Blood had soaked through the bandages and his shirt. His hands were still cuffed behind him and his hands were numb. The car was not moving. Rudy raised his head and looked out the rear window. Green trees and blue sky were all he could see. He tried to roll over on his left side but the staples holding the wound together dug deeper into his tender shoulder. He moaned with pain as he tried again. He lifted his head back and put all of his weight onto his left elbow and swung his feet to the floor and pulled himself upright. The two front doors of the Lincoln were wide open and he was alone. The car was parked in a thickly wooded area. Had the car run out of gas in Central Park? The clock in the middle of the Lincoln’s dash read 3:10 P.M. Could that be correct? Had more than four hours passed from the time they had left the hotel? Something was wrong, something was very wrong. Rudy searched the thick brush looking for the two men. He spotted them in a small clearing about 50 yards away from the car. They were smoking cigarettes and the larger of the two men was talking on a cell phone. As Rudy watched them the smaller of the two nudged the one on the cell phone and pointed toward the car. They could see him sitting up in the back seat of the Lincoln. Instantly, both men started a fast walk toward the car.
Rudy felt the calm come over him. It was the same calm that happened each time he entered the bull ring and watched the bull start to charge at him. There was no mistaking now, he was in a life or death situation. For the second time in twelve hours he would be required to fight for his life.
The two men came to the rear door and yanked it open. Without saying anything they pulled Rudy out of the back seat by his cuffed hands. The smaller of the two men pulled Rudy around to the trunk of the Lincoln. The larger man pushed the Lincoln’s keyless entry fob he had retrieved from his jacket pocket and the trunk popped open. He took a shovel from the compartment. “Okay Sport, it’s time to get down to business,” he said to Rudy. “Walk over to that clearing,” The smaller man pushed Rudy toward the spot they had just come from. The larger man jabbed Rudy in the back with the shovel blade. Rudy winced with pain but said nothing.
Three more times during the walk to the clearing the shovel blade was poked into Rudy’s back but he remained silent. He was not going to give them the pleasure of hearing him cry out. Once at the clearing the larger man said, “Okay, that’s far enough Sport.” He retrieved the fob from his jacket pocket again to use the small handcuff key attached to it. He unlocked the handcuff from Rudy’s left wrist. “Move a single hair and you’re a dead man, understand?” Rudy slowly nodded his head yes. The larger man then attached the open handcuff to the middle of the shovel. Rudy’s right hand was now securely attached to the shovel. The larger man then walked about the clearing, dragging his right foot, marking out a larger square on the ground.
“You’re going to dig a deep hole right here where I marked it. Do you understand?” Again Rudy slowly nodded his head yes. He understood all too well...he was going to dig his own grave.
The large men moved outside of the marked square and took up a place along side of the trees on the far edge of the clearing. The larger of the two men drew his automatic firearm from his holster and waived it at Rudy in a digging motion. “Okay Sport, start digging,” he said. Rudy probed the ground with the shovel. The dirt was dry and hard. The square was the size of a large dining room table. He began to formulate a plan. He would pile up the dirt between himself and them. He was hoping that at some point the pile of dirt would be big enough to hide him from their view. Maybe he would be able to sneak away and be gone before they noticed he was not in the hole. Rudy decided to start digging in the corner nearest to where the two men were watching him from. The first few shovels full of dirt were slow and unsure for Rudy to manage. Each shovel full of dirt made a dust cloud that filled the air each time Rudy threw it onto the growing pile.
The two men smoked cigarettes and tried to stay clear of the dust clouds Rudy was creating. Rudy watched them with caution. The dry dirt was rocky and hard to dig in. He had the idea to start collecting some of the hand size rocks. He would select the ones he wanted and then push them into the corner of the hole with his foot as he threw a shovel full of dirt onto the pile. The faster he threw the dirt out of the hole the bigger and heavier the dust cloud became. After thirty minutes or so of digging, the hole was about three feet deep as marked out by the large man. The pile of dirt was over four feet high. His labors had him sweaty, dirty and tired. Rudy was now able to be out of sight from moment to moment. The men could no longer see Rudy from behind the dirt pile from where they stood. He needed to gradually slow the pace he was throwing the dirt. Only the continuously flying dirt from the hole was their assurance that he was still there. Now he needed to slow the pace of digging and throwing. If he could get the intervals between the dirt coming out of the hole to be longer and longer, he would be able to start running and be gone before they missed him. He needed to stretch out the second between each shovel full of dirt landing on the pile. Counting the seconds, it took fifteen, for each shovel full to be dug and tossed onto the pile. He would need more time than that to make his getaway. He began to add a second or two between each scoop.
After a few minutes he was up to twenty-five seconds and they hadn’t seemed to notice anything unusual. Almost half a minute. That would be just about right, he thought. The time was now. He could not afford to wait any longer. He had to get away before it was too late. They could decide at any moment that the hole was deep enough. He threw an extra large shovel full of loose, dry dirt up in the air make a larger than usual dust cloud. At the same moment he started to count. Quickly scooping up the pile of rocks he had collected with the shovel, Rudy crouched down as low as he could and jumped out of the far side of the hole. He continued to count as he ran through the thick brush. Seven...eight...nine...ten. If he was lucky he would be able to vanish into the forest within another ten seconds. He knew they would be coming after him and this time they wouldn’t wait for a hole to be dug, they would shoot him on sight. His only weapon now was the handful of rocks and the shovel. Fifteen...sixteen...seventeen. He never looked back, he just kept running.
The brush was thick and sharp brambles tore at his legs and arms as he ran through the cover. He was pleased the brambles and thicket were so dense. It would help slow down his inevitable pursers. They would not be so eager to chase him through it as fast as they could run. Twenty-three...twenty-four...twenty-five. He came to a tree with a forked trunk and thought this was the time to rid himself of the handcuffed shovel. While he still needed a weapon, it would be easier to swing if unrestricted. He placed the wooden shovel handle between the forked trunk and pulled back on it as hard as he could. The seasoned oak handle snapped in two making a loud cracking noise as it did. His release meant that his escape was no longer a secret. If they hadn’t realized that he was gone before, they surly would know it now. He still had the handcuff attached to his right wrist but he could fight okay with it there. He picked up the two shovel pieces and ran. His time had run out. He had to find a hiding place to ambush the two attackers. Exhausted from the physical labor of digging, his adrenaline was in overdrive knowing that he was running for his life. Deeper into the forest he ran looking for the right opportunity. He came to a small stream and following it downstream seemed like the logical way to go. He splashed into the knee deep water try to move quickly yet quietly. The water was cool and soothing on his scratched legs. He couldn’t resist splashing the cool water onto his face and over his head. It gave him the boost he needed. He felt more sure of himself now and confident that he would be able to out do the two thugs.
After wading a small distance he noticed a path that ran along the right bank of the stream. The pursuers would surely use the foot path instead of wading through the water. If he could find the correct spot along the bank, he could surprise them. He saw a small rocky ravine with a large fallen tree suspended above that blocks the path. Thinking this will be the best opportunity, he decided to lay in wait on the tree branch assuming that as they make their way along the path they will have to duck down under the branch to pass. He will then use the shovel blade as a club on the back of their heads.
Quickly forming a plan, he turned around and started back up stream to the spot where he entered it. He climbed out of the water to back track to a place where he remembered seeing tall grass. He had avoided walking through the grass before because he knew
