A World Apart The Jake Thomas Trilogy - By Steven A. Tolle Page 0,20
face was lean and hard, with a long goatee hanging from his chin that was tied in different places with leather cords. He was looking at Jake as he spoke. "I told you that the Master wanted any strangers brought to him undamaged."
From behind him, Jake heard several crude jokes were directed at one called Surt. He twisted his head towards the sound and saw three other men standing a few feet behind him. One was glowering at him, clearly unhappy. Jake guessed he was the one they called Surt. He was shorter and stockier than the rest, his face wide with thin lips and a nose that looked like it had been broken multiple times. His dark eyes above the rough stubble of a beard were predatory as they glared angrily at Jake.
All of the men were dressed in the same dark leather outfits and all carried weapons. Most had unkempt hair, some with full beards, and looked as if they had not had a shower in a while. As Jake quietly studied them, he noticed that they all had a similar look in their eyes. There was something there, something slightly crazed and wild, as if they were wired up on some drug. He tried to push down his sudden fear, but knew there was clearly something not right with these men.
The leader walked over to Jake, appraising him as he approached. Jake could see that he also had the wild look in his dark eyes, but there was a coldness in them as well. The man stopped and squatted next to Jake. He held out his hand and Jake saw his phone with the earbuds dangling. "What is this thing, boy?" He said quietly.
"A phone." Jake said, voice catching in his throat. "You know…a phone?" The man, with those crazed cold eyes, just stared at Jake. After a moment, Jake realized that the man did not know what a phone was.
"I don't understand that name." The man turned the phone over in his hand, studying it, and then put it into a deep pocket in his cloak. "It doesn't matter; we have to move. The Master will know what to make of it."
He stood and casually kicked Jake in the stomach, nearly driving his breath away. "Get up, boy. We have a long way to go." Jake struggled to right himself, his stomach cramping and feeling as if he needed to throw up. "Don't make me tell you again. You will not like that, I assure you." The man warned darkly.
Jake was able to roll over onto his stomach and get his knees under him when the man reached out and grabbed Jake by his hair. Ignoring Jake's cries, he pulled, lifting Jake as he struggled to get his feet under him, feeling as if his scalp was going to come off his skull. Once Jake was standing, the man released his hair and spoke to the others.
"Surt, since you're the idiot that nearly killed him, you will make sure the boy keeps up. If he can't, you will be carrying him on your back." Hoots of laughter burst for the other men. "We have a long march ahead. Anyone that can't keep up is on his own. Let's go." With that, the man set off through the forest at a fast pace, the others following him.
"Move, boy!" Surt growled, kicking Jake hard. Jake staggered after the other men, his movement unsteady from his injuries and bound hands. Surt was right behind him, encouraging a faster pace with rough shoves and slaps to Jake's head. Fear kept Jake moving, striving to avoid more abuse from Surt.
After several minutes, they caught up with the rest of the group. Jake could hear the men betting on when Surt would have to carry him. They laughed at Jake, mocking him, poking and prodding him as he jogged to keep up. The leader would glance at Jake from time to time, but said nothing. Jake had no time to think of anything else but trying to keep up with the group.
They kept moving for almost an hour. Jake's throat and chest were burning from his exertions, his legs feeling watery. The fear of what would happen if he could not keep up kept him striving to put one foot in front of the other.
Eventually, even his fear could not overcome his lack of food and his injuries. Jake stumbled as he tried to pass over a fallen log, tumbling to the