Read Online TOCABAGA (Revised Edition) (Book #1 of The Tocabaga Chronicles) by Thomas H. Ward - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Thomas H. Ward
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and think about it.”
We jumped in Tommy’s truck and drove to the bar.
I felt like something was missing, my shadow. I asked Tony the barkeeper, “Have you seen Mark around?”
Tony replied , “No, not today.”
I got on the radio announcing, “All security stations: If anyone has seen Mark, give me a call. I’ve got a job for him.”
Chris , one of the security guards, clicked his radio and said, “Yeah, a job dumping bodies into the water. Ha, ha.”
I gave no reply and Rick laughed.
Mark wo uld disappear for one or two days at a time. He wouldn’t tell anyone where he was going or what he was doing. Mark was like a shadow. He would come and go without anyone seeing him. No one paid attention to him. I was a little concerned because Mark didn’t think like a normal person and if he got some idea in his head he might act on it, even if it put him in danger.
Rick and I were e njoying a meal of smoked fish and drinking tonic water when Tommy walked in and said, “I suggest we go back to my original plan of sniping them from the back of my truck. I suggest we hit them now. It’s 2 pm and hot as usual, so the scumbags will most likely be inside, out of the sun.”
Rick replied, “ Ok, after we eat and down a few cool drinks.”
We decided to go snipe after 4 pm. That way the sun’s angle would be to our advantage, if we stayed on the west side of the road, near the mangrove trees.
We were slowly driving down the dirt strip near the bushes, when Tommy announced, “Is that Mark’s bike?”
I saw it too and responded, “Yes, maybe Mark is nearby. Get out and look.”
I drove w hile Tommy and Robbie paced the roadway, searching through the thick vegetation. Tommy yelled, “Dad, here he is! I think he is dead!”
I jumped out of the truck , my heart pounding, and ran about ten feet to reach Tommy’s location. Looking down I saw Mark lying in the bushes all cut up in a puddle of blood. His hands and feet were duct-taped and he had a piece of duct tape across his mouth. He was a bloody mess and had a note pinned to his chest by a knife. I recognized the knife, it was Mark’s fishing knife.
The note read , “Feed your buddy to the fish.” I pulled the tape off his face and cut the tape off his hands and feet. They roughed him up real good, even skinning half his face off; I could see his jaw bone. He was a mess of blood and dirt with black and blue marks, and his face was swollen beyond recognition. I could hardly tell it was my poor buddy.
I was looking at his beaten face and said, “Hey buddy can you hear me? Who did this?”
Mark couldn’t open his eyes as they were swollen shut. I gripped his hand and assured him, “Mark you’re going to be fine, we’ll get you back to the Doc and Amy to patch you up.”
Mark moaned in a whisper, “Jack… they got me buddy … they killed me dead. Get ’em for me.”
I squeezed his hand as he was coughing up blood. Then Mark whispered, “Fish food.”
He gasped and took a deep breath and went limp. They cut him all over and he had bled profusely. They left him for dead knowing we would find him. I wasn’t sure if Mark would make it with the extensive body wounds and beating he took. They probably tried to get information out of him but I knew Mark would never talk. We lifted Mark into the back of the truck and drove to the clinic as fast as we could.
I got on the radio to Amy and instructed her, “Amy, get the Doc, we are bringing Mark to the clinic. He’s been beaten and stabbed.”
Stab wounds are the worst as you don’t know how much damage has been done internally and we had no X-ray machines or any type of scanners. I know what damage a sharp knife can do. I always carry one with me. Years ago when I lived in Ohio, a junkie broke into our house when we were sleeping. My wife and two kids were sound asleep in the house. I am a very light sleeper and the slightest noise can wake me up. I had heard something. I sat up in bed and listened
We jumped in Tommy’s truck and drove to the bar.
I felt like something was missing, my shadow. I asked Tony the barkeeper, “Have you seen Mark around?”
Tony replied , “No, not today.”
I got on the radio announcing, “All security stations: If anyone has seen Mark, give me a call. I’ve got a job for him.”
Chris , one of the security guards, clicked his radio and said, “Yeah, a job dumping bodies into the water. Ha, ha.”
I gave no reply and Rick laughed.
Mark wo uld disappear for one or two days at a time. He wouldn’t tell anyone where he was going or what he was doing. Mark was like a shadow. He would come and go without anyone seeing him. No one paid attention to him. I was a little concerned because Mark didn’t think like a normal person and if he got some idea in his head he might act on it, even if it put him in danger.
Rick and I were e njoying a meal of smoked fish and drinking tonic water when Tommy walked in and said, “I suggest we go back to my original plan of sniping them from the back of my truck. I suggest we hit them now. It’s 2 pm and hot as usual, so the scumbags will most likely be inside, out of the sun.”
Rick replied, “ Ok, after we eat and down a few cool drinks.”
We decided to go snipe after 4 pm. That way the sun’s angle would be to our advantage, if we stayed on the west side of the road, near the mangrove trees.
We were slowly driving down the dirt strip near the bushes, when Tommy announced, “Is that Mark’s bike?”
I saw it too and responded, “Yes, maybe Mark is nearby. Get out and look.”
I drove w hile Tommy and Robbie paced the roadway, searching through the thick vegetation. Tommy yelled, “Dad, here he is! I think he is dead!”
I jumped out of the truck , my heart pounding, and ran about ten feet to reach Tommy’s location. Looking down I saw Mark lying in the bushes all cut up in a puddle of blood. His hands and feet were duct-taped and he had a piece of duct tape across his mouth. He was a bloody mess and had a note pinned to his chest by a knife. I recognized the knife, it was Mark’s fishing knife.
The note read , “Feed your buddy to the fish.” I pulled the tape off his face and cut the tape off his hands and feet. They roughed him up real good, even skinning half his face off; I could see his jaw bone. He was a mess of blood and dirt with black and blue marks, and his face was swollen beyond recognition. I could hardly tell it was my poor buddy.
I was looking at his beaten face and said, “Hey buddy can you hear me? Who did this?”
Mark couldn’t open his eyes as they were swollen shut. I gripped his hand and assured him, “Mark you’re going to be fine, we’ll get you back to the Doc and Amy to patch you up.”
Mark moaned in a whisper, “Jack… they got me buddy … they killed me dead. Get ’em for me.”
I squeezed his hand as he was coughing up blood. Then Mark whispered, “Fish food.”
He gasped and took a deep breath and went limp. They cut him all over and he had bled profusely. They left him for dead knowing we would find him. I wasn’t sure if Mark would make it with the extensive body wounds and beating he took. They probably tried to get information out of him but I knew Mark would never talk. We lifted Mark into the back of the truck and drove to the clinic as fast as we could.
I got on the radio to Amy and instructed her, “Amy, get the Doc, we are bringing Mark to the clinic. He’s been beaten and stabbed.”
Stab wounds are the worst as you don’t know how much damage has been done internally and we had no X-ray machines or any type of scanners. I know what damage a sharp knife can do. I always carry one with me. Years ago when I lived in Ohio, a junkie broke into our house when we were sleeping. My wife and two kids were sound asleep in the house. I am a very light sleeper and the slightest noise can wake me up. I had heard something. I sat up in bed and listened
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