Cut and Run 2 - Sticks and Stones

snarled.
    Next to Earl and Deuce now, Zane slowly went down in a crouch before dropping to his knees and settling his hands behind his head. Earflaps grabbed up his shotgun and practically shoved it in his face.
    “Just one twitch, fella,” he growled. “Gimme one little twitch, and I’ll blow you to kingdom come.”
    Zane wisely chose not to move at all, hiding his emotions from long practice, and from the corner of his eye, he could see Ty in the exact same position. Zane wondered what Earl and Deuce must think of them, seemingly unaffected by such things.
    Redjacket stood in the middle of them all, looking around at them and obviously realizing that it would be hard to keep them all under control. He glanced between Zane and Ty, common sense telling him that they would be the most dangerous.
    “You watch him,” he told Swizzlestick as he pointed at Zane. He handed the thin man Ty’s gun, which Swizzlestick shoved into his belt. “And those two.” He jerked his chin toward Deuce and Earl. Then he pointed at Earflaps. “You bring the Marine,” he said as he pointed at Ty.
    Earflaps nodded and took Ty by the elbow, yanking him off the ground and pushing him far enough away to hold the gun on him safely. It was disturbing that they seemed to know to keep out of reach with the guns. They had enough common sense and knowledge to make them scary. They stalked off with Ty in tow as Zane went cold.
    As soon as the shotgun was pointed at Ty’s back, Zane lurched. His body coiled as he saw them pushing Ty away from the clearing, but Swizzlestick was right over him and smashed the shotgun’s hilt down onto his right shoulder. Zane crumpled with an odd, choked sound of pain, curling into himself, hugging his arm close as the pain in his head was eclipsed.
    Swizzlestick laughed, obviously happy with seeing Zane curled up on the ground. “Aww, now see, I got the easy job,” Swizzlestick said as he moved to stand next to Deuce, holding the gun on them as he positioned himself to where he could see his prisoners and still watch where his buddies were taking Ty.
    Zane felt sick and incredibly helpless as he huddled there under watchful eyes, unable to move as his face and shoulder both screamed at him. When he heard the first blow land somewhere behind him, he turned his face into the soft dirt and closed his eyes. They could beat Ty into a pulp back there, and there was nothing he could do. And he knew Ty wouldn’t fight back because of the danger to his partner, brother, and father.
    It seemed like a lifetime before the hits and grunts stopped behind him, and Zane took a breath to try to settle his stomach. As far as he could tell, Ty hadn’t made a sound. Far too long went by before they dragged Ty back into the clearing and left him on the ground, across the clearing from Zane and the others. Zane tried in vain to see his partner from where he lay, but the gentle curve of the ground blocked his view. To his immense relief, he heard Ty cough and the scuffle of his hands in the dirt as he tried to push himself up.
    “Behave yourself,” Redjacket warned as he walked back in front of them all, rubbing his fist like it was sore.
    “I’ve met Iraqi women who hit harder than you,” Ty told him, his voice rough and hoarse. But he had to cough and gasp as he said it. Zane closed his eyes and smiled slightly.
    “Want some more, then, smartass?” Earflaps threatened.
    “Give it a rest. I need to think on what we’re doing next,” Redjacket said crossly.
    “I say we just kill ’em,” Swizzlestick offered.
    “We don’t want every cop in the state crawling over this mountain looking for them,” Redjacket responded.
    “So what’re you thinkin’? We don’t kill ’em; they tell the Feds we’re here. We kill ’em; the Feds come here when they don’t check in. What’s the difference? At least if they’re dead, they ain’t talkin’,” Earflaps said as he stood over Deuce with his shotgun.
    Zane cast his eyes around. No matter how much he pushed his eyes to one side, he still couldn’t see Ty without raising his head. He could hear him, though, still breathing heavily from the punches to the gut they’d dealt him, no matter how hard he tried to play them off as if he wasn’t hurt. Deuce was kneeling next to Earl in the dirt; tied up and considered less of a threat; the men were paying them little attention. Zane figured they were underestimating both of them. Earl was no fragile old man, and Deuce