By Desert Pioneer
“Well, what’s missing from this picture?” thinks Jack. Cowboy Cop doesn’t want me around the rest stop. Could be a drug sale or maybe prostitution. Or could be he’s just an asshole. Rather than pulling out onto the highway Jack circles around the rest stop, up through where the truckers park and back down in the car section. “Well one thing that’s missing is a police car,” Jack notes. He’s either not on official business, or most likely not a cop at all.
As he circles around back into the truck parking Jack notices one of the truckers walking towards but not to the men’s room. Jack backs his car into the most remote upper space of the truck parking and turns off the engine. Really tough to see where this guy is headed to, perhaps the wooded area behind the stop.
“OK, this is what fantasy is all about,” Jack figures. Trucker headed to the woods and some dress-up cop protecting the area. Yeah out here in red neck back country; most likely to be a gun club or maybe poker, drinking and cigars. Jack gets out of his car and moves around the edge of the rest area trying to position himself for a deeper look into the woody area behind the men’s room. He stations himself leaning on a tree a bit behind the men’s room and barely makes out a path leading into the woods.
In Ian’s storage confines he heard the earbuds in his hood turn on, and he knew that SIR was up to something.
Time has lost meaning for me. I have no idea what time of day it is, or even what day it is. I know I haven’t been here longer than a week, but I have no idea how much time has passed. Master has kept me in the dark this whole time. Most of what I am aware of is darkness, stillness, and what some people consider quietness. In my time spent here isolated, I realize nothing is ever quiet. I can hear my heart beat, the slight noises of Master’s house settling. Occasionally, I hear the AC system turn on and off. Most of the time it’s boring, but this is what I begged for.
Jake cut the end of his Asylum 13 cigar and lit his torch, slowly rotating the cigar in his lip as the flame lit the tip as he took drags. Taking nice deep drags and exhaling the smoke, he savored the flavor of the stick while watching the bound Meat in front of him continue to sweat. Thick clouds of smoke surrounded his face that was slightly obscured by the leather Muir cap. This encounter is going to be deliciously slow. He wants Ian to realize exactly what he’s up against. Jake has been setting this trap and preparing the bait for a very, very long time.
