“These are trying times and one can never be too careful.” The balding man replied. “Sadly, we know not if Auska was acting alone or not, so precautions had to be taken.”
Vincent rolled his eyes. “Just say it, we are suspects, too.”
Mr. Greenfield looked hard at him. “Everyone outside these doors is suspect at the moment.” He turned back to the doorway. “But yes, your relationship with the murderer does not help your cause, nor would you really expect it to. Now if you would, this way.”
Vincent and Kelli followed the portly man along the long, decorated hallway. The sight was truly breathtaking and a wonder. The dark red carpet took in the eyes right away. It was impossible to tell that twenty-plus years had passed into the apocalypse, for the carpet seemed as bright and lavish as if it had just been installed. Even the painted walls were bright and vivid, showing their age and wear not at all. A handful of paintings and artwork adorned the walls; they, too, were in near perfect condition, making the whole of the hallway look like they were entering a successful businessman’s office from the pre-apocalypse era.
“This room doesn’t look like the world outside has touched it for a moment.” Kelli gasped, running her finger along the framework of one of the paintings. She doubted they were expensive originals, but their beauty in a world so dark made that matter not at all.
“Why, thank you.” Mr. Greenfield replied, though he didn’t turn around to look at them; he appeared to have grown taller and his steps seemed prouder. “I do my best to keep the upper quarters and conference rooms clean and tidy. But please, I ask you not to touch anything! Oils and grime from the skin will slowly ruin them!”
“Must be a lot of work,” Vincent muttered back, pulling Kelli back to the center of the hall. The sudden thought of how these people lived over those down below was making him angrier than he had been when this had started.
“A clean and color-rich environment helps the mind work,” Mr. Greenfield replied, not noticing his tone, “and the clear, peaceful minds of our councilors are paramount to their success of keeping Sanctuary running smoothly and efficiently, wouldn’t you say?”
“Absolutely.” Kelli cut in, seeing Vincent’s mouth twist, about to reply something that likely wouldn’t have ended well for them. “We wouldn’t want them making mistakes with our safety.”
They turned a corner, and another set of double, polished oak doors with shiny brass fittings stood before them, ominous and proud. Another armed guard stood beside it. It was another of the First Division. Vincent knew the face and thought the name ‘Rogan’ sounded familiar, but he wasn’t confident enough to address the man with that.
“Right this way.” He opened the doors and ushered them in before quickly retreating and closing the doors behind him with a soft click.
Vincent and Kelli did their best to suppress a gasp at the room that would have been more fitting for a fancy cruise ship then the upper rooms of an old work yards apartment complex. The hallway had been impressive, but the room was awe-inspiring, almost melting the hard, bitter and violent decades lived outside these walls away.
“Ah, our guests have arrived. What is it we can do for you two?” Patricia Thornhill asked, barely taking the time to look up at them from a folder she was reading.
Vincent pulled his eyes away from the white window drapes; it was by far the whitest thing he had ever seen in his life. He cleared his throat. “We are here to discuss what happened with Auska.”
“Oh yes,” Bruce Harlow mumbled as he packed what appeared to be fresh tobacco into an elegant hornpipe, “a nasty bit of business, that was.” He lit the tobacco with a match. “A shame really. She could have had great potential, from what I was told by Captain Barry of the Eighth.”
“Yes, a sad day that was, indeed. So much tragedy to befall our beloved little settlement,” John Conwell surmised. “What is it you’d like to discuss about that day? I must inform you though, we have already closed the matter as far as any further investigating and such. It was an open and shut case with the witnesses and the evidence that was collected.”
Vincent could hardly believe how casually they were referring to that day as if it were no more than a bad storm that had passed over and not a life that had been taken. “You hanged Auska.”
“Yes, we most certainly did.” Mr. Harlow cut in. “That is the punishment for murderers within our walls, lest you forget. Might be we have another announcement of the laws and rules here for the people to be reminded just what awaits them if they go against them.”
“We are well aware of that, but is there not still supposed to be a trial period?” Kelli jumped in. “So that all the facts are gathered and presented before such a judgment is passed?”
“We had all the facts darling.” Ms. Thornhill countered with contempt in her tone. “She murdered them in cold blood and so she got what was coming to her. It was not a decision we wanted to make or that we made lightly, but it was the right one to make.”
“Surely you can’t believe that.” Vincent shot back, keeping his tone in check, but just barely. “In the few hours that it happened, there is no way the whole situation could have been uncovered.”
“Do you doubt the efficiency of the council?” Mr. Harlow cut in, his voice bordering irritation.
“No, of course not,” Vincent lied. “Just seems to me maybe not everything that could have been done was done.”
“Now look here,” Mr. Conwell said dangerously. “We decided to entertain your request for what we assumed was for the sake of closure to a terrible and regrettable tragedy. And only have done so because you two have, for a few years now, been extremely proficient in your duties, helping stretch our resources out longer, helping keep the bellies full of all that live here.” His eyes hardened. “But I will not tolerate our judgment being questioned by the likes of you.”
“You must accept our apologies,” Kelli stepped forward, knowing if she didn’t act now Vincent was likely to do or say something that they would both regret. “It has been a long and trying few days, surely you can understand.”
“Yes, well, I suppose we can understand that.” Patricia nodded in acceptance, as did the others, slowly if not begrudgingly.
“But you are right, we are here for closure. But to have closure we need to know what really happened, how and why.” Kelli hoped this line of reasoning would loosen tongues and give Vincent what he needed to move forward.
“What happened is your stepdaughter, or whatever she was to you, lost her damn mind!” Mr. Harlow grumbled, puffing vigorously on his pipe now, filling the room with a sweet, musky aroma.
“But why?” Vincent begged, putting his hands on the large table they were around. Ignoring their stares, he went on. “That’s doesn’t make sense. She was different, yes, but she wasn’t a killer! She didn’t like conformity, but she wouldn’t just kill someone without reason.”
“Well, from several eyewitness reports, and the four-innocent dead in her wake, I think it’s safe to say that she was.” Patricia Thornhill replied, matter of factly and without the slightest hint of remorse.
“Who?” Vincent asked far more forcefully than he should have.
“Excuse me!” Mr. Conwell barked back, standing up from his chair. “You forget yourself, Vincent, and are heading towards a very thin ledge that there will be no coming back from!”
Vincent knew he was pushing his luck, but he had to, he had to know. “Please, just tell me who the witnesses were. I can talk to them and maybe piece...”
“I’ve had about enough of this!” Harlow’s sharp tone left nothing to debate. “We have answered enough of your questions and wasted more than enough time with this dastardly matter. Auska was a traitor to our lives here and a murderer, and for that, she was hung by the neck until dead! She is dead and gone, and that is that!”
Vincent was about to snap back a retort, but Kelli was quick to silence him by squeezing his arm painfully. If he continued now, they would both be punished.
“Yes... of course, you are right.” Vincent gritted his teeth. It was over. They had achieved nothing, learned nothing; they had failed her once again. They turned to leave, shoulders slumped and eyes moist.
“But there is no reason to end this little meeting with a bad taste in anyone mouths.” Mr. Conwell called to them, leafing through a pile of papers until he found what he wanted. “Ah, here it is.” He stepped over and handed it to Vincent.
“What is this?” Vincent eyed the document and his eyes widened in surprise and wonder.
“I thought this might help ease the rift of this unfortunate conversation. The First Division intercepted a raider gang from the west. A small group was moving a rather large stockpile of goods to their settlement of Hollow Rock. Fortunate for us they were under-guarded and ill-prepared.”
“There’s... there’s months’ worth of food on this list!” he gasped.
Conwell smiled. “Yes, and I am sure with you two it can be made to last until spring. But to celebrate this good fortune and to help ease the pain of the tragedy of a few days ago, I want you to increase portion sizes on breakfast and dinners for the next two weeks and then alternate between them afterward for two weeks.” He sat back down and looked pleased with himself. “With the last of the crops harvested this week, we should have more than enough to sustain ourselves through the long, cold winter.”
“Plus, it’s always good to add a few pounds on before the cold winter months come,” Patricia added. “Helps keep you warm while you work.”
“The food will be delivered to the kitchen’s storage locker within the next day or so. I shall leave it to you to make proper use of it over the next month to help uplift the populace. With all that has happened, the people need something good right now and extra food always helps ease the troubled mind.” With a nod of his head, Conwell dismissed them, but before they reached the doors, he called back to them. “Vincent,” he waited until there was eye contact, “I consider this matter to be closed now and want no further interruptions regarding it. I hope you can appreciate the situation and understand that the sooner the people put it behind them the better… for everyone.”
“Understood.” Vincent could barely choke the word out as he left.
The next two days and nights blurred together. They made slow progress through the rough terrain most of the day; stopped in the evening, where they were chained to trees, fed, watered and watched until morning, only to do it all over again. The further they moved out of the mountains, the more depression and despair gripped all those who were prisoners.
Resting her head against the rough bark of the tree, Auska breathed in the fresh, cool night air. They had been lucky so far; the nights hadn’t gotten bitterly cold yet. Nights were still uncomfortable and spent shivering, but it wasn’t unbearable yet. The further south they moved, the longer winter’s bite would take to get them.
They were almost out of the forest now. Another day and they would hit more open space, rolling hills that had once been grassy and full of life, but now were barren rocky dust swells. The trucks would make faster time if they didn’t run out of fuel. She had overheard a few of the guards talking about how low they were and that the gas canisters were nearly empty. That would mean soon they would have to search for some.
She decided that would be her time to try and escape. Already her body was nearly back to normal; very little soreness remained from the beating she had received. She would be able to fight, to kill, if necessary; but most importantly, to run and fight another day.
One major problem remained and that was the chain around her neck. She needed to find something soon that would work for picking the lock or breaking it. She wasn’t the greatest at picking locks, though given enough time she could open most, but do so when the lock was dangling from her neck and she couldn’t see what she was doing? That was going to be tricky.
Laughing brought her attention to the firepit. Once again the skinny, spiked haired guard was using Archer’s skull as a prop in some derogatory display at his poor attempt at ventriloquism. Every night, he brought the skull out to get some cheap laughs from his comrades, and every night Auska killed him a hundred times in her mind; tonight, was no different as she pictured cutting his hands off and burning his eyes out with a hot poker.
“I’m going to kill you before this is over, you fucking worm,” Auska muttered.
“Well, that is quite the bold and dangerous statement for a slave to make towards one of her captors,” a deep voice said from behind her.
Auska spun around to see the leader of the slavers standing next to her tree, his arms folded over his broad chest and an all-knowing smirk on his thin lips. He was a powerfully built man; how had he moved so silently that she hadn’t been alerted?
“A slave in your mind, maybe, but a free and dangerous woman on this end.”
He flashed her a grin. “Dangerous I have seen and even felt a taste. But you must understand that chain around your neck makes the free part not so believable anymore, or ever again for that matter. You are nothing more than a dog now, at the end of a leash. Dogs that try to bite get punished until they learn, or until they need to be put down.”
She knew she should shut up, just bite her tongue, look away and shut the hell up; but she couldn’t. The way he was looking at her with his steel-grey eyes, the way he grinned, the arrogant manner he stood there so casually as if he hadn’t a care in the world, made her blood boil. “Guess we will just see how long this ‘leash’ remains there and how badly this ‘dog’ bites back.”
“Until morning for sure, but then you’ll be in a cage again and if you try anything, I will have you hobbled. But that’s all trivial,” he pointed to the small, wiry man still putting on a show to the others with the sun-bleached skull, “what do you have against Dirk? Besides him being an ugly son of a bitch. To my knowledge, he hasn’t even spoken to you, let alone give you any more reason to want him dead then all the rest have.”
“That’s my business and his problem.”
With startling speed, he grabbed the chain around the tree and pulled down hard, throwing Auska forward and to the ground before him. “Anything and everything that happens here is my fucking business.” He stomped his foot down on the chain forcing her to lay flat on the ground next to his boots like a worm. “The sooner you realize that, the better. Now answer my fucking question… please.”
Auska tried to control herself from struggling, it would achieve her nothing and only set her back in her plans. “I will tell you this, once and only once, after that what happens is forever on you.” She replied deathly calm. “Release me, let me walk away right now to disappear or before I draw my last breath in this life, I will make sure you die before me.”
Everett’s deep, booming laughter cut through the crisp evening air, drawing the attention from everyone within the camp. “You are something else, aren’t you?” He took his foot off the chain and stepped back, allowing her to pull herself up onto her knees. “So, if I let you go right now, you’d just leave all your friends behind, abandon them to their fate? Not a care in the world, not a shred of guilt?”
“I don’t have friends.”
“What a horrible way to live. We all need friends.”
“Friends are a weakness I have no time for.”
“Interesting philosophy…” he paused, “What is your name?”
“Auska,” she told him proudly, “and it will be your death.”
He started to walk away. “Well, Auska, I will find out what the deal with Dirk is, with or without your help. In the meantime, ‘dog’, sleep well.”
After he had gone and the others within the camp had settled their attention back to what they were doing before, she rubbed her neck. It stung painfully where
the chain had dug in.
Curling up by the tree, she pulled her knees up near her. The night was already chilled and growing uncomfortable; the longer she could hold off shivering the more energy she could conserve for escaping.
“You just can’t help yourself from making a scene, can you?” Jennifer said dispassionately with a sideways glance at her. It was the first thing she had said to her in nearly two days. Hopelessness had sunken its fangs into her and many of the others, and now they seemed to be little more than husks of their former selves. “Going to get yourself killed if you keep it up.”
“I’ll die with my chin in the air before I die cowering in fear,” she shot back.
“So, tell me, Auska, when you finally escape and leave us all behind, will you even feel bad?”
Before Auska could reply a commotion began in the camp again.
“We got fresh stock, boys!” one of the slavers called out as he and four others returned to camp; in tow was a younger man and woman, and an older woman well into her fifties. Their hands were bound tightly behind their backs as they were led staggering into the camp.
Everett walked over to the group and began inspecting the newcomers with great interest. His imposing frame making the three prisoners shrink back as he paced around them, eyeing them like you would cattle you were going to buy.
“We found them huddled up in a small cave about a mile and a half from here,” Brock told him. “Idiots had a fire going, could see it from a long way off. Not a weapon to be found, made it for easy pickings.”
“Good work my friend.” Everett clapped him on the back. “But we are overweight as-is. I fear to add three more bodies will slow us down more than we already are.”
Without a word Brock pulled his hunting knife out and ran it across the older woman’s throat, surprising everyone within eyesight. “How about just adding two more young able bodies?”
The woman’s eyes bulged as she tried to cry out, only to sputter and choke as blood filled her lungs. Her legs finally gave out and she crashed to her knees staring up at her killer with contempt. She tried to mumble something but all that came out was a sputtered groan before she crumbled to the ground.
What Remains (Book 2): What's Left Page 10
