by Nelson, Kip
While he worked, Mack noticed Steve was guarding the armory, which was not far away from the horses' paddock. He often made contact with the boy, greeting him with a smile and a wave. Steve looked uneasy, but always returned the gesture. On this occasion, Mack wandered over to speak to him, much to the consternation of Chris. Most of the vicious guards were occupied elsewhere, so there wasn't anyone to object to Mack's movements. Since Mack had made no moves to disrupt the way of life at the camp, attention around him was starting to be relaxed.
“Hey Steve, how's it going?” Mack asked.
“It's okay,” the boy mumbled, looking around worriedly.
“Don't worry, I'm not going to get you in trouble, I just wanted to have a chat. It turns out Luis is working with your brother, Danny. Small world, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“So what's your story? How did you and yours come to be here?” Steve shrugged.
“We were just walking along and we came across a wagon filled with food. Danny wanted to take some but Mom said we shouldn't because even though the world has ended we're still humans. Then a man said, 'You should listen to your mom, boys.' and he was holding a gun. Mom apologized, so he said it was okay and he offered us some food. Then we got to talking and he told us how he was part of a settlement that was looking for more good people. It was just the three of us. Dad worked on an oil rig and he was out there when all this happened. I guess he's dead now...but Mom took care of us. When we heard about this place it seemed too good to be true, and it had been so long since we had seen other people. So, we came here with them and then it turned out to be this and, well, we couldn't leave again,” Steve said.
Mack felt sorry for the boy. It was a story similar to what he was hearing all over the place. People had been promised a friendly community filled with good people, and all they got was a base where a bully could use them to make him feel like a benevolent dictator.
“What are you doing here? Get back over with the horses!” the man with no name said, standing in between Mack and Steve.
“You go for a little stroll and people start thinking they can take liberties,” the man said, shaking his head.
Mack looked at Steve, then at the man, and realized it was better for him to walk away. However, as he did so he heard the man with no name scold Steve, and Mack stopped. He shook his head, knowing he should keep moving and keep his head down, but he could not. The man with no name was talking loudly, making an example and an exhibit of Steve and the abuse of this young man was something Mack could not condone. So he turned slowly.
“I don't think you want to be doing that,” Mack said with a resolved sigh.
“Excuse me?” the man with no name said, turning his attention from Steve. The young man was quaking in his boots and he looked at Mack, shaking his head, but Mack already had gone too far to back down now.
“He's just a kid. You don't need to treat him like that, and I'm not the kind of man that will stand by while you do.”
“Is that so? Well, while you're here you're the kind of man who will shovel horseshit. So I don't particularly care what you think of my behavior. I don't need your approval.”
“No, but you do need a doctor.”
The man with no name creased his brow as Mack drew back his fist and thumped him on the side of his face, making the man's mouth fill with blood. He crumpled to the ground and spat out a mixture of blood and enamel as he yelled with fury at Mack, pushing himself back up to his feet. He swung at Mack, who easily dodged his blows and countered with a few jabs to the mid-section, and then clubbed his two fists together, bringing them down on the back of the man with no name.
Everyone watched with a mixture of awe and fear as they had not seen acts like this end well for the aggressor. Indeed, before the man could return to his feet, Mack was strong-armed by two burly guards who looked at Steve with disappointment. They thought he should have done something to break up the fight. Mack was hauled off to solitary, which took the form of an uncomfortable box on the east side of the camp where the sun beat down on it, and where everyone could be reminded of his crime.
For Mack, it wasn't the first time he had been subjected to such torture techniques, but those had been at the hands of militant groups. This was a supposedly enlightened community and it only made him more convinced he had to do something about Mr. Smith quickly before the man caused any more harm. There had been far too much suffering at his hands in the world already. Mack would have to work quickly if he was to stem the flow of evil. He hoped his act of standing up to the man with no name would galvanize some of those who had lost hope, and much would depend on how he acted when he emerged from the box.
The box was thick and heavy, and he could hear muffled noises from outside, but nothing clear. At one point, he thought he heard Grace protesting but he wasn't sure if it was actually her, or just his imagination. He was in there for hours, and not once did anyone come to give him water or food. As such, his throat soon was dry, and it was made all the worse by his sweat dripping down the angles of his face and slipping in between his lips. The box was small, meaning he had to cram his body in awkwardly, and there was no easy way for him to adjust his position.
The holes that allowed air to move through also meant the sun streamed in, and on this particularly hot day he could feel the heat rising, as though he was caught in an oven. He felt fortunate he had training to help him endure his time in the box. Other people would not have been so fortunate, and he hated the idea of them being punished in this manner. For all of Mr. Smith's boasts about how he wanted to showcase the best of humanity, he was doing his best to illustrate the worst, most barbaric parts of himself.
When Mack finally emerged from the box, his friends were there to support him, but he waved them away. In the background, he heard Mr. Smith giving a speech, but he was too exhausted to care. However, he stood up straight and staggered back to his tent, hoping to show the people they did not have to bend their wills to survive.
Since they had been at the camp for a while now and, aside from that incident with Mack, had not caused any trouble, they were allowed to eat dinner outside their tent. This involved everyone sitting around the huge bonfire and tearing at the slabs of meat they were given. For the work they were putting in, the meal did not seem a fair compensation, especially when they had witnessed how well Mr. Smith was eating, but it did not surprise them. It was also a good opportunity to meet new people and spread the word.
Mack's actions had caught many people's attention, and the way they had been speaking with people meant he was growing famous. On this evening, they were sitting close to a group of people who were fairly similar to themselves. Once they got to talking they exchanged the usual questions of how they got there, and Mack told them they were on their way to the city. At hearing this, the group whispered among themselves. They soon revealed they actually had traveled in the opposite direction, away from the city. Mack's group looked at them with eager curiosity and bombarded them with questions.
“I'll be happy to tell you all I know,” said the leader, an older black woman with thick gray hair, “but I'm not sure you're going to like it. Everyone went crazy. Police were on the streets, calling for calm, but nobody was listening. People were stealing things from shops at first, but they soon realized it was useless.”
The group's faces fell. “Didn't anyone try working together?” Mack asked, crestfallen.
“Some did, but the bad people got their hands on the guns. The police were overwhelmed. I don't know what happened to the people in charge. They were nowhere to be seen. I remember the hospital was still busy. People still were going there and, thank God for the doctors, they stuck to their jobs, trying to help people. But it was, it was dark. I was standing in my apartment looking out on the world burning, and I couldn't quite believe it. It was so surreal, like something out of a movie.
“I knew I had to get out of there. So I called on some people from my apartment block and we all just d
ecided to get out of town. There was gunfire in the distance, explosions...I felt bad for the people who were trying to do some good, but everyone seemed to see it as a free-for-all. I don't know what happened after that. Maybe everything calmed down, but I tell you, even though this place isn't exactly heaven, at least nobody is trying to blow up things every couple of minutes.”
Mack thanked her for giving him information about the city, and as he turned back to his own group he spared a thought for his wife. He hoped she had managed to make it through the riots, as there were surely some in her city as well. It was difficult to maintain hope in such a bleak world, and he could see the despair written on the faces of the others. He knew the longer they stayed here the harder it would be to keep them motivated.
“Maybe it's best we didn't make it to the city,” Luis said.
“Whatever happened in the city is probably over by now,” Mack said in a firm tone.
“It's not ideal, but I'm not giving up hope on humanity yet. If we're going to find anything to help us then it's going to be there. But right now, we need to focus on getting out of here. You've all done well at keeping your heads down, and I don't know if you've noticed, but they're letting us have more and more freedom around here. I think we can get a few more people to join us. Once we have enough we can start fighting back, and we can get on the road again.”
“Should we even try?” Luis said, much to Mack’s dismay.
“I mean, I don't want to sound defeatist or anything, but there are a lot of people who are content to leave things as they are. There's food here, shelter, and they only treat you badly if you resist them. Maybe it's just easier to go along with it, at least for the time being.”
“Easier, yes, but usually it turns out that the right thing to do isn't easy. Don't forget who these people are and what they've done. They've killed. They’ve forced people to help them after making false promises. They’ve threatened those who have resources they need. Think about Margaret and her family. Would they want you to make the easy choice, or would they want you to try helping them so they actually can work for themselves, and not for Mr. Smith and his followers? I'm not letting him get away with this,” Mack said, and Luis looked suitably chastised.
Later in the evening, a guard came up to the group and ordered Mack to go with him, as Mr. Smith had something to say. Mack wasn't looking forward to seeing the man again, but he thought it at least gave him an opportunity to use the techniques he had put into practice so many times before. Mr. Smith was waiting for him outside his hut, looking out on the calm evening. The sound of the bonfire crackling was low, but still audible, as were the chatter of voices.
“It's good to see you again, Mack. It saddens me that we can't have more conversations like this.”
“Well, if you hadn't have stuck me in a box...”
“You know I had to make an example of you for what you did.”
“So you condone the abuse of a young man?”
Mr. Smith cocked an eyebrow. “My guards need to feel protected. After the incident, I had a word with him about his conduct and told him not to do it again. If you have any complaints you should make them orally, not with your fists. We are above such petty displays of violence.”
“Perhaps you should tell your men that when they're out in the field.”
“My men know exactly how to act and the extent to which they should use force to achieve their goals. But I didn't bring you here tonight to talk about that.”
“What did you bring me here for?”
Mr. Smith exhaled and folded his hands behind his back. “There are nights when I feel as though nobody in this camp understands what I'm trying to do here, and it pains me. You're a smart man, Mack. I know if you give it a chance we can be friends.”
“No, thanks,” Mack said bluntly.
“You have no idea how it pains me to here you say that.”
“So, you're pretty lonely?”
“Yes. It's not easy being the leader of a place like this. I have so many things to worry about, and as much as I appreciate the loyalty of my guards, I find they are not on the same wavelength as me. It takes a toll on the mind to have all these plans to myself.”
“Then maybe you should retire and let me run the place.”
Mr. Smith's thin lips curled into a smile. “I'm sure you would like that, but I don't believe you would implement my plans. I don't need someone to replace me, I need someone to stand beside me. Somebody I can trust. I thought my brother was going to be that person but I should have known better.”
“The two of you are quite different.”
“We always have been. Sometimes I think people were born into the wrong family, which is why I have to make a new one myself.”
“So you're trying to make an improvement on your old life?”
“Isn't that all any of us can do, Mack? We have to keep moving forward, no matter the cost.”
Mack and Mr. Smith spoke for a while longer, but Mr. Smith was canny and proved evasive when Mack tried finding out more information about him. In the end, Mack was escorted back to the others without having accomplished a great deal.
Chapter Fourteen
The group had been captured for almost three weeks, and in that time, they had seen the true face of the camp. Depressed people went about their days and were sustained on small morsels of food, while Mr. Smith's trusted allies enjoyed a more varied diet. Mack watched with interest as scouting parties went out and returned with more food, and sometimes weapons, which swiftly were locked away in the armory.
There had been no new people brought into camp, but after one raid the man with no name had been carried back into camp, blood pouring out of his leg. Mack couldn't help but enjoy a wry smile, and he was glad somebody out there was fighting back. He only could hope they had managed to keep what was theirs and didn't feel the full wrath of Mr. Smith's guns. Seeing this inspired Mack, and he knew that he had to act sooner rather than later. Now that they had made some alliances within the camp he could begin formulating a plan.
The key to success was the weaponry. Their own makeshift weapons had been confiscated, but even if they still had them they would have been no match for the guns Mr. Smith's army had. The armory was the most heavily guarded part of the camp. Getting in there would not be an easy task, and neither would swiftly distributing the guns. As Mack was outlining this to the others, Grace looked unsure.
“I get where you're going with this, but you have to remember these people aren't fighters, and you can't think of them as an army.”
“I know, but they're going to be fighting for their freedom, for their very survival, and that will give them the strength they need. We need to create a distraction away from the armory at a time when a scouting party is out on patrol. If we can get enough people into the weapons and hand them out, we should be able to take over the camp with minimal casualties, but we're going to need everyone working together. I doubt we're going to get another chance at this.”
“Minimal casualties? I don't like the sound of that?” Luis said.
“In any war you have to accept that there are going to be losses. Mr. Smith and his people aren't going to give up without a fight, but neither are we,” Mack said.
Saul snorted.
“Care to say something?” Grace said, not even trying to hide the annoyance from creeping into her voice.
Ever since they had been brought back into camp Saul barely had said two words to them, even though they had shared the tent. He had eaten with them, slept with them, awoken with them, but during the day he had been doing his solitary tasks, and in conversations he had not joined in.
“This plan is doomed to fail. You don't think others have tried it? These people don't have any backbone. All you're going to do is get a lot of them killed, and probably yourself, too.”
“Shut up, Saul,” Luis said, much to the surprise of everyone in the tent.
“We wouldn't even be in this mess if it wasn't for you. You should ha
ve told us he was your brother from the onset, and you never should have gone after those bikes. And, all you've done since we've been here is sulk. If you don't want to help us, that's fine, but I, for one, don't want to keep living like this. Judging from the people I've spoken to, they don't want to either. So, either be a part of this or leave us be,” he snapped, and the heat started to fade from his eyes.
Mack let Luis' words settle in. Ever since Luis had been at the camp Mack had noticed him changing. His body was filling out with muscle as he had been chopping wood every day, and his attitude was changing. The fear that had been a part of him slowly was being eroded. When they first had met Saul, Luis never would have told him to shut up like that.
“We need to be patient. This isn't going to be easy and there is a big risk that any one of us may not make it out alive. However, I, for one, am willing to take this chance because this cannot be allowed to continue. There's a whole world out there and I want to see what's happened to it. I'm tired of staying in this damn forest!” Grace and Luis nodded while Saul returned to sulking in the corner.
After his little speech, they started settling down for the night, but Grace sought out Luis. “That was brave of you to talk to Saul like that,” she said.
“I just got tired of his act. There's too much negativity around here, and I can't deal with it anymore,” he replied.
“You've changed,” she said, almost noticing it for the first time.
“I guess chopping wood every day will do that to a man,” he joked.
“No, I'm serious. I can see it in your eyes. You're more confident, more assertive.”
“And maybe a little meaner, too. I'm not sure it's a change for the better. I feel like I lost something along the way. I think this camp is going to change us all.”
