part0015

Rough hands gripped Lawson’s head, and Grizz's thick fingers twisted in the curls of Lawson’s hair. His scalp burned as the big man gave one last tug before releasing him. His head fell forward. A sharp stinging sensation shot along the right side of his neck. Lightheaded from blood loss and the trauma he'd endured, Lawson fought to remain conscious. Although, part of him wanted to let go. Two things kept him alive. His wife and his unborn baby girl.

"Wake up, Deputy U.S. Marshal Darren Lawson." Grizz tossed the wallet with his credentials onto the floor in front of him. The worn leather wallet his wife had gotten when he'd first been hired as a deputy. It flopped open, revealing the small replica badge like the one he wore. He remembered how proud she'd been. Now, the polished silver acted as a catch basin, collecting the blood steadily flowing from Lawson's damaged body.

"Your wife looks pretty. Maybe we should stop by and pay her a visit when this is all over." The room laughed. Grizz bent low. His enormous head loomed less than an inch from Lawson's. "Is that what you want me to do?” He pinched Lawson’s cheeks between his thumb and forefinger and forced him to look him in the eye. “No? Too bad. What you want doesn't matter anymore."

Lawson gathered the blood pooling in his mouth and spit it into the face of his oversized captor. He never saw Grizz's enormous fist coming. The blow struck against the left side of his head like a runaway Mac truck.

Lawson was now on his side, securely fastened to the chair. That and the paralysis made it impossible to stop the boot that followed. Lawson's vision clouded as a fresh stream of blood trickled across his forehead.

"That's enough!" He recognized the voice of the man who'd carried him up the hill with Lankowski.

"What the hell did you just say to me, boy?" Lawson felt Grizz's words reverberate in the fresh damage to his face.

Grizz moved across the room in a manner belying the man's size. The other man stood his ground.

"You've been in my presence less time than my last fart and you think you've earned the right to open your dumb mouth?"

“No, you listen to me. MacIntosh did five hard years in Spring Creek’s C-Block with Red. That shit means somethin' and you damn well know it.”

Grizz took a step back and grunted. His face remained as red as his beard, but his shoulders slumped as the tension eased from his muscles. “Damn you, Winslow.”

Frank Winslow then turned his attention to MacIntosh. "Speak your piece. But mind your words, Mac. Few get an audience with the King. Fewer live to talk about it.” He aimed a crooked finger that appeared to have been smashed against an opposing lineman’s helmet a few times too many. “And I won't stop him a second time."

MacIntosh cleared his throat as his gaze bounced between the others in the room before settling on Grizz. "If you're going to do this guy because he came at you, fine. Get it over with. But I think whatever you have planned is shortsighted."

"Go on." The red on Grizz’s cheeks began to fade, returning to their naturally pale state.

"You killed one marshal and kidnapped another. Every law enforcement agency in the country is gunning for you right now. You and Lank are public enemy number one. That means resources are going to be thrown at you like you've never seen."

"Fine if you do. I'll throw down if that's the way this thing breaks." MacIntosh's voice was calm and collected, as if he were arguing a case before a judge. Lawson knew the potential verdict was a death sentence for him. "But at least approach it with a plan of attack instead of flying by the seat of your pants."

"Worked so far, you smart-mouthed bitch." Lankowski squeaked his way into the conversation as he came up along Grizz like a lap dog.

"Shut up!" Grizz delivered an open-handed slap to the back of Lankowski's head with enough force to knock him a few steps forward. He staggered on his wounded foot. Lawson, smiled to himself and wished he’d have put a second round into the man. "I gave Mac the floor. Anybody else feel the need to say their piece?" The room was silent enough for Lawson to hear his droplets of blood hit the badge. "You may continue."

"Leverage. That's what I like in a fight. And no other way about it, there's a fight coming. As much as it sucks, we need to keep this marshal alive if we're to have a chance of holding off the approaching maelstrom."

"We selected this location for a reason,” Grizz said. “No cell reception within two miles of here. We're not even a blip on the map."

MacIntosh swung his head side to side. "They'll find you, man. They'll find all of us. No stopping that now. It's not a matter of if, but when."

"Then we cut this piece of shit law dog's throat and lighten our load. Get on our horses and ride."

"It's not going to matter.” Grizz shoved Lawson’s head with his boot, sending another excruciating wave of pain through the deputy’s neck. "Ah, look at him. Somebody brace his damn head so I don’t have to bend down to look into the eyes of this piece of shit."

Frank Winslow moved into view, just inside of Lawson’s periphery. He had a cruel face, made crueler by a scar nearly dividing one side of his face from the other, leaving the right side a quarter inch higher than the left. Winslow was a living Picasso with hungry eyes. "I say we stick this pig right now!"

"Easy, Frank. I’m not sure his death is exactly what we need right now,” Grizz said. “I'm not saying it's off the table, but I like this leverage thing." Grizz pounded his chest like a gorilla. "Today has turned out to be a righteous day. One law dog put down and another in his proper place. More will come and more will fall. I will line the walls of this place with the bodies of our enemies!"

Hicks was dead. A father of seven gunned down. Lawson remained taped to the chair unable to even ball his fist. He resigned himself to grinding his teeth.

"His dead weight is going to slow us down,” Lank said. “Look at him. He’s already punched full of holes, probably bleed out on us in a minute or two." Lank scurried away before Grizz could land another blow to the scrawny man.

When Grizz turned to face him, it felt as if the earth itself had just shifted on its axis. "And why's that?"

MacIntosh stepped closer like a defense attorney approaching the bench. Lawson held his breath and watched as all eyes in the room shifted to MacIntosh.

"Because it buys us time," Grizz said. Even when he wasn't pontificating, Grizz's voice rumbled like thunder.

"None of it's going to matter if we don’t start plugging those holes and patching him up. He'll be no use to us dead." MacIntosh eyed Lawson.

"How are they even gonna know if he's alive?" Winslow refused to drop his push towards the gallows.

"Proof of life. Take a photo and send it to the cops." MacIntosh was speaking directly to Grizz now, bypassing Winslow.

"I like that. Proof of life." Grizz worked his fingers through a tuft of his thick red beard. "But if we really want to send a message, I think I have something that's a little better than a photograph."

Lawson choked down the fear as Grizz spun. Again, he lowered his face to meet Lawson's. The hot, acrid breath of the behemoth licked at Lawson's nostrils. He fought against the overwhelming desire to close his eyes. Instead, he met the cop killer's cold dead stare with one of his own. "Ready to do your part, Deputy Lawson?" Grizz rose. He directed his next comment at Macintosh. "You any good at fixing people, medic?"

"I guess we're gonna see about that soon enough." Grizz then turned to another man, standing off to the right. "Buck, take his ear."

Lawson put the face to the name as Buck Mathers approached. Lawson's eyes darted to MacIntosh, making a last-minute plea deal. His defense council had rested. The verdict had been rendered.

Mathers drew an eight-inch blade from a leather sheath. The cold steel caught the light from above as it swept by Lawson's face. Mather's hand tugged at Lawson's right ear. The blade disappeared beyond his periphery.

A pain, unlike anything he'd ever experienced, seared a new and horrible memory into this never-ending day as the knife cut into his flesh. A whooshing sound flooded the empty hole where his right ear had been only moments before. Warm blood spilled onto the floor beneath his head.