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Chapter one of a book that I am in the progress of writing... Probably wont finish, but let me know what you think!

Submitted:Jan 17, 2012    Reads: 7    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   

It had started out as a normal day... what went wrong? Thought nineteen year old Keith. The blond was pressed up against a hard dirt floor and he could feel a trickle of blood coming out the corner of his mouth. He had been in this prison for more than six hours now and he still had no idea where he was, well, not no idea, he knew he was in Russia somewhere within a hundred mile radius of the capital city Moscow. It was John, that Dam Bastard John! Less than ten hours ago, Keith would have considered John his friend, even one of his best friends, but that was ten hours ago...

Keith had been working for the US spy network for three years, and all those three years he had been assigned to operation AWSA. Keith had no idea what AWSA stood for, but he knew it involved the threat, and growing proof, that the Russians were developing a new, and very dangerous biological weapon. First, Keith had been an organizer for a data analyzer, then an analyzer himself, and finally, an honest to goodness field agent. It was the first day of field work that things started to go wrong...

Keith was brought back to the present by a rough kick in the side and a gruff voice saying "Get up, boy!" Keith obliged, although it was hard with the chains around his ankles and wrists. It's amazing, thought the blond, that Russia is the second most advanced country in the world, science wise, but they still use chains to hold their most important prisoners in old fashioned, dirt floored jail cells. If I were in America, they would have me suspended in a bubble below the ocean with electrical restraints, and meals brought twice a day by five heavily armed guards. "Walk boy," commanded the guard. Keith tried, but he stumbled and received a hard cuff to the side of the face, "Important spy my foot," chuckled the guard, "You can't even walk!" All of the angry blond wanted to lash out at the guard, restraint, he thought to himself, instead, he calmly asked the guard,

"Where are you taking me?"

"You boy, are going to see the president of Russia himself!"

The guard led, or mostly dragged now thoroughly pissed off, and rather beat up blond through the dark maze of the prison, up steps, down steps, and finally outside to the waiting car. "Get in boy," the guard said, and Keith did. Then, not much to Keith's surprise, the guard slipped in besides him and jabbed a small, compact pistole into Keith's temple "This is loaded boy, so don't try any tricks" grunted the guard, and then to the driver, "Drive" The car ride to the capitol building was silent, there wasn't much for Keith to say with a loaded gun pressed to his head. When the car got to the capitol building, the guard dragged Keithout of the car and up the steps. As the main door swung open, Keith gasped, he knew John had betrayed him, but he wasn't ready for what he saw.

John was siting at the head of a huge, oval table, he still wore the same tattered blue jeans, and the same tight fitting camouflage t-shirt that showed of his perfectly formed six pack, but there was something different about him, his brilliant blue eyes were cold, and he held himself with the manner of someone in charge.Which he is! The surprised blond realized with a start, John is the president of Russia! "My dear friend," began the heavly muscled, dark haired boy with dreadlocks, in a way that sounded so unlike John that Keith almost cried,

"Former friend, you mean," Keith corrected him. At these words, Keith saw a flash of hurt in John's cold, blue eyes, but it was only a flash before John's poker face took over again.

"Ah yes, that incident was, unfortunate, to say the least," mumbled John, "I could have used you..."

"Could have used me!?" Keith cried out, "John, what have you become?!" Keith saw a look of regret flash across John's face, but before he could reply, the door behind the blond burst open, and something hit Keith in the head from behind, hard.

The last thing Keith remembered before slipping into unconsciousness was someone yelling, "It's the rebels, run!" Keith was unconscious, but there were memories, memories of John and he talking like boy-hood friends on their way to their stake out post, of two Russian soldiers finding their hiding place, of himself saying, "Two ageist two, were even," and then John saying as he drew his gun and pointed not at the Russians, but at Keith,

"Actually blonde, you're kind of outnumbered."


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