Gun Runner

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Sam Winchester, no not THAT Sam Winchester. He's fictional. This Sam Winchester is upholding his own family tradition. Gun running.

Action / Adventure
Emily Hagenbaugh
Age Rating:


It’s come down to this. Fight or flight. But which do you choose? Which is the right choice? Do you have time to make a choice? What happens when you pick the third option? So many questions and too few answers. Let’s see what we can find out. But first, you need to know something about our protagonist. He’s not at all what he seems. Then again, who really is? There’s more to this than you know. He’s not a bad guy per se. Just does an unpleasant thing to help the good. Kind of like that guy who murders evil people. You know who I’m talking about. But this is not his story. It’s the story of another man. Well, boy. He thinks he’s a man, but he’s a boy. A kid. Speaking of said child, he was in the biggest pickle he had ever gotten into.

He was supposed to be on vacation. A nice relaxing vacation before his next run, even though he jumped at the chance to work the minute he got home from the sandbox. No problems. No, nothing. But it seems trouble found him, anyway. The boy tried to shift into a more comfortable position, but the ropes that held him captive were so tight it only caused him more discomfort. His limbs felt like they were on fire. The floor of the van wasn’t too comfortable either. He chewed on the wadded cloth his captors shoved into his mouth and sealed it in with duct tape. At least he didn’t go down without a fight. Well. It wasn’t a fight per se. He messed with his captors before things went to hell. Now he just needed to escape. He still had a job to do, and he would finish it. He needed to take care of these bastards and their master, then get Bubby back home safe and sound.

“We’re here.” The driver of the van said.

“Great. Get the brat and take him to our mistress. She’ll be happy to see him.” The man in the passenger seat said.

The boy started thrashing, but the driver was pretty well built and lifted him up with no fight at all. The man carried him into the sizeable plantation house and went up the stairs. They reached a door, and the man knocked. They heard a melodic voice and went into the room. The man sat the boy in the chair and took another coil of rope and wrapped it around the boy’s chest, securing him to the chair. The boy wriggled around, but the ropes held him in place. He looked over at the desk and the chair was facing the window.

“We brought the boy Mistress.” The man said.

“Good. I dismiss you. Go and do your other duties.” The woman said.

“Yes, ma’am.” The man said and left the room.

The woman turned her chair around and faced the captive boy. The boy’s eyes widened. This woman. It couldn’t be. She was supposed to be dead! At least from what he heard. He heard rumors about this woman, but still didn’t know who she was. The woman was older, probably in her mid to late fifties, she was wearing a navy-blue dress suit, her brown grayish hair was pulled back into a bun, and her old green eyes were lifeless. She took a sip of her wine from the glass she was holding in her hand. After the sip, she lowered her cup and smiled at her prisoner.

“Well, well, well. How you’ve grown. You were just a young’un when I last saw you.” She said with a southern twang to her voice.

“You’re a bit short but so handsome. I’m liking the little ponytail. It suits you. You’re a little scrawny for your height, but nothing that can’t be fixed. You’re good now, but you’ll be perfected soon enough, my little gun runner.”

The boy growled behind his gag and glared at the woman. The woman got up out of her chair and walked over to the boy and cupped his cheek gently. She turned his head to the left, then right, and then stared into his green-grey eyes.

“You look just like him. He was the best of the best gun runners ever. Too bad he passed before his time was truly over. Then there’s her. You have her eyes. She was a sharpshooter, she would’ve been an exceptional asset to me. But no. She betrayed me and ran off with him. She disappeared, and here you are in her place,” The woman said. “I have plans for you, my child. Such glorious plans. I don’t want to give them all away now, so I’ll let you sit there and mull things over for a while. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

The woman bent over and kissed the boy’s forehead. He thrashed about and it wasn’t doing him any good. If anything, it was making the ropes even tighter. He needed to calm down or the outcome would be a lot worse.

‘I need to escape, but how? They took my gun and other weapons from me. I can’t move and there doesn’t seem to be anything I can MacGyver to get out.’ The boy thought to himself. ‘I’m screwed.’

He looked around the room for anything he could use to escape. But it seemed like there was nothing. But he couldn’t just sit anymore and wait for his death. He needed out, like yesterday! He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He needed to calm down. When he got worked up, the ropes around his chest tightened and made it hard to breathe. He sat back and made himself calm down. Getting worked up would not do him any favors. In fact, it would make him tired and that wouldn’t be a good thing. He needed all his strength and stamina.

Now that you get the gist of what’s going on we’ll check back on the boy later. We still have the rest of the story to tell after all. So here we go! Time to get to work and run some guns while we’re at it.

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