Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [164]
“What the hell you doing?” Benny demanded.
“We can’t have this going on for the rest of the trip. The guys obviously didn’t completely restrain him.”
“Why would they? He’s found Jesus Christ.”
Del only shook his head. As he climbed out of the truck it occurred to him that he had no idea what to do with a prisoner who had gotten an arm or leg loose from one of the leather restraints.
“Now hold on, kid,” Benny yelled after him, scrambling out from the passenger side. “I’ll take care of this bastard.”
It took Benny too long to come around the truck. When he did, Del noticed a stagger in his walk.
“You’re still drunk!”
“The hell I am.”
Del reached into the cab and pulled out the thermos, jerking it away when Benny grabbed for it. He twisted off the top and in one whiff could smell the alcohol-laced coffee.
“You son of a bitch.” Del’s words surprised him as much as they did Benny. Instead of apologizing, he threw the thermos and watched it explode against a nearby fence post.
“Shit! That was my only thermos, kid.” Benny looked as though he might head into the overgrown ditch to retrieve the pieces. But he turned and stomped toward the back of the truck. “Let’s make this fucker shut up.”
The banging continued, louder, now rocking the truck.
“You think you’re up for this?” Del asked, feeling angry and betrayed enough to allow the sarcasm.
“Hell, yes. I was shutting up assholes like this when you were still suckin’ at your momma’s tit.” Benny grabbed at his service revolver, fumbling with the holster’s snap before pulling the gun free.
Del wondered how much alcohol Benny Zeeks had in his system. Could he still aim his gun? Was the gun even loaded? Up until today, Brice and Webber transported the hard-core criminals, making the trips up to Glade and Charlotte, while he and Benny were assigned petty thieves and white-collar criminals, escorting them in the other direction to the county courthouse in Miami. Del unbuckled the strap on his holster, his hand shaking, the butt of his gun feeling awkward and unfamiliar.
The noise stopped as soon as Del started sliding the locks open on the heavy rear door. He looked to Benny who stood beside him with his revolver drawn. Immediately, Del noticed the slight tremor in Benny’s hand. It sent a wave of nausea loose in Del’s stomach. His back was soaked, his forehead dripping. Wet pools under his armpits soiled his once-crisp uniform. His heart pounded against his rib cage, and now in the silence, he wondered if Benny could hear it.
He took a deep breath and tightened his hold on the handle. Then he flung the door open, jumping aside and letting Benny have a full view of the dark inside. Benny stood, legs apart, arms extended in front of him, both hands gripping the gun as he tilted his head, ready to take aim.
Nothing happened. The door slammed back and forth, hitting against the side of the truck. The sound of metal clanking against metal was amplified by the peaceful surroundings and the deserted highway. Del and Benny stared into the darkness, squinting to see the corner bench where the prisoner usually sat, restrained by thick straps that snaked out of the wall and floor.
“What on earth?” Del could see the leather straps, cut and hanging from the wall of the truck.
“What the fuck?” Benny mumbled as he slowly approached the open truck.
Without warning, a tall, dark figure flew out at Benny, knocking him and the gun to the ground. Albert Stucky clamped his teeth onto Benny’s ear like a rabid dog. Benny’s scream dismantled Del. He stood paralyzed. His limbs refused to react. His heart knocked against his chest. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. By the time he pulled out his service revolver, the prisoner was on his feet. He ran straight at Del, colliding with him and shoving something sharp and smooth and hard into Del’s stomach.
Pain exploded throughout his body. His hands were useless, and the gun slid from his fingers like water. He forced himself to look into Albert Stucky’s eyes, and instantly he saw the evil staring back at