The following passage was taken from Chapter 5 of my novel, Guinea Pig Maverick.
A distinct growl comes from behind me.
“HANDS UP! I want to see them now!”
I push myself to my knees and raise my shaking hands above my head. I stare into the barrel of a rifle that’s just inches away from my face. A single dog is watching me with his tail wagging and his tongue hanging out of his mouth. He cocks his head at me. I just narrow my eyes at him. Little snitch.
One man, a guard, puts his gun away and pushes me back down to the dirt. My hands are cuffed behind my back and I stiffen. These are not ordinary cuffs. More like shackles. Several inches of metal clamp tightly onto my forearms. There is no wiggle room at all. Two men pull me up in a dead lift back to my feet. The barrel of the gun meets my face again.
I’m too scared out of my mind to try to do or say anything. I don’t know what these people want, and I can’t stop staring at that gun.
A man pats down my chest.
“No tags,” he comments to his colleague. My arms are lifted up slightly at my back, forcing me to bend forward. The same guard pulls something out of his pocket and turns it on. It looks like a small UV light. He walks around to my back and I can only guess at what the light’s purpose is.“Negative,” the guard says. He sounds surprised. The ...