The Hidden Survivor (Book 1): The Hidden Survivor

by Mccoy, Connor

  Glen hoped Mia had found what she was looking for. He had done what he could to help. He heard her yelp and started to his feet, ready to come to her rescue, but then Third Eye yelped louder and Glen relaxed. Mia was holding her own for the time being.

  Third Eye appeared, pushing Mia along in front of him. He had a bruise forming on his left temple. “Head butt?” Glen asked.

  Mia shook her head. “He grabbed my ass, so I kicked him,” she said.

  “I did not grab your ass!” Third Eye said, affronted. “It was an accident.”

  “Didn’t feel like an accident to me,” Mia said. She nodded to his bruise, “And maybe that will make you think twice next time.”

  “I did not grab her ass,” Third Eye complained to the man Glen had dubbed ‘Boss Man’ in his head.

  “See that you don’t,” Boss Man said. “If Maryellen finds out you’ve had your hands on another woman… well, let’s just say I wouldn’t like your odds.”

  “I did not,” Third Eye said again. “I was going for her belt and she moved. Why would I grab this one’s scrawny little ass when I’ve got Maryellen?”

  “I’m sure that’s what she’d want to know,” Mike said. “But she won’t hear it from me. I’m not interested in having my face slapped.”

  “Lock these two in the back,” Boss Man said. “I don’t want to have to worry about them while we figure this out.”

  “Get up,” Mike said, flexing the hand with the dragon flames and making them dance. “I don’t want to have to use this, but I will. And not to grab a piece of ass.”

  “I did not,” Third Eye began.

  “Shut it,” Boss Man said. “Get those two in the back.”

  When they got to the back they realized the office had the kind of bolt lock with a key on the outside and a knob on the inside. They didn’t have the key, and even if they did, Glen and Mia simply would turn the knob and be out. The bathrooms were the same. There were a couple of closets with no locks at all.

  “We’ll put them in the meds room,” Mike said. “That door can be opened only from the outside.”

  And so Glen and Mia found themselves in the one place they actually needed to be. It took no time at all for Mia to find two different kinds of antibiotics. Glen was happy with the choice. If one didn’t achieve the desired results, the other would. Mia slid packets of each into the waistband of her pants and pulled her T-shirt over them. Glen did the same. It was tricky with their hands tied behind their backs, but doable. Mia had a lot of flexibility.

  She slid along the counter, her back to it, and started pulling open the drawers. She’d check the contents over her shoulder, and then move to the next. Glen wondered if she’d ever done this before, checked drawers with her hands tied behind her back.

  “Yes!” she cried triumphantly, and pulled a box cutter from a drawer.

  She examined it in her fingers for a moment, her eyes closed in concentration, then she clicked it open. She swiveled the knife in her hands and started sawing against the nylon cuffs, popping them off expertly without cutting herself. She caught Glen watching her.

  “What?” she said. “Christian used to make us practice getting out of restraints. I’ve spent a lot of hours tied up.” She pulled one packet of antibiotics from her waistband and slid it into the top of her socks. “Just in case.”

  She went to work on Glen’s restraints and had them off in a moment. He rubbed his wrists while examining the medications on the shelves. He ignored the cooler. As much as he would have liked to have tetanus vaccine on hand, it had to be refrigerated and that made it pretty much useless to him.

  He took additional antibiotics, painkillers, Benzodiazepines, and antiseptic. He also found gauze and sterile dressings. He took a plastic pharmacy bag, the kind the checkout person would put your purchases in, and he loaded it up, taped it closed and pushed it out through the bars in the window. With a little luck they could retrieve it later.

  Mia still was rifling through the drawers, also shoving stuff into a bag, but he couldn’t see what it was she was taking. Hopefully, it was something useful. He stood by the door listening while she continued rummaging around.

  “I think I hear them,” Glen said. He was pretty sure he’d heard the bell over the main door tinkle.

  Mia quickly shoved her bag through the window and joined Glen at the door.

  “Do we jump them as they come through the door?” she whispered. “Do we fight?”

  He thought a moment. “No. I don’t think we can take all of them. Pretend you still have your cuffs on. We’ll wait for a moment when we can run.”

  She ran to pick her broken cuffs up off the floor, the box knife and some medical tape. “Here, tape me back together.”

  He took the broken cuffs and taped them back together, hiding the spliced parts between her back and wrists. “Don’t yank too hard on them,” he said. “They won’t hold.”

  The key turned in the door and he dropped the knife and tape on the counter and held his own hands behind his back. He didn’t have much hope they wouldn’t notice he wasn’t cuffed, but it seemed like the thing to do. Then he changed his mind and dropped his hands.

  “What are you doing?” Mia hissed in her no-good-will-come-of-this tone.

  “Just an idea,” he said as the door opened. “Wait and see.” And he dropped his hands to his sides, palms outward.

  The door slammed open, and Mike and Third Eye stood filling the doorway. “What’s this?” Mike said, looking at Glen.

  Glen lifted his arms slightly from his side, a sign of submission. “Sorry,” he said. “My cuffs came off.” The men swarmed him and had him re-cuffed in seconds flat.

  “Could you please let me tell you why we’re here?” he asked. He noticed that they’d cuffed him tighter this time. His gambit hadn’t paid off.

  Third Eye gave Mia’s cuffs a quick look, but didn’t notice they’d been taped on. “Why didn’t you take her cuffs off?” he said. “Don’t trust her?” He gave Mia a little shove out into the main store.

  “Didn’t have time,” Glen said. “I was too busy looking for uppers.”

  “Uppers? No one’s used that term since the seventies.” Mike laughed. “You wouldn’t find crack in here.”

  “No dude,” Third Eye said, “people still say uppers, although E or crack might be more popular. You still can get uppers.”

  “Whatever, man,” Mike said, glaring. “It doesn’t matter now, does it? You aren’t going to find E, crack, or uppers anywhere around here. New York, maybe. Not in Terror Town.”

  “No, man, I bet you could find some Adderall in here if you looked hard enough. I had a cousin who was hooked on Adderall in high school. Had to have it.” Third Eye started nodding his head for emphasis.

  “So, this other kid faked ADH, ADO, he faked not being able to concentrate, and then sold my cousin his pills. I thought it was a good deal. But never could get the doc to prescribe them for me. Kind of a letdown.” He looked at his fingernails. “But I bet they’ve got some in here.”

  “We don’t need uppers,” Glen said. “I was kidding. We just need…”

  “Save it,” Boss Man said from the doorway. “Bring them out here.”

  Mike and Third Eye pushed them over to the bench where people used to sit and wait for their prescriptions. It was covered with smeared dust, but so was Glen, so that didn’t bother him. He just observed the dirt and sat down, leaning slightly forward so his hands didn’t get trapped between his body and the wall.

  Mia was doing a good job looking miserable, and even let a few tears drip down her face. Not that she didn’t have reason to cry, but he’d gotten to know her well enough that he doubted that’s what was going on. She was keeping the thugs off-balance, or if not off-balance, feeling as though she wasn’t that much of a threat. He wondered if Third Eye would forget he got kicked in the face. Not likely, but he might think it was a fluke.

  “Before I take you to Terror, I have a few questions,” Boss Man said. “Ho
w did you find us?”

  “We walked two days south, looking for a town with a pharmacy. Luckily, we came across that ridge out there.” He nodded toward the cliff. “We looked over and there you were.”

  “Is that right?” Boss Man asked Mia.

  Glen wished he’d taken the time to go over their story with Mia. They would need consistency to be believed.

  “Sounds right to me,” Mia said. “We walked for two days. When we woke up the sun was on our left and at night it disappeared on the right. So, unless we’re in Australia, we walked south.”

  “How many more of you are there?” and when Glen started to answer he held up a hand. “I want her to answer.”

  “There are four of us altogether,” Mia said.

  Boss Man looked at Glen and Glen nodded yes.

  “And the other two?” Boss Man asked Mia.

  “Christian got savaged by a bear,” Mia said. “They are back at camp – Sally’s looking after him.”

  Again Boss Man looked at Glen, and again he nodded in the affirmative.

  “And you,” Boss Man looked at Glen again, “what did you do for a living before the end?”

  “Neurosurgeon,” Glen said succinctly.

  “Student,” Mia said.

  “And you were able to help your friend, what’s his name, Christian?”

  Mia nodded.

  “So, you could help Christian because you are a surgeon?”

  It was Glen’s turn to nod. He was hopeful they’d be able to work this out, or if not, get themselves free and pick up what they’d taken on the way out. These men didn’t seem unreasonable, just big and protective. Just what you’d expect of people trying to keep their community safe. They weren’t necessarily radical or terrorists, although they kept talking about taking them to Terror, whatever that meant. So, maybe he was wrong, and they were terrorists.

  Glen’s spirits sank. What if he was wrong about these people and there would be no dialog? What would happen to them? Were intruders killed in this community? Were they integrated, sent away? What?

  “What are you going to do with us?” The words slipped out almost of their own accord. “Because there is a man dying up the hill. And if we don’t live, he certainly won’t. So tell me, man, what are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know,” Boss Man said. “I’m not in charge here. My job is to get information about what you are doing here and then take you to the guy who is in charge. That’s all. What are your names?”

  Glen bit back a smart reply. He wasn’t the one with the power in this situation, and the quicker they got through this bullshit and got to the person who actually could help, the better. “Glen and Mia,” he said with a sigh. Such a waste of time.

  “Glen and Mia who?” Boss Man asked.

  “Glen Carter and Mia…” Glen thought a moment. “I’m sorry, Mia, I don’t remember your last name.”

  “Mia Clemo,” she said. “I don’t think I ever told you.”

  “So, you haven’t been together long?” Boss Man asked.

  “Just because you don’t know someone’s last name doesn’t mean you haven’t been together for a while,” Glen said, even though in this case it did mean that. “Last names just aren’t important anymore.”

  “That true, that,” one of the other two men said behind Glen’s back. “Last names don’t mean shit anymore. I don’t even remember mine.”

  Glen doubted that was true, but the conversation got Boss Man off-track and maybe he wouldn’t ask how long he and Mia really had been together. It seemed important that the illusion of solidarity and history be maintained. He felt they were particularly vulnerable to being turned on each other.

  “So, Glen and Mia are here getting medicines for Christian, who was savaged by a bear and is being watched over by Sally. Is that correct?” Boss Man asked.

  “Pretty much,” Glen said as Mia nodded. Except maybe the bear part, that could have been Mia or Sally, but he wasn’t going to tell these people that.

  “And you have no other motive other than to get antibiotics?” Boss Man asked.

  “No,” Glen and Mia spoke at the same time and looked at each other, startled.

  “Well, that was fun,” Boss Man said. He nodded to Third Eye and Mike, “get them up and bring them.”

  “We going to Terror now?” Third Eye asked.

  “We’re going to Terror,” Boss Man agreed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The three men led Glen and Mia out of the pharmacy and down the street. People started appearing on porches, watching them pass by. Families were joined by their neighbors from other streets, standing on the sidewalks or perched on the porches.

  The stares weren’t all hostile, Glen noticed. Some were simply curious. Others, especially children, were afraid. A couple of people looked excited, which could have been a good thing, as in ‘Look, new people to befriend,’ or a bad thing, as in ‘Look, new people to terrify and then murder.’ It was impossible to tell which it was.

  A bored-looking teenager was tossing what looked like a tomato up in the air and catching it in a very measured way. Glen felt sure he was going to lob it at Mia, but before he could tell her to get behind him, Mike caught his eye and shook his head. The boy looked disappointed, but dropped the tomato.

  After that, the walk through town was fairly uneventful. Somehow news traveled that they weren’t to be assaulted, although no one spoke, so Glen didn’t know how that news was communicated. He saw barking dogs pulled back into their houses or backyards, and a number of people went with them.

  The air had a snap in it that he hadn’t noticed earlier when his adrenaline had been running high. Now he shivered and he noticed goose bumps on Mia’s arms as they passed beneath a torch. Fall really was setting in, and the people on their lawns and porches were wearing sweaters and jackets. Some had zippered sweatshirts with the hoods pulled up.

  He heard something odd and glanced back to see the town falling into line behind Boss Man, Third Eye and Mike. The entire freaking town was escorting them to wherever it was they were going. Crowds of people were strange, Glen reflected. They didn’t act like normal human beings.

  He thought of the last time he’d walked through his neighborhood in Philly, before everything had gone so wrong in his life. People had waved and smiled. Some asking after his family. That’s what people were like. Friendly and open. Crowds, he shuddered at the thought of the hoard behind them, they were unpredictable. The group mentality. He hoped this crowd was as easily controlled as they seemed to be.

  They walked almost the entire length of the town before they turned and passed an elementary school. There were swings, slides, and hopscotch markings on the blacktop. He wondered if the children still attended school in this town. Were there any teachers here?

  Past the school there was a large stone and concrete block building with a number of torches lighting the front. “Library” had been inscribed over the door and it seemed as though this was where they were heading. Boss Man directed them up the stairs to the front door and followed them with Mike and Third Eye. The rest of the town gathered in the street, not crossing the sidewalk onto the garden. Here, like most places, the lawn was broken up by raised beds.

  Mike pulled the huge door open and ushered them inside. They were standing in a huge foyer, several stories high. The floors were marble and sparkled like they’d been polished yesterday. For all Glen knew they had been polished recently. Maybe that’s how people kept busy, by keeping the public buildings spic and span. Boss Man gestured to an open doorway to the right and he, Glen and Mia went in, while Mike and Third Eye stood sentry outside the door.

  This space looked to Glen like a huge reading room. There were shelves, just like in any library, but the center of the room was devoted to tables and chairs, with the occasional armchair slid into nooks. There was a seating area around a fireplace at the far end of the room, and that’s where the sole occupant was seated. The fire in the fireplace was burning and silhouette
d against the flames was the figure of a man in an armchair, reading.

  The man in the armchair was Tyrell Moore, a tough ex-military man who had earned the moniker ‘Terror” for his ferocity while serving in Iraq and Afghanistan. He survived ten years in the army before coming home to train soldiers to deal with civil unrest. He prided himself on being tough in body and mind. He didn’t take shit from anyone.

  He watched from his chair as Javier, his second in command, directed his captives to approach, but before they could get three-quarters of the way across the room he rose from his chair and went to meet them. He preferred to meet intruders on his terms, away from the comfortable couches and welcoming fire.

  He took stock of the pair as they approached each other. A tall man. Not military in bearing, but disciplined and well-muscled in the way tall thin men could be. Beginning to gray at the temples. He looked hopeful.

  The girl was young, early twenties he thought, blonde, blue-eyed, and not tall like the man, but short and tight, like a fighter. She looked angry. Terror found that very interesting.

  They were both filthy. Like they been soaked in the rain and rolled in the dirt. His hair was short, so the fact it was unkempt didn’t matter so much, but her hair was matted and full of twigs and leaves. They’d come through the forest, not down the road. Terror didn’t think they were related, and probably didn’t know each other that well. There was some distrust there.

  She watched him warily, but he barely glanced in her direction. All the man’s attention was focused on Terror, and there was hope in those eyes. He was hoping to encounter a sympathetic man. Terror would have to put the hope to rest, the sooner the better. Terror was not a man to rule with empathy.

  They wanted something, and Terror either would be able to give it to them, or not. At the moment he thought not. The question was what to do with them after they’d been disappointed by his answer. Keep them or throw them away? Kill them or let them go? Those were the choices. Would either of them be any use to him? The man possibly, depending on his skills. The woman? As a breeder perhaps. She was very fit, so perhaps she could work in security or construction. He’d have to see. She’d need to lose the anger if she was to be any use at all.