The Camp: The Coward

The Camp: The Coward

 

by Saddletramp1956

Copyright© 2023 by Saddletramp1956, All rights reserved

 

My name is Mike Bradley, and for the last couple months or so, I have been at a camp somewhere in the mountains of north Idaho trying to work through my problems. In case you're wondering why I'm here, well, let's just say it all has to do with my wife and the company I work for.

 

You see, I strongly suspected for some time that the woman I fell in love with and married has been cheating on me at least two days a week, and I've suspected it for quite a while. So, you might be asking yourself, why didn't I do anything about it? The answer to that is simple. I'm a coward. I always have been a coward, from the time I was a young boy. And that's why I'm here at Camp Rollins.

 

I was always taught to walk away from a fight, and that's what I did. Sure, I was often humiliated and looked down upon, but I can honestly say I've never gotten into a fight, no matter how angry I got. Perhaps I should've listened to my inner self instead of my elders.

 

I never went to college – couldn't afford it – so I settled for whatever job I could get, hoping that one day I could afford to attend college and get a degree. Along the way, I met and married Gloria. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever known and she always treated me like a king. I knew I had married up, and I did my level best to keep her happy.

 

Over the years, I did almost everything – I flipped burgers, pounded a register in a convenience store, swept floors, even worked as a security guard. Sometimes, I held down three part-time jobs at the same time. I may have been a skinny and wimpy coward, but I was no slacker. All of my bosses said they admired my work ethic.

 

Gloria, meanwhile, held a decent job as an executive secretary and worked normal hours. Unfortunately, we didn't get to see each other much because of my crazy work schedules. I kept looking for a job with a real future, though. Sadly, I got very few responses to my applications.

 

Then one day, out of the blue, I received a letter from a company called Acme Enterprises. I never heard of them and had never applied for a job with them, so I did a search and found that Acme was a very large company with clients and interests around the world. They had their fingers in practically everything, but always worked in the background, not drawing much attention to themselves.

 

The letter said the company was very interested in hiring me, so I showed up for my appointment with their HR department and was given a stack of things to do, which included a physical and a background check.

 

When I showed up for my interview, I was informed that Acme had adopted a Japanese-style employment system which basically meant that I was expected to stay with Acme for the rest of my life. Unless I deliberately quit or was fired, I would be employed for life. I was shocked when I saw the compensation package. The annual pay was more than I had made the last three years combined and it didn't matter what I was assigned to do.

 

The benefits package was also the best I had ever seen and included a very generous retirement package. The company even offered training for its employees. Of course, I accepted their offer and was overjoyed when I told Gloria the good news. She smiled and congratulated me with a night of mind-blowing sex.

 

I thought things were okay between Gloria and I, but I still suspected her of screwing around on me. Of course, being a coward, I never said anything. I was too afraid of upsetting the apple cart.

 

About eight months later, we were invited to a party at the home of Doug Carson, the CEO of Acme. Gloria looked stunning in her little black dress that showed off a lot of leg and more than a bit of cleavage. It was obvious she wore no bra and I wondered if she bothered to put panties on.

 

“Damn, you look good good enough to eat,” I said when she came into the front room.

 

“I may take you up on that offer when we get back,” she said with a smile.

 

We arrived at Doug's mansion and I handed my car keys to the valet. When we got to the door, Doug met us. He shook my hand and planted a kiss on Gloria's hand. He turned to another executive, Bill Jenkins, and handed Gloria off to him.

 

“Bill, would you please see to Mrs. Bradley while I have a chat with her husband?” he asked. Bill smiled and took Gloria's arm.

 

“Sure,” Bill said. Gloria looked back at me and waved as she smiled.

 

“I'll be fine, dear,” she said. “Go talk with your boss and we'll hook back up later.” I didn't like the look of this, but what could I do?

 

“Please join me in my study, Mike,” Doug said. “May I call you Mike?”

 

“Uh, yeah, sure, Mr. Carson,” I said nervously. He poured a drink when we entered his private study and he handed it to me.

 

“Please, have a seat, Mike,” he said. “So tell me, how do you like working at Acme so far? You've been with us, what, eight months now?”

 

“Yes, sir,” I said. “I'm really enjoying it and I look forward to being here many more years.” He smiled and took a sip of his drink.

 

“I'm glad to hear that, Mike,” he said. “I've gotten nothing but good reports on your work so far and I'm sure you'll do well. I imagine you're probably wondering why you and your wife were invited here tonight. As I'm sure you know by now, everyone here is several pay grades above you.”

 

“Yes, I was wondering about that,” I said.

 

“Well, you see, it's like this,” he began. “We're starting something new here. As you know, we have clients and offices world-wide. That often means a lot of travel for some of our top people, which can sometimes take a toll on their families and on their morale.”

 

“I understand, Mr. Carson,” I said. “But how does that affect me?”

 

“Good question, and I'm glad you asked,” he said. “You see, your wife is going to be the first in what we call the Executive Morale Team. And tonight is her initiation into that team.”

 

“I didn't know she worked for Acme,” I said.

 

“The company she works for is actually a subsidiary of Acme,” he said. “In fact, her boss happens to be my brother, and he's the one who recommended her for this, er, position. Don't worry, it's not uncommon for employees to be moved around or borrowed as needed. We do it all the time.”

 

“So, what is she going to be doing?” I asked.

 

“Pretty much everything,” Doug said. “And everyone, as needed.”

 

“Huh?” I asked, confused. He chuckled.

 

“I see you're a bit confused,” he said. “Your wife has been having sex with my brother at least once a week for several months now. In fact, she's become rather fond of gang-bangs, and engages in one every chance she gets. Didn't you know?”

 

“I suspected, but I didn't know for certain,” I said, feeling like I had just been gut-punched.

 

“I understand,” he said. “In fact, I'm going to be fucking your wife myself in a few minutes. After that, she'll, well, connect with the rest of tonight's crowd, which includes our board of directors. I thought you should know. Don't worry, she'll be compensated quite well, and so will you. Once she's been initiated, she'll be called upon to take care of our executive team as needed. Naturally, that will mean a lot of travel and a lot of time away from home.” I was shocked to hear all this and didn't know what to say or do. After all, I was a coward.

 

“I see you're a bit stunned,” he said. “I understand how you must feel.”

 

“Why her?” I asked. “Why are you doing this to me?”

 

“If you recall, our initial letter to you said you have something of interest to us,” he said. “You probably thought we were interested in your talents or your work ethic, which you've demonstrated admirably. But we were really interested in your wife. We've known about her and have had our eye on her for this role for a long time. We brought you in to have access to her while minimizing the risk of a lawsuit. As our employee, you've signed away any right to sue us. If you threaten to divorce your wife or raise a stink that would put the company in a bad light, we'll have no choice but to fire you. And you'll be lucky to get a minimum-wage job flipping burgers.”

 

I recalled the mountain of papers the HR department had me sign. Was that part of my employment contract? He continued after taking another sip of his drink.

 

“How long is this going to go on?” I asked. Doug shrugged his shoulders.

 

“Difficult to say,” he told me. “You wife is a young woman, so I suspect maybe 10 or 15 years. Maybe longer. It all depends on how she works out. So, I expect you to keep a happy face and deal with this, Mike,” he said. “As long as you do your job and don't make a fuss, everything will be just fine. And you'll see a nice increase in your paycheck.”

 

“Can I at least say goodbye to my wife?” I asked weakly. He shook his head.

 

“I don't think that would be appropriate,” Doug said. “She's being prepped even as we speak.”

 

“What if she gets pregnant or something?” I asked. He laughed.

 

“Don't worry,” he said. “She's on birth control but if she gets pregnant, the company will pay for the abortion if she chooses to have one. If not, well, you'll get to play 'daddy.' She also has full medical, which handles treatment for STDs. That won't be a problem, since we're all clean.” He took another sip.

 

“So why don't you go on home now?” he asked. “I'll have my driver return her to you when we're finished. It'll probably be quite late, so there's no need for you to wait up for her. There's a good boy,” he added condescendingly. He stood, indicating the meeting was over. I got up and he ushered me to the front door. I could see the smirks on the faces of the men in the room as I walked out. The valet had already brought my car around and handed me the keys after Doug closed the front door.

 

I drove home, angrier and more hurt than I had ever been in my entire life. When I got home, I did the only thing I could think of to do – I bawled like a baby. I was a coward, remember? I sat there in my recliner, waiting for her to return home. The television was on, but I paid no attention to it. My mind was reeling from the evening's events.

 

It was 3:00 am when I saw headlights pull into our driveway. I heard a door open and soon, Gloria was in the house. She looked like she had been ridden hard and put away wet. Her face and hair were covered with globs of cum and I could see bruises on her chest.

 

She looked at me for a moment, then dropped her dress to the floor and stood before me, naked. Her pussy, which had been shaved bare, was red and puffy. Cum was still leaking out of her and dripping down her legs. Her breasts were covered with bruises. She reeked of alcohol, smoke and cum.

 

“You said earlier tonight I looked good enough to eat,” she croaked. “So, get down here on your knees and eat me out, cuck.” I looked at her in shock for a moment. Who was this bitch and what had she done with my wife? My stomach churned and I began to get sick. I ran into the bathroom and threw up, repeatedly.

 

When I finished, I went upstairs, not seeing Gloria in the front room. I wanted to kill her with my bare hands, but I was a coward, remember? So I simply grabbed a few things and went into the guest room. She followed me, still reeking.

 

“What are you doing in here?” she asked. “Why aren't you in our bed?”

 

“Please,” I said. “You smell like shit and you're making me sick. Go away.”

 

“I'm going to New York to spend some time with the board tomorrow,” she said. “I'm leaving in the morning and don't know when I'll be back. Doug said to remind you to put on a happy face.” I looked at her and gave a fake smile.

 

“Is this happy enough for you?” I asked. “Don't worry, I won't file for divorce. We'll still be married, at least legally. But you're no longer my wife and I don't accept this. At all. And I'm damn sure not going to touch you again, not as long as you're like... this.”

 

“Well, that's just too bad,” she said. “This is what I am. A paid cum slut for the company. And I AM your wife. You'll just have to accept it and deal with it. And I'd better never hear that you cheated on me. Got it?” Her face softened for a bit and she approached me. She bent down to kiss me, but I pushed her away so as not to get sick again. She recoiled away from me, not expecting that reaction.

 

“Alright, be that way,” she said, walking away. “But I am leaving for New York in a few hours. Don't expect to hear from me. I'll be home when I'm home.” She left and I fell on the bed, crying my eyes out.

 

And that began my alleged “life” for the next four months. Gloria was gone the next morning when I got up. She didn't even bother to tell me she was leaving.

 

That Monday, I received an inter-office envelope from Doug. Opening it, I found a DVD marked with Friday's date. I put the DVD in my computer and nearly gagged when I saw my wife fucking several men at the same time, each of them depositing their loads into her willing cunt. I cried as I watched several of the men smear their cum on her wedding ring as she laughed.

 

I didn't hear from Gloria, and when I called her cell, it simply went to voicemail. I figured she was too busy getting fucked to hear from me.

 

I continued working and put in as much overtime as I could, putting the extra money into a separate account. Doug followed through with his promise and gave me a hefty increase. Sadly, it didn't do anything to make up for the loss of my marriage.

 

It was two weeks before I finally saw Gloria. She was home, asleep in the master bed. I said nothing and made myself dinner. She came downstairs as I was eating.

 

“Aren't you going to make me dinner?” she asked. I looked at her, barely recognizing her.

 

“I'm not your fucking servant,” I said. “There's another TV dinner in the freezer if you want to nuke it yourself.”

 

“I'm not eating a TV dinner,” she said.

 

“Suit yourself,” I said.

 

“Aren't you going to ask me about my trip?” she asked. I shook my head.

 

“Nope,” I said. “You haven't bothered to call me in the last two weeks to let me know you're alive, so I figured you're out fucking everyone you see and you don't give a shit about me.”

 

“That's not true, Mike,” she said. “Come on upstairs and let me show you how much I care and love you.” I shook my head again.

 

“Nope,” I said. “I don't cavort with prostitutes.”

 

“What do you mean by that remark?” she asked.

 

“It's simple,” I said. “You fuck anyone and everyone for money. Isn't that the definition of a prostitute?”

 

“Yeah, I have lots of sex with a lot of people. And I do get compensated, quite nicely, I might add,” she said. “And so do you.”

 

“So you're a highly-paid prostitute. Look, I'm not being paid for you to have sex,” I said. “I'm being paid because your pimp wants me to stay quiet about what you're doing. Believe me, I do not condone it one bit.”

 

“I'm sorry, Mike,” she said. “Doug said you were okay with it.”

 

“I had no choice in the matter,” I said. “You, on the other hand, did. I hope you noticed I haven't filed for divorce and I haven't kicked your ass to the curb, although God knows I should.”

 

“I've noticed,” she said. “Look, Mike, I'm sorry about all this.”

 

“But not sorry enough to quit,” I said. “Did Carson tell you how long you'd be doing this?” She shook her head.

 

“No, he didn't,” she said. “I assumed it would be for a while.”

 

“He told me 10 or 15 years,” I said. “Know this, I'm not waiting 10 or 15 years to have sex with an old used-up whore.”

 

“What?” she asked, shocked.

 

“Look, just do a few things for me, okay?”

 

“What, Mike,” she said.

 

“First, don't bring your lifestyle into my house. Second, clean up before you come home. It took me a week to get the stench of you out the last time. And third, let me know where you are so I don't get worried about whether you're alive or dead. Can you do that?” I asked.

 

“I can, Mike,” she said.

 

“So, how long are you home this time?” I asked.

 

“I'll be local for a while,” she said. “I have to attend the board meeting tonight and I may be gone for a few days.”

 

“Of course,” I said, throwing the empty TV dinner tray away. “I have to get back to work. Remember what I said.” I grabbed my jacket and headed for the door.

 

“Aren't you going to give your wife a kiss before you leave?” she asked.

 

“Yeah,” I said sarcastically. “If I ever see her again.” She began crying as I left, but I simply didn't care.

 

I only saw Gloria for a couple days the rest of that month. The next two months or so were the same. She was gone except for a day or two every couple weeks. She tried to talk to me, but I had nothing to say to her. She did keep her promises, though, and sent messages to let me know where she would be. It seemed she was being passed around from executive to executive most nights. Other times, she would be in new York, or Miami or Los Angeles. Several times, she was sent overseas for one or two weeks at a stretch.

 

Doug sent me a DVD every week, so I could see her debauchery. I was starting to get quite a collection.

 

One day, about three and a half months after all this began, Doug called me into his office.

 

“How are you holding up, Mike?” he asked.

 

“I guess I'm hanging in there, Mr. Carson. Why? Is there a problem?” I asked.

 

“Well, I noticed you've been putting in a ton of overtime,” he said. “Frankly, I'm getting a little worried. Your work is good as always, but I'm concerned about your health.”

 

“I'll be fine, Mr. Carson,” I said.

 

“When was the last time you made love to your wife?” he asked.

 

“I haven't touched my wife since before you took her,” I said.

 

“Oh? That was over three months ago,” he said. “I thought we had an agreement.”

 

“It was three months, 16 days, and 17 hours to be exact. You didn't give me any choice, remember, Mr. Carson?” I asked. “I did what you said. I haven't filed for divorce, I haven't kicked her out of the house, although she's almost never there anymore anyway, thanks to you. I'm dealing with it the best I can.”

 

“Gloria tells me you hardly talk to her and won't even touch her. She said you called her a prostitute. That's no way to talk about your own wife,” Doug said.

 

“Well, Mr. Carson,” I said. “I may be weak and a coward, but I do have standards and in my view, a woman who fucks for money is a prostitute, no matter what fancy title you give her. She's hardly ever home and when she is, she looks like shit. What are you doing to her?”

 

“Look, Mike,” he said. “Your wife is very energetic. I can't help it if there's a great demand for her services.”

 

“At the rate you're using her, she'll never survive the next 10 or 15 years,” I said.

 

“I'll be the judge of that,” he said. “Look, why don't you take a sabbatical, paid of course. Take a couple months or so off, go get laid, have a good time. Get your head screwed back on right.”

 

“I'll start looking around,” I said.

 

“Good,” Doug told me. “If you need help finding something, call HR.”

 

“I will, thanks,” I said as I left.

 

When I got home I started my search. I found several places that looked interesting, but as I thought about it, I realized I needed more than just a two or three month break from all this shit. All of a sudden, I got a pop-up ad with a video that began playing. I started to close it out, but the message seemed to hit home.

 

In the video, a large man wearing a khaki uniform stood up from behind his desk and walked in front of the camera.

 

“Do you feel like less of a man? Is your spouse or significant other treating you like shit, disrespecting you at every turn or making you a wimpy cuckold? Are you tired of the smirks, the offhand insults? The cheating, lying and utter contempt hurled at you from everyone you thought loved you? Do you want your manhood back? Do you want your dignity and self-respect back? If so, we can help make that a reality,” he said.

 

“It won't be easy. In fact, it may well be the hardest thing you've ever done in your life, but believe me, you'll be much better in every respect. When you graduate from our three-month course, you'll be a better man in every way – physically and emotionally. You'll be able to take control of your own life and your own destiny and you'll learn how to deal with those who have turned your life into a miserable hellhole,” he added.

 

Another man walked into the scene, wearing a denim shirt and blue jeans. He turned and looked into the camera.

 

“My name is Ralph Winters,” he said. “Before I came to Camp Rollins, I was a wimpy cuckold. My wife treated me like shit every day, making me watch her fuck one man after another. I got tired of the disrespect from her and the kids and came here. Now, I'm in control of my life and I learned how to deal with the cheating skank. I'm no longer a wimp, nor am I a cuckold. I've earned my family's respect now and my wife is back to being the loving woman I married so long ago.” The uniformed man patted Ralph on the shoulders and turned back to the camera.

 

“Ralph's story can be yours as well,” he said. He leaned into the camera, a serious look on his face. “Are you ready to take control of your life? Are you ready to take back that which is yours? If so, call the number on the screen and speak to one of our counselors. We'll make all the arrangements and before you know it, you'll be on the way to a whole new life. Take that first step right now. Pick up your phone and call.”

 

The screen faded to black with a phone number showing in large, white numbers. I made note of the number and called.

 

“Thank you for calling Camp Rollins, Elaine speaking. How may I help you?” a friendly female voice said.

 

“Uh, yeah, I just caught your ad on the Internet and I'd like to get more information about your program,” I said.

 

“Certainly, sir,” Elaine said. “From the number you're calling, I can tell you that we have an office very close by and they can make all of the assessments and arrangements for you if you wish. Just so you know, our program includes a three-month training session in scenic north Idaho that includes physical training as well as counseling, legal assistance and life training. Our program is covered by most insurance plans as a wellness benefit. Once you complete our program, you'll have access to our 24-hour support line should you have any needs. Can I set you up with an appointment, sir?”

 

Fuck it, I thought. This shit has to end.

 

“Yes,” I said. “Please, set me up.”

 

“Very well, sir,” Elaine said. “I can set you up with an appointment for tomorrow morning if that works for you.

 

“Yes, it does,” I told her.

 

“Good,” Elaine said. “Does 10:30 work for you?”

 

“It does,” I said. She confirmed the appointment and gave me the address, which was only a few blocks from the building where I worked.

 

The next day, I informed Doug that I had an appointment at 10:30 about a possible sabbatical. He wrote back, wishing me luck and giving me permission to take the rest of the day off.

 

When I got to the office, a man took my application and listened to my entire story, taking notes as he spoke. When I finished, he looked over everything he had before addressing me.

 

“I think we can help you, Mr. Bradley,” he said. “You do understand this isn't a pleasure cruise or a simple walk in the park?”

 

“Yes, I do,” I said.

 

“In fact, our program is very rigorous,” the man added. “You'll do things you never thought possible and face your worse demons. But once you finish, you'll be a whole new man.”

 

“That's what I need,” I said.

 

“How do you plan to pay for this?” he asked.

 

“My boss said the company would pay for the whole thing,” I said.

 

“And that's Acme Enterprises?” he asked. I nodded my head as he looked on his computer. “Well, it looks as though you are covered. We have a few things to get arranged first, but I believe we can fit you in on a class starting the first of the month. Does that sound good to you?”

 

“Yes, it does,” I said. “The sooner the better.”

 

“Good,” he said. “We'll take it from here and we'll see you on the first of the month. Just one thing, though. You can tell your wife and your boss that you'll be gone the first, but we'd rather you not tell them where exactly you're going. Once you're there, you can send a postcard with the mailing address, but you won't have access to your phone or the Internet.”

 

Not having Internet access would be tough, but I figured it was a small price to pay. The counselor spent the next hour explaining how everything would work. I readily agreed and went home, stopping at a steak house for dinner on the way.

 

To my surprise, Gloria was home when I got there and she didn't seem too happy.

 

“What's this about you taking a sabbatical?” she demanded angrily.

 

“What's it to you?” I asked. “You're never home anyway.”

 

“That's not the point,” she said. “You should have discussed it with me first.”

 

“Oh, you mean, like the way you discussed becoming a prostitute with me?” I asked. She shriveled a bit at that.

 

“Stop calling me that, Goddammit,” she said.

 

“Why?” I asked. “That's what you are, isn't it? Acme's very own corporate prostitute? We talked about this before.”

 

“Look,” she said. “Doug's not happy that you haven't had sex with me since all this began. He gave me the rest of the week off so we could reconnect. Please,” she begged. “I know you must be horny as hell by now. It's been what, a couple months since we've had sex?”

 

“Try three months, 18 days,” I said. “The last time was the night before that party where Doug and the Board took you from me.”

 

“Mike,” she said. “I know it's been rough for you, but it hasn't been easy for me, either.”

 

“Oh?” I asked. “Sure looks like you've been having a hell of a time, judging from the DVDs Doug sent me. How many times have you been fucked these last three months? A couple thousand? Do you remember what you were doing on our wedding anniversary?”

 

“No, I don't,” she said.

 

“Maybe I should show you,” I said. “You didn't bother calling and you didn't even send a post card. Probably because you were too busy fucking that sheikh in Marseilles, remember? Him and his cohorts. You even joked about ruining my anniversary. Remember that?” Her face turned white.

 

“You know about that?” she asked.

 

“Oh yeah,” I said. “Your pimp's done a hell of a job reminding me what you really are these last three months.”

 

“My God,” she said. “You must really hate me.”

 

“I don't even fucking know you anymore,” I said. “All I know is my marriage is dead. Hell, you haven't even noticed I quit wearing my ring two months ago.”

 

“Well, you have a chance to reconnect with me now, Mike,” she said. “Come on, baby, let's go upstairs and make love. For old time's sake.”

 

“I can't afford you and I don't have any protection,” I said.

 

“What do you mean, you can't afford me? I'm your wife, for crying out loud. And you don't need any protection,” she said. “You hate rubbers and you know I do too. Besides, I cleaned myself out and douched twice today just for you.”

 

“You're kidding, right?” I asked. “You've probably fucked half the planet by now and you can't understand why I'd want a rubber? Have you gone totally fucking nuts? There's no telling what's swimming around in you right now.”

 

“Alright,” she said. “Go get some condoms if you must.” I left and went to the store where I bought a box of rubbers and came back home. I went upstairs and found Gloria in the bedroom, naked. She knelt at my feet and pulled my trousers down, taking my boxers with them. She began sucking my cock, taking all 7 ½ inches into her throat, while looking in my eyes the whole time.

 

She gave a great performance and I couldn't help but think she had this all worked out. I had seen her on video do this to a number of men. I couldn't help it – I ended up ejaculating in her mouth. She made a production of swallowing my cum – something she hadn't done to me before, but something she had done with many others. She sucked me more, until I was hard, then laid on the bed, her legs spread wide.

 

“Come over here and eat me out,” she moaned. I shook my head.

 

“No way,” I said. “I'm not putting my tongue where another man's cock has been.”

 

“Alright, then fuck me,” she begged, opening her pussy lips with her fingers. “Stick that big beautiful cock in me and fuck me.” I got on the bed between her legs and slipped a rubber on my erect penis. When I had it in place, I moved up and slid inside her – and got the shock of my life.

 

I couldn't feel a thing. Normally, her pussy felt tight around my cock, but this time, I felt like I was inside a cave. I pumped a couple times and moved around, but still felt nothing. My erection wilted and I got up off the bed. She looked at me, shocked.

 

“What's the matter?” she asked.

 

“I can't feel a goddamn thing,” I said. “You used to feel tight, but now, it's like being inside a cave.” I shook my head. “I can't do this,” I said, going into the bathroom. I ripped the rubber off and grabbed a bottle of mouthwash to rinse off my cock. Then I washed myself with a copious amount of soap just to be safe. Gloria watched me, her eyes watering.

 

After I finished, I put my pajamas on and went into the guest bedroom, saying nothing to Gloria. She followed me, tears running down her face.

 

“Mike, please, at least come and hold me,” she begged. I shook my head.

 

“I can't, Gloria,” I said. “I keep seeing you with all those men and I just can't bring myself to touch you anymore. I'm sorry.”

 

“Does this mean we're through?” she asked.

 

“I don't know,” I said. “Maybe when I get back from my sabbatical things will be different. I just don't know right now. You and your pimp have hurt me too much and I can't deal with it.”

 

“Maybe you should go find a woman and bring her back home,” she said. “I'll even watch you fuck her if that will make you feel better.”

 

“Two wrongs don't make a right,” I said. “But I'll give it some thought. We have a few days before I have to leave.”

 

I cried myself to sleep that night and I could hear Gloria crying as well. I was sick and tired of crying over her, over what she and Doug had done to us. I gave her suggestion serious thought, but decided I wasn't going to lower myself to her “standards.”

 

When I got to work the next morning, Doug called me into his office.

 

“I hear you had a bit of difficulty with Gloria last night,” he said.

 

“Yeah, just a bit,” I said.

 

“What's the matter?” he asked.

 

“You,” I said. “You've ruined her. For good. And you ruined me as well. Are you happy?”

 

“Let's just say I'm satisfied with your wife's performance so far,” he said. “And you've lived up to my expectation so far. As for ruining you and your marriage, well, I'm sorry about that, but you can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs, eh?”

 

“Is there anything else, Mr. Carson?” I asked, not wanting to drag this conversation out any longer than necessary. “I really should get back to work.”

 

“That's all for now, Mike,” he said. I nodded my head and went back to work. That night, Gloria lit into me.

 

“What do you mean, telling Doug that he's ruined me and ruined our marriage?” she asked angrily.

 

“What, do you tell him everything we say and do now?” I asked. “The fact is, your pimp has ruined you. He's ruined everything. That's why I need this sabbatical.”

 

“Isn't there any way you can get past this?” she said. “It's just a job. I won't be doing it forever. We can go on as before.” I shook my head.

 

“I don't see how,” I said. “Look, I'll be leaving in a few days, so maybe I should explain to you how this is going to work.” I pulled out a manila envelope and showed her the separation papers.

 

“What's this?” she asked. “You aren't divorcing me are you? Doug won't stand for it.”

 

“It's not a divorce,” I said. “It's a legal separation. It's standard practice. The bank account will be frozen while I'm gone. The bills will be paid so you don't have to worry about that. Normally, the spouse is given a weekly stipend, but you won't need that given what you make on your back. I won't have access to a phone or to the Internet, but you can write me if you want. I'll send you a post card with the mailing address once I get there. We'll discuss what happens next when I get back.”

 

“What kind of a sabbatical is this?” she asked. “You made it sound like a wilderness retreat or something. I thought you'd be out fishing or playing at a lake somewhere.” I laughed.

 

“No,” I said. “There's a lot more to it than that. I'll be working harder than I've ever worked before. I'm tired of being a coward and I intend to do something about it. I promise you that I won't be the same after I get back.” She looked at me, concerned, for perhaps the first time since this all started.

 

“You see,” I added, “if I were a real man I would've kicked your ass to the curb a long time ago and I'd have put my fist through Doug's face. But the truth is, I'm a coward and always have been. That's why I'm going. I have to do this. For my own sanity if nothing else.”

 

“You're serious about this, aren't you?” she asked.

 

“Yes,” I said.

 

“What happens when you get back?” she asked.

 

“That depends,” I said. “We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?”

 

Things remained basically the same between Gloria and I for the next few days – we went to work, came home, ate, then slept. I hardly said a word to her in all that time and we continued sleeping in separate rooms. A couple days before I left, Doug pulled me into his office one last time.

 

“Are you ready for your big sabbatical, Mike?” he asked.

 

“I am, Mr. Carson,” I said.

 

“So, tell me about this Camp Rollins,” he said. “Sounds like you're going to enjoy the fresh air. I've never heard of this place, though. What is it, a mountain retreat of some kind?”

 

“Not quite,” I said.

 

“Then tell me, what are you going to be doing?” he asked.

 

“Working my ass off,” I said.

 

“I don't understand,” he said. “I thought the idea was for you to get some rest, maybe get some perspective on life.”

 

“I'll get some perspective, I'm sure,” I said.

 

“Is it really necessary to get a legal separation from Gloria?” he asked.

 

“It's standard procedure,” I said.

 

“Well, I hope everything works out for you, Mike,” he said. “Have a good trip and we'll see you in three months.”

 

“Thank you, Mr. Carson,” I said, quietly.

 

Gloria gave me a tearful farewell the day I left. After the last abortive attempt to have sex, we never tried again, and frankly, the idea of having sex with her sickened me. I'm not sure if that bothered her or not, but she acted as though it did.

 

“Please remember that I really do love you,” she said.

 

“I will,” I said, purposefully not telling her that I loved her. I wondered if she even noticed.

 

The first month at Camp Rollins was the hardest. My eyes were opened the day I arrived. The instructors were the harshest individuals I had ever encountered and they seemed to take great delight in hurling insults at us. One even called me an “illiterate cum bubble.”

 

They worked us from before sunrise to after sunset, making us run everywhere we went. For a while, I was reminded of all those movies about Marine boot camp. I was in constant agony from the workouts and the runs, but at least I wasn't alone.

 

I sent Gloria a postcard with a mailing address, which was a post office box located at a small town somewhere in the area. I never received a letter from her, but did get weekly updates from the investigators watching her. It seemed she had been a very busy girl.

 

I also received a DVD from Doug every week. Apparently, Gloria had given him the mailing address. What he didn't know is that I had no way of looking at what was on the DVDs since I had no computer. I kept them anyway, since I figured I would need all the evidence I could get of Gloria's adultery.

 

The second month started with a group session in which we all had to tell our individual stories. That was hard for me to do, but I'm sure it was also hard for everyone else. Fortunately, no one belittled us or made us feel bad about our situations.

 

The rest of the month was split between counseling and physical training along with training in hand-to-hand combat. The counselor helped me get over my cowardice and I could see the benefit of the physical training in the mirror. Gone was the skinny kid who walked away as his boss prepared to fuck his wife. This was truly a whole new person.

 

I still heard nothing from Gloria, and didn't even receive a card from her on my birthday. I did, however, get a snarky note from Doug informing me that my wife had outdone herself on her last overseas trip, helping the company land a huge contract. That was accompanied with a DVD that got added to the pile.

 

“Show me your war face, Bradley!” the instructor yelled in my face, snapping me out of my thoughts.

 

“Aaaaarghhhhhh!” I yelled, hoping the anger on my face satisfied the instructor.

 

“What the fuck was that?” the instructor asked, his campaign hat nearly touching my forehead. “My ninety-year-old grandmother can sound off louder than that.”

 

“AAAAAAARRRGGHHHHHH!” I screamed in response. He turned me toward a bale of tightly-packed hay.

 

“Take a look,” he said. “There's your boss, and he's fucking your whore wife in the ass. They're both laughing at you. What are you gonna do?” As I looked, the bale of hay began to take on Doug's appearance, and I could visualize him fucking Gloria in the ass. In my mind, they both looked back at me and were laughing.

 

“KILLLLLL!” I screamed. The instructor put a large fighting knife in my hand.

 

“Then do it,” he whispered in my ear. I plunged the knife as far as I could into the hay, but it wasn't easy, yelling as I did so. “Twist that knife,” the instructor said. I twisted it, imagining Doug's lifeblood pouring over my hand.

 

“Not bad,” the instructor said. “Who knows, the next time you get attacked by a bale of hay you might just survive.” He took the knife from me. “Now, get over there and give me 100 bends and thrusts,” he commanded, pointing to a sandy area where several others were doing the same thing. “NEXT,” he yelled as I ran to do his bidding.

 

The third and final month of our training was soon upon us, and we were all given legal orientation along with more physical training and counseling. The lawyer assigned to my case had already looked over everything I had provided, including the DVDs, my employment contract and the reports from the private investigators.

 

“Well, Mr. Bradley,” he said. “It looks to me like you have several issues that need to be addressed. We'll do the divorce papers, if you wish, citing adultery, abandonment and cruelty, since that's allowed in your state.”

 

“But I was told I couldn't file for a divorce,” I said. “My boss said I'd be fired.”

 

“He can't do that,” the lawyer said. “In fact, your entire employment contract isn't worth the paper it's written on. There's a number of issues with it, so I've forwarded it along with my report to a specialist in your state for further action. Her name is Danni Williams, and she's the best there is. Tough as nails, from what I've heard. She'll be in touch with you after you graduate if that's okay.”

 

“It is,” I said. “How much will it cost me to have her take care of it?”

 

“I'm not certain, but the legal fees are covered under your contract with Rollins,” he said. “She may want a portion of whatever settlement you get, but that's between you and her.”

 

“Sounds good,” I said. “So when can you have my wife served?”

 

“In a couple weeks or so,” he said. “I'll need to coordinate with a lawyer in your area to get it done.”

 

“What about my boss and the others involved in this?” I asked. “Can't I go after them?”

 

“Not for alienation of affection,” the lawyer said. “However, you may have other avenues. Between Danni and your local attorney, they may be able to come up with something for intentional infliction of emotional distress among other things. Would you like something done along those lines?”

 

“Do it,” I said. “When can that happen?”

 

“I would advise you to consult with your local attorney when you return,” he said.

 

The training continued and I liked what I saw when I looked in the mirror. For the first time in my life, I felt strong and confident that I could tackle anything that came my way. I still hadn't heard anything from Gloria, but Doug kept sending DVDs.

 

The day finally came for the “bitch-burning,” the ceremony that marked the end of our training at Camp Rollins. The lead sergeant formed the class outside the barracks after dinner. A straw figure lay on the ground in front of a pole secured in the ground. A large pile of wood was arranged around the pole.

 

“Alright, gang,” he said. “Tonight we're going to 'burn the bitch.' When I give the command, take one photo of your spouse and pin it to the figure. Ready? Move!”

 

All 15 of us pulled out our photos and pinned them to the straw figure. I admit, I got a bit of pleasure out of pushing a pin through the middle of Gloria's face.

 

“Mount the figure!” the sergeant ordered. Working together, we picked up the straw effigy and tied it securely to the pole.

 

“Sanders! Front and center!” the sergeant ordered. Mike Sanders, one of the other students in our class, stepped in front of the sergeant, who handed him a lit torch. “Burn the Bitch!” the sergeant ordered after he accepted the torch.

 

“Sir! Burn the Bitch! Aye, Aye, Sir!” he shouted in response. Walking to the pile of wood below the straw effigy, he set the wood on fire. The flames quickly grew, catching the straw on fire.

 

“Burn! Burn! BURN!” we all chanted as the straw figure caught fire. As the flames covered the figure, the photos curled up and burned to ash. “BURN! BURN! BURN!” we shouted, pumping our fists in the air.

 

We continued to chant and pump our fists in the air as the straw figure burned. The chants turned into howls and angry gut-wrenching growls. There was a lot of pent-up hatred and emotion in our little group. Soon, the figure fell off the pole and burned as it lay on the ground. A few of us, myself included, unzipped our trousers and urinated on the figure.

 

Soon, the fire burned down and the figure was reduced to ash. Strangely enough, we all felt as though a heavy weight had been lifted from our shoulders. The sergeant gave us each a beer and we celebrated the burning. That night, we all slept soundly.

 

Two days later, we stood at attention in freshly-laundered jeans and denim shirts as the camp commander addressed us.

 

“You men have come a long way since you arrived,” he said. “You came here, scared, uncertain about your future, defeated and humiliated by the ones you loved the most. Now, you've gotten your manhood back. You look like men with the confidence to take on the world. You have the tools and the wherewithal to take on and successfully complete whatever you set out to do.

 

“I wish the best for each one of you. Remember, we're here for you 24 hours a day, seven days a week. If you need anything – anything at all – even someone to talk to, we're here for you. Now, go and take on the world!”

 

The sergeant stood in front of us for the last time.

 

“Class, attention! Dis...missed!” We whooped and hollered as we picked up their bags and headed to the bus, stopping long enough to shake the sergeant's hand. We gathered together before entering the bus to exchange contact information, promising to stay in touch with each other.

 

I wondered what I would walk into when I got home. I knew I would have to buy new clothes since I had gained a lot of muscle mass since I left three months ago. But, I wondered, would Gloria even be there? A part of me really didn't care – I was ready to move forward in my new life.

 

Of course, Gloria wasn't home – I really wasn't surprised. I know she had received the divorce papers because the envelope was sitting on the kitchen table, opened, and the papers were strewn over the table. I noticed she had signed them where the lawyer indicated. I walked into the master bedroom and saw the bed was unmade. As before, the room reeked of sex. I saw her rings on the dresser, covered with dried gunk, probably from her lover or lovers.

 

I looked in the closet and saw that some of her clothes were gone, so I figured she was off on another fuck-fest somewhere. I really didn't care at that point. I took inventory of my own wardrobe and just as I suspected, nothing fit. So I went out and bought myself some new clothes. While I was out, I dropped the signed divorce papers off at the attorney's office and was told they would be filed. When I got back home, I tore the master bed apart, throwing it in the front yard with a sign that read, “Free.” It was gone within a couple hours.

 

I took the rest of Gloria's things and tossed them into trash bags, placing them in the garage. I called a locksmith and had all of the locks changed on the house and changed the garage door code. I took her wedding dress along with all of the pictures of her and I and tossed them in the fireplace. I enjoyed watching as they were reduced to ashes.

 

Having done all that, I decided to skim the DVDs Doug had sent while I was at Camp Rollins. All of them showed Gloria taking on large groups of men, often three at a time. None of them used protection and they all filled her with their semen. Gloria seemed to love what they were doing to her and begged for more. I felt like throwing up when I saw them smear their cum on her wedding ring. Doug was in most of the DVDs and he ended the last one he sent with a message.

 

“See, Mike,” he said, looking into the camera as Gloria moaned in the background. “Your wife belongs to me now and she'll do whatever I say, with whomever I say. She doesn't even remember you anymore. Hell, I could sell her to the highest bidder if I want to and there's not a damn thing you can do about it.” He laughed as the video faded to black.

 

I sat there for a moment and thought about what he said. Yes, I thought to myself, the bastard needs to die.

 

The next day, I went to work and noted the looks I got from everyone I met. Many of my co-workers oohed and ahhed over my new appearance and several of the women even flirted with me, openly. I flirted back with some of them, something I had never done before.

 

A few minutes after getting to my office, Doug sent a message over Skype, asking me to report to his office. Showtime, I thought to myself. I got up and made my way to his office. His receptionist smiled as she looked me over.

 

“Mr. Carson is expecting you,” she said. I went into Doug's office and he appeared shocked as he took in the new me.

 

“I see the brisk northern air has done you some good,” he said. “Care for something to drink?”

 

“Coffee. Black,” I said. He nodded his head and spoke into his intercom.

 

“Julie, would you please bring Mr. Bradley a cup of coffee – black?” he asked.

 

“Yes, sir,” I heard her say on the intercom. Within seconds, she was in the office and handed me a small cup of coffee on a saucer. I smiled as she handed it to me and took a sip.

 

“Where's Gloria?” I asked. “I got home yesterday and she wasn't there.”

 

“We'll get to that in a minute,” Doug said. “What's this about a divorce? I thought we had an understanding.”

 

“No,” I said. “You ordered me not to divorce her, but I've had a change of heart.”

 

“I should fire you for that,” he said. I chuckled.

 

“So?” I asked. “Go ahead and fire me, asshole. I really don't care. I was looking for a job when I got this one. Remember, you came to me, I didn't come to you. Now, where's my soon-to-be ex-wife?” Doug wasn't used to me standing up for myself and I could see he was taken aback.

 

“I see you've gotten some balls to go with those new muscles,” he said. “I'm rather pleased to see that. The truth is, Gloria recently died.”

 

“What?” I asked. “How? When?”

 

“She was on a company jet flying back from New York over the weekend,” he said. “The plane went down and everyone on board was lost. I'm sorry.”

 

“You bastard,” I growled. “I ought to...” Suddenly, my vision became blurry and by the time I realized my coffee had been drugged I was unconscious.

 

…

 

When I came to, I found myself shackled to a metal bed in a small room with no windows Except for the bed, the only item in the tiny room was a combination toilet/water fountain which was standard in many prisons. My clothes had been removed and I was dressed in an orange jumpsuit, the kind given to prisoners. Not only were there handcuffs securing my wrists to the metal headboard, my ankles were also shackled to the foot of the bed. I tugged on the chains, but soon realized I wasn't going anywhere. I yelled out.

 

“Get me out of here!” I yelled. After a few minutes, I heard a key in the metal door. It opened, and Doug was there, looking down at me.

 

“What the fuck is going on?” I yelled. “Get me out of here.” Doug smiled as he looked at me. Then he drove his fist into my stomach. Yeah, it hurt, but my abdominal muscles had hardened up considerably over the last three months and it didn't hurt as much as it would have before.

 

“You're a real big man, beating up on someone chained to a bed,” I said after I got my breath. “Get these restraints off of me and let's see you stand up to me then, asshole.” He laughed again and sat down next to me.

 

“I don't think so, Mike,” he said. “I may be a rich asshole who gets off on destroying people's lives, but I'm not stupid. Do you know where you are, by the way?” I shook my head.

 

“You're still at Acme, but you're just about 50 feet below the surface,” he said. “You know we have our fingers in a lot of pies, right?”

 

“Yeah, so?” I asked.

 

“Well, one of our research projects involves techniques used to break prisoners,” he said. “It's something we've been doing for the CIA for decades. You've heard of black sites and extraordinary rendition, right? Who do you think helped perfect those for the government? And how do you think we developed the techniques they use on their prisoners?”

 

“You can't do this,” I said. “It's fucking illegal.”

 

“Except that your employment contract says the company can use you in any way it sees fit,” Doug said. “You might as well embrace your new job. You'll still get the same compensation, you just won't be able to enjoy it.”

 

“What?” I asked. “You're keeping me here as a paid prisoner?”

 

“Exactly,” Doug said. “There's so much we can learn from you. For example, how long can you subsist on just bread and water before you start to waste away? How long will it take for those newfound muscles of yours to atrophy? How much pain and sensory deprivation can you withstand?”

 

“You're fucking crazy,” I said.

 

“Perhaps,” he said. “You see, I did a little research on that Camp Rollins you went to. I spent some time looking into the men who completed that course. Very interesting reading, I must say. That got me to wondering just what it would take to break someone who had been trained by the best of the best.”

 

“How long do you intend to keep me here?” I asked. He smirked before answering.

 

“I would've thought a smart man like you would have already figured that out,” he said. “Your employment contract is for life, you know. You do the math. Let's just say, you're never going to see the outside of this facility ever again. And when you die, you'll be cremated right here and your ashes dumped down the toilet.”

 

“You fucking bastard,” I said. “I'm going to fucking rip your head off and shit down your throat.” Doug laughed.

 

“Good,” he said. “Keep thinking that, please. Just so you know, I'm not completely heartless. You'll be fed once a day and allowed to shower every few days. You'll even be allowed the odd visitor from time to time. Oh, and there's this, just for you.” He pointed a remote control at a monitor embedded in the wall near the ceiling and pressed a button. As I watched, the monitor came to life, showing video Doug had taken of Gloria having sex. “See,” he smirked. “I even provided you with some entertainment to keep your mind off your problems.”

 

“You motherfucking piece of shit,” I screamed. “I'll fucking kill you. You hear me? I'll KILL your fucking ass!” Doug laughed as he walked out the door. After the door was closed and locked, my restraints instantly opened up and I was free to get up.

 

I paced the floor, wondering how I would be able to get out. Surely, someone would take notice that I was gone and come looking for me. But how long would that take. It was hard to think with the audio of Gloria being fucked filling the small room. I wanted to smash the monitor, but it was too high up for me to reach.

 

I kept pacing, thinking that someone would let me out. I swore I would personally rip Doug's heart out of his chest. I heard a noise at the door and realized that a small slit had been opened at the bottom. A small metal tray containing a slice of bread and a small paper cup filled with water was slid into my cell.

 

“Dinner,” the guard said, laughing. I was a bit hungry, so I ate the tasteless bread and washed it down with water. I slid the tray back through the slit and had an idea. Doug said I would be fed once a day, so I made a mark in the wall with my thumbnail. Since I didn't have a clock or anything to tell when it was night or day, I decided that would at least help me keep track of how long I had been there.

 

I laid down and tried to relax, thinking I would feel better once I got some sleep. Unfortunately, I had a very difficult time sleeping with the bright light and the audio from the non-stop fuck video playing on the monitor. I didn't even have a pillow to put over my head. Fuck!

 

I awoke to the most god-awful pain I had ever felt in my life. A guard saw me asleep on my bunk and entered the cell, waking me with what appeared to be an electric cattle prod.

 

“No one said you could sleep, prisoner,” he shouted in my face. “You sleep when we tell you and not one second before. Got it?”

 

I was still shaking from the shock and found that I couldn't move my arms for several minutes after the guard left. That's when I noticed another tray being slid into the cell. Had it already been a full day? I ate the bread, drank the water and slid the tray back outside. Feeling the urge to piss, I relieved myself, then made another mark on the wall.

 

The guards would check on me periodically and tell me when I could sleep, waking me by pounding on the metal door with their nightsticks. The light in my cell never went off so I had no idea how long I had slept. I didn't even know what time of day or night it was. Of course, the video never stopped, but over time I learned to block it out of my mind.

 

I passed the time by exercising – I did bends and thrusts, pushups, situps, and even ran in place. I closed my eyes and pretended I was back at Camp Rollins doing my daily routines. The never-ending moaning from the porn video made it difficult to concentrate, but not completely impossible.

 

I was taken out of my cell periodically for an ice-cold shower. The guards gave me less than a minute to clean myself up and laughed as I recoiled from the shock of the cold water. It was difficult, to say the least, but I gritted my teeth and got through it. I could feel the stubble on my face and knew I would be sporting a fairly wild beard in a few days.

 

Every few days, the guards would pull me out of the cell in shackles to torment me. One time, they laid me down on a long plank with my hands shackled above my head and my feet secured to iron rings at the bottom of the plank. I wondered what they were going to do, then I realized what was happening – they had fastened me to some kind of medieval stretching device. I screamed as the pain became too much to endure. It felt as if they were going to rip my arms out of their sockets and every joint in my body ached.

 

Suddenly, the stretching stopped and the plank was adjusted so my head was below my feet. Suddenly a towel was thrown over my face and water was dumped on me. My God, I thought! They're waterboarding me. I thought I was going to drown, but the torture ended. I only had a few moments respite, however, as they began again.

 

After being waterboarded three times while stretched out on the rack, they released me and dragged me back to my cell. A few minutes later, the slot opened and another tray with the usual bread and water was pushed through. It hurt like hell to move as every joint in my body ached, but I managed to finish the “meal.” I made another scratch on the wall and counted 60 such marks.

 

If this was correct, I had been there two full months. And it became clear to me that no one was even looking for me. I was doomed to die in this awful place. I wondered if my divorce was final and if my bills were still being paid. A hell of a thing to think about now, I thought.

 

I sat back down and did something I hadn't done since I was a child – I prayed, for real. “God,” I quietly said to the empty room, “please help me.”

 

A few minutes later, a guard banged on my door.

 

“You have a visitor,” the guard said. “Get up.” I managed to get to my feet as the guard opened the door. Another guard stood by with a shotgun aimed at my head as two other guards shackled my hands and feet. They half-dragged me out of the cell and put me in another small room, securing my hands to a ring in the middle of a small table. My feet were connected to the metal chair I was sitting in.

 

I looked up as a tall, lanky man in western garb entered the room. He had chiseled features, a square jaw with just a hint of a five o'clock shadow and squinty eyes that looked like they had seen just a bit too much sun. He wore denim jeans with a white shirt covered by a floor-length duster. The spurs on his boots jangled as he stepped in the room. His battered Stetson sat low on his forehead. I saw a round badge on his shirt as the top part of the duster he wore opened up and figured he was some kind of a police officer. Was this another form of torture, I wondered.

 

He sat across from me and looked at me for a few seconds. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one after running a match over his jeans. He placed the lit cigarette in my mouth and encouraged me to take a drag, which I did. Surprisingly, I didn't cough or choke. As I inhaled the smoke, I began to feel some of my strength come back.

 

“Name's Peace,” he said in a southern drawl. “Justice O. Peace. You asked for help. I'm here to help ya. No one's gonna hurt ya any more. I promise.”

 

I put my head down on the table and cried realizing the significance of what he just said. He patted me on the shoulder and comforted me for a few moments.

 

“Don't worry, pardner,” he said. “My posse and I will have ya out of here in no time. One way or another.” I looked up at him, the lit cigarette still in my mouth.

 

“Carson,” I croaked. “He took my wife. Destroyed my life. Killed her.”

 

“Don't worry about Carson,” he said. “He's gon' pay. I promise you that. Think you can hang tough for a few more days?” I nodded my head, hoping he wasn't yanking my chain. He smiled as he looked at me.

 

“Good,” he said. “When the time comes, you'll get your shot at him.” He patted me on the shoulder as he stood up. “We'll meet again, pardner,” he said before signaling the guards. As I watched, he spoke to them quietly and left. I'm not sure what he said, but their attitude toward me changed significantly.

 

I wondered if this was another one of Carson's cruel tests, but I got my answer soon enough...

 

…

 

To be concluded in “Justice 02: Ghost Riders”... Stay tuned. For background on Justice O. Peace, I suggest you read “Justice 01: Amos and Andrea” first and “Justice Rides” on Amazon.