Redemption by Richard Stephenson

pulled a dirty bandana out of his pocket and gagged Richard.  “You won’t be doin’ no talking.  Damn shame really, you’re a pretty funny guy.  Can’t have you playin’ your fancy mind games.  Good ole’ Ben says that’s how you pulled off your last escape.”
    Richard was quite proud of his last escape.  Six months prior one of Max’s teams ambushed him while he was picking over a Walgreens for supplies.  While en route to Denver, Richard simply played the fools against each other.  At first they just argued with each other.  Pretty soon the arguments escalated to shoving matches followed by fistfights.  On the third day, all five of the men were at each other throats and no one bothered to look after Richard.  He simply took off running and by the time his captors settled down, Richard was nowhere to be found.
    Virgil opened a footlocker and retrieved a musty burlap sack.  “Sorry about the smell, General.  This here’s the bag I use when I hunt squirrels and rabbits.”  Virgil slipped the bag over Richard’s head and patted him on the shoulder.  “Won’t be taking in the sights neither.  Gonna be a boring trip for you.  Reckon you can catch up on some sleep.”
    For the first time in recent memory, Richard was not optimistic about his immediate future.  Even in the most desperate of circumstances, he could find some small weakness and exploit it to control his fate.  Decency could be met with violence. Any kindness paid to his humanity could be twisted into an opportunity.   Richard’s humanity had been replaced with a winning lottery ticket that Judge Willock was intent on cashing. 
    Virgil reached behind Richard’s head and took a set of leg irons hanging on the wall.  He securely fastened them and laughed.  “Let me fill you on a little secret, General.  You better hope your friend Ben has a cuff key to let you out of this iron ‘cuz I ain’t bringing one.”
    Richard was escorted out to the street and lifted up by four men into the back of a pickup.    The sound of horses made it clear how the pickup was making the trip. 
    Virgil said, “What’re we waitin’ on?”
    “Robbie and Seth are getting the food,” someone said.
    “What about feed for the horses?” asked Virgil.
    Richard made note of another voice.  “Can’t we just let ‘em graze?”
    “No, retard.  I want tight security.  We all stick close together.  Can’t venture out looking for pasture.  Take your stupid ass and get some feed.  Hurry up.”
    The next few minutes were filled with silence as they waited for the provisions to arrive.  To his right, Richard heard two of the men whispering.
    “How much you gettin’ paid?”
    “Why?”
    “Don’t make no sense.  Why we gotta split the payday thirteen ways?  Shit, we can do the job with half that.  More money in our pockets.”
    Virgil screamed, “Dipshits!  We ain’t even left yet and you fuckers done forgot the most important rule!”
    “Damn, Virgil!  What?”
    “When you within earshot of the prisoner, don’t talk!  The fuck you say?”
    Richard didn’t hear a reply and imagined the two men staring at their feet hoping Virgil would leave them alone.  The two men didn’t need to say anything more; Richard had gathered the most crucial piece of intel he was after – how many trigger fingers were along for the ride. 
    Richard took inventory of the situation.    Handcuffs and leg irons with no key, robbed of his sight and the ability to speak, and the grand prize – thirteen highly motivated men to watch over him. 
    He might have little choice but to pay Max a visit.
     

 
    CHAPTER ELEVEN
     
    Maxwell Harris had never been one for traveling.  Prior to the collapse of 2027 during his career in law enforcement, his vacations consisted of remaining on the couch playing video games and binge-watching television shows.  The idea of spending his hard-earned vacation days on a beach or a theme park was his vision of