A few months ago, a guy named Joe Owens asked me if I would like to join a group of writers in a collaborative story. He writes Joe’s Musings. I said yes. He calls the story Baker’s Dozen, since there are 12 writers… he wrote the first chapter and will finish the story with the 13th. Look for TedBook on the BD Logo, created by the ever so clever Jennifer Pendergast at Elmo Writes. You may have read my chapters in the Fiction Relay started by The Reclining Gentleman… that’s been going on for almost a year now, and lots of fun.
So now the Baker’s Dozen is up to Chapter 9… hey, that’s my turn… here you go!
This is the story of a guy named Forrest. He is caught in a series of escalating events started by a cryptic message on his computer screen and a strange medallion he has worn on his neck since youth. He has escaped death with the beautiful Angie many times since the story started. But is Angie who she seems or something else? When last we saw Forrest, he was confined to a cell and knocked unconscious…
The staccato click of high heels on tile reverberated down the hallway alerting the men sequestered in the situation room of a rogue unit of the RNC. A phalanx of men entered and took up position, followed by a svelte figure dressed in a back pencil skirt, topped with a silk camisole and trademark red blazer, sporting the familiar rhinestone American flag pin on the lapel. Piercing eyes behind the Kazuo Kawasaki eyewear locked on each man for a second.
“Have you heard from Ross yet?”
“Yes ma’am. He briefed us an hour ago.” A withering glance made the speaker wish he had lied, he quickly continued. “Ross claims they are being held in the Pelosi/Reid compound outside Las Vegas. His agent arranged to be held captive with the others to gain access. Forrest was wearing the medallion when he entered, so there’s every reason to expect recovery should be ours.”
“I would like Forrest unharmed if possible, and the girl held captive too, save her. What of Angie? Has she shown her true colors yet? Her father was none to happy.”
“She is not being held with the others, so Ross thinks Forrest must know by now. He says the conditions are pretty brutal in the cells”
Sarah smoothed her skirt and blazed a look at the group. “That’s the Dems for you! They have become emboldened during his second term. Gentlemen, there can be no failure if the GOP expects to beat Michelle in the next election. We must have the medallion. What does Ross plan to do?”
A senior aide stepped forward. “Mr. Ross has assembled a crack team of Cirque de Soleil performers from the show at the Bellagio to infiltrate the complex. A complete layout and the location of the cells, along with an escape route was furnished by Max Welton after he was expelled from the house and defected to our side. He is Tea Party all the way now and has been most helpful. Mr. Ross is awaiting the go.”
“Good. Then green light it and have my helicopter ready in five minutes.” A quick turn and the heels left the room.
A nondescript white van left the bright lights of The Strip and headed toward the Wilson Cliffs. The smell of rosin and makeup hung heavy in air. Good thing they’re small, thought Ross, otherwise I’d have to get a larger vehicle. After going over the plan and assigning roles, an excited silence fell over the group of men and women dressed in black. The threat of world domination and the resulting chaos on their homelands had made for an easy recruitment. Tranquilizer guns had been issued, and a switchblade in case the slitting of throats became necessary. Ross hoped not, as he did not want to further ramp up hostilities. The bombing by drones on Forrest’s building, and subsequent attacks had been unfortunate and showed the lengths they would go to win an election. He wished he could have stayed to free Forrest from Angie’s grasp, but after that damn fool bolted with her, he had to make other plans. Sarah had not been happy.
In Washington D.C., two powerful leaders meet in the back room of a small restaurant. One leads a majority and the other a minority. The clink of champagne glasses finishes the meeting.
“Has Renaissance been notified of the news from Nevada?”
‘Yes, I’m told she’s grateful.”
Later that evening, the captives find themselves tied to metal folding chairs against a stone wall in an open courtyard. The girl next to Forrest watched as the woman the others called Angie crushed a capsule under Forrest’s nose. Jolting awake, he was disoriented and fought his bonds. Waste of good Amyl, thought Angie, but it did the trick. “Forrest, can you hear me? I am going to say good-bye to you and your friends now.” This announcement and the men with the M-27’s seemed worrisome to them, as the guards had not been seen carrying machine guns before.
Sleep in the cells had been hard to come by, and the girl thought she was seeing things as if there were people sliding down ropes in the gloom on the other side. A sudden flash of light and a deafening roar caught everyone by surprise. There was no time to react as figures came cascading across the stones in a dizzying array of cartwheels, handsprings, and somersaults. The guards were quickly subdued, but it took 3 tranquilizer darts to put Angie down. The group was rushed to the center of the yard as lights started flooding the compound.
Then, blades of a helicopter so silent they could barely be heard, and the rush of air seemed heaven-sent to the captives. The girl crushed against Forrest asked how he had been. Looking at her he could only say…
Thanks for reading… to start at the beginning, click on the Baker’s Dozen link at the top. Would love to hear how you liked my chapter.
I just realized, I may have lost some of my ‘international’ readers. So, a glossary of sorts:
RNC… Republican National Committee ~ GOP… Grand Old Party ~ Sarah… Sarah Palin, the darling of the Tea Party (a radical conservative faction of the GOP) ~ Pelosi and Reid… the Minority Leader of the House of Representatives and the Majority Leader of the Senate… The leaders of the Democratic Party ~Renaissance… the secret service code name for Michelle Obama
‘Suzi’s Saga’ continues… is she getting closer to her goal? Will it get her killed? Where are the others? What sinister forces are still to be revealed? In the last few chapters we have seen Suzi resort to pickpocketing to make an unusual purchase and then get caught, her 15-year-old daughter being ravished in the front seat of a car, her friends in a frantic search and some ‘not so friends’ anxious to see her again. The Fiction Relay is the product of the demented Reclining Gentleman and his collaborators. Catch up with a summary and then read on…
The black and whites hit the parking lot in a fury of sirens and flashing lights, as the Nashville police respond quickly, statutory rape was not taken lightly in Tennessee. Their orders had come from high up, that the tip was more than credible. A fifteen year old girl was involved, and they were to arrest the man in the black Lincoln. The first officers on the scene saw the motorcycle with the lithe figure speed out of the parking lot, but it was the man they were after, so they quickly hemmed in the town car before the driver had a chance to exit.
A furious Spencer shot from the car to confront the cops. “Just what the hell do you think you are doing?”
” Sir, we are placing you under arrest for the rape of a minor. A concerned citizen reported the activity, and apparently caught your act on tape. Knows the girl. Besides, screwing in Hog Heaven’s parking lot is frowned upon.”
“That’s impossible, you can’t even see inside!”, a bug-eyed Spencer protested as the cuffs snapped and grew tighter.
“The windows may be tinted, but the windshield isn’t. You can have your say at the station, I’ll Mirandize you on the way.”
The dirty white van pulled out of the Hog’s lot and headed west to follow the bike. How the girl knew where she was headed they weren’t sure, but the occupants were tasked to protect her… as if Blue needed their help. Turning in pretty-boy Spencer was the best fun they’d had in some time. The Director had not been pleased with him and approved of the lesson, the douche would be out soon anyway.
A thousand miles west, Jose Torres helped a stunned Suzi stow her bags in the bed of a sun-bleached pick-up truck. ‘Sanderson‘… the distant name gave her a chill… ‘this was getting more complicated, but maybe he can help.’
Jose shifted into gear and tipped his stained cowboy hat, “I think you have my wallet. Let’s gas up those cans, and where exactly are we going?”
Two planes touch down at Albuquerque International Sunport. Sam and Ephraim depart the Southwest jet into the air-conditioned terminal. Outside on the shimmering tarmac, a private charter waits to deplane its fare. A determined Melissa helps a shrouded figure down the aisle, the stench overpowering the attendant at the open door… (to be continued)
The Noted Romance Writer, Dawn Rinken at The Mouse’s Soapbox is next to answer some of our questions, and add a few of her own no doubt…