Free Forsaking Home (The Survivalist Series) by A. American Page B

he was doused with cold water. He let out a howl as the water hit him.
    “How you holding up there, sport?” one of the guards asked, moving into the cell. “We’ve got a little something here for you, to take your mind off the cold and all. That is, unless you want to go back and talk to Niigata?”
    “F-f-fuck you.”
    “Gonna play tough, huh? That’s all right, I like it better this way.”
    Shane heard the man step toward him, but he couldn’t anticipate what would happen next. The man delivered a forceful slap to the bottom of his scrotum, causing his stomach to instantly knot. What little weight his legs had been supporting was now entirely on his shoulders as his knees buckled.
    The guard laughed. “Looks like it’s cold in here.” He laughed again. “That thing ready?” he asked.
    “Yeah, you ready? I don’t want to be in here when this shit starts up,” another guard said. Jess’s mind raced, trying to anticipate what torture they were going to inflict next—and on who.
    “Just a sec,” the guard said, fiddling with something. “All right, you fuckers, we’re going to play you a little music!” he shouted.
    Before the words stopped echoing off the concrete, music began to blare. The sound was so loud it took a minute for it to even register what it was that was assaulting their ears.
    Fred immediately sat down to cover her ears. “Fucking polka music!” she screamed. Even if someone had been in the cell with her, they couldn’t have heard her.
    Though it was torturous for all, the music was even more torturous for Shane. The speakers were facing his cell and the sound bore into his head. He was freezing and his shoulders and arms were now numb—for that at least he was thankful. The music, if you could call it that, was so loud that it overwhelmed all other senses. He couldn’t believe that just a day ago, he was out roaming free, and now he was hanging like a sack of meat, beaten, bruised, and defeated.

Chapter 7
    W e bounced down the road in the buggy, following the tracks to a paved road. Mike stopped and got out to inspect the tracks.
    At the paved road we got out again. “Which way did they go?” Mel asked.
    “Hard to say,” Ted said as he circled the sand at the edge of the pavement.
    Mike pointed to the east. “What’s that way?”
    “Nothing for a long ways. The river is over there, then several miles of open forest,” Danny said.
    “Let’s start out this way,” Ted said, pointing to the west. “How are we going to find them?” Mel asked, her voice cracking.
    “They couldn’t have been too far if they were on foot. You take the left and we’ll take the right,” Danny said.
    Mike nodded and we got back in the buggy. Perez was on the left side, scanning the edge of the road as we drove. Seeing the M4 in his lap made me realize that I’d left mine by the fire pit. Here I was, out looking for someone who’d taken Little Bit, and I didn’t even have my rifle. At least I had my pistol.
    Mike was driving slowly and everyone, except for Mel, was looking at the side of the road.
    “Morg! Are those your dogs?” Mike said, pointing in the distance. I looked up to see Meathead and Little Girl standing on the right side of the road. Meathead’s ears were up and he was looking right at us, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. Relief flooded me, just for a moment.
    “Yeah, that’s them,” I said excitedly. If the dogs were here, that meant Little Bit couldn’t be too far away.
    Mike sped up as the dogs darted off into the woods. As we got closer to where they disappeared, I realized we were almost at the entrance to Alexander Springs.
    The dogs were nowhere to be seen, but I started to have a feeling that I knew who we were looking for. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks.
    “Remember that guy who was living back in here?” I asked Ted.
    “Yeah, weird little dude,” Ted replied, then rubbed his chin. “Didn’t he shoot at us when we were coming