walked around the table and sat down in the creaky
old chair. “Have a seat, son,” he said as he opened the whiskey and poured
himself a double shot.
    Nathan looked around the room, but the old war vet had taken
the only chair. Seeing a five gallon bucket nearby, he slid it over to the
table and sat down, looking like a kid sitting at the grown-up table.
    “I’m not gonna charge you for any of that stuff,” said
Kapinsky, nodding to the bags on the floor. “I won’t be needing money where I’m
going.”
    He threw the whiskey down his throat and slammed the empty
shot glass down onto the table. The burn of the shot threw the man into a
coughing fit, throwing small flecks of blood onto the table. When the hacking
finally stopped, the Master Sergeant poured another double and slid the glass
towards Nathan.
    “Here, drink this.”
    “Oh… Um… Thanks, but I’m more of a fruity, umbrella kind of
guy. I appreciate…” Nathan started, but the man across the table interrupted.
    “Drink the fucking whiskey.”
    The glass was to his mouth and the liquor screamed down his
gullet. He managed to set the glass back onto the table and gave a rough cough
from the fiery sensation that permeated his throat. Kapinsky gave a wry smile.
    “You’ll thank me later for that,” he said.
    He poured himself another shot and gulped it down, managing
to stifle a second fit of blood-spraying coughing. He then picked up the
cigarette and lit it up with the well-worn Zippo. Nathan could picture the man
sitting in the jungles of Vietnam, lighting up a smoke with the same lighter.
After taking a long drag, he placed the cigarette in the ashtray notch and
exhaled slowly. Smoke billowed out around him and gave the room a creepy haze
that one might see in an old noir film.
    “So here’s what’s gonna go down Private,” Kapinsky said,
looking Nathan straight in the eyes. “I ain’t goin’ to no doctor. There’s no
point in it. One of those freaks out there bit me and now I have it. I
don’t know what it is, but I’m no dumbass; I’ve seen what happens to people who
get bitten.”
    He picked up his smoke and took another long drag.
    “I’ve been throwing up strawberry jam for the past twenty
minutes, so I have a feeling this is gonna happen soon and I can tell ya right
now, I’m not ending up like one of those things.”
    He slid his shotgun across the table.
    “So my question to you