Anyone Else Would Be Dead By Now

Chapter One

I didn't look up at first. I couldn't because I was blindfolded. My ankles were roped to a chair anand my wrists were tied together behind me. Either someone liked it rough or I was in some serious trouble. It smelled god-awful. Like fish had been set out in the sun for weeks.

The last thing I remember was falling asleep on my couch while watching tv after drinking a beer that tasted funny. The beer...

"Did you do something with my beer?" I shouted into the unknown darkness.

A laugh emerged from the emptiness. "Just a little Ny-Quil, sweetie." It was a deep laugh. From a man.

"Don't call me 'sweetie' you bastard!! What do you want with me?!?" I jumped to the conclusion that rape was this man's goal.

"Cougar" The deep voice returned. "Take off the poor girl's blindfold."

Footsteps came around and behind me. I jerked around wildly, shouting at whoever was near me. Suddenly, a pair of rough, calloused yet warm hands were set on my shoulders.

He spoke with a Spanish accent anand whispered in my ear softly, "Calm down chica. We aren't going to hurt you."

"Yeah, because that's so reassuring when I'm roped up to a chair like some criminal." I sneered. Cougar quickly undid the blindfold and my eyes adjusted to the dark room I was in now.

I shook my brown hair around and out of my face then looked around. There was Cougar, clearly. A cowboy hat sat atop his shoulder length, brown, wavy hair. Dusty gray jeans covered his brown boots and a white long-sleeved shirt encompassed his tanned upper bodu, covered in dirt.

Four other men stood in front of me. The man in front was dressed in a suit, holding a gun in each hand. He spoke first.

"Martina Bruce?" He was the man who was talking while I was blindfolded. I nodded. "Miss Bruce, my name is Colonel Clay and these are my men."

"Jensen." A dorky looking taller man waved enthusiastically. Jensen had a goatee and held a bulky radio in one hand. He was wearing bright pink shirt that said "The Petunias" and it was accompanied by a small flower.

"Pooch." A slender black man nodded. Pooch was holding a heavy looking gun with ease.

"Roque." A more muscled black man grimaced. A scar dragged across his right eye and Roque was fiddling with a big knife. He had many more hooked on his belt.

"Cougar." The hispanic man who had undone my blindfold smiled slightly and tipped his hat. A sniper was strapped to his back.

"And Aisha." The thin tanned woman standing to Clay's left smiled kindly. She was armed to the teeth, guns were strapped everywhere.

I shrugged. "Well that's great and all but what am I doing here? And why did you tie me up?" I struggled against my binds.

"When we tell why you're here, we knew you'd try and bail. But we need you, Martina. We know who you are."