Bad Son Rising (18 page)

Quickly assessing the pack’s order based on their clothing and shoes, Zac immediately focused on one of the men, “Is this your group?” he asked. “Are you in charge?”

“Yes,” the man nodded.

“Well, it’s a pleasure meeting you. Please accept this gift,” and Zac tossed the Moore family gold and diamond heirloom to him.

Catching it mid-air, the man turned it over in his hands a few times and then looked up at Zac, perplexed.

Hitting him with a confident Moore smile, “There’s plenty more where that came from.”

Hearing that brought a smile to the man’s face.

“Can you get them to lower their guns? That shit makes me nervous.”

The man signaled for the other three to take their sights off Zac.

Knowing he needed to keep talking, Zac approached the man extending his hand, “I’m Zac Moore.”

The man put the money clip in a pocket of his camouflage vest and extended a hand to Zac, “Protais Ndimbati.” Looking Zac up and down, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m a movie producer. From Hollywood. You know, Hollywood, right?” Zac was very animated in his delivery.

The man’s eyes widened, “John Wayne. You make westerns?”

Zac laughed, “Yes, I’ve made a few westerns. I work with Clint Eastwood. Do you know Clint Eastwood?”

The group muttered Clint Eastwood’s name, all duly impressed. They knew Clint.
Thank you, Clint.

“Oh yeah, he is a total badass, love working with the guy.”

“Why are you here?” Protais asked again.

“I’m scouting locations for my next film. I’m setting it here in the Congo. It’s with Vin Diesel. Do you guys know Vin Diesel?” Their blank looks told him he hadn’t struck a chord with them, “Well, if you love John Wayne and Clint Eastwood, you’re going to love Vin Diesel. Total badass. Like you guys.”

Zac could tell they didn’t know quite what to make of him, but he was still alive, so on some level this line of thought was working.

“What were you doing in there?” the leader wanted to know.

“Oh, just checking it for a location. I’m always looking for really photogenic places to film.” He’d almost said ‘shoot’ but didn’t want to give them any ideas.

Stall. Stall them a little more. Lily has to get to that curve in the path so that they won’t see her. She’s probably past that, but just in case. Stall.

“What’s in there?” Protais had doubt in his tone.

“Nothing,” Zac shook his head, “not a motherfucking thing.”

With a slight nod of his head, two of the men took their first few steps toward the shack.

“What the hell is on your feet, boys?” Zac’s tone was loud and exaggerated.

The men stopped dead in their tracks to look at him, “You can’t be walking around the jungles with those on your feet. You all need a new pair of LeBron’s.” He pointed to his feet and the impressive looking sneakers that adorned them. “I’ve got pairs for all of you.” Walking over to one of the men who was heading to the shack, he looked at his feet, critically, “You look like you’re about a nine,” and to the other man, “you’ve got some big-assed feet. What are you? About an eleven and a half?” Walking back to Protais and the fourth man, he looked at Protais’ feet, “You look like you’re about a ten and a half,” he looked directly into the terrorists eyes and smiled, “I’m right, aren’t I?”

Protais smiled back, clearly not quite sure what to do with the brash American.

“Well, you are in luck,” Zac announced, “I have one pair of ten and a half’s left and they’re yours.”

“Gold? Diamonds? LeBron shoes? Why do you have these things?” Protais was suspicious.

Rolling his eyes, Zac sighed, “Have you seen the value of the American dollar lately? It sucks. How can I offer people here useless pieces of paper when I’m using their property and taking their time? I need to be able to offer things of value.” He could tell Protais bought that, so he continued. “Protais, may I call you Protais?”

The man nodded.

“When I come to scout locations and find locals to both help with production and to act in the movie, I need to come equipped. Most people on location don’t want money. They want gold. They want LeBrons. Or AirJordans. I have AirJordans, too. Do you like Michael Jordan?”

He was thinking enough time had passed, he could let them in there and they’d see there was nothing there and hopefully trust him a little more — or at least enough not to kill him.

“So, this place,” he pointed to the shack, “the exterior might look great in a movie, don’t you think? It’s a great color. Can’t you just picture Clint Eastwood in that doorway?”

“You said nothing’s inside?” Protais questioned.

“Not a motherfucking thing and the natural light in there isn’t great. I was hoping it would have a more authentic feel to it, but this could be in South Central Los Angeles. There’s not a damn thing about the inside of that shack that screams Congo.” They all started to walk toward the shack.
You’d better have listened, Lily.
His heart was in his stomach, as he licked his lips, his mouth suddenly parched.
Please be gone.

They entered the shack and it was just as he had said. Completely empty. And she had closed the door fully behind them, so there was no indication that anyone had escaped out the back.
Good girl. You did good, Lils, you did good.

Realizing he had to stay in character to pull this off, and frankly amazed that he was still alive, Zac kept up the ruse.

“Protais, go stand by that window.” Zac ordered.

The hardened terrorist actually listened.

I’m going to play to your vanity, ego and greed, douche monkey.
This was a game of wits and the stakes didn’t get any higher than this. Knowing the odds were not in his favor, the boy who liked to gamble, needed to be totally on his game. There was no margin for error. None.

“OK, face me and put an arm up on the window frame and turn your head to look out. Bring your chin slightly more towards me. Perfect.” Zac slowly walked in front of the man, appearing to be deep in thought, “God, the camera is going to love you. Maybe we can work with the light in here. Stay like that,” he told Protais.

“Come here,” he said to the others. They stood by him and he pointed to their leader, “Looks good, right?” and the others agreed.

Stepping back out into what was now bright sunshine again, Zac squinted, trying to get his pupils to acclimate quickly. He needed all his senses at full throttle.

“Where are the gold and LeBrons?”

Greed, let me play to your greed, “Back where I’m staying, just up this road. About thirty minutes. And I’ve got cold Ngok there, too.” Zac smiled confidently as he mentioned the beer. “Come, we’ll throw back some Ngoks,” he extended the invite as if he were inviting some guys from the dorm versus four terrorists with semi-automatics, handguns and knives. But he knew that if he could keep it cool like this, act like he was not a prisoner being forced, that he had a better chance of making it to the point where there would be help to come rescue him from this near impossible situation.

They started down the road, one insurgent leading the pack, Zac and Protais at the center and the remaining two behind them. His legs were beginning to feel like inanimate objects and he knew that was the fear kicking in as he marched toward what very well could be his own death.

Get focused,
he yelled at himself.
Pretend you’re a contestant on Survivor. What’s their slogan,
he tried to remember, trying to keep his brain sharp.
Oh yeah, Outwit. Outplay. Outlast. Ok, that’s what I need to do. Outwit. Outplay. Outlast. This tribe hasn’t spoken yet, motherfuckers.

Terrorists are generally fame whores
, Zac thought, taking credit for bombings, killings and hijackings. They loved notoriety like most narcissistic psychopaths. He had played to greed. Next step, ego.
Here goes.

“Have you ever thought about moving to the United States?” Trying to remain nonchalant, every cell in his body stood at high alert, the tension in his muscles was becoming painful as he consciously tried to will away the cramping.

“I would like to visit Hollywood,” was Protais’ response.

“You absolutely should. Seriously, I’d like you to be in the movie that I’m going to make here. You’re authentic, man. I can see you stealing every scene. You’ve just got that certain something. You’re going to be a star. Mark my words. I am
never
wrong. When I say someone is going to be a star. They become a star. You just need to be prepared to move to the States after the movie comes out.” Zac smiled, and said, as if he were talking to himself, “Another one I’m going to make rich and famous.”

Keep talking, don’t think about your muscles. Only another fifteen minutes and this thing is going to end one way or another.

As if thinking to himself, “You’d just be so perfect for the role of the general. I was thinking Morgan Freeman, but everyone expects Morgan in a role like this. No one will expect you. You’re a match made in Heaven to play opposite Denzel.”

“Denzel Washington?”

Fucking A, the man knew Denzel. Yes! “Yeah, he’s like my best friend. He’s the one that wanted me to make this movie. You’ll get to meet him.” Zac smiled at the man.

Continuing down the road, the walk, one he had taken many times, now seemed interminable. Time had taken on a very different face, seconds were lasting hours, yet they were covering ground too quickly and he feared that Lily hadn’t had enough time to gather the right people to help.

They were now fairly close to base camp.
Where’s the cavalry?
Zac thought.
I need the cavalry.
Project Hydrate had an outside security firm guarding the facility and he knew Niles and some of the others kept guns.
Come on, man. If this were a John Ford western, the cavalry would be showing up just about now.

Looking up at the sky, he tried to memorize the intense shade of blue. Would it be the last sky he’d ever see? The storm had cleared out all the dust and humidity and he couldn’t help but think that the sky was the color of Nathaniel’s eyes. Maybe that was some kind of a sign.

That simple thought crossing his consciousness, led to the reality he hadn’t let surface over the last hour. He might never see his family again. Just the thought of not seeing Natie and Po grow up slammed him with the force and desolation of a tsunami carrying him away to certain death. Stumbling over his own feet, he felt the poke of a gun barrel in his back, reinforcing the harsh reality. Chances of surviving this day were a crapshoot at best, and if he and Brian had been running bets on it, he would have been smart enough to refrain from making a wager.

It was time to make peace. One by one, he envisioned everyone’s face and said a silent goodbye. His grandparents were going to be so devastated.
I’m so sorry about that money clip, Grandpa, I saw it as a way to get Lily and the kids to safety. I hope it will be recovered
. His mom would figure out a way to make this about her and he almost laughed at the thought
. Dump that asshole you’re married to, Mom. You can do better
. Holly had been a great big sister and now they’d never be adults together.
Take care of Heckle and Jeckle for me, tell them funny Zac stories about all the trouble I got into
. Liz and Brian made him feel a part of something for the first time in his life.
We had a damn good time, didn’t we? You guys were the best buds ever
. Mia, his dad was going to need her more than ever, and he knew she’d totally be there for him and the kids.
I know I’ve said I’m sorry before, but I really mean it and I’m glad you’re there to take care of everyone
,
there’s no one I’d trust more to take care of the people I love most.
Nathaniel and Portia, fighting to hold back tears, he was glad they were too young to understand.
You two taught me how to love. I know I tell you that you’re devils all the time, but you’re really angels
,
my angels.
His dad, there was too much he’d never get a chance to say to him, to thank him for.
I kept my promise to you and Berto, Dad. I protected Lily and the two kids. I got them to safety. I didn’t let you down again. I hope you can finally be proud of me.
And Lily, at least he had the chance to tell her.
I didn’t think I ever could. I just didn’t think that I was capable. Until you. You were the gift of a lifetime for me. You helped me heal wounds I didn’t think could ever be healed. My only regrets, that I didn’t tell you sooner and more often that I love you and that we didn’t have more time. Even just one more day…

It was done. He had made his peace. Somewhere, somehow, whether through dreams or just a sense of knowing, everyone would get their message. He had put them out into the universe and had faith that someday, some way, his messages would be delivered and heard.

He could see basecamp looming ahead and felt guilty for leading this scum back there. Saying an extra prayer, he prayed no one from the project would get hurt because of him. Hopefully, Lily and the kids were someplace safe and they’d gotten the authorities and site security in place.

When the first shot rang out, Zac jumped, but he wasn’t surprised.
The cavalry had arrived.
He was momentarily flooded with relief.

One of the insurgents behind him went down. Before being killed in a flurry of gunfire, the downed man shot off a single round at Zac, striking him in the abdomen.

The piercing fire in Zac’s gut overwhelmed his central nervous system and all memories of what was to follow were immediately shut down. Protais grabbed the wounded Zac in a neck hold using him as a human shield, hand gun to his head.

Gunfire from behind the bushes and buildings took out the lead man and he went down. A tennis court trained Zac Moore swung his right arm as if slamming a return, knocking away the terrorist’s hold on him. The moment they were separated, a rainstorm of bullets slammed through Protais, who had already fired a shot at Zac, hitting him in the upper chest. Zac reeled, but still didn’t go down.

With two bullets riddling his body and blood flowing profusely from his wounds, Zac’s internal resolve was on autopilot. As Protais hit the ground, Gavin Moore’s heirloom money clip bounced from his pocket onto the dirt road. Against all odds, a now blood-soaked Zac bent down and scooped up the clip. Straightening up, he pulled back his right leg, slamming a kick into the Interhamwe leader’s lower back, “This is mine, motherfucker,” he yelled with what was left of his voice.