Still Surviving (Book 5): Dark Secrets:

by Craven III, Boyd

  “Great,” I murmured, rubbing my butt, “What did I step on?”

  It had moved from under my foot like an ice-cube on a hot griddle. I looked around slowly and saw a flat black object in the corner by the door. I reached forward and picked it up, smiling as I recognized what it was. I clicked the release button, and four inches of stiletto stood at attention. Whether it was called a switch-blade or a gravity knife, I didn’t know. All I knew was I had something. I could try unlocking my door by sliding the blade in. I was guessing I could actually make that work since these were regular doors, but if this place was crawling with Keggers, I wouldn’t get far. Probably dead, that was as far as I’d get.

  I decided to wait and see what happened next, try to listen in and go from there. The things I didn’t know at this point could choke a cow.

  I paced the small room, hating the way my shoes squeaked. I wanted to listen in, but inaction was driving me crazy.

  “How you doing in there, dead man?” a familiar voice called softly from the other side of the door.

  “Who’s that?” I asked, not quite picking out the face to go with the voice.

  “The one who is going to haul you out of here and have you watch your Grandmother’s execution in three days.”

  “What?” I shouted.

  “Where’s the stores of chemical weapons?” The voice asked back, stern, loud, but not matching mine in volume.

  “I haven’t made any yet,” I replied, trying to get myself under control.

  “We’ll see about that. You have one hope of saving your Grandmother, Wes. Tell us where your stores of them are, and how to get past any other booby traps you may have set.”

  “I don’t have anything mixed up,” I told him truthfully. “What I used here was a mixture of Ammonia and Chlorine bleach. It makes Chlorine gas and an acid.”

  “See, we figured that part out as much, but this wasn’t no simple chlorine gas. It was only those on the upper floors who lived. Everyone down on this level…? Well, except for me.”

  “Who are you?” I asked, feeling like the slowest turtle in the world mentally.

  “Henry.” He chuckled.

  “I told you, now let my grandma go,” I snarled.

  “Maybe I believe you, maybe I don’t. I’ll see you in the morning, chump.”

  I heard the footsteps moving away from the locked door this time. I hadn’t heard him approach. My mother was here as well. Emily was here. Mary was here. Or were they? The pictures we’d gotten at my grandparents’ house appeared to be in a suburban setting with the motorhomes in the background. That was the compound the State Police and Linda’s group had tried to hit where they’d been were ambushed. There was no way anybody was getting an RV back here. None.

  16

  At some point I fell asleep sitting on the floor listening, but not before I’d secreted the knife away. I’d stored it in my right boot under my jeans. I wouldn’t be able to get to it in a hurry, but I’d been disarmed and searched when I’d first been brought in here. Any bulges other than my belt would probably be noticed.

  BANG! BANG! BANG!

  I startled and scurried away from the door as it was thrown open violently. It hit my ankle, the one I’d sprained not too long ago, and I pulled it in close to my body as two men rushed inside. One of them scooped me under the arms and threw me back into the wall over my cot, hard. My breath left me in a whoosh before I could scream. As I was bouncing forward, a gloved fist caught me in the nose, flattening it.

  Tears and blood started flowing as I put my hands over my head to protect me as the blows started raining down. I tried to roll out of the way while the first man kept swinging. He hit me on the side of the head, the back of the head, the shoulder and my arms and hands. The first one busted my nose, but the others were merely painful, not really doing any major damage. I managed to protect the spot on my skull where I’d taken the rifle butt, but at the expense of my fingers feeling smashed. The man only stopped swinging when he ran out of steam. Blood, snot and tears streamed down the front of my face and all over my shirt.

  “Get back,” the second man said. I looked at him through eyes that were still leaking from the force of the blow earlier. “Gotta get you cleaned up. It’s crazy you tried to run and hit the door face first, isn’t it?”

  The man who attacked me backed up and the second man stepped in front, hauling me up, leading me by my elbow. He held a Glock in one hand, close to his body and out of my reach.

  “Where am I going?” I asked, sputtering.

  “First to get you cleaned up, then we’re going to have us a nice sit down with the bosses and start your trial,” he said softly.

  Henry had been messing with me about my grandma? I doubted it. This was the kangaroo court Duke had told me about. If this was my time to go… I mean, I always in my head knew that the bad guys always losing and the good guys always coming out on top was a TV trope. Real life was a lot uglier, and now I was feeling it.

  “I won’t fight,” I said as I was directed out of the doorway, into the lit hallway.

  “Good,” the second man said, holstering his pistol before sucker punching me in the gut so hard I felt it in my spine.

  I dropped to the floor, throwing up immediately. My entire body contracted as I puked again and again. I was gasping for breath around the retching and my broken nose, which only made me cough harder. The coughing made me throw up again, worsening the situation. I heard the first guard laughing at my predicament, but I was helpless to retaliate to that.

  “Who’s gonna clean this mess up?” a deep voice said. “Not me. Roll him over on his side so he don’t die choking on his own puke.”

  “Duke, you ain’t supposed to be here,” the first man who’d worked me over said in a calm voice.

  “Thought this guy might run into a door. Bastard’s known for being clumsy,” he punctuated things by kicking me in the backside.

  My ass went numb, but I rolled on my side, dry heaving, my body breaking out into a sweat despite the chill air.

  “I thought you kind of liked this kid?” The second man’s voice said from behind me.

  I’d rolled onto my own vomit and blood pool from my nose. I didn’t care, I was almost swamped with pain, very little conscious thought running through my head.

  “Get your ass up,” Duke said, kicking me softer this time.

  “Can’t… breathe…” I gasped, not quite lying.

  Strong hands grabbed me from behind after a moment and then started dragging me towards the mail room.

  “We can get this Duke,” one of the men called from behind me.

  I was pretty much blinded by the sudden light of the hallway, the broken nose and the swelling that was already coming on, so I hoped we were headed to the bathroom. I had another urgent matter to take care of, especially since my guts had been compressed.

  “You can come watch if you want. Gonna clean him up some, let him do the 3 S’s and put a cleaner shirt on before we take him up a floor to hang him.”

  “Heh, sounds like you got some marching orders then?” the first guard asked.

  “You gotta remember, I was in here too,” Duke said as their voices faded.

  I heard them snickering about me hitting the wall. Duke opened a door on my right, then shoved me through before closing it behind him. I used both hands to brace either side of the sink while I fought down the urge to puke, dry heaving anyway.

  “This gonna hurt,” Duke said from behind me.

  “The hanging?”

  He grabbed my nose and pulled. I screamed, almost blacking out from the pain, but suddenly I could breathe better. I was bleeding like a stuck pig, but despite the pain, I knew what he’d just done. He’d set my nose. How did this guy know so much if he wasn’t a doctor? I never was clear on that. He’d done surgery on Jess, and Mary and I assumed it was him and Carter who’d patched me up. With Carter dead… Then I got it, why they probably kept him alive. He was the closest thing to an experienced trauma su
rgeon around, if they didn’t already have one, which I doubted.

  “Pack it,” he said, putting a wad of toilet paper on the sink next to me.

  I didn’t argue. It hurt too much. I held some over my nose, pinching a bit to see if I could slow the bleeding. Duke made an impatient noise from behind me, so I started tearing smaller squares off, rolling it, then packing my nose. I turned the water of the sink on, watching as the blood turned into pink swirls as it was slowly rinsed away. Then I looked up. From the nose down to my chest, I looked like a zombie from The Walking Dead, gore covered. My eyes were already swelling with what would become a fantastic set of shiners. My nose looked like hamburger and there was a sharp ridge just under the skin, though the skin hadn’t broke open from the outside.

  “You breathe better before packing it?” Duke asked.

  “Yeah, think you got it straight. Could have warned me,” I snarked.

  “Wash your face, do your business, then we’re going up to learn your fate,” he said softly.

  “I thought you were working the inside to help those on the outside?” I asked him.

  “I don’t know why the time frame was sped up. There seem to be a lot of folks here that are sore at you for what you did though,” Duke said simply.

  He looked at the sink as I did my business, giving me a little bit of privacy. His face was pinched. I could almost see the stress eating away at him.

  “All set,” I told him, flushing, then walked to the sink, washing my hands again after he stepped to the side giving me room.

  “Take that shirt off.”

  I did, much of the front of it was sticky with my congealing blood. My chest was streaked red as well. Duke sighed, then grabbed a double handful of paper towels out of the dispenser and handed them to me. I ran them under the water quickly, then scrubbed the worst of the mess off my chest. I figured out why a second later. From a pouch on his side, he pulled out a black shirt. I groaned.

  “I don’t want to wear a KGR shirt man,” I hissed softly, my words sounding funny with my nose being plugged.

  “Don’t got a choice. Whatever happens man, I’m sorry.”

  I turned to him as I pulled the shirt on slowly, trying to avoid all the sore spots on my head, nose and face.

  “You tried,” I said simply.

  “Hopefully whatever happens is better than getting stomped to death. I’m having second thoughts on whether or not saving you was a mercy.”

  I shuddered at that. I couldn’t help it.

  Duke had zip tied my hands in front of me and walked behind me. He’d drawn a pistol which he held close to his body, his left hand on my shoulder. I wouldn’t have run, there was no way to do it anyway. The old communications bunker was absolutely filled with men and ladies wearing the familiar KGR emblems, with a few wearing just vests over their camouflage. There weren’t many of Henry’s original crew left, unless they had given up normal dress to look like a mall ninja like the rest of the Keggers. They lined the walls downstairs and the stairwell going up. I wasn’t surprised when they closed ranks behind me and followed me up to a near packed upstairs. I couldn’t hear anything over the general buzz and angry shouts.

  I was expecting them to start spitting at me, or throwing things in my direction, when the crowd quieted as I was pushed into the front of the crowded room. A small circle opened up, and I was ushered in. Two tables had been set side by side with a longer table sitting behind that. I was pushed into a seat on the left hand table. There were two blue metal folding chairs like you’d rent from a VFW hall for wedding receptions. I sat down at one and realized what this reminded me of.

  “Good luck,” Duke said, then faded back into the throng of folks who looked like they wanted to rip me apart.

  “Thanks,” I said as I looked around some more.

  Henry was seated at the table across from me, and a tall slender man sat down on the right side, next to a shorter man who remained seated. Both wore the colors of the KGR but were without arms or body armor. Henry, on the other hand, was decked out in full mall ninja gear. It looked like he had two pistols, one strapped to each leg, with a familiar M4 on the table in front of him, the suppressor on.

  “Let’s get this started,” Henry said loudly, though his voice was off.

  Damage to the lungs and vocal cords from the gas?

  “What are we doing here, having a kangaroo court?” I called back loudly.

  “Prosecution, are you prepared to make your case?” Henry asked the men to my right, without acknowledging me.

  “Sir, we’re ready,” the short man said, then sat down.

  There was a dull roar as what had to have been over a hundred people murmured softly, their whispers nonstop.

  “Westley Flagg, you’re here to answer the charges of theft, murder, mass murder, and seditious acts against the lawful militia of the free state of Arkansas. How do you plead?”

  “What did I steal?” I asked him, looking around the room.

  “Resources you never repaid to the community that took you in, healed your injuries. Arms you stole when you attacked and killed my men when breaking out. You took my favorite gun.”

  “You mean the one I took off the guy who cracked my skull, that you confiscated when you brought me here to be your indentured servant?” I asked back defiantly.

  “Should we tack another murder charge onto your butcher’s bill? As I recall, there’s a lot of folks here who lost friends and family at the Crater of Diamonds, though I wasn’t in charge of the group back then.” There were louder murmurs at that, it seemed that not everybody was kosher with him thinking he ran it all from the momentary fragments I heard.

  “You might as well,” I quipped. “I have a feeling this isn’t going to be a democratic process anyway. Looks like the panel of judges and the prosecution all wear the same colors. Aren’t I even afforded a defense attorney?” I asked.

  There were snickers around the room at that question, especially coming from the table to my right.

  “Then there’s the mass murder you’re charged of. We have witnesses here who said they’ve heard it from your own mouth, me included, that you gassed and then shot our militia brothers and sisters as they fled.”

  “Not guilty,” I told him smiling large, “by reason of insanity. That’s how I’m pleading.”

  The roll up doors were to my left, as well as the smaller metal entry door. It banged open so hard several people were knocked down. I couldn’t see who it was at first, but the look of alarm on Henry’s face made me smile. The men seated to my right side also flinched, but I didn’t think they had any better view than I did, so I kept scanning the room, watching the commotion moving my way. Finally, I saw what was causing it. Spider and Emily.

  “Not guilty by reason of insanity? That’s my excuse,” Emily said, shoving a much larger man out of her way and sitting down next to me.

  I slowly turned to look at her, suddenly shaking in rage. She was still painfully thin, but she’d spent some time getting cleaned up, her hair combed out, and she had a hint of makeup on. She was dressed in black cargo pants and a black KGR t shirt just like I wore. Over her back was the lever carbine and strapped to her right hip was the massive BFR, her pistol that shot rifle rounds.

  “Pardon me for the interruption,” Spider said, “but what the exact fuck do you think you’re doing, you sniveling piece of donkey shit?” He walked into the empty center of the small court room area.

  “I told you, he would be forced to pay for his crimes. You can’t come in here and—”

  “Objection,” Emily said, standing up so fast that her chair went shooting backwards into the crowd.

  With both of their backs to me, I pulled the stiletto out and palmed the closed blade, tucking it sideways into my stomach at the belt line. I didn’t need it yet, but I’d seen that look on Emily’s face before. I was thankful I didn’t see Mary, Grandma, Les or anybody else, because if close to one hundred armed people started firing, there’d be nobody spared.
I honestly thought for half a second I should stab the traitorous bitch in the back while I had a chance, but that meant certain death, right then, right there. I wanted to live, even if a few moments longer.

  “Um… What’s your objection?” Henry asked, slapping the table for emphasis, then looking over at Spider.

  “You were specifically told that he was to be held until our return. Under no circumstances were you to start or engage your cute little kangaroo court. You will not be the one to put the noose to Wes’ neck,” Spider said, his voice sharper than I’d remembered over our radio exchanges.

  “This is my facility, this is my area of operations,” Henry said, his roughened voice rising in volume.

  “Look around you, you rat dicked, pus nutted, waste of flesh,” Spider said with a hint of amusement. “You’re surrounded by my men.”

  Henry looked from side to side, and I could see it when the light bulb went off in his head. He’d been trying to play power games ever since the lights went out, but his group had mostly been killed off, half of them on his own orders. Now I only saw a few here and there in the crowd, but they were grossly outnumbered by men who wore the black uniforms of the KGR. All eyes turned on Henry, who suddenly started looking at the floor as a bead of sweat rolled down into his eye. He wiped at it, and that was when Emily moved. She drew the big revolver and made a tossing motion so she was holding the barrel. She swung the grip down, smashing it into the table next to Henry’s hand with enormous noise. I thought she might have cracked the table, but I realized she’d let out an inarticulate scream of frustration.

  “You were told. You were specifically told, this was not going to happen,” she screamed, holstering her revolver, getting everybody’s attention.

  “It’s going to happen, see, we’ve got you all in a stalemate. Duke!” Henry called.