Flash Fiction Friday

The story continues (word count: 291):

Images drifted through my mind. Ropes dropping behind me. Figures descending to my icy ledge too quickly for me to react. It dawned on me that the helicopter was a getaway vehicle just as the chloroform on the cloth that now covered my mouth took effect.

The loud drone of the helicopter blades broke through my subconscious and brought me around. It also didn’t help that the world kept lurching, like I was on an endless rollercoaster. I was already used to hard floors, so that didn’t bother me, though I could do without the plastic ties around my hands and feet. I tested them, but they were on tight.

“Our guest is awake,” I heard a voice say. I slowly parted my eyelids and turned my head in the direction of the voice. Boots came into my field of vision.

“Welcome, Mr. Jackson. Nice to have you on board.”

This voice was male, young, and with a heavy Middle Eastern accent that my foggy brain refused to place.

“If this is how you treat your guests, you could do with some etiquette classes,” I fired back. My host grunted.

“You have a reputation,” he said, kneeling down beside me. “You are not… safe.” This was true. During my time in Special Forces, I had been captured twenty-eight times, and escaped twenty-seven. None of my captors survived. And only one time did I need to be rescued.

“And you risk your life because…?”

The man laughed, then leaned over me. He had a thin face, dark close-cropped hair, and stubble on his chin. That was all I could make out in the dim light.

“Because we both want the same thing.”

“We do? And what would that be?”

He smiled.

“Revenge.”

This is beginning to sound like a novel I’d enjoy reading! I wonder what happens next? Seriously, I have no clue. Come back next week and we’ll all find out together.