Trouble In Paradise

Chapter 27: Paradise?

"The path to paradise
begins in Hell"
Dante Alighieri

Chad's POV

Five minutes earlier....

God my head hurts..... What the hell happened? I remember being hit by the door and the table.... What else?

As I tried remembering what happened, I just listened intently as the wind whistled past my ears, birds chirping, the trees hustling and bustling like the citizens of New York, engine purring, people crying.....

Wait, what?

My eyes shot open and found myself in a truck full of the residents of Rondor Resort. Some were crying with bulging bruises while some of the men have red paint on their chests. But its too dark to be paint.....

Panic and bile rose to my throat when I realised what it really was.

Blood.

I searched for my friends in hope that they were okay. I found Maxwell in shock. I wanted to just grab him, tell him that everything is going to be okay, but I couldn't, even if I wanted to. My hands were bound with rope. D**n. A woman cried even louder.

"Hey!" Said a rough voice in front. "Be quiet or you'll be next!" The woman instantly stopped, the tears still rolling down her wrinkled cheeks.

What's going to happen to us? Where's Jessica? Please let her be okay.....

The bumps in the road became less and less the more we moved. I looked outside and found more trucks loaded with even more of the residents. Jesus there were so many....

Where's Joshua? Was he captured? Is he dead?

My question was answered when the trucks stopped by a some sort of place on a beach similar to Rondor Resort. I found the same seven planes that day we had the jet ski race. The phone call. His words, " 'Cause this will be your last....."

That f*****g b*****d! He sent these people to do God knows what with us. And while he's at it, he's making quite a lot of money along the deal.

It all fitted like a jigsaw puzzle of questions that created answers, yet more questions. Why is he doing this? What does he gain? Was his friendly demeanour just part of a darker agenda?

Men came out of the front of the truck with guns, dogs of war, their snout pointing at us. "Get out!" One of them yelled. "One by one!"

Maxwell was still in shock.

We did as we were told. One by one we left the truck like tear-streaken messes. It was only Maxwell and I in the truck, and that man seemed trigger-happy with impatience.

"Why ain't he moving?" The man asked.

"H-h-he is in sh-sh-sh-shock." I stuttered. My whole body felt like jelly. What was going to happen to me once I stepped outside?

"Well, tell him to get movin'!"
"Please, just give him time. I don't-"
"Tell him to f*****g move! Now!"

He pointed that vicious tool of war at me, finger by the trigger.

My breath stuck in my throat. The man noticed this so he gave a sly smile and said, "I'm waitin'."

I moved as quickly as I could to Maxwell.

"Max..." I whispered. He just stared at me blankly. I nudged him with my shoulder. Still no response.

"I'm gettin' a lil' impatient kid. My boss even more. And you're just slowin' me down. I might as well off ya now."