The Collection

by Shannon Stoker

  “Temporary quarters,” Zack said.

  He opened the door. It was cool inside. There was a small machine whining in the corner. One larger bed was on the floor, while one of the walls had three beds built into it. The opposite wall had one set of drawers, a desk, and two more bunks built on top of that.

  “Big enough for six people?” Mia asked. “Are all the cabins the same?”

  “No,” Zack said. “This is the visitors’ one. Some have families, others are groups of friends living together. Not a lot of privacy, but we make do.”

  “Doesn’t seem like enough room to house two hundred fifty people,” Carter said.

  “There’s another grouping on the other side of the field,” Zack said. “At full capacity we could have five hundred people living on the premises.”

  Mia stopped at the desk. There was the plastic bag she had been carrying, and the queen. She wrapped her hands around the piece.

  “We have to keep your gun for now,” Zack said.

  She opened the bag. All the documents were still there, including her letter from Riley. The phone was still in the bottom. Mia thought about calling her.

  “There’s a scrambler in the area,” Zack said. “If you make a call they can’t trace it.”

  “Aren’t you scared we’re going to tell people where we are?” Carter asked.

  “No,” Zack said. “You’re not prisoners here. You can leave anytime. Plus we have two of your friends with our doctors. It’s unlikely you’re here to betray us.”

  “Thank you,” Mia said.

  “I’ll let you two relax,” Zack said. “Dinner is in a few hours.”

  Mia felt her stomach gurgle. She hadn’t eaten all day. The door closed and she was left alone with Carter. He sat down on the lowest bunk and hung his head in his hands.

  “What do you think, princess?” Carter asked.

  Princess. That was Carter’s nickname for her, one she hadn’t heard in some time. She was grateful for whatever was making him comfortable enough to use the term.

  “I don’t think we can make any decisions until Andrew’s with us,” Mia said.

  Carter didn’t respond. Mia heard him let out a loud sigh.

  “How are you doing?” Mia asked.

  “I’ve had my brain messed with, I’m who knows where, and my dad is dead,” Carter said. “I’ve been better.”

  Mia sat next to him and gave him a hug. She didn’t know what to say.

  “We have to look toward the future,” Mia said. “Holding on to the past isn’t going to help us. We still have each other.”

  “Do we?” Carter asked.

  Mia wasn’t sure what Carter was getting at. There were too many events happening for her to focus on the affection she’d once shared with Carter, or Andrew’s reaction to it.

  “I don’t have any closure,” Carter said. “Nothing. Whenever I try to picture the helicopter it hurts. I can’t see anything, just a blank image, and that noise comes in.”

  Carter winced and his eyes shut in pain.

  “Stop,” Mia said. “There’s a doctor here; maybe she can help you remember.”

  “Do I want to remember, though?” Carter asked. “My last memory is the truck flying off the road. Even that is hazy.”

  Carter leaned back onto the bed and turned to his side. Not able to offer any additional comfort, Mia leaned back against the bed, ready to listen if Carter wanted to talk.

  Chapter 46

  America is the only country in the world where all citizens have the right to arm themselves.

  —American Gazette

  Andrew’s eyes blinked open from his dreamless sleep. He was lying in a bed. His intuition told him he was back in the militia headquarters and his body was filled with fury. He sat up and swung his legs to the side. He went to stand up and was met with a pull. He looked back; his wrist was handcuffed to the bed. He pulled harder, but the bed frame didn’t budge. It was then he noticed it was made of wood, not metal like the militia’s beds.

  He took in his surroundings. This room was warm, a painting of a flower on the wall. There was a large window; he couldn’t get close to it but it looked out over a jungle, not the desert scene from Mexico. The last thing he remembered was the men jumping out of the bush with guns. Was that a hallucination? Andrew started thrashing, trying hard to pull his wrist free or slide it out of the cuff. The door to his room opened.

  “I see you’re up,” a woman said. “Here, let me get that for you.”

  She pulled out a key and went to Andrew’s wrist. He pulled away.

  “Well, if you want to stay chained to the bed you can,” she said.

  “What did you do to me? Where are my friends?” he yelled.

  “They’re eating dinner,” she said. “I saved your life.”

  He heard the cuffs unlatch and grabbed his wrist away from her. There was a red mark going the whole way around it now, and it throbbed a little.

  “We had to get stitches in your head,” she said. “You’re quite the fighter so we had to restrain you.”

  Andrew lifted his hand to his head and felt the stitches.

  “Let me out of here,” he said.

  “You’re not an inmate,” she said. “But you were dehydrated and losing blood. I don’t think you’re all the way out of the woods yet.”

  Andrew stood up. The adrenaline was fading away and the wooziness was setting in. He leaned back against the bed again. He thought about Mia’s last comments.

  “Is this the American sanctuary?” Andrew asked.

  “I suppose that’s one thing to call it,” she said. “I’m Dr. Drum.”

  A female doctor. Andrew looked her up and down. She wasn’t dressed like a doctor. She was about ten to fifteen years older than him, with dark brown curly hair and a warm smile.

  “Do you think you can keep food down?” she asked. “I’ll bring you something.”

  “What happened to me?” he asked.

  “I’m going to ask you something personal,” she said. “Are you an addict?”

  Addict? As in drugs? Andrew shook his head.

  “I did a blood test on you,” she said. “Not a full panel, but what I’m capable of looking at in my current facility. You’ve been dosed with several types of drugs.”

  During his time in the militia Andrew only remembered being given something to help him relax, to help with his recovery from his fever.

  “I was sick,” Andrew said. “They did give me some medicine.”

  “I wouldn’t call it medicine . . .”

  Andrew lifted his chin. He wasn’t about to show weakness or let the doctor know how scared he was. Over his lifetime he’d met several people who were users. However good their drugs made them feel, Andrew didn’t think it was worth the ailments they caused.

  “There are four different detectable drugs in your system,” Dr. Drum said. “I’m willing to bet if I took you to a hospital I’d find more.”

  “What are they?” Andrew asked.

  “Methamphetamines, zomiotics—”

  “In English,” Andrew said. He turned his head toward the doctor slowly. He locked eyes with her and felt his gaze grow hard. It would be difficult for him to hide his rage soon.

  “The side effects are memory loss, lowered inhibitions, heightened senses; some cause drowsiness, but one causes increased adrenaline,” she said. “It looks like you were taking a variety.”

  “Do any of them make me more compliant?” Andrew asked, knowing the answer.

  The doctor nodded.

  “The mix of the drugs also made you less susceptible to pain,” she said. “Your blood was having difficulty clotting too. You likely would have passed out, not woken up, and bled to death.”

  “I need to see my friends,” Andrew said.

  “Rex is nearby. He’ll be fine. He was very lucky; the bullet only grazed him. It was a tender spot though. He needed some stitches and can’t lift anything for a few weeks.”

  Rex must have been the big
man’s name. He was another threat to worry about.

  “Where is he?” Andrew asked. Now that Andrew was thinking clearly it wasn’t so funny that Mia had shot a man. They’d have been safer if he was left for dead.

  “In the room next door,” she said. “He’s staying the night here too. For observation.”

  At least he had that. Rex could get nowhere near Mia.

  “I don’t think you should have any visitors yet.”

  “Take me to them,” Andrew said.

  “I can bring him in here,” she said.

  “Not him,” Andrew said. “Mia and Carter.”

  He stood up again and walked a few steps before his legs gave out and he was on the ground. The doctor grabbed ahold of his arms to help steady him and guided him back to bed. She pulled out a penlight and examined his eyes.

  “You pulled out your IV,” she said.

  Andrew looked down at his arms; there was a needle sticking out at the bend in one of his elbows. The needles. Images of a doctor stabbing him in the arm, the music, the bright lights—it came flooding back and Andrew sat up. He thought he might be screaming but couldn’t hear his own voice.

  Dr. Drum reached over him and reconnected a tube. He felt the cold liquid enter his bloodstream. He didn’t like this and went to pull it out again. She put her hand on top of his arm. Everything vanished and the world was still again.

  “Someone did this to you?”

  “Not someone,” Andrew said. “Something.”

  “Tell me,” she said.

  “I don’t trust you,” Andrew said.

  “Why not?” she asked.

  “Because you haven’t given me a reason to.”

  “I took care of your injuries,” she said. “And I took off your handcuff.”

  “You’re the one who put it on,” Andrew said.

  He thought about how grateful he felt when the militia turned off the noise, not caring that they were the ones who turned it on. The brief thought was enough to make Andrew pull his head down to his knees and close his eyes in pain.

  “Are you all right?” she asked. She bent down in front of him and tried to look at his face. “Where are you hurting?”

  “My head,” he said.

  She ran out of the room. Mia. Andrew pictured Mia’s face, back on her father’s farm before all this started. The day he ran into her and his whole life changed. The noise faded away to a gentle hum and Andrew sat up again. Dr. Drum came rushing back into the room with some pills and water. Andrew ignored the medicine but grabbed the bottle and drank it down.

  “What happened?” she asked. “Maybe your injuries are worse. We have to get you to a hospital if you have brain trauma.”

  “No,” Andrew said. “It’s not that.”

  “Well, what is it?”

  “I’m fine now,” Andrew said.

  “You’re my patient,” she said. “We’re going into town.”

  “No,” Andrew said. He didn’t want to head farther away from Mia or Carter.

  “Unless you can give me a reason not to I’m taking you. Even if it means getting the guards in here and sedating you,” she said.

  “It’s not the cut,” Andrew said. “It’s inside. It’s something else.”

  “How do you know?”

  “It was happening before the car accident,” Andrew said. “There are guards here? I thought I was free to go.”

  “They’re for my protection from you,” she said. “Your friends filled us in on your journey, but you’re still a stranger.”

  “Why would I hurt you?” Andrew asked.

  He thought about all the people he had hurt over his life. He looked at this woman and realized she was right to fear him. His face went hard.

  “Tell me about the mental pain,” she said. “Maybe I can help you.”

  “No,” Andrew said.

  While the memory of the militia filling him with drugs and keeping him locked away in a room was painful, it was new. Andrew’s memory was returning. He was pleased about that.

  “Do you want food?”

  Andrew couldn’t stand being coddled this way. Having someone take care of him was unnerving. He wanted to get back with Mia.

  “When can I pull this needle out?” Andrew asked.

  “It’s just fluids,” she said. “I’m not sure how long you were on those drugs for; some might carry withdrawal symptoms. We’ll know for sure by the morning.”

  “Withdrawal?” Andrew asked.

  She let out a long breath.

  “Anything addictive is painful to give up,” she said. “Even if you didn’t choose your addiction.”

  Andrew pressed his lips together. He wasn’t an addict.

  “Vomiting,” she said. “Intense pain, fever, and a wide variety of other not-so-pleasant side effects.”

  “Carter,” Andrew said. “They did this to him too.”

  “I already sent my technician to get blood samples from your friends,” she said. “If he went through the same regimen as you, that’s a good sign. He’s showing no harsh side effects.”

  “They worked on him for three days, me for over two weeks,” Andrew said.

  The pain flashed in his mind again. He winced and closed his eyes. It passed and he blinked feverishly. Another new memory. Andrew was never sick; he was tortured.

  “What are you feeling?”

  He shook his head.

  “I’m a doctor,” she said. “I want to help, and I can.”

  “It’s nothing,” Andrew said.

  “Well if they were only drugging you for two weeks, that’s good,” she said. “The shorter the addiction, the shorter the withdrawal period.”

  “The memories I lost, will they come back? All of them?”

  “Not on their own,” she said.

  She was lying; he already remembered two new things. She saw his jaw clench and continued.

  “Some may,” she said. “When someone has been through a trauma, talking about it helps.”

  Andrew looked away. He was exhausted, and whatever adrenaline he had built up was working its way out of his system.

  “Get some sleep,” she said. “You may be in for a rough night.”

  “Mia—”

  “Is safe,” the doctor interrupted. “You can see her in the morning.”

  Andrew didn’t have the strength to argue. Dr. Drum started walking toward the door and he lay back down in the bed. He couldn’t believe anything was going to happen to him tonight. His body wasn’t capable of anything but sleep.

  Chapter 47

  If a foreign national wishes to join Affinity they must participate in a thorough background check to ensure they’re committed to the cause.

  —Internal memorandum from Affinity

  The dining room was filled with people. Everyone was chatting among themselves, but as soon as Zack walked Mia and Carter in, the sounds vanished. Everyone watched as Zack led them over to the end of a long table. Mia and Carter took seats across from him. Soon the interest faded and the noise of the conversations continued.

  “Sorry about that,” Zack said. “I brought you in after the announcements were made and assumed you’d draw less attention, but I guess I was wrong.”

  Carter shrugged. Mia wanted him to perk up but didn’t know how to get through.

  “Is S here?” Mia asked.

  “She’s working,” Zack said. “It’s important, or else she would be. I think she’s going to stop by your cabin later tonight. She wants to meet you just as badly.”

  “But we’re going to see Andrew later tonight,” Mia said.

  “Yeah,” Zack said. “I’m sure you’ll find the time to fit in both visits.”

  A salad bowl was passed to Mia and she eagerly scooped the contents onto her plate. Next came some fish, and Mia took an equally large helping. She was hungry and took a big bite. It was fine, nothing special. She assumed it was hard to make enough to feed this many people, but knew she could do better than this. She spent the rest of the m
eal thinking about working in the kitchen. Mia had always loved to cook. Before, she had dreamed of making food for her husband and eventually daughters. Maybe in this place she could cook for all of the residents. Her eyes scanned the room. Preparing a meal for two hundred people would be a challenge, one Mia knew she would excel at.

  Zack escorted Mia and Carter out of the mess hall. Some people waved and giggled as they walked by. Nobody said anything though.

  “Are they not allowed to speak to us?” Mia asked.

  “You guys broke protocol when you strolled up on us,” Zack said. “Normally things are a bit more scheduled. We don’t want a formal introduction until you’re intact.”

  “Andrew,” Mia said.

  “And Rex,” Zack said.

  How could Mia forget the man she had shot? She cringed at his name, wishing she still didn’t know it.

  “He’s okay?” Carter asked.

  “He’ll make a quick recovery,” Zack said.

  “There’s something you should know,” Mia said.

  She felt a sharp pain in her leg. Someone had kicked her. She put her hand on her shin and Carter broke in.

  “We don’t know Rex all that well,” Carter said. “He’s another American who helped us and saved Andrew’s life. He’s a virtual stranger, but I think he’s a good person.”

  “Well, everyone is a stranger when you first meet them. Talk to whomever you want and go wherever you want. Some people will get together in the field over the next hour and socialize. I’ll be there,” Zack said.

  “When can we see Andrew?” Mia asked.

  “In the morning,” Zack said.

  “No,” Mia said. “You promised we could see him tonight.”

  “He’s sleeping,” Zack said. “The doc says if he gets enough rest she’ll release him tomorrow.”

  “You’re lying,” Mia said. “You’re doing something to him.”

  “Stop,” Zack said. “You’ll give yourself another panic attack. Keep breathing. We want to help him, and you too. It’s one more night.”

  Mia tried to keep her breathing regular. She looked at Carter, who didn’t seem concerned. Maybe she was overreacting. Andrew had been in bad shape earlier. These people hadn’t done anything to earn her distrust—yet.

  “First thing tomorrow,” Mia said. “I get to see him.”