by David Achord
“So, you’re saying you don’t trust them.”
“Nope,” I responded. Janet rolled her eyes. It was an irritating character trait and Julie had inherited it.
“They did absolutely nothing to make me believe they can’t be trusted,” she said. Everyone around the kitchen table was quiet. We were discussing yesterday’s visit by the Marines. Apparently, everyone was waiting for me to respond to Janet. When I didn’t, she spoke up again.
“Okay, tell us please, why does the all-knowing Zach Gunderson distrust those soldiers?” she asked with no small amount of sarcasm in her tone. I glanced at her and then at Terry.
“Terry, in the military, is it SOP for a full Colonel to go out on field missions to locate survivors and test them?”
“No it’s not,” Terry responded. “His rank indicates he’s in charge of the whole unit, which would roughly be the size of an entire brigade. You’re right, Zach. It’s kind of odd, but of course, there may not be very many of his soldiers left alive.”
“True, but there were so many things he did not tell us. Did y’all notice how they danced around certain questions?”
“Like what, Zach?” Terry asked. He had also provided security from atop the grocery store, so he could not hear most of the conversation.
“Like, where are the President and Vice President, and what has the government been doing for the past two years? What were they doing so far south of Maryland? How many survivors have they encountered?” I finished my plate and used a piece of bread to wipe the plate clean before swallowing the bread whole. I looked up to see everyone looking me. I guess I needed to work on my table manners. Julie handed me a napkin. I took the hint and wiped my mouth.
“The continuity of the government plan was very complex, yet he didn’t know, or refused to tell us about it.” I shook my head. “Too many unanswered questions. I find it suspicious and therefore I don’t trust them.”
“What does Fred think?” Janet asked.
“Fred and Zach think alike,” Julie said before I could respond, “as do I.” She looked at me and actually winked at me. It was almost like old times. She changed the subject.
“What plans do you have today, love?”
“I’m going to help Felix and his buddies get some firewood cut. They don’t have near enough to last them through the winter.”
“Will you be home for dinner?” she asked.
“Absolutely,” I answered with a smile.
“Good, now go change the babies before you leave.” My smile turned into a frown.
I rode with Felix and Michael in the big dually, while Kelvin and Sue followed in their SUV. I had hooked up a trailer and hoped we could get several ricks of wood hauled back to their place, which was the Allen’s old home. Michael pointed out a church with several acres. “There are trees everywhere out here,” he commented. I nodded in silence as I surveyed the area. There were five or six trees lying on the ground, but I think they intended on cutting down live trees.
I wanted to tell them the time to cut down live trees was at the beginning of the summer, allowing the wood to dry out and season so it’d burn better, but I kept my counsel. They’d learn the hard way.
“I figure Sue and Kelvin can keep watch while the three of us work the chainsaws,” he added.
“Yeah, that sounds good,” I said and pointed. “We have to be careful though, so we don’t have any accidents.” They looked at me questioningly. “Think of it this way, if all three of us are cutting trees down at the same time, the risk factor goes up. The last thing we need is one of those things dropping on one of us.” They agreed in understanding, as I put some in some earplugs.
It was about an hour into our venture and I was working on a large oak that appeared to have been struck by lightning. I backed up to watch it fall and make sure my friends were out of the way. They were standing over by the truck, watching. When the tree fell, I motioned for them to come over and help cut it up. They didn’t move. I turned the chainsaw off and removed my earplugs.
“What are y’all waiting on?” I asked.
“Well, Gunderson, I believe they’re waiting on us.” I turned to see Colonel Coltrane, along with a dozen soldiers, standing behind me. They were armed with assault rifles and had them pointed at me. I had an uneasy feeling as I set the chainsaw down and let my hand linger beside my holster.
“Good morning, Colonel,” I said warily, “are you here to help cut wood?”
He chuckled and shook his head. “Gunderson, I don’t want my men to shoot you, so you just stand right there, don’t make any sudden moves, and let my marines disarm you.”
I looked at my friends. Felix wouldn’t make eye contact. The other three stared at me unemotionally. One of the soldiers walked over to me and took my handgun, which was Rick’s Kimber. The Colonel saw me staring at my friends.
“Oh, they aren’t going to help you, Gunderson. In fact, they sold you out.”
When I realized he was telling the truth, I stared at them balefully. Felix continued staring at the ground. It’d been a long time since I’d felt this level of betrayal.
The soldier who disarmed me chuckled. “With friends like those, who needs enemies, am I right, asshole?”
“What’s this all about?” I asked.
“You’re going to be coming with us,” the Colonel replied. The marine who disarmed me stuck his face close to mine.
“That’s right, asshole. You’re coming with us.” He attempted to grab me by my neck, but I knocked his hand away.
“You fucking punk,” he growled and attempted to butt stroke me with his rifle. I sidestepped it and landed a solid right cross to his face. He dropped his rifle and fell to the ground. It felt satisfying, for about two seconds. That’s about how long it took for one of the other marines to blindside me with a butt stroke to the back of the head.
Chapter 50 – Incarceration
When I came to, I was a little bit disoriented and I had a whopper of a headache. I knew I was restrained and blindfolded. The restraints around my wrists felt like zip ties, so I assumed there was another one wrapped around my ankles. I was sitting in a moving vehicle. Did I say sitting? It was more like I was lying on a hard metal surface and being roughly bounced around every time the vehicle hit a bump. I had to be in the back of a truck. I could hear and smell the loud acrid exhaust of a large diesel engine. I tried to sit up, but I was quickly pushed back down by someone’s boot and a disembodied man’s voice spoke up.
“The Colonel gave us strict orders not to let you get hurt,” a disembodied man’s voice said. His tone was casual but authoritative. “So, I’d rather you didn’t get up and try something stupid.” There were a couple of guffaws in the background.
“Why’s that, soldier?” I asked. I think I heard him chortle, but the truck exhaust drowned it out.
“My rank don’t allow me to ask questions from a Colonel, so be a smart guy and don’t try anything.”
“Aw, let him try, Sergeant. He’s got some payback coming to him,” another voice said.
“That would be Private Solonowski,” the first man’s voice informed me, “he used to be a Gunnery Sergeant, but he got busted for being too much of a hothead and smarting off to officers. He’s also the one who recently lost his two front teeth, thanks to you.”
“Ah yes,” I replied, “the ugly one.” I was rewarded with a hard kick in the ass. There were a couple of chuckles, followed by the sergeant’s gruff rebuke.
“At ease, Sol. If you want to go another round with him, I’m sure the Colonel will allow it once we get back.”
That was the end of the conversation with me. For the rest of the ride, the soldiers only spoke to each other, but I listened attentively. By the different voices, I believed there were four of them, but I thought I also heard another vehicle or two following behind. They talked about nothing of consequence. Mostly, it was bitching and complaining about guard duty, janitorial assignments, and the lack of women. Apparently, there was one female Marine, a cor
poral who I gathered was pretty ugly, and I gathered the soldiers regularly took turns with her. As they talked about her, I felt a nudge from a boot.
“She’s going to be practically drooling when she sees the fresh meat,” the sergeant said. “You be careful, Gunderson, not only does she look like a rabid bulldog, she fucks like one too.” Everyone laughed.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Now, now, no questions, Gunderson. If we answer any of your questions, we’ll catch hell.”
“You’re not even going to tell me why y’all kidnapped me?”
“I’m sure the Colonel will debrief you when he feels it necessary.”
By my estimation, it was a full two hours, maybe even three, before the truck came to a stop and was turned off.
One of the soldiers sighed loudly and muttered. “Home again, home again, jiggity-jig.”
The tailgate’s hinges squeaked noisily as it was unceremoniously dropped and then I was roughly hauled to my feet.
“Alright, Sol, help me lower him down. If you drop him, you’ll be pulling guard duty and cleaning latrines for the rest of the week.”
I heard Solonowski grunt in reply as the two men grabbed me under the shoulders. I prepared myself to be dropped, but they didn’t do it. I was slowly lowered until I felt my feet touch the ground. It was then I realized I was barefoot. I suppose it was a deterrent to keep me from running. I felt someone’s presence very close to me, and then the hood was yanked off my head. It took a moment for my eyes to focus.
The Colonel was standing a couple of feet away, staring at me unemotionally as I quickly looked around. It looked like a military base. There were several nondescript buildings, both brick and prefab metal, maybe twenty or thirty. The outer perimeter was surrounded by a defensive barrier made up of anything and everything; sandbags, burned out vehicles, concrete barricades, you name it. Concertina wire was strung all along it and every fifty feet there was a wooden guard tower about twenty feet tall. There were a total of eight soldiers, along with Colonel Coltrane. They all stared at me impassively, as if abducting a person was no big deal.
“What the hell is going on, Colonel?” I demanded.
“Well, Gunderson, I knew you would not come along willingly, so we had to resort to a more aggressive approach.”
I stared at him balefully. “Kidnapping an American citizen, doesn’t that go against your ethics and regulations?” I asked.
“The world has changed, Mister Gunderson, the world has changed,” he replied matter-of-factly. I heard other vehicles driving up. The Colonel looked at them approaching and I thought I saw a hint of concern in his expression. He motioned to Sergeant Smithson. “Get him in one of the quarantine cells A-S-A-P.”
The sergeant took a pair of wire cutters, snipped the zip tie around my ankles, and Solonowski grabbed me by the arms and led me across the parking lot to one of the unmarked brick buildings. We went through a double-metal security door, which I noted was unlocked. I didn’t know how just yet, but I was determined to escape from this place. So, every little detail I observed I committed to memory. If they knew how good my memory was, they would have kept me blindfolded, or else they were confident I was helpless to do anything.
We continued down a long, dimly lit hallway that was separated a few times by those thick strips of plastic you see in a cold storage warehouse. I was soon led to another set of metal doors. These were locked. The sergeant gave a perfunctory knock and a moment later, I heard the lock being opened from the other side. A squat, unattractive looking woman opened the door. She had military fatigues on, but they did not camouflage her short, thick physique and wide hips. Her face, square and masculine, was bare of any kind of makeup, which I’m not sure would have helped.
“You must be the bulldog,” I commented. The sergeant chuckled as she glared at me. We walked past a room with windows. I could see a couple of desks and computers that were actually turned on. There was a door beside it. The bulldog used some keys to unlock it and opened the door.
“Here’s your new home, Gunderson,” the sergeant said as Solonowski shoved me in. The sergeant cut the zip tie around my wrists, but not before warning me not to try anything.
“I’ve got strict orders not to let you be killed, but it won’t stop me and Sol from putting a few more knots on your head if you act up.” Solonowski chuckled at the warning. I remained motionless and simply stared at the private as the sergeant worked the wire cutters.
Both men appeared to be in their early twenties. Solonowski was short and lean, maybe around 5’7” tall, with a ruddy complexion and bristly brown hair. His lips weren’t bleeding anymore, but they were both split open and he kept licking them. He would need some stitches. I smiled inwardly at the thought of being responsible for it.
When the sergeant had cut the zip tie, he walked around in front of me. I looked him over carefully. He was taller, almost my height. His light brown hair was cut in a fresh high and tight, and his facial features looked like they were chiseled out of marble. I bet he looked striking when he wore his dress blues, if they even wore them anymore. Because of the loose fitting camouflage uniforms, I couldn’t get an idea of either man’s physical shape, but Smithson had shoulders as broad as mine and they both struck me as being physically fit.
“Look at him giving us the stink-eye,” Solonowski said. The sergeant returned my stare with a wry grin.
“He’s giving us a good looking over because he wants to memorize our faces,” he replied. I glanced at his nametag; Smithson. So, Sergeant Smithson wasn’t a typical dumb jarhead. Solonowski chortled.
“He thinks he’s going to escape from here and hunt us down one day I’m betting,” Sergeant Smithson said. Solonowski chortled again malevolently.
“I’m looking forward to it.”
Sergeant Smithson looked at him with a wry grin. “I don’t think you want to go another round with him. Hell, he put it on you with just one punch.” Solonowski scowled and was about to retort, but Smithson held up a hand.
“Alright, Gunderson, for what it’s worth, I want you to know we’re merely following orders. You’re going to be spending some time here. I don’t know how long, so don’t bother asking. In the meantime,” he said with a sweeping gesture of his hand, “make yourself at home.”
The two marines exited the room and I heard the door being locked behind them. The door was solid metal with no doorknob. Instead, it had one of those large deadbolts used only for jail cells.
I looked around and inspected the small room. It was about six feet wide by eight feet long with a high ceiling holding a set of dusty fluorescent lights. One of the bulbs flickered continuously. The concrete blocks were painted several layers of a dull off-white color and the grooves between the blocks were gathering dust. Most of the space was taken up by a cot and one of those portable toilets you see in hospitals and convalescent homes. One wall had a four by six foot window of thick glass. I reached out and tapped on it. If I were to guess, I’d say it was bulletproof, which meant I wasn’t going to be able to break it. The bulldog was standing on the other side, watching me curiously. After a moment, she leaned toward a microphone.
“You need to strip and put on the surgical gown.” Her voice sounded metallic through the speaker mounted beside the window. The gown in question was lying on the cot. I picked it up and looked at it a moment before unceremoniously dropping it on the floor. Bulldog glared at me. I responded with a shrug and sat on the cot wondering what was going to happen next.
After about thirty minutes, Colonel Coltrane and Major Parsons walked in the office. The corporal quickly snapped to attention. I watched their lips move as they had a brief conversation. The colonel looked at me as the corporal spoke. He nodded and then dismissed her. After she left the room, he moved a chair in front of the microphone and sat down. He looked at me without emotion as he pushed the little black button on the side of the mike.
“The corporal said you’re being disobedient,” he said with
a wry smile. I watched him, but didn’t respond. Major Parsons was busily typing on one of the computers and barely looked up as the colonel spoke. After a minute of typing who knows what, he stared at the screen a moment before focusing on me.
“You can talk to me, Gunderson,” Coltrane said. “There is a microphone embedded in the speaker.”
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on, Colonel?” I asked icily. He stared at me a moment with a smirk before looking at Major Parsons and nodding. The major leaned toward the microphone.
“Apparently, Mister Gunderson, your blood has some rather special properties,” he looked at me thoughtfully before continuing. “I’ll keep it in simple layman’s terms. Your blood is different from anyone else, with the exception of one other person we’ve tested.” He leaned forward. “When we collect blood samples, we conduct several tests. That’s why I took seven vials from each of you. One of the tests we perform is that we actually introduce the Z-pathogen into a vial of blood. In every case save two, the pathogen quickly attacked the healthy blood cells and mutated them within a few hours. It didn’t happen in your case. Your white blood cells aggressively attacked the pathogen and successfully killed it. As you can imagine, this is a significant breakthrough,” he said proudly. I glared at both men.
“So, after making this discovery, instead of approaching me in a civilized manner, you decide to attack and abduct me.” Colonel Coltrane chuckled.
“You never would have come with us voluntarily, you know it and I know it.”
“Of course I wouldn’t have,” I retorted. “I have a life which doesn’t involve sitting in a little room.” He raised his hand, palm up, as if to say, see what I mean? I frowned and shook my head.
“It didn’t mean that I wouldn’t have cooperated, it could have been worked out in a different way that would have accommodated everyone.”
“I’m afraid we don’t have that luxury, young Mister Gunderson,” the colonel replied. “POTUS himself has issued the order.” I looked at him a moment to see if he was serious.
