Jack sat in the corner, waiting for someone to come into the room. He had been alone for six days with little more than a plate of food a day. His wrists were still tender from the ropes he had been bound with for the trip here. He had spent a few hours in the back of an armored vehicle after it had stopped, baking in the heat outside. He thought he might die from dehydration before they were able to get to him, but he didn’t.
When the door opened to the back of the truck, it had been pitch black outside, and he couldn’t see anything other than the building that was poorly lit with dull yellow bulbs. Someone had drugged him shortly after he had come through the front door and when he woke he had been untied. His mind questioned who these guys were that they knew so much about taking him that they had planned enough not to let him see where they were bringing him.
Someone called through the door in a language that he didn’t recognize. He didn’t respond, but he also didn’t move any closer to the door. In his weakened state, he knew that if there were more than one of them, which there always seemed to be, he wouldn’t be able to take them down efficiently enough.
They called again, but this time the lock in the door turned, echoing loudly through the small concrete-lined room. The door opened, and three men came through the door, two carrying rifles and the third wearing a medical coat. They babbled between each other looking as though the doctor didn’t want to be there but the men were assuring him that Jack wasn’t a threat.
The doctor approached slowly, pausing to set a bag down several feet from Jack. He pulled a blood-pressure cuff and a stethoscope from the bag before continuing. Jack didn’t have the energy to hurt the man as he reached out and grabbed his arm gently.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered, “my name is D’Lan Jerkins, I’m a medical doctor.”
“You’re fine, doc,” Jack croaked, “I’m not going to hurt you.”
The two men with rifles suddenly looked nervous.
“What’s with them? Why am I here?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the floor.
“They think you can help them in their mission. They want you to kill the president of our country,” he replied as he put the cuff over Jack’s arm. “They will kill you otherwise.”
One of the men screamed something and moved forward suddenly approaching Jack. He could see right up the barrel.
“Am I supposed to be scared now?” he said, looking slowly up at the guy.
The doctor turned and spoke quickly to the man. The rifle lowered slightly as the man took a step back.
“Sorry, they thought you were planning something,” the doctor said as he continued checking his vitals.
“They know my record then,” Jack replied. “This should be fun…”