by Maxey, Phil
A vice like grip pulled her up and slammed her down on an old wooden chair and the men’s gruff voices around her once again changed from muffles to questions, this time though aimed at each other.
“You sure Clovis said we can't play with her? Even with the beatings she’s still more fine than most others we got.”
Abbey gulped for air as her lungs continued to burn.
“That's what he said.”
A man who Abbey had come to call ‘the fat one’ in her mind, looked disappointed. “We been at this for an hour, she don't know shit.”
The tall one leaned down close to her face. “You got to give us something darling. I don't care if it's Zach’s color of underwear, but if you don't talk we gotta continue this, and unlike my friends here, I don't much like hurting on women.”
Abbey looked at the wet floor in front of her then splashes and streaks of crimson flashed in her mind. Twelve hours earlier she had fought and screamed at those that were holding her, to let the Cascaders go. They were the old and the young, and others who were not soldiers, but she was ignored. The sight of them being lined up against the wall of the school entrance, and riddled with bullets kept trying its best to push its way into her mind and it was all she could do to stop the scene from playing out on an endless loop and overwhelming her.
Zach is out there.
Four words that she had clung onto since the ordeal started. It was the only thought in her mind that allowed her to resist. Her captors hadn't bothered with water boarding, instead had gone straight to semi-drowning.
Her mind raced for something to placate them. Something which sounded like it was important, but actually wasn’t, or better still was a complete lie. She figured anything she said now they would probably believe.
While still looking at the floor, she started talking. “He never told me much! He kept that stuff from me,” the words came out with a string of saliva, which she spat to the floor.
The tall one stood back upright. “Okay darling, don’t say I didn’t give you a chance to get out of here.” He stepped back and the third man stepped forward and grabbed her shoulders.
“But…”
“But what?” said the tall one holding his hand up to the others.
Abbey started sobbing. Play it up.
“I love him, I don’t want to betray him!”
The tall one put his hand on her shoulder. “Hey, who’s going to know it came from you?” he looked around the small dark gray room, with the single hanging light bulb above them. “None of us are going to say anything. This is just from you to us,” he then leaned in closer to Abbey, his rancid breath washed over her. It was all she could do to stop the contents of her stomach from returning to her mouth.
“Well… he kept meeting with one of the generals, and a few nights back I heard them discussing something about Dallas, that something major is happening there.”
The tall one raised his eyebrows. “Really? Now that is interesting.”
“But I’m not telling you anything else!” she blurted the words out.
There was a silence in the room, and she waited for her head to be grabbed once more, but instead the fabric hood she had on when she entered the room four hours earlier was placed back on her head, and she was lifted to her feet.
Soon she was walking back across the cold concrete, and a chill wind blew across what was exposed of Abbeys neck beneath the rag that was covering her face. She was glad to be outside, away from the three foul smelling men.
But where she was, she had no idea. They had driven for a few hours from Atlanta in a large convoy and when they stopped a man appeared from the darkness outside the cattle truck she had been traveling in, covered her eyes then unchained her. She ended up being led to what she was presumed was some kind of structure, because it felt warmer than the truck. She then waited with others she had traveled with, until she was led away, for questioning.
Looking through a tiny gap in her blindfold, she examined every mark and scratch on the surface below, as she scuttled along best she could with the chains across her exposed feet.
The ground changed and she stepped over a threshold of some building, and was soon slowly clambering up some stairs, one chained ankle at a time. Voices of men and women hushed as she moved past them, and soon she was walking across carpet. It was rough and coarse but still felt like velvet on her sore feet.
The person that had pushed and dragged her to this point seemed to leave her, but she could tell she was not alone.
“There is a seat just behind you, sit down.” This was a new voice, one that was almost elegant in its tone and pitch.
She took a leap of faith and let her back arch and her rear descend, luckily he wasn't lying and she sat on a padded seat. “Why am I here?” She had given up asking that to her abusers hours earlier, but she had a feeling, this person might actually have some answers.
“This really shouldn't be your concern my dear. What should concern you is what I want.”
“Okay.”
“You should know, unlike Tinley, I don't play with my food before I devour it.”
She sat silent.
“I would as soon as kill you right now, like what happened to the other freaks at the school—” A rage wanted to rise up inside her, but she was so tired that it died out almost as soon as it started. “— But I know you are connected to one of the higher ups at the camp, and that is the only reason you are still breathing.”
She swallowed. “Well you might as well kill me then, because even if I did know something that could be of use to you, I wouldn't tell you,” she thought she heard the man snigger.
”Right now you are worth more to me alive than dead. The night you have had at the hands of my comrades was just them letting off some steam. I can tell you, you'll little band of trouble makers put up quite a fight at that school. Even the freaks. Anyway, for now you will be taken to some new holdings, and allowed to clean yourself up.”
Hands belonging to another person she didn't even know was there grabbed her under her shoulders and lifted her up.
She thought about asking about Ray, and how he ended up with the Hell Fire gang, but thought better of it. No need for these people to know about their former connection.
She shuffled out of the room, and was taken down stairs. Lots of them. Until the air chilled once again.
CHAPTER TWO
Zach and Cal huddled down beneath the grime-covered window of the forgotten gas station. Even after a year the fumes of gasoline hung in the air along with smeared and torn pictures of glamorous women which lined the walls.
The ground shook.
“Forth truck in so many hours. They are moving a lot of something in there,” said Zach peering through his rifle’s sight at the large semi moving in the direction of the base, that was once home to the army’s aviation wing.
It was 9 a.m and they were glad for the rest. After they, Fiona, Wyatt and Abbey’s pet left the school back at Atlanta, it wasn’t long before Cal was able to pick up Abbey’s trail, and the convoy she was part of that was heading south. Keeping to the back roads they shadowed the vehicles convoy which stretched for a few miles, and after three and a half hours Cal sensed that Abbey had stopped moving. Looking at the map they had of Georgia, there was only one place they could be, and that was the large army air base. It explained how Geneva’s people were able to attack Camp Bravo with jet’s and helicopters.
After some arguing Zach and Cal convinced Fiona to return to Jackson to the safety of the tank and the soldiers that were still at the pharmacy, and to tell those back at the camp what had transpired the night before. Wyatt and Mo also went with her.
Zach and Cal had no idea how they were going to rescue Abbey, or anyone else if they were still alive, but leaving them behind wasn’t an option.
“One of those trucks might be our way in,” replied Cal looking through the scope of his M40.
“Maybe, but then that doesn’t leave us an obvious way back out.
I’d rather see what the options are for getting through the fence. There’s probably holes, we just need to find them.”
Cal rested his snipers rifle up against the nearby wall. “I dunno about you, but I’m tired and hungry. Let’s rest up here for a few hours, then head out for a little recon.” Zach looked pensive, and went to say something. Cal knew what it was. “Hold on,” he closed his eyes, and searched the myriad of E.L.F. frequencies he could feel around him. After a few seconds, he honed in the one he knew to be Abbey’s. Opening his eyes he smiled. “She’s still out there.”
Zach visibly relaxed.
Cal felt something else, but resisted saying it out loud. “What you got in that backpack of yours?” he said looking at the dark green and gray pack lying next to them.
Zach continued looking out the window. “Few cans of fruit, and few candy bars, help yourself.”
Cal moved across the dust and paper covered floor, and pulled a can of fruit out. “You want anything?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You got to keep those electrolytes up.”
Zach frowned and nodded. Cal tossed him a candy bar, which he opened and started chewing on, while still looking through the scratched and dust covered window.
Cal walked across behind the counter, while eating some of the pears from the can. The few shelves were empty save from a calendar for the previous year. He picked it up. The month left open was for August. Written on some of the days were names. “Tyrone, Samantha, Arthur dead,” said one day. The others were similar.
He dropped the calendar back down and the ground once again shook. “Another truck?” he said looking back towards Zach.
“Yup. You get some rest, I’ll wake you in a few hours.”
Cal looked down at the empty can, placed it on the counter, and looked for a spot on the floor that wasn’t grease and oil covered. Eventually an area near the far wall looked the best choice. Lying with his back against the wall and facing the front door, he placed his rifle across his chest and fell quickly asleep.
After a few minutes Zach looked back at him. Cal’s chest was slowly rising and falling. Checking the ammo in his rifle, Zach quietly got to his feet and walked to the entrance. Having one last look outside, he opened the door and stepped out into the early morning sunshine.
CHAPTER THREE
As Fiona drove herself and Wyatt along the highway in Jackson she was having a hard time keeping her eyes open. This was despite the fear she felt at the root of her mind. She looked across to her passenger who was asleep.
The early morning sun ate away at the frost on the ground as they pulled into the pharmacies parking lot. The tank was immediately visible where she remembered it.
They had decided to stay off the radio until she made it back. A dark-haired soldier emerged from the broken front entrance of the building, and watched as she parked her truck.
The soldier ran up to her as she jumped down from the cabin. “What happened? Where are the others?”
She walked past him. “I need to contact Core operations.” Soon she was in the confined space of the tank, holding the mike in her hand. Amanda Holland was on the other end of the communication, and could be heard gasping as Fiona retold how the night had unfolded and that Zach and Cal are still in southern Georgia trying to rescue Abbey and whoever else they could find from the Atlanta group.
“Councilor?” said Fiona after there had been no reply.
“I need a minute.”
Fiona looked at the soldier sitting next to her. His name badge on his sleeve read, ‘Corporal Gabe Bell’. “You had any trouble here? Or seen any of Geneva’s people?”
“Nothing ma’am. Not even any E.L.F’s.”
Fiona looked back at the radio. “Well that’s something.”
The speaker came to life, this time with Brigadier General’s Garland’s voice. “And you say it’s an air base they are in control of?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Do you know how many planes or helicopters they have use of?”
“It was dark when I was there, so no. But they have a hell of a lot more people than we thought. The convoy we saw had at least a few thousand. There might have been more already at the base.”
“Sit tight, I’ll get back to you with orders.”
Fiona’s hand dropped heavily and she handed off the mike to Corporal Bell. “Abbey’s E.L.F is in the back of the truck, with a cord tied around its foot. It’s probably asleep, but stay clear of it. Let Wyatt handle it.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Right, I’m going to find me some food and get some sleep, wake me in two hours, unless Core operations come back on the radio.”
The soldier acknowledged and she got out, stepping down onto the ground at the pharmacy’s entrance. Walking back to the truck she noticed Wyatt wasn’t in the passenger’s seat, but could hear talking. Walking around the back she found him inside sitting close to Mo. “Hey, I’m going to find some food, then get some sleep. I’ll get one of the soldiers to bring you some food and drink. You okay looking after Mo?”
Wyatt nodded.
“Good, if you sense any other E.L.F’s tell Corporal Bell and wake me.”
He nodded again.
She went to walk away, then stopped, looking back at the solemn looking young man. “There’s nothing you could have done, you know that right?”
“I know… I’m just, sad. They seemed nice people.”
“They were, but this is war and bad things are going to happen. You being here right now, is going to help all of us get out of this. You’re a brave young guy.” She forced a smile in his direction, then walked back to the pharmacy.
CHAPTER FOUR
Sam looked across at Isaiah who was sleeping. He was used to seeing him with two hands, not one. He slid his hand along his prosthetic making sure it was still there. Geneva’s people said he would be ‘too much bother to move’ without it but his friend wasn’t so lucky.
His view then changed to Bass, who lay motionless on the wooden floor. Sam wasn’t sure if he was dead or just unconscious, for now there wasn’t anything he could do about it anyway.
The night before they fought amongst the flames best they could until the Cascaders were captured. At that point they put their weapons down and hoped surrendering would be enough to save the civilians lives, but it wasn’t. Bass lurched at one of their guards and managed to plunge his knife into him, but all it did was delay the murder of the people lined up against the wall and get him shot in the leg.
Each of them had been given a beating periodically throughout the night, to try to get information from them. He didn’t know about the others, but he told his torturers to go to hell repeatedly and now here he was looking down at a hand of broken fingers.
At least now there was light. For the past hour he had studied every detail of the large room around them, trying to see anything he could use to cut the ropes that were holding him. The pain that coursed through his wrist and arms helped stop the tiredness overwhelm him, and eventually he thought he saw what looked like the glint of the top of a nail sticking out of floorboards.
Looking at the only door which was twenty-five feet away, he shuffled forward as quietly as he could on his butt. After each move he looked at the door.
No sound.
Looking back around, he noticed Isaiah was looking at him.
“What you doing?” whispered Isaiah.
Sam nodded in the direction of the nail. He then shuffled one last time and was positioned almost directly above it which only protruded half an inch at best from the damp stained planks. He set about rubbing the rope around his wrists back and forth as quickly as his throbbing hands would allow it.
“They gonna come back and kill you!” said Isaiah.
“Yeah, well that could happen,” said Sam wincing in pain.
Bass groaned a few feet from them, making them both look at him.
“Damn, I thought he was dead,” said Isaiah.
Sam continued furiously shifting the rope back and forth which was now fraying. “If you can get to your feet get across to the door, and tell me if you hear anyone coming.”
Isaiah shook his head then shifted his weight and pushed himself up on his knees, then stood uneasily. One of his eyes was almost closed and his t-shirt was stuck to his chest by a dark red patch. His shuffling had taken him halfway to the door, when he froze.
“What?” said Sam, still rubbing the rope, which was halfway torn.
“I thought I heard something.”
“Don’t stop, keep going!”
Isaiah shuffled faster and was soon at the door. Thin shafts of light sliced the air through a boarded up window and Isaiah leaned up against it and looked through the small gaps to the outside world.
“Anything?” said Sam.
“No. We on some kind of air base. There’s a whole lot of planes and choppers out there.”
“Maybe we can fly out of here.”
“Chances of us making it to one of those planes I would say is low to none-existent.”
Sam’s hands flew apart and he groaned in pain. He set about untying his legs, but it was hard going with just one hand. “How the fuck do you ever get anything done with just one hand,” he said through his frustration.
“Shit, I think someone’s coming.” Isaiah started shuffling back to his spot on the floor. “You better get those ropes back around our wrists, or broken fingers will be the last of your problems.”
Sam pushed himself backwards to roughly where he was sitting before, and the door swung open. He plunged his hands between his thighs, and looked down.
The cool air rushed over them, but was short lived as a pungent body odor followed the disheveled looking man into the room. “If I hear anymore noise from in here, there’s going to be less of you alive. You got that?” The man waved his rifle in their direction.
“It wasn’t us, it was him,” said Isaiah looking in Bass’s direction.
The man walked over to Bass and kicked his boot. Bass groaned. “Well I’ll be, he’s still alive. Tough SOB your friend,” he spat on the ground next to him. “Not for long though by the amount of blood he leaked,” he smiled then left slamming the door behind him.
