Read Online The Incident (Chase Barnes Series Book 1) by John Montesano - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John Montesano
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His body shook as the chains were shaken loose through the holes in the fence. The guys whispered something to each other but Esteban couldn’t make out what was said. One of the guys casually kicked Esteban in the leg.
It took a moment to realize, but Esteban was free. He wanted to run. He wanted to kick. He wanted to scream but Esteban, for the first time ever, had a sense of reasoning control his mind. The impulsive rage had temporarily subsided. Esteban wasn’t sure if it was because of how tired he was or that genuine terror and fear had finally set in. Either way, common sense had slapped him in the face, if only for a few moments. Maybe a part of Esteban’s inner rebel was excited by the amount of attention he was receiving, albeit from thugs and kidnappers, and he wanted to see where this was going and why this was happening to him. Why was he the subject of such violent, thuggish street behavior?
“Who are you? And what the hell do you want with me?” Esteban asked. The sense of pride was growing. He spit on the ground in the direction of one of the thugs’ feet as a sign of toughness and even puffed up his chest a little bit.
“Shut the fuck up!” The taller one shouted and clobbered Esteban with a vicious backhand across the right side of his face. The other unidentified thug giggled. They wrestled Esteban to his feet and carried him back to the van.
The van sped down Lafayette, passing through a residential neighborhood. Lafayette came to an end at Passaic County Road 647. The van slid into a space in the parking lot of the Food Mart. The passenger hopped out and spent no more than five minutes in the store. From Esteban’s vantage point it didn’t look like the guy bought anything and was wondering the purpose of the pit stop. There wasn’t much Esteban could see from his lying down position while his wrists were tied to his ankles. The way his arms were drawn tightly against his body he thought he’d much prefer the chains.
“Fuck you!” Esteban shouted, his impulses returning. Before he could speak again, he heard the sound of a gun being cocked. The passenger casually turned around, pointing the muzzle of a Smith & Wesson at Esteban. He didn’t say anything because Esteban’s expression told the thug that the gun was enough.
The newfound sun felt warm but Esteban couldn’t tell if it was just the stifling temperature in the back of the van. Any other day would have been prime for skateboarding or hanging on the stoop. Today wasn’t one of those days. In Esteban’s mind, dark clouds had formed and had no intentions of ever leaving.
Out of the parking lot, the van made a left on to 647 and drove top speed to the corner of 647 and Market Street, pulling into another parking lot. This lot was for a Checkers fast food restaurant. The driver killed the engine and rolled down his window. Casually hanging his elbow out, he turned to his partner and spoke for the first time.
“Now we wait for the Chooch.”
PART II- Blame
TWENTY
The night is dark. But it’s almost a darker shade of blue rather than black. I haven’t figured out why I only have one shoe on. No idea where the other one is or how I lost it. I am walking on a beach. A beach I recognize from the boardwalk attractions but I don’t know where I am. I recognize smells from delectable boardwalk foods. I can taste the beach air. I can see the moon making a magnificent reflection on the serene Atlantic Ocean. I hear children screaming in excitement on the Tilt- a-
It took a moment to realize, but Esteban was free. He wanted to run. He wanted to kick. He wanted to scream but Esteban, for the first time ever, had a sense of reasoning control his mind. The impulsive rage had temporarily subsided. Esteban wasn’t sure if it was because of how tired he was or that genuine terror and fear had finally set in. Either way, common sense had slapped him in the face, if only for a few moments. Maybe a part of Esteban’s inner rebel was excited by the amount of attention he was receiving, albeit from thugs and kidnappers, and he wanted to see where this was going and why this was happening to him. Why was he the subject of such violent, thuggish street behavior?
“Who are you? And what the hell do you want with me?” Esteban asked. The sense of pride was growing. He spit on the ground in the direction of one of the thugs’ feet as a sign of toughness and even puffed up his chest a little bit.
“Shut the fuck up!” The taller one shouted and clobbered Esteban with a vicious backhand across the right side of his face. The other unidentified thug giggled. They wrestled Esteban to his feet and carried him back to the van.
The van sped down Lafayette, passing through a residential neighborhood. Lafayette came to an end at Passaic County Road 647. The van slid into a space in the parking lot of the Food Mart. The passenger hopped out and spent no more than five minutes in the store. From Esteban’s vantage point it didn’t look like the guy bought anything and was wondering the purpose of the pit stop. There wasn’t much Esteban could see from his lying down position while his wrists were tied to his ankles. The way his arms were drawn tightly against his body he thought he’d much prefer the chains.
“Fuck you!” Esteban shouted, his impulses returning. Before he could speak again, he heard the sound of a gun being cocked. The passenger casually turned around, pointing the muzzle of a Smith & Wesson at Esteban. He didn’t say anything because Esteban’s expression told the thug that the gun was enough.
The newfound sun felt warm but Esteban couldn’t tell if it was just the stifling temperature in the back of the van. Any other day would have been prime for skateboarding or hanging on the stoop. Today wasn’t one of those days. In Esteban’s mind, dark clouds had formed and had no intentions of ever leaving.
Out of the parking lot, the van made a left on to 647 and drove top speed to the corner of 647 and Market Street, pulling into another parking lot. This lot was for a Checkers fast food restaurant. The driver killed the engine and rolled down his window. Casually hanging his elbow out, he turned to his partner and spoke for the first time.
“Now we wait for the Chooch.”
PART II- Blame
TWENTY
The night is dark. But it’s almost a darker shade of blue rather than black. I haven’t figured out why I only have one shoe on. No idea where the other one is or how I lost it. I am walking on a beach. A beach I recognize from the boardwalk attractions but I don’t know where I am. I recognize smells from delectable boardwalk foods. I can taste the beach air. I can see the moon making a magnificent reflection on the serene Atlantic Ocean. I hear children screaming in excitement on the Tilt- a-
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