But nothing seemed to convince them. Brant and Devin charged at him, boots scuffing tile, and dragged him to the chair. James kicked and swung as they slammed him onto the chair and quickly began strapping him down. Familiar panic took hold of James as he screamed loudly in unbridled rage. They had the straps around his chest, waist, arms, and legs. They strapped across his forehead next, pinning his head down. James darted his eyes to the side where Julian was in his peripheral.
“I have nothing but allegiance to the First Order, its leader, and my brothers,” James said.
Dr. Miller tilted the chair back, dipping James toward the floor. Julian leaned down to address him. “Everything is going to be okay. We just have one tiny little hump to get over.”
“What's that?” James asked, desperate for answers.
“I think you want us to believe that you've changed, but I suspect you're hiding your true feelings. To be a true brother, you have to believe it fully in your heart.”
James's eyes began to well with tears as he pulled against his straps, once again helpless to free himself. “No... I have changed. Just stop this insanity... please.”
Julian studied him for a moment and then spoke softly, soothingly. “So, you can tell us the truth about your wife and your friends now, right?”
James felt blindsided by the question but stuck to his guns. “They're dead. I-I buried them myself.”
Julian patted him on the forehead. “We'll just take a few teeth first. And if you're telling the truth, there should be no reason to take any more.”
Dr. Miller stood over James and began going through his instruments as Julian continued. “You might prove after all the extent to which physical pain leads to complete submission and dominance.”
“I'm telling you the truth,” James said with increasing desperation. “There's nothing more important to me than the First Order. J-Just hear me out.”
Julian slowly moved away, allowing Miller space to work.
“Julian, listen to me!” James shouted to no avail. He couldn't imagine the thought of more cutting and scraping or how very painful having teeth pulled by Dr. Miller would be. Julian, however, had moved out of sight now. Miller held up a scraping tool in one hand and the jaw prop from last time in the other.
Miller asked, “Do we need this again? Are we going to be cooperative or difficult?”
James immediately closed his mouth, tightly holding it shut, and already his clenched eyes were watering. He breathed hard through his nose, preparing for the worst. The sharp edge of the dental pick pressed against his lips. He opened his eyes to see Miller hovering over him like a vulture, poking him in the face.
“Let's get this over with now,” he said in a friendly tone. He sighed, seeing James's continuing resistance. “Mr. Monroe. I'm going to need some help here.”
Julian then called Brant and Devin over. James knew they were going to attack him. He was ready to fight to the very core of his being. He was going to keep his mouth closed at any cost. And maybe soon the suffering would be over. As fate would have it, a loud knock sounded from the door, and for a moment, everything seemed to stop.
“What is it?” Brant yelled.
The pounding on the door continued, louder and more urgent than before. Brant then stormed toward the door, shouting. James opened his eyes and saw Miller standing over him, distracted and looking to see who it was.
“We've got company!” a voice yelled from outside.
They opened the door as two men rushed inside, out of breath and sweating. “Outside,” one of them continued. “Must be twenty of them or so.”
James turned his head to the side, trying to see what was going on. Everyone had huddled in the center of the room with growing panic in the air.
“What do they want?” Julian asked.
“Who is it?” Brant asked.
“One thing at a time,” the inmate said, cutting his hands across the air. “It's that sheriff and his people. Looks like they walked here.”
James’s heart started beating faster than it ever had before.
Devin smacked his hands together, thrilled. “Let's waste 'em, once and for all!”
“Not unless Julian wants to,” Brant said, cutting in.
Their heads turned to Julian at the room went quiet. “Where are they?”
“Right outside the gate,” the inmate said. He then pointed toward the corner of the room where James was tied down. “Sheriff said he wanted to make a deal for that one.”
Brant laughed hardest as the others joined in and lobbed obscene threats. “They've got some nerve, 'eh, boss?”
Julian nodded while maintaining a pensive stance, holding his chin. “Indeed, they do.” He turned to look at James and then back to his men. “Looks like we need to have a word.” He took a step toward the door when Brant placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. “Are you sure that's a good idea? This could be a trap.”
“Besides, it's freezing as balls out there,” Devin added.
“It is snowing,” one of the men added.
“I don't care,” Julian said. He then returned to the dentist chair and stared down at James, seemingly amused. “How is this for a turn of events?”
James looked up at him evenly, not showing anything.
“Let's go out and talk to them, shall we?” Julian continued. He signaled to his men and told them to remove James's straps. At James's moment of immense relief, Julian leaned closer to him and offered a fair warning. “Whether or not we kill your friend is entirely up to you.” He undid the strap around James's forehead and glared at him, eye to eye. “Understand?”
James nodded, his face pale, terrified by the threat.
“Who do you serve?” Julian asked as the other straps were loosened.
“The First Order,” James said.
“And who do we kill?”
“Outsiders,” James answered.
Julian moved away, seemingly satisfied as he told his men to escort James outside. “We'll meet at the overlook, just above the front gate. Dress warmly.” He left the room, glancing back with a doubtful look on his face. James's chair was elevated, and he was hoisted to his feet with Brent and Davis on both sides. Miller stood awkwardly by his tray of instruments, disappointed.
“So, are we going to do this later, or what?”
Brant turned his head as they escorted James toward the door. “Put a sock in it, doc. We've got bigger fish to fry.” They left the room, continuing down the hallway and toward the east corridor that led to the front of the building. The situation was unreal. James could barely comprehend what was happening. Was it all a trick? But as they pushed him along like a common prisoner, James had real hope for the first time since coming there.
The bitter air stung them outside, the cold seeping through their inadequate clothing. James was brought to the guard post atop the building overlooking the front gate. First Order men remained behind the fence below, surrounding a burn barrel to stay warm. They operated as a first line of defense, but they weren't the only ones. Julian had improved security positions around the entire prison to ensure against another breach. Larry and James had been lucky. The security shack outside the gate remained unoccupied. Julian’s men were inside, huddled in the cold.
Snow covered the ground as far as the eye could see. A cold blanket of endless white, and above, a gray, cloudy sky filled with dark menace. Outside the prison, they had visitors. James stood at the railing in a flimsy coat, his hands jammed deep in his pockets. For the time being, they had removed his handcuffs. The chilly air rustled his hair. His breath appeared as fog, dissipating like white smoke. Julian stood nearby with Brant and Devin at his side. They observed the group outside the fence with amusement.
There were twenty or so people outside, dressed for the cold in their coats, caps, and gloves. James could barely identify who they were. He searched in vain for Marla, and although he wanted to see her, he hoped that she wasn't foolish enough to show up. He recognized the sheriff, obv
iously leading the group, who stood in his blue police coat and black skull cap. He held a semi-automatic rifle, and most of the others appeared to be armed as well. Julian continued to observe them with a pair of binoculars.
“Yep. That's the sheriff, all right,” he said to Brant.
Brant chuckled and then turned to James. “Now's the time to see what you're made of.”
James stared back at him, shocked. “What do you mean?”
Julian lowered his binoculars and cut in. “It's simple. If they came here to threaten us, we will capture or kill them. And you're going to help.”
James turned away, trying to shield his true feelings. “Whatever it takes...” he said softly.
“That's good to hear,” Julian said, lifting his binoculars again.
The sheriff and his crew hadn't said anything yet. They just stood outside the gate with their weapons in hand and large rucksacks lined up to the side, resting in the snow. There existed a momentary quiet between the two groups as Julian assessed the situation. Besides, it was both fun and strategically smart to keep the visitors waiting. He then spoke to Brant quietly and in secret.
The sheriff stepped forward and exchanged words with one of the First Order men through the fence. The guard turned around and pointed up toward the balcony, where James stood with Julian’s group. Sheriff Davis removed his aviator glasses for a moment, eyes on them, and then nodded. Julian then handed Brant his binoculars and stepped forward, clearing his throat.
“Sheriff Davis!” he shouted, voice echoing. “To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?”
Davis moved closer to the fence and spoke equally loudly. “Greetings, Julian. I wanted to talk to you personally.”
Julian stared at the sheriff below. “Well, we're here now. Talk!”
The sheriff nodded and continued. “We didn't come here for conflict. I just wanted to make that clear.”
Julian thought to himself and then responded. “I'll be the judge of that. What do you want?”
“Fair enough,” Davis continued. “Wanted you to know we're moving on. The whole lot of us. All who's left.”
James felt his heart sink, all hope disappearing.
Julian examined the sheriff's numbers again, counting in his head. “Looks like you’re missing half your congregation. Where's the preacher?”
Davis glanced at one of his men and then back to Julian. “He's not here. We're going our separate ways.”
“Ah,” Julian said, smiling. “The plot thickens.”
“Regardless, we're headed north, and we're going to go that way until we find some help.”
Julian slapped the banister with his gloved hands. “In this weather. Are you crazy? Just get some burn barrels like we've got.”
“I'm afraid it's too late,” the sheriff continued. “Plus, I heard things are worse south.”
Julian turned to Brant. “He's lost his mind.”
Brant laughed, nudging James with his shoulder. James was just trying his best to stay optimistic, but this wasn’t the rescue he had dreamed of or imagined. The sheriff’s small group couldn’t take on an entire prison just to save James. In the vicious cold, he wondered how they were all going to survive the winter, which was just beginning. He stamped his feet, trying to stay warm, as every bitter gust of wind cut like a knife. The snowfall had ceased by dawn, but its aftermath of relentless cold remained.
He couldn't imagine traveling a long distance on foot in such weather with so few supplies. Sheriff Davis was taking a large gamble. But he was already undergoing a huge risk coming to the prison in the first place. The First Church of Winslow was safe, secure, and protected, which was precisely why the First Order had been unable to take it over. Now, the sheriff and his group were out in the open and exposed. James wanted nothing more than to ask him about Marla. It drove him crazy not to know. Just seeing them outside the gate, however, fueled his fevered hope for escape.
“You came all this way for a goodbye?” Julian asked Davis as the groups on both sides of the fence watched each other with suspicion.
“Not quite,” Davis said. “I came to make a deal.”
Julian laughed the loudest as his men joined in. “A deal, you say?” Julian continued, wiping at his eyes. “What would that be?”
The sheriff approached the line of stuffed rucksacks, six in all, and extended his arms. “We've gathered a majority of our supplies, nonperishables, medical and hygienic supplies, you name it.” He paused and then went to the gate, looking up at Julian. “This is all yours. It's more than we can handle.”
“That's very generous of you,” Julian said, stroking at his mustache. “What's the catch?”
“We have only one request, and it's more than fair. Give us James Weller, and we'll be on our way.”
James stood there, as stunned as Julian and his men were by the proposition.
“James?” Julian said in a curious tone. “Why would you want him back?” He paused and narrowed his eyes.
Davis answered with conviction. “When James came to our church, I assured him that we would protect him. Unfortunately, we failed. That's why I'd like to make things right now.” He then signaled back to the line of rucksacks. “You have months of supplies all here for the taking. All we ask is that you release this man.”
“That's wonderful,” Julian said, slapping James on the back. “It's just so happens James is here with us. Perhaps we can let him decide right now.” He leaned closer to James with his arm around him as all men watched in anticipation. James could see the challenge in Julian's piercing glare. The implication was clear enough. Going with the sheriff would be considered a betrayal, and James couldn't even comprehend the pain and torture that would follow. The most he could do was hope that Sheriff Davis had a real plan up his sleeve.
“Time's up, James,” Julian said with a leering smile. “Everyone is waiting. This is the moment of truth.”
James looked away from him, unsure.
“Is that a no?” Julian said.
James slowly nodded as Julian turned around, gleeful.
“You'll find that James rather likes it here,” Julian announced to the sheriff. “I think he'd prefer not to aimlessly travel the countryside.”
But the sheriff remained steadfast. “I don't know what kind of trauma you've put him through, but we'd like to talk to him.”
“Sure,” Julian said, excited. “You can hear from him now.” He moved aside and held his arms out for James to take his place. The more James hesitated, the more he knew that he'd suffer later if things went wrong.
“I'm not leaving,” he announced as a cool chill filled the air. “My allegiance is with the First Order, its leaders, and my brothers.”
The sheriff stared up at James through the chain-link gate. After some thought, he expressed his skepticism. “This man is clearly under duress. Now, please, have a look through our rucksacks before discounting us so quickly.”
Angered, Julian pushed James out of the way and stepped forward. “How about I take them all and give you nothing?”
Davis stepped back and placed both hands on his slung rifle. “Then, I suppose we'd have a problem.”
“Oh, so this is what your visit is about?” Julian shouted. “You're not asking for James. You're demanding him.”
“Not at all,” Davis said. “We can't force him to do anything he doesn't want to.”
“But you said he was under duress,” Julian said. “Which one is it?”
Davis’s breath flowed from his mouth like vapor. “Be that as it may, I implore your men to take these supplies before things get overheated here. Consider it a gesture of goodwill.”
Julian stood back from the ledge and convened with Brant, speaking softly. It was clear they were just as wary of the situation as James was. The sheriff and his crew waited patiently in front of the gate on the snow-covered road. After quiet plotting, Julian turned to the banister and made his demands.
“Pass the bags off to my men in an orderly manner.
If you so much as step beyond the gate, we'll shoot every one of you where you stand.” He signaled to Brant and Devin, who both had their rifles aimed at the gate while looking through the rear sights. He then told his men to unlock and open the gate while exercising extreme caution. The sheriff directed his men to place the bags right at the gate as it was pushed opened.
After a brief, tense standoff, the First Order guards rushed outside and hefted each heavy rucksack, carrying it to safety. Once all the bags were inside, the gate was immediately pulled shut and locked by chain. It looked as though the sheriff had played whatever cards he had. The bags were inside, beyond their reach, and they had nothing in exchange. James’s heart sank, but at least he had made the right choice to stay. As part of the brotherhood, his earlier plan might work.
“What have we got there?” Julian shouted to his men below.
The men carried each bag closer to the building entrance, leaving footprints in the snow. They heaved them down in a straight line and began to unzip them with heightened anticipation. Supplies were running low at the prison, and the coming winter was only making things worse. As they waited, the sheriff approached the gate again and called out for fairness.
“One man,” he shouted. “That's all we want. I've given you the bags, now let James go. It’s the honest thing to do.”
Julian turned again to James, clearly enjoying himself. “Well, James. Again, the decision is all yours. Would you like to leave the organization that you've declared allegiance to? Did I fail to convince you?” He then displayed a sinister smile, exposing crooked, stained teeth. “Maybe we just didn't dig deep enough. You know?”
All eyes went to James as he stepped forward. “I don't want anyone to get hurt...” he began.
“Louder!” Julian shouted.
“I said I don't want anyone to get hurt,” James paused, struggling with his options.
“Perfect,” Julian said, throwing his arm around James. “And how can we assure that?”
James glanced from Julian to the sheriff, who watched them through the gate with his hands on his hips. “I've made up my mind,” James said.
Hideaway (Book 2): An Emp Thriller Page 15
