head repeatedly, thinking of the mistake he was making.
“You’re a greedy bastard!” he said to himself.
As he pulled his truck to a screeching halt, Holmes studied the concrete shed in front of him. It appeared to be in the same condition that he’d left it in. The door was still locked from the outside, the ground was unblemished with fresh footprints, and Ndjai’s dog could be heard patrolling inside. Just like it should be.
The sound of Susan’s whimpering and Holmes’s jingling keys caused the dog to erupt with even more ferocity than before. The barking, which had been relatively restrained, was replaced by bloodthirsty howls as the canine flung itself against the door in an attempt to strike. Time after time, the creature repeated the process, hoping to quench its cravings with a savage battle, trying to get at the intruder before he had a chance to step inside.
The dog’s effort made Holmes smile.
“Hey, Tornado, it’s your Uncle O. How are ya doing?” The Ibizan hound, which had been bred with a larger breed in order to increase its size and strength, responded quickly, going from a ferocious killer to a friendly pet in less than a second. “That’s a good boy. Your daddy trained you well, didn’t he?”
Holmes cracked the door slightly, allowing Tornado to smell his hand.
The inside of the structure was filled with darkness and the overwhelming stench of imprisonment, created by the bodily functions of eleven terrified prisoners. There weren’t windows, vents, or toilets, which meant the unsanitary conditions were bound to get worse as the hours passed. The majority of the room was enclosed by a large cage, made from thick barbed wire and massive wooden posts, that had been placed there for two reasons: to keep the slaves from the exit and to keep Tornado away from the slaves.
Before he stepped into the room, Holmes grabbed a flashlight from above the door and shined the light into the huddled group of prisoners. He moved the beam from slave to slave, studying the dirty faces until he saw the man he was looking for. The chosen one.
Nathan was standing in the back corner of the room, far from the others, his face covered in layers of coarse facial hair. If it wasn’t for the prisoner’s 6’5” frame, Holmes never would’ve recognized him. He was a shell of his former self. His body weight had dropped by at least fifty pounds in the preceding weeks, and his face was haggard. But his failing health was easily explained. He had arrived long before the current crop of slaves and had spent most of his time within the sadistic world of the Devil’s Box. It had taken longer than anyone had expected, but the harsh treatment had eventually broken him.
One look into his eyes revealed it. Nathan was no longer the same man.
The peculiar thing, though, was the reason that they had brought him to the Plantation. He wasn’t kidnapped because of his ancestry or his race. He was there to fulfill one man’s obsession with revenge, nothing more, and as long as the Plantation continued to flourish, his imprisonment would never end.
And thanks to Levon Greene’s orders, Nathan had never been told why.
CHAPTER 54
EVEN
though he had a hole in his left biceps the size of a quarter, Payne wasn’t about to give up. If he was going to rescue Ariane, he knew he had to endure whatever physical pain he was feeling. He simply had to, for he realized the agony in his arm could never approach the sorrow he would feel if he lost Ariane forever.
The body mends quickly. The mind and heart do not.
“Bennie,” Payne groaned over the roar of his motor, “where do you think they took her?”
Blount started his ATV, the lead vehicle in the pack, then answered. “One day when I was exploring the island, I found a boat hidden in the weeds. I’m not sure if the Posse put it there, but I think there’s a chance they did. It was in pretty good shape.”
Jones started the middle Yamaha, completing the thundering chorus of engines. “That sounds like a good place to start.”
With a twist of their accelerators, the three machines sprang into action, tearing up the soft ground in long strips and tossing it high into the air. After getting accustomed to his controls, Payne increased his speed until he was nearly even with Blount, choosing a position near Bennie’s right shoulder. Jones, on the other hand, swung wide and settled on the opposite side, hoping to protect Blount from any outside threats.
But there was nothing he could do to prevent the explosion.
Instantaneously, a loud blast overpowered the roar of the ATV motors as an invisible force slammed into the backs of the bewildered drivers. In a moment of confusion, the three men skidded to a stop then turned to locate the source of the shock wave. It was the plantation house, and it glowed like Mount Vesuvius.
As they stared at the destruction, a second explosion tore through the remnants of the eighteenth-century structure, sending antique meteorites in all directions. Fireballs sprang into the air like popcorn, spreading the inferno to the nearby trees and cabins, igniting them like they were made out of gasoline.
“The detonation was too precise to be an accident,” Payne screamed over the din of the blast. “That means either the house was on a timer or the explosion was set off by hand. And if it’s the latter, that means our friends are still on the island.”
Blount and Jones turned from the fireworks display and studied the surrounding terrain, using the glowing nighttime sky as a giant spotlight.
“Is that the truck over there?” Blount shouted.
Jones looked in the direction that Bennie was pointing and identified the object. “I don’t know if it’s the truck we want, but it’s definitely a truck.” Like a sheriff from the Wild West, he patted the weapon that hung from his hip. “Let’s saddle up, fellas, and teach them boys a lesson.”
DESPITE
Tornado’s barking and the loud rumble of the truck engine, Holmes heard the house’s detonation and stopped to investigate. Looking back, he saw the bright orange flames as they shot toward the sky and felt the concussion of the blast as its shock wave rolled across the island like an invisible stampede.
With a smile on his face, Holmes climbed from the vehicle and strolled toward the back of the truck. Tornado emerged from the front seat as well, and the two of them gazed at the light. “Did you like that, boy?”
The dog remained silent, staring at the horizon.
“You liked that, didn’t you?”
Tornado answered with a low, menacing growl. Then, after a few seconds of displeasure, it began pacing back and forth across the grass of the open field.
Holmes stared at Tornado with fascination. The only time he had seen the dog act this way was when Ndjai was preparing him for an attack. “Hey, fella, it’s gonna be all right. The fire isn’t gonna hurt you. It’s too far away to bother us.”
A guttural moan emanated from the dog’s throat as it continued its movement. Back and forth. Back and forth. Again and again.
“What’s spooking you, boy?”
As if answering the question, Tornado hopped onto the truck and growled at the nearby trees.
“What’s wrong, boy? Is there something . . . ?”
Then Holmes heard it. Softly, just below the whisper of the wind, there was a rumble. It wasn’t the sound of fire as it devoured the evidence of the plantation house. No, the sound was more man-made-like a machine. Like an engine that was headed his way.
Without delay, Holmes jumped behind the wheel of the truck and hit the accelerator. Driving as quickly as the terrain would allow, he glanced in his sideview mirror and searched the darkness for his enemies’ approach. He hoped that they wouldn’t be back there. He prayed that he was just being paranoid. But the mirror gave him indisputable proof.
The MANIACs were behind him, and they were gaining ground.
“Son of a bitch!” He turned back and looked at Tornado, who was still growling fiercely at the noise. “Hang on, boy. This could get messy.”
“DAMN!” Blount shouted from the lead ATV. “I think he saw us!”
Payne nodded, even though he had no idea what Blount had screamed. All of Payne’s concentration was focused on the driver of the truck. Not Blount, the explosion, nor the pain in his arm. Everything-every thought, every breath, every beat of his heart-was devoted to the man that threatened Ariane. Payne would make him pay
