I Am Armed.

The only thing worse than the shock of the cold water in my face was the pain in the back of my head. Rewinding the flip book that was functioning as the last 24 hours, most of the pages came up blank. The few that do have something on them, point to this being a bad situation. At the bar, drinking. Too much. Usually when that happens somebody else is paying. Open bar means open mouth, with stuff going in and coming back out a short time later. Laughing with somebody. At least it was a lovey rum night instead of a fighty whiskey night. Uh oh, fun's over. Yep, there's the bathroom. Stall door getting kicked open. Somebody's in the stall. But, not using it. Just standing there. Then, blank pages.
"Sorry about the rude awakening," a gruff voice says. "It was either the bucket, or butterfly kisses, and I guess I ain't the considerate type."
"Don't tease him, he's had a rough night." Another voice, better spoken.
"Sheeit. He looked like he was having a good time to me! Until he puked all over your shoes. That's what you get for wearing wingtips to a dive bar!"
"You'd prefer I wore those shit-kicking cowboy boots? I think not."
"Well, I got plenty of yak on my shoes last night too, but they look the same as they did the day before!"
Then, a voice that sounds like it's being broadcast from inside a fishbowl, "Wh-where are we?" Oh, wait. It's my voice.
"A little piece of land I own in Northwestern Wyoming. God's country. I loved it so damn much, I must've bought me a thousand acres! Cheap as shit too, I think I paid more fer m'fuckin' Hum-fuckin'-Vee!"
"What do you want?" The fishbowl distortion drops my voice a couple of octaves.
"That's a broad question," The voice reeks of the supiriority that only expensive schooling can give. "You don't really want to get in to an existential discussion, do you? The only thing you need to know is that you are facing the most important decision of you life right now. This could be, without a doubt, the defining point in your existence." The voice sounds hopeful, like, he's rooting for me.
"What's the choice? If it's which kidney I want you to steal, I'll take the left one. It's had it out for me ever since I peed my pants in fourth grade. Weak bastard couldn't hold piss for nothing." My senses are coming back. At least my sense of humor. Zing!
The fist comes out of nowhere. It slams in to my nose, probably breaking it. There goes my modeling career.
"Now, that's exactly the type of answer that gets Teddy here, agitated."
"Don't fuckin' call me Teddy, Chuck."
"I'm sorry, THE NUGE, doesn't appreciate sarcasm."
"The choice is, shitbird, is you can die here like a pussy, or die like a man!"
"What Ted is saying, is that we want you to be a part of a very special game. One that involves us matching wits, in a fight to the death."
"You, want to HUNT me?!" Surely this is a byproduct of a night of binge drinking. The punch to my face must have been me bashing my head in to my nightstand.
"Think of it like Darwin in Action. You'll walk away a free man, provided you're the 'fittest'."
"And if you do manage to somehow take me and Chuck out, this house, the land, everyhting here, is yours. No bullshit. The deed's in a safe upstairs, the combination is engraved on my dog tag."
He holds up a silver tag, hanging around his neck. It bounces the single lightbulbs reflection in to my eyes. I sit. Silent. The realization sinking in, this is not a dream. Ted Nugent and Charlton Heston are going to track and kill me. My eyes harden.
"When do we start?"
"Goddamn! I knew he'd do it! Best of luck to ya, you'll need it, 'cause I'm planning on puttin a .308 slug right through your heart from about 250 yards away."
"Now Ted, you know we're going to be a bit more spoting than that. The game starts now. There is a pistol and ammunition outside, use it wisely."
Then, another light, this one ten times brighter than the bulb over my head blinds me. The door to the room is wide open, and both my captors are gone. I step outside. The game begins...

It's my fear of this exact scenario which has prompted me to buy a gun. Seriously. More to come.