General Lee's Revenge--Karma

Chapter Two: "Tell Hughie to Go to Hell"

Luke noticed that it had been getting harder and harder to breathe, as if the air in the barn was getting thicker. His chest felt heavy and he could feel the back of his throat starting to choke. Within a few hours after Hughie left, he was seeing stars, not just because the two men were hitting him, but because he couldn't breathe. It was then that he deduced that he may have been panicking. That was it, he was having a panic attack.

What led him to this conclusion was simple, really. Hughie had carried out the perfect crime. This silly little man with his white hat and his cigar had expertly recreated a dark scene from Luke's life. Had he known it, however, one couldn't say. Either way, it was effective, and most of Luke's time was spent waiting for a Vietnamese officer to jump out of the shadows. He had to keep convincing himself that it was all in his head, that it wouldn't happen, yet it felt so real. For the longest time, he was in a world of his own, not realizing that one of the men had said something. It wasn't until he received a striking to the face that sent his head spinning did he finally snap out of it.

"You make up your mind yet, plowboy?" the man who'd hit him asked.

Luke nodded. "Yeah, I have."

"So, what's it gonna be?"

"You can tell Hughie," Luke smirked and looked up at the man, "to go to Hell."

The two men exchanged glances.

"I think you might wanna reconsider," the other man said cynically.

"I'll give you some more time to think about it," said the larger man, giving his knuckles a crack.

Before Luke even knew or felt it, everything went black and he heard a dense thump against the ground.

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When Luke woke up again it was cold and quiet. He found he could breathe again, the air inside the barn now crisp and clear. He took a deep breath in, smelling the warm smell of straw and pine shavings.

What drew his attention was the fact that he was on the ground. He was no longer bound to the chair, free to roam around. As soon as he noticed this, he immediately pushed himself to his feet, taking a quick look around to make sure he was alone. After nobody jumped out of the shadows and the only footsteps heard were the scratches of pigeon feet, he found himself calm at last.

Luke felt his way through the darkness; even with his eyes adjusted, it was difficult to see. The light that had shown through the cracks in the walls was now gone, making it even darker than it was before. It was nighttime, and no one was around, the perfect time for escape.

Finding his way to the door was a treacherous journey, first tripping over the wooden chair he'd previously been seated in, then a metal piece of rusted machinery, which stabbed his shin. Finally reaching the door, little to his surprise, it had been latched and locked shut from the outside. No better plan, Luke attempted to ram the door open with his shoulder. Unsuccessful, he decided to get a running start.

Nevertheless, the stupid door did not budge, and he was sent staggering backward. The impact stung and he rolled his shoulders to get the pain to subside. Getting frustrated, he took a step back from the door situation, folding his hands behind his head and pacing around. He let out a sigh after a moment, turning back to the door.

"Looks like I'm gonna have to find another way out," he said to himself. Just then, an idea clicked in his head. "Unless..."

Luke quickly felt his way back to where he'd tripped over that piece of machinery. Miraculously, he found it again, feeling his way around it. He found it to be an old, steel spade of a plow, part of the arm still attached. It was heavy and lopsided, but not impossible to pick up and throw.