SASHA:
I had not been expecting to see anyone from my past. Seeing that jerk Troy from the Nomad Tribe standing in my kitchen, I nearly lose my self control.
This is the guy that sold me and Dal to the Locusts. He had pretended kindness and then shackled us to a tent pole, forcing us to become slaves and selling us to Ebony and her gang of thugs at the Tribal gathering all those years ago.
A brief thought of Amber flashes through my mind. A tiny pang of longing for a path not followed…
It passes in an instant and I’m focused on the dirtbag in front of me.
I’m holding a sharp kitchen knife when he brings over a sack of Potatoes. He asks “Where do you want it?” Before dropping the bag on the floor at his feet. He is so close, I can smell his stink.
It’s all I can do to keep from stabbing him in the face right now. My hand is shaking slightly as I grip the blade. I take a step towards the oaf.
He’s just as dumb looking as I remember, but fatter now, eyes bloodshot too.
Clearly he’s maintained his shady connections and kept on as a trader. But does he still traffic in human lives? I wonder silently.
“Over in the corner.” I point In the direction I mean with the tip of the kitchen knife.
Troy picks the sack back up and moves it to the corner of the room. He says “I’ve got a bunch more of these outside. I need a hand to bring them inside.”
His back is turned and I step towards him, ready to slip the blade into the side of his throat and watch him bleed out on my clean kitchen floor…
But then that little dishwasher kid, Zip, pops his head in the door and asks “you need me, sir?”
He’s learned to be near enough to hear his name when called. He was probably watching when Troy arrived.
Clearly Troy hasn’t recognized me from our brief time together nearly 5 years ago. I guess I’ve changed.
I turn to Zip, lowering the knife and slipping it inside my apron pocket.
“Yes. Grab a bag and let’s move the rest into the root cellar out back.”
Zip moves off to complete his work. He’s not a slave, just a kitchen boy conscripted by the Techno Army from out of some deleted Tribe.
I turn back to Troy. He’s scratching his protruding belly, looking at me with the dawning of recognition in his eyes.
“Oh it’s you!” He suddenly exclaims as he finally remembers our last encounter. “Looks like you’ve done pretty well for yourself, eh? No hard feelings?” He Grins stupidly.
“Hard feelings?” I ask. “For what? Selling me as a slave? None at all. As you can see it’s the way the world is now.”
The words come out smooth and believable. Like all my lies.
Of course there are hard feelings. Sure I joined up with the Techno Army. Yes, they use slaves. But the only person who ever made me into a slave is standing right in front of me.
I’ve already begun planning how best to get rid of his body. I just hope he stays on the island long enough for me to figure out the details.
Maybe feed him to the sharks on the north reef…
“No hard feelings at all” I repeat, smiling my infectious grin. “In fact, how about you come back later? I’m the head chef here. I’ll cook you a meal before you have to leave the island. I’ve even got a bottle of wine stashed away. We can drink to our humble beginnings.”
Troy looks like a fool as he agrees so easily to my suggestion.
He’s not the brightest star in the sky. He must still have a Tribe of slavers to provide some brains behind his muscle.
It means I need to find out who else is here with him…make sure I don’t leave any loose ends.
One way or another, Troy is going to have an “accident” before leaving this Island…
Hell, maybe I can finally escape too. After all he must have arrived in a boat. I think I may just take it and get the hell out of here.
Revenge and the possibility of Escape…I can’t believe my good luck sometimes.
you Brady, even after yesterday. Thankfully Trudy was her caring self, and surprisingly Ebony was very attentive and ensuring I was actually alright too. Maybe she is ill?
I put them out on the makeshift table Salene has made for our breakfast.
I love roleplaying with you guys sooo much. 