Target 84 by K Larsen

alone in our rooms. No music. No books besides our textbooks. This shouldn't be as hard as it’s proving to be.
    Isolation has become terrifying. I’ve not seen or heard anyone for days. The water jug that was left down here with me is almost empty. I’m starving. My body is fatigued. My thoughts run wild in scared and exhausted circles. I grab my knees to hide my shaking.
    What if no one comes? What if I’m forgotten? The stench of my urine and feces makes my stomach roll. It’s too close, but the hole only has so much room. Why did he choose to escape? Why did he leave me? I have no doubt that Dee found him, hunted him. He is surely dead. I’m agitated that I can’t remember his song. I long to hear that dulcet humming.
    I push my face into my palms to asphyxiate the sound of my sobs. Eventually I move to my spot on the floor next to my bed. I'd cry myself to sleep but I'm afraid I would drown. Instead I focus on one notion: what the hell was Bentley James doing at the bar tonight? His truck was nowhere in sight when I’d left the bar. He was in Kentucky when I left today.

Chapter Fourteen
ATF Agent Bentley James
    “This is my time for standing free. This is my step, this is my depth in a world demanding of me.” - DEAD MOON – “IT'S O.K.”
    She's sitting with a burly-yet-friendly looking man wearing a motorcycle club cut, but her eyes are on the door, the stunner from the wedding. The blonde bombshell. She’s got a wide-eyed, sultry expression. A black widow luring in her prey. Who the hell is she? I noticed her at the grocery store a couple days ago. How could any red-blooded male not notice her? What is odder still, to see her the following day in Kentucky, watching me from afar at the new club. I couldn’t be sure it was the same woman, until she showed up outside my motherfucking house hours later. I’m being watched, that much is obvious. By who and why are the ultimate questions and I intend on finding out.
    After two drinks she places her hand on his forearm, glances around the bar, eyes only briefly stopping on me, and gets up. The man she's with watches her leave with an expression of irritation and longing. I order another beer and wait. It doesn't take long for the man to sidle up to the bar and seat himself a stool away from me.
    "Lucky S.O.B," I mutter loud enough for him to hear. His head swivels my way, his dirty blonde hair swaying slightly.
    "You got something to say?" he asks.
    "No, no man, you got it wrong. I saw your woman. Hot. She's got legs for a country mile and those pouty lips could make a dead man smile." I laughpurposefully, setting him at ease. He shakes his head at me.
    "She'll lay you on her cold throne and roll you like you were dice. That woman is wild. She'll rip your world apart," he mutters, staring into his beer.
    "Sounds like you have intimate knowledge."
    "Yeah, I guess."
    I raise an eyebrow at his response.
    He chuckles. "Yeah. I did ," he admits.
    "Did?" I ask.
    "Did."
    "Damn. That's rough. Next round's on me," I answer.
    "Thanks, man. I'm Hoot."
    "Bentley," I tell him. He shakes my hand firmly and nods.
    "That fine piece was Greta, but I'd rather not dwell on her tonight. Where you from Bentley?" he asks.
    "Arkansas."
    "Long way from home then. What brings you to the lovers’ state?" he asks and laughs bitterly. He has nice eyes. The kind that crinkle in the corners. He's too trusting. His cut suggests toughness but his eyes give him away. He’s all bark and no bite.
    "Work."
    "Ahh, good ol' work. Slaving away day after day for a slice of the good life someday," he comments.
    "Exactly," I answer distractedly.
    “You look familiar, man, you visit here a lot?”
    “Nope,” I lie. “Just one of those faces.” He eyes me a moment longer before shrugging it off and diving back into his beer.
    Greta. I can't believe I got so lucky tonight. I've found out more than I anticipated. She attended Pepper’s wedding. My gut clenches at the thought. She's good. She