Captain Gaylord Plans His Revenge (Epilogue, Book 1)

Writing in ecstatic pain, Trey snapped his arms in front of a chest covered in a mixture of automotive grease, blood, and the sweat of a thousand days of hard labor. As the chains tore loose from the wall, the overwhelming sensation of freedom caused his body to shake violently, and a great bellow issued forth from his throat, dry and ragged from the putrescent dust of the sulfer mines.

"Now," he thought, "all I have to do is break out of this heavily guarded Lebanese prison camp." A devious grin wrinkled his eyes, alight with the fire of ruthless retribution!

Two hours later, Capt. Gaylord was straigtening the lapels on a newly tailored linen suit as he strolled out of a Beirut haberdashery, the white fabric gleaming against the rubble of war and civil unrest. He fastened the mother-of-pearl cufflinks tightly on the black cotton jacquard shirt, watching the road with an absent-minded stare. An incongruously expensive sports car skidded to a stop inches away from his buttery leather size 15's; Gaylord took one look at the well-formed thighs visible through the passenger side window and cracked a smile for the second time that day.

"Shall we get started?"

"I think we already have."

Trey slid into the car and let the momentum of the car close the door as they sped off into the friscalating dusklight.

To be continued...