Condemn (BUNKER 12 Book 2)

by Tanpepper, Saul

  "You heard what Jennifer said. That's how they get the things they need to do their experiments."

  Bix sighed. "You and me, bro? We've been living under a rock for the past three years. Literally. Maybe we just have to see things the way they do." He shifted, shaking the entire bed.

  "It just seems unnecessarily cruel for people who claim to be merciful."

  "So, we're sympathizing with Wraiths now?"

  "Those things used to be people, Bix."

  "But they aren't anymore. They don't deserve mercy. They certainly don't show it to us. All they know is spreading the Flense. That, and killing in the bloodiest way possible."

  "I guess you really don't believe they can be rehabilitated."

  "Hell no. People, maybe. But not them."

  "Well, it's a moot point anyway," Finn said, sitting up and placing his bare feet onto the floor.

  He remembered crashing fully dressed, complete with shoes on, but he must have gotten hot in the middle of the night and taken them and his socks off. The wooden floor was cold to the touch, even though the air in the room was warm from the sunlight coming in through the window.

  "It's not our fight. I say we tell them we'll be on our way to find Harper. Horses or no horses, it's time for us to leave."

  "After breakfast."

  "It's noon, so, technically, I think you have to call it lunch. But, fine."

  "And one more poop on a real flushing toilet with real toilet paper."

  "Fine. If you must."

  Bix let a loud one rip under the covers. "Oh, I really must."

  "Tomorrow," Adrian told them. He glanced up at the gathering clouds. "Smells like rain. It'll be better if y'all wait till tomorrow."

  Finn glanced over at Bix. He was frankly surprised at how easy it had been to convince them to allow them to leave. Although, now that they'd gotten the couple's blessing, he was disappointed that their departure would be delayed by another day.

  They had found cold scrambled eggs, ham, and coffee in the kitchen with a note instructing them to meet up at the new church. The two ate in a tense silence, feeling strange at how normal it all seemed, yet on edge, as if they expected the crowd from last night to burst in on them at any moment to drag them away in chains.

  By the time they arrived at the new building — not without a considerable amount of dread — they found the four hard at work. The roof was nearly completed, and Adrian was working on the inside, finishing the cage and installing permanent wiring for all of the electrical equipment.

  "Ah, good. I trust y'all had a good rest after yer busy night," Adrian said. "Yer just in time for the detail work."

  Finn helped install a circuit breaker and they grounded all the wiring in case of a lightning strike. "Don't want it all to go up in flames next time we have a thunderstorm." Once more he checked the sky. "Looks like we're just in time, too."

  "A little rain's not going to bother us," Finn said, pressing the issue of their departure. "We'll have to deal with it eventually."

  Adrian shut the cover on the breaker box and turned to address the boys. "Today's more'n half gone already. By the time y'all get outfitted proper-like and we've saddled up the horses and mapped out yer route, it'll be evenin. Trust me, y'all don't wanna be travelin at night."

  So they worked for the balance of the afternoon without bringing it up again. Bix helped Luke build a sliding door, which took all four of them to install onto the rolling track. Afterward, Billy and Adrian returned to reinforcing the cage. Finn buried the underground cables with fresh dirt and smoothed it out. They brought in fresh hay and spread it around.

  Jennifer came and went, sometimes bringing them drinks and snacks, sometimes to critique their work, and once to rebandage a cut on Billy's leg that he'd received several days before. "Dang thing's takin its own damn time to heal," she remarked, and squeezed out a ribbon of antibiotic ointment from a tube that had expired the year before. While she was at it, she rechecked the wound on Adrian's forehead and dabbed the medicine on the multitude of scrapes Finn and Bix had sustained during their labors.

  "Don't know what it is about them boys," she said. "They're always getting nasty scrapes that take forever to heal."

  No one spoke directly of the night before, although Finn wondered aloud where the people they'd seen had come from.

  "They's other houses scattered elsewhere along the shore," Adrian told them. "Huntin and fishin lodges. Most of them properties is walled in like ours. Makes fer a safe little community. Some others live elsewhere. They's a large group some couple-three hundred miles south of here. We trade with them sometimes. Other folks's roamers, livin off the land with no real social structure."

  "And you pay them to bring you Wraiths?" Bix asked.

  "Ayup. Them and other things, such as food, supplies."

  They finished up with the day's work and headed back to the house, discussing what exactly they would need to depart the next morning.

  "I'd come with y'all if I could," Adrian told them. "But I'm expectin some new ferals in, so I cain't afford to leave here."

  Finn glanced at Bix. Tomorrow couldn't arrive soon enough for him.

  They returned the horses to the barn, fed and watered them and the other animals, then made their way to the house. Despite their discomfort, the boys looked forward to their last real meal for a while. They'd been assured that Jennifer was preparing a surprise meal to celebrate, and indeed, the most delicious aromas hit their noses even before they walked in the front door.

  "Sure you don't want to stay just one extra day?" Bix teased Finn.

  "Don't tempt me."

  "You boys wash up before you come inside," Jennifer called from the kitchen.

  "We're already in!" Adrian yelled back. He grinned at Bix and winked.

  Jennifer came out, wiping her hands on her apron, and ushered them away. "Shoo! Use the outside spigot. I got laundry hangin in the washroom."

  "Delicates," Billy said, and made girlie sounds.

  "You boys, show them the way. Adrian, when you're done out there, I need help with the roast."

  "Hot damn!" Bix exclaimed. "Did you hear that? She made a roast."

  "Come on," Billy said, pushing them toward the back door.

  "Keep your pants on, bro," said Bix. "We're all hungry."

  The outside spigot was a manual pump situated next to a small wooden structure the size of an outhouse. They'd been told it was the woodshed. Bix reached for the pump handle, but Luke grabbed his arm and twisted it away.

  "Dude, you'll get a turn!"

  He tried to free himself, but Luke refused to let go. Instead, he slammed Bix into the side of the shed and wrenched his other hand behind him as well.

  "Hey!" Finn cried. "What are you—"

  But Billy jumped on him, wrestling him to the ground. Finn gasped, unable to catch his breath. Billy dropped a bony knee into his back and leaned his weight onto it. His breath was a hot stink on the side of Finn's face when he spoke. "Did you really think you could break the rules?"

  "What rules?"

  But Billy didn't answer.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Finn saw Adrian unlock the shed door and swing it open and enter. Luke wrestled Bix in after him, and Adrian shut the door behind them. There was a click, like a latch had been secured inside.

  "Hey! What are they doing to Bix?"

  The knee in his back pressed down, driving the air from his lungs. "Shut yer trap!" Billy said.

  The others were gone only a few seconds when a bloodcurdling scream came through the wooden walls. It cut off abruptly.

  A moment later, the latch released and Adrian and Luke reappeared.

  "What'd you do to Bix?" Finn cried. He struggled against Billy, but without any leverage he found it impossible to move. "What'd you do with him? Where is he?"

  Adrian kneeled down beside him and shook his head. "The good Lord may forgive, but I am only a man and cannot so easily." He looked genuinely remorseful, and in that moment, what Finn h
ad suspected deep down became indisputably clear.

  "Should have trusted my instincts about you from the beginning," he muttered.

  "Pardon me?"

  "You're a psychopath!"

  "And the devil is whisperin in yer ear."

  "You're crazy!"

  Adrian tilted his head toward the shack, and before Finn could react, he was lifted bodily up into the air. With a yelp of pain, he landed hard on his foot, twisting his ankle. Then he was half-dragged, half-carried toward the door.

  "Stop!" he screamed. He tried to twist around and saw Jennifer standing on the porch watching them. "Liar!" he screamed at her. "Murderers!" Her face was white, but otherwise showed no emotion.

  Billy shoved him through the door into the shed, then pressed him hard into a wall. Finn tried to see, but he couldn't turn his head. Behind them, the door shut and the lock caught.

  "Where's Bix?"

  A single naked light bulb swung from a thin wire attached to the ceiling, causing the shadows to sway. The room was empty.

  "What have you done with Bix?"

  Luke stepped past them to the back wall. He jangled the keys in his hand, found one, and inserted it into a hole. The wall, flat and gray, swung inward, revealing nothing but darkness.

  "We worked for you," Finn grunted. "We helped you!"

  "Y'all betrayed our trust."

  Finn twisted, wrenching his shoulder against Billy's grip. He brought his foot up and kicked at Billy's leg, aiming for the place he'd seen Jennifer bandaging. Billy let out a scream and let go. But Luke grabbed him and shoved him into the opening. "Get in there!"

  Finn tried to catch himself, but there was no floor. He flailed as he fell, and barely had time to brace himself before he landed in the darkness below.

  With a loud bang, the door slammed shut behind him. With it went the last of their light. They'd been locked inside some kind of underground room. And by the sounds coming to his ears over the rasp of his and Bix's breathing, he knew they weren't alone.

  Flood lamps illuminated every inch of the base perimeter, but many of the lights along the inner streets and several of those mounted on various buildings deeper inside the camp had either blown out or been shut off to conserve what little remained of the depot's precious diesel. Colonel Wainwright clearly did not expect an attack to come from within.

  He had been the depot's executive officer prior to the outbreak, and so he'd inherited its command by virtue of being the most senior officer to survive the Flense. But he was poorly prepared and had squandered fuel during the first two years, as he'd always expected relief to come sooner rather than later.

  Then, as local supplies ran thin, he had to send his patrols out further afield, increasing the risk to life and limb. Too many casualties forced him to reduce the base's power consumption, which included banning all nonessential electrical items, such as video games. He also placed curfews on lighting.

  Now, after more than a year of those restrictions, diesel supplies were nearly gone. The base's residents lived in constant fear that the generators would soon go silent, that the perimeter lights would fade to black, and the fence be left without its high-voltage protection.

  Of course, Eddie didn't know about any of this, nor would he have cared if he had. All he knew was that the extra darkness between buildings made it easier for him to slip from one shadow to the next without being seen by the ever-present foot patrols.

  Getting past the desk sergeant for the infirmary and evading the on-duty staff was another story, however. Fortunately, there were very few patients inside, and the medicos were mostly gathered in the lounge playing cards to while away the hours.

  He checked every bed, and what he found — and didn't find — deeply worried him.

  Earlier that evening, he had asked Colonel Wainwright if he could visit his people being treated there, and he'd been told in no uncertain terms that it wouldn't be possible. The infirmary was strictly off limits to non-medical personnel, always had been, always would be. "I can assure you, however, that they are doing fine," the colonel said.

  He received several updates each day from Captain Cheever, who had told him that both Jonathan and the baby seemed to be improving, that Nami's dislocations were healing, and that all four, including Jorge and his mother, were responding well to intravenous fluid replacement. They would be ready for discharge in a few more days.

  Eddie couldn't tell if the man was speaking the truth or not. Either way, it felt like he was stalling for time, perhaps hoping to wear them down. The man had repeatedly asked him and the other Bunker Eight survivors where they'd come from and where they were planning on going.

  They'd all steadfastly refused to divulge any information. As far as Eddie knew, the man hadn't yet pressed them very hard, but he knew that Wainwright's — and Cheever's — patience had limits. He feared what methods they might resort to once it ran out.

  His mind took him to some very unsavory places as he scaled the wall outside the female barracks where the single women in his group were still being housed, and climbed in through an open second-story window. Both of the beds in the room he entered were occupied, but neither woman knew he was there, even though one of them had not yet fallen fully asleep.

  Stepping silently into the hallway, he raised his face, sniffed the air, then turned left.

  "Hannah," he whispered, gently jostling the girl in the top bunk. The room was nearly pitch black, but he didn't need much light to see by. He knew his daughter by her scent.

  It broke his heart to detect the smell of her tears mingling with it, tears for Jonah. Cheever had finally broken the news to them all, and Hannah had taken it especially hard.

  "Hannah, honey, it's me."

  "Daddy? What are you doing in here? Is something wrong?"

  "Shh. Listen, we need to talk."

  "Now?" She sat up, shaking the bunk.

  Bren stirred in the bed below. "Hannah!" she cried in alarm. "Who's there?"

  Eddie ducked quickly down, shushing her as best he could. "It's me, Bren, Hannah's dad. Please, be quiet."

  The barracks were arranged so that each bay contained several alcoves, each with a pair of beds, and a central latrine and showers. The cinderblock barriers between them helped keep some of the noise from traveling, but not all.

  Kari and Susan were in the adjacent alcove, but strangers occupied others in the same bay, women he didn't know and therefore couldn't trust.

  "Eddie?" Bren asked, and the litany of questions started anew: "How did you get in here? What's wrong? Why are you here? What time is it?"

  He answered the last one to cut her off. "Listen to me, you two. We need to talk."

  "Why now?"

  "Just come with me."

  Hand in hand, the three slipped out into the bay, where light from one of the distant flood lamps spilled in from a single window at the opposite end of the building. They entered Kari and Susan's room, where the girls gently roused them.

  "Eddie's here," they whispered.

  "We're in danger," he told them. "They're lying to us, Cheever and Wainwright and the others. Something bad is happening, and unless we leave soon, we may not be able to go at all."

  "Lying about what?" Kari asked.

  "How Jonah died, for one thing. About Danny's disappearance for another."

  "Danny left on his own," Bren said. "He told me he wished he'd never left the bunker. He wanted to go back."

  Eddie turned to her in the darkness. He saw her face clearly enough, though he knew none of the others could. To them, they were all little more than vague shapes. "Do you really believe he'd leave, Bren? In the middle of the night?"

  She didn't answer.

  Eddie knew that she had grown terribly depressed and was questioning her own decision to leave the bunker. Hannah had told him as much. He worried that Bren's resolve was starting to crumble, and that it'd soon affect them all if they didn't manage her expectations.

  Now he wondered if Bren had already spoken to
anyone outside of their group about her concerns. He had noticed a couple people, especially Private Ramsay and Sergeant Bolton, starting to take an inordinate amount of interest in the girls, going out of their way to endear themselves, almost flirting. He'd given Hannah a knife to carry underneath her shirt and told her to be wary of men and their intentions. But he didn't feel right giving Bren the same precautions. The tiniest thing might send her over the edge.

  But he couldn't afford to be so cautious anymore.

  "Danny may have told you he wanted to go back," he whispered, "but he wouldn't have left in the middle of the night, on foot, and without letting one of us know he was going first. Besides, he knows how dangerous it is out there. He knows it would have been suicide."

  The others were silent. "So, what do you think happened?" Susan asked.

  "I don't know. I just know the story they gave us is a lie."

  "And Jonah?" asked Hannah, hopefully. "Do you think he was attacked by Wraiths?"

  "Something about that story doesn't jive, either, honey. But I don't think Jonah is alive. I'm sorry."

  Kari shook her head. "You snuck in here in the middle of the night and woke us up because of a suspicion?"

  "I asked Colonel Wainwright today if I could visit our people in the infirmary. He told me no."

  "Medical personnel only," Susan said. "I know. I asked, too. I feel bad for Jasmina and the baby all alone in there."

  "She's fine. So's the baby. I saw them myself."

  "How?"

  "I snuck in," Eddie said. "She's there, and Jorge is getting better, but I couldn't find Jonathan or Nami. They're gone."

  "Maybe they moved them. Or they got better and are in permanent housing."

  "I don't think so. I overheard the medic talking about the cemetery, and when I looked, I found several fresh graves there."

  Susan sucked in a sharp breath. "You think they're dead?"

  Anguished sounds came from both girls' throats.

  "Jonathan was very sick," Kari acknowledged. "You remember how bad it was at the height of the flu epidemic. Millions died. And from what Nami told us, Jonathan was never immunized against it. Even Cheever was afraid he might have it. And he still refused to take anything for the fever."