| General Fiction posted September 19, 2018 | Chapters: |
...6 7 -8- 9... 
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B.B. Bauxers, Orrin Breefs, and Woody Post arrive.
A chapter in the book Baker's Dozen
To the Ground
by Bill Schott
The author has placed a warning on this post for violence.
The author has placed a warning on this post for language.
| Background Ben Baker, a low-level cabinet worker, and twelve others, have to kill one another in a forced game of survival. |
Previously, Ben Baker, Ty Angles, Tim Bends, and others, had been dropped into a large, northeastern, wooded compound. Part of a maniacal White House cleansing, they must battle each other to the death for a chance to be the one survivor.
"Strip down!"
The three men looked at each other wondering if Rusty Pipes meant what it sounded like.
"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Orrin Breefs.
About to object to what he was hearing, B.B Bauxers turned to Woody Post, who mirrored his quizzical expression. Turning back he witnessed Pipes quickly slap Breefs across the left side of his face, then step in with a right elbow smash to the man's mouth. Breefs dropped to his knees.
Post was immediately unfastening and tossing off his clothing. Bauxers knelt to check on his acquaintance. There was a nose bleed and a definite dislocated jaw. Tears poured down Breefs' face as the pain was quickly turning his stomach and causing his breathing to become erratic.
"Leave him!" barked the Under Secretary of Cabinet Affairs. "He might just luck out and die where he falls."
Post was totally naked and holding his hands over his crotch.
"Shit, Post! You're a disrobing wonder. Now grab those three tote bags to your left on the deck there."
"I think you cracked his neck when you sucker punched him," said Bauxers, as he stood and began unbuttoning.
"Now he knows what strip down means. Now get naked and take this dipshit's clothes off too."
"It's just you and your pilot, Pipes. I think I'll kick your ass and have your boyfriend take me home."
It was then that the helicopter rotor shifted gears and the vehicle lifted off the ground. Pipes withdrew a .357 Desert Eagle from his jacket holster and casually pointed it at Bauxers.
"Someone at home waiting on you, B.B.?" asked Pipes, smiling.
"None of your friggin business, asshole."
"Your faithful wife, what's her name, Feather? She keeping the pushin' cushion warm for ya?"
"You keep my wife out of this, you despicable cretin!" Bauxers now roiling and ready to charge the gun-wielding man.
"She's waiting for you on the ground where we're going, B. B.. She's been there for two days. Didn't you miss her?"
Bauxers’ mind was spinning as he believed the grinning jerk was telling the truth. Having quietly separated from the former and future Ms. Feather Waite, he hadn't been in touch with her in days.
"Oh yeah! She and Breefs’ homo-hubby are runnin' round naked and free in the forest. We heard you and he like discussing your affairs with them, so they were invited along."
Bauxers’ brain was racing as he contemplated killing the goon with his bare hands, damn the gun.
"What about these bags?" asked Post, almost diffusing the issue.
Pipes, grinning wildly, flicked the safety off his pistol with his thumb and aimed it center mass on Bauxers' chest. "Grab a bag, hero. Get your butt buddy's clothes off, and listen to what I say from here on out. If you give me one friggin iota of shit, I will just ventilate the three of you right now."
Over the next thirty minutes, the three prisoners became naked and each in possession of a forty-five caliber Smith and Wesson semi-automatic pistol, magazine installed with seven rounds, a K-bar without a sheath, a boot lace, and a bottle of water.
"Okay, boys. You're going to land somewhere in the center of the compound and you'll need to move north. There's a huge firebreak, like a wide road, that runs north and south. Find it, follow it to an encampment. If you've got any luck at all, which you sure as hell do not, you'll beat the others there and get a leg up on your competition. Remember, those nine others, that's including your 'death 'til we part' honey wah and Breefs Cryin' Game gal all need to kill you. You may think those significant others won't, but I'm here to tell you they sure as hell will."
"Where are we landing?" asked Post.
"As a matter of fact, we are landing. I normally push dead meat out at blossom level so their chutes open, but our pilot, God bless him, forgot to load the damn things. Remind me to kill him later.”
The helicopter descended to a clearing in the center of the huge wooded area, and hovered without landing, twenty feet above the ground. Pipes pulled open the hatch.
"You're jumping out here," said Pipes. "Step up and bail out."
"We'll break our legs from this height, Pipes!" yelled Bauxers. "Breefs will break his neck."
Pipes laughed. "You're probably right." With that, he pulled Breefs up to the hatch, put the gun to the man's temple, and shot him. The force carried the dead man out and down to the field below.
Bauxers exploded and attacked Pipes as he stood in the hatch. With a palm strike to the man's nose, he then wrapped his body around the arm with the gun, quickly straightened the arm, and over-extended the elbow. It snapped.
Pipes, screaming through gnashed teeth, spun around to launch B.B. out of the opening. Post leapt up to grab the pistol from Pipes' hand, only to meet with resistance enough to pull the trigger and fire a round.
Trying to tighten the grip he had on the pistol, Pipes discharged two more bullets into the chopper. Both found a target in the pilot’s back. The controls left the dead man's hands and the vehicle spun wildly as it fell quickly to the ground.
Before crashing, both Bauxers and Pipes were thrown from the hull. Post remained inside to hit the deck.
Slamming into the tall grass and soft ground, the titanium rotor blades chopped ferociously at 480 rpms as they excavated a large circle of land. Within a few seconds, the engines blew and all became silent.
Woody Post found himself on top of the dead pilot, whose body had apparently borne the brunt of the impact, leaving Post with what felt like broken ribs, a jammed index finger, and a thousand small cuts all over his naked body.
The hatch was facing the ground, so, after trying different pieces of heavy metal parts that lay about, he smashed through the cockpit shielding and escaped the downed chopper.
To his right he saw a long stretch of level field that seemed to turn back into forest. Tall pines were in front of him and to his rear. Something on his right was appearing far off and moving in his direction. It looked like it could be people. They appeared to be moving quickly toward him. His heart, which he didn't think could race any harder, began causing him to hyperventilate. He fell to his knees as bullets punched holes in the fuselage behind him and dug divots out the ground in front of him. He could only close his arms around his face and top of his head and wait for a bullseye to take him out.
"Who are you?!" screamed the woman who now stood before him. "Who are you, damn it?! And where's my husband?!"
"Strip down!"
The three men looked at each other wondering if Rusty Pipes meant what it sounded like.
"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Orrin Breefs.
About to object to what he was hearing, B.B Bauxers turned to Woody Post, who mirrored his quizzical expression. Turning back he witnessed Pipes quickly slap Breefs across the left side of his face, then step in with a right elbow smash to the man's mouth. Breefs dropped to his knees.
Post was immediately unfastening and tossing off his clothing. Bauxers knelt to check on his acquaintance. There was a nose bleed and a definite dislocated jaw. Tears poured down Breefs' face as the pain was quickly turning his stomach and causing his breathing to become erratic.
"Leave him!" barked the Under Secretary of Cabinet Affairs. "He might just luck out and die where he falls."
Post was totally naked and holding his hands over his crotch.
"Shit, Post! You're a disrobing wonder. Now grab those three tote bags to your left on the deck there."
"I think you cracked his neck when you sucker punched him," said Bauxers, as he stood and began unbuttoning.
"Now he knows what strip down means. Now get naked and take this dipshit's clothes off too."
"It's just you and your pilot, Pipes. I think I'll kick your ass and have your boyfriend take me home."
It was then that the helicopter rotor shifted gears and the vehicle lifted off the ground. Pipes withdrew a .357 Desert Eagle from his jacket holster and casually pointed it at Bauxers.
"Someone at home waiting on you, B.B.?" asked Pipes, smiling.
"None of your friggin business, asshole."
"Your faithful wife, what's her name, Feather? She keeping the pushin' cushion warm for ya?"
"You keep my wife out of this, you despicable cretin!" Bauxers now roiling and ready to charge the gun-wielding man.
"She's waiting for you on the ground where we're going, B. B.. She's been there for two days. Didn't you miss her?"
Bauxers’ mind was spinning as he believed the grinning jerk was telling the truth. Having quietly separated from the former and future Ms. Feather Waite, he hadn't been in touch with her in days.
"Oh yeah! She and Breefs’ homo-hubby are runnin' round naked and free in the forest. We heard you and he like discussing your affairs with them, so they were invited along."
Bauxers’ brain was racing as he contemplated killing the goon with his bare hands, damn the gun.
"What about these bags?" asked Post, almost diffusing the issue.
Pipes, grinning wildly, flicked the safety off his pistol with his thumb and aimed it center mass on Bauxers' chest. "Grab a bag, hero. Get your butt buddy's clothes off, and listen to what I say from here on out. If you give me one friggin iota of shit, I will just ventilate the three of you right now."
Over the next thirty minutes, the three prisoners became naked and each in possession of a forty-five caliber Smith and Wesson semi-automatic pistol, magazine installed with seven rounds, a K-bar without a sheath, a boot lace, and a bottle of water.
"Okay, boys. You're going to land somewhere in the center of the compound and you'll need to move north. There's a huge firebreak, like a wide road, that runs north and south. Find it, follow it to an encampment. If you've got any luck at all, which you sure as hell do not, you'll beat the others there and get a leg up on your competition. Remember, those nine others, that's including your 'death 'til we part' honey wah and Breefs Cryin' Game gal all need to kill you. You may think those significant others won't, but I'm here to tell you they sure as hell will."
"Where are we landing?" asked Post.
"As a matter of fact, we are landing. I normally push dead meat out at blossom level so their chutes open, but our pilot, God bless him, forgot to load the damn things. Remind me to kill him later.”
The helicopter descended to a clearing in the center of the huge wooded area, and hovered without landing, twenty feet above the ground. Pipes pulled open the hatch.
"You're jumping out here," said Pipes. "Step up and bail out."
"We'll break our legs from this height, Pipes!" yelled Bauxers. "Breefs will break his neck."
Pipes laughed. "You're probably right." With that, he pulled Breefs up to the hatch, put the gun to the man's temple, and shot him. The force carried the dead man out and down to the field below.
Bauxers exploded and attacked Pipes as he stood in the hatch. With a palm strike to the man's nose, he then wrapped his body around the arm with the gun, quickly straightened the arm, and over-extended the elbow. It snapped.
Pipes, screaming through gnashed teeth, spun around to launch B.B. out of the opening. Post leapt up to grab the pistol from Pipes' hand, only to meet with resistance enough to pull the trigger and fire a round.
Trying to tighten the grip he had on the pistol, Pipes discharged two more bullets into the chopper. Both found a target in the pilot’s back. The controls left the dead man's hands and the vehicle spun wildly as it fell quickly to the ground.
Before crashing, both Bauxers and Pipes were thrown from the hull. Post remained inside to hit the deck.
Slamming into the tall grass and soft ground, the titanium rotor blades chopped ferociously at 480 rpms as they excavated a large circle of land. Within a few seconds, the engines blew and all became silent.
Woody Post found himself on top of the dead pilot, whose body had apparently borne the brunt of the impact, leaving Post with what felt like broken ribs, a jammed index finger, and a thousand small cuts all over his naked body.
The hatch was facing the ground, so, after trying different pieces of heavy metal parts that lay about, he smashed through the cockpit shielding and escaped the downed chopper.
To his right he saw a long stretch of level field that seemed to turn back into forest. Tall pines were in front of him and to his rear. Something on his right was appearing far off and moving in his direction. It looked like it could be people. They appeared to be moving quickly toward him. His heart, which he didn't think could race any harder, began causing him to hyperventilate. He fell to his knees as bullets punched holes in the fuselage behind him and dug divots out the ground in front of him. He could only close his arms around his face and top of his head and wait for a bullseye to take him out.
"Who are you?!" screamed the woman who now stood before him. "Who are you, damn it?! And where's my husband?!"
 Recognized |
Thanks to William Runcie for use of the photograph.
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