by C A Gleason
The blond shook his weapon, as if that might be as intimidating as firing it. “I said drop it!”
“I heard you. But I’m not going to do that. I’m not a threat. Watch.” Jonah slowly swung the shotgun away from them and lowered it, pointing the barrel at the ground. “See?”
“Put it on the ground!”
Jonah felt his temper flare, and that got his blood up. It wasn’t that he couldn’t take being yelled at—he could—he just didn’t like being disrespected. Tone of voice was a language all veterans understood, especially one that was condescending. The blond had no idea who he was dealing with. Good thing for them they were all armed.
If the circumstances were different and there weren’t any weapons involved, Jonah would have loved to go toe to toe with the one doing the yelling. Unfortunately, altercations couldn’t always be controlled, and he didn’t feel like hurting anyone if he didn’t have to. Or getting knifed. Didn’t feel like dying, either, so, very reluctantly, he bent over, keeping his head up so as not to take his eyes off them, and placed the shotgun gently on the slushy ground.
“You go the same way as the shotgun, on the ground!”
“Fuck you,” Jonah said. “If you’re going to kill me, I’m going to be standing.”
The blond was shaky. “Any more weapons?”
“In the truck.”
“No more on you?”
“Just a machete.”
“Drop that too!”
This guy. Amateur. Jonah might have been able to hit him with the machete, accurately, from this distance. Maybe not. He was too pissed off. It would probably go over his head. Glancing around at the others, it looked as if they were ready to shoot him at any moment anyway. As if Jonah had done something wrong. Those he killed were almost definitely part of this lot, but they didn’t know what Jonah had done. He yanked his machete out of the sheath and let it fall tip down. It sank into the ground handle up. Ready to grab.
“Put your hands up!”
Jonah exhaled, rethinking that he wanted to kill this guy, and slowly raised his hands, just to the height of his stocking-capped head. “What’s this about?”
The blond turned his head but kept his eyes on Jonah and said, “Perry?”
The passenger door of the lead truck opened, and a boulder shaped like a man got out. The truck raised a few inches afterward. He was very muscular, obvious even from under a puffy yellow jacket, and he had a thick, black beard going gray that grew up his bulging cheekbones. He wore a brown stocking cap and slowly approached Jonah holding—but not aiming—what looked like a German revolver.
“You must be in charge?” Jonah said.
Perry didn’t say anything at first. He just stared down at Jonah as if he were carefully choosing his words. “What are you doing?”
“You’ll have to be more specific,” Jonah said, and lowered his hands.
Blond took a step forward, shaking his assault rifle. “Keep those hands up!”
Jonah kept his arms at his sides. “I’m not armed anymore, asshole.”
“Maybe more reason not to curse at my men,” Perry said.
“So you are in charge.”
“Of this bunch. For now. Right here. In this moment. What were you burning?”
Jonah stared right back at him, but he had to look up slightly because of Perry’s height. “Just keeping my hands warm. Cold out here, so I’ll be on my way,” he said, turning to leave.
“Like hell you will,” Perry said behind him in front of the group of armed men. “And I bet it was something you didn’t want us to find.”
Jonah spun. “Do I owe you money or something? We met before?” Before Perry could answer him, Jonah said, “I’m just minding my business. You should do the same.”
“Or what?” Blond said.
Perry twisted his head and cleared his throat, then turned back to Jonah. “Where are you coming from?”
“None of your business.”
Perry’s eyebrows raised. “Where?”
Jonah shook his head and shrugged.
“Not gonna say?”
Jonah grinned. “What would you do if you were me? I’m sure you can understand.”
“No, I’m not sure that I do.”
“Why would I tell armed men—?”
“No,” Perry said, cutting him off. “Why wouldn’t you tell armed men?”
The scruffiest of the bunch spoke up. “He has something to hide.”
“No shit,” Jonah said to him. “Just tell me what you want.”
Better to get to the root of what was going on than dance around it. Learning the truth was an eventuality anyway. No matter what. Jonah already had his suspicions. It would be easier on everyone not to waste time, especially his own. Either there was going to be a fight, or he was going to drive away.
“You alone?” Perry said.
The last man who had used those exact words to him was Henry, but Jonah could already tell that Perry and the men behind him were not the same caliber of character. They couldn’t be trusted. “You see anybody else?”
“No.”
Jonah waited a few seconds. “We done?”
“We’ve been looking for our people. They’re missing. For a few days now. You see anybody else besides us lately? In the last few days?”
Finally. Nice to know what this is all about. “Nope,” Jonah lied.
“You sure?”
Jonah only stared back at him.
Perry smirked. “You got balls considering all the guns on you. I don’t believe you, though. Nobody else but us and now you . . . I know you were involved.”
“Why ask me then?”
“To give you a chance.” The revolver stayed at Perry’s side, but he made a circular motion with his empty left hand, and the other men began to slowly approach Jonah, stopping just short of surrounding him. “Just tell me where you came from. Make this easy.”
Jonah didn’t have much room to back away. “Easy for who?”
“How big is your group? No way you survived this long by yourself.”
“Sorry. Just me.”
“My logic says otherwise. Even if that was true, which I know it ain’t, I know you got shit. Everybody does.”
“You’re looking at it. What’s on me and what’s in my truck.”
“Tell me more.”
Most people could be coerced or sidetracked with new information because they weren’t used to dealing with the lowest form of humanity as Jonah was. No sense in giving up anything at all now that their intention was clear and knowing what kind of people he was dealing with. They had done this before. But intentionally messing with corrupt individuals could allow Jonah to gain intel.
Perry’s eyebrows raised even higher. “Where?”
“Told you. The truck.”
“Not the truck. Where your main stash is.”
“Stash?”
“Stop messing around.”
“Your questions don’t make any sense.”
Perry’s big mouth opened in disbelief as if his words were blocked by something lodged in his throat. He almost turned around to get confirmation from his men that maybe Jonah was right, that what he was saying was confusing, when he realized he was being messed with. He smirked. “All right, all right.”
“You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Where? Do? You? Sleep?”
“A . . . bed.”
Perry’s eyes hardened. “And where is this bed located?”
Turning, Jonah pointed to Henry’s truck, and Perry huffed with impatience. Jonah was willing to keep this charade going as long as possible. If they’d intended to execute him, they would have done it already, and if they had tried to do that, he would have come up with another plan altogether. Mostly it was best to swim downstream no matter how dangerous the waters were until there was a place to grab on to some shore.
Jonah was going to mess with Perry and his men as much as possible until whatever happened next. He doubted Perry was the main person in charge back wh
ere they all came from. Subordinates were sent out for tasks like this one, and Jonah had already sized him up; big guys were rarely challenged for obvious reasons, so they often didn’t know how to react, and Jonah enjoyed using mental warfare on a bully.
“Tell us where you’re from,” Perry said. “Where you live. Give us what you got, and we’ll let you go.”
“Which is it? Tell you where I live or give you what I got?”
“It’s not a choice!”
“You made it sound like a choice.”
Blond said, “Can’t we just kill him?”
“Shut up!” Perry bellowed up at the sky but surely directed at the one who just spoke until he focused back on Jonah. “He’s right you know. We could just put a bullet in you. Probably be easier to be honest, but that’s a pain in my ass. You could be from anywhere in these hills, and we got hungry people. You’re only delaying the inevitable. There’s a lot of us.”
“How many is a lot?”
“Don’t tell him,” Blond said.
Perry grinned. “Enough to scour these hills and find your house . . .”
Jonah felt a fluttery panic in his stomach but hid it well. “Actually, it’s a resort. Two stories. Infinity pool.” Jonah glanced around at the rest of them. “A bar, well stocked, of course. Extra rooms. There’s so many I sleep in a different bed every night. You guys would love it.”
“Shut the fuck up!”
Jonah nodded curtly. “You’re the boss.”
Perry angrily cocked the hammer of his revolver and stepped closer to him. “I’m going to find out where you live. Then we’re going to take everything you have. If there’s anybody you care about living there, we’re going to kill them. Make no mistake about that. The only way to escape with your life is if you cooperate.”
Escape being the choice term. Jonah glanced down and eyed Perry’s revolver. His finger was on the trigger. “You won’t find anything if you kill me.”
“A man who gets shot in the kneecap will survive . . . and tell us what we want to know. Be more apt to, also.”
Jonah might actually have to give up some information just to stay alive after all. Perry was a prick, but he also had an agenda. If it were up to those standing behind Perry, Jonah would likely already be shot. Because Jonah was in the predicament he was in meant that he’d made mistakes. What he didn’t know was whether he was making more by judging the community Perry kept referring to as similar to Perry himself and the men behind him. Maybe that was another mistake. Maybe they weren’t all dangerous too. They could be decent.
“You listening?” Perry said.
Jonah had never been in circumstances like this before and felt completely out of control. Except for his choice of words. He nodded over and over and shook his head as if he was actually about to reveal the truth. “I’m from a town.”
“Where is this town?”
“A few miles from here. Twenty miles. Thirty, maybe.”
“That’s more than a few. The town have a name?”
“It wouldn’t be on any map.”
“How’s that?”
“It’s called Henrytown. Named by its citizens.”
The men behind Perry laughed.
“I have no idea what it was called originally, so I wouldn’t be able to point it out on a map. I just know how to get there.” Jonah’s brows knit together. “You all heard of it? What’s so funny?”
Perry tilted his head to the side and cracked his neck. “Yeah. We heard of it. But how about you start telling the truth.”
“Go check for yourself if you don’t believe me. I can give you directions.”
“We don’t need directions. That place was abandoned.”
“Amazing where you can live if you absolutely have to.”
“We took everything. There’s nothing left. And I certainly didn’t see you. There was no one there.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Then we have something in common.”
“The sign,” Jonah said. “The one that read Henrytown. Was it still standing?”
Perry thought for a moment. “Yeah.”
Not a surprise. Thing was sturdy, and apparently it was the second one they built after Henry tore down the first one. Jonah realized he should have run already. Made a move before they got near him. Should have booked it for the truck, shot at them, and then sped off. He was confident he would have lost them on the road somewhere, but he suspected they lived close by, which meant that, no matter what, he probably would have to eventually deal with them. But he preferred when he could have been ready.
The men seemed to have no idea of what was behind them. They were too focused on Jonah. They probably didn’t understand their lifecycle as well as he did. For the first time in his life, he actually hoped a Behemoth would be born; he’d use it to distract them so he could get away. But it didn’t look like that was going to happen while they were all just standing there. That would work out too perfectly for him.
“Did you know Henry?” Perry said.
Jonah did his best to act confused. “Huh?”
“Of Henrytown. You knew him?”
“Knew?”
“He knows him,” Blond said. “Too bad Archard killed him.”
“No, he didn’t,” another said.
“Shut your mouths!” Perry shouted.
Holy shit. They know Henry?
Jonah wanted to ask about Henry, exactly how they knew him, where he was, what happened to him . . . but that might mean exchanging information. If they knew Henry, then they might know everything about him, or just enough, and any hint of familiarity might mean giving up Doreen and Heike and also everything that was at the cabin. Henry would agree with Jonah’s ruse most of all, pretending not to know who he was.
Time to do something stupid.
Jonah could leave the shotgun behind. He had more. He only had one machete, though, and would hate to lose it. But he had plenty of knives. He thought about grabbing the handle of the machete but if he started slashing at those who would definitely give chase, then bullets were sure to follow. Jonah changed his mind about grabbing it and started taking slow steps backward toward the truck, watching how they would react. “You know what? Fuck you! Fuck all of you!”
Perry aimed his revolver at him and raised his other hand. “Whoa, whoa, whoa.”
Jonah turned, calling their bluff. “I’m leaving.”
“No man, you’re not.” Perry whistled.
Turning just in time, Jonah crouched as the guy nearest to him, Blond, slid his rifle around his back and tried to grab him. Jonah was ready for it and thrust skyward with his palm as hard as he could, right up into the guy’s nose, driving it into his brain.
Blond froze in place momentarily and then fell backward, landing hard on part of the road that was absent any slush. He was probably dead before he hit the ground, but Jonah didn’t even wait to see what the aftermath of his strike would be. It was meant as a distraction, and he sprinted for Henry’s truck.
On his way, he heard what sounded like the sudden rush of a very powerful wind. He quickly deduced there was probably something being swung at his head, likely the butt of one of the many weapons that the men had been ready to shoot at him ever since they all drove up. Knowing what he knew, he had a plan for something like that also, so he ducked the intended blow, watching one of them follow through with the swing as he’d thought, but Jonah slipped and went sprawling across the ground. He jumped up, ready to throw his fists at the one who’d attempted to knock him unconscious, when Perry crashed into him with a plan of his own.
When the large man grabbed Jonah in a bear hug and turned his back toward the armed men, Perry said, “Shoot him.”
Jonah felt the cold bite of failure, picturing Doreen’s worried face and how all along she’d been right, how he would never return to her, and braced himself for a bullet. Instead, he felt a painful pinch in the middle of his back, and as he doubted he’d actually been shot with a bullet—it almost
felt like he’d been stabbed instead—his world vanished.
CHAPTER 9
It was snowing and had been throughout the night, but it didn’t look as if it were accumulating. Just puffy flakes falling steadily beyond the tent flap, from what he could see in his view, and the sound of outside was somewhat absorbed by what was burning inside the portable stove nearby. The final sputtering of a determined winter? He was also curious if the same thing was going on at the cabin. Higher elevation there so the snow might even be sticking. If the world ever got back to normal, somebody would need to rename the seasons. Or at least extend them, especially in Germany.
At least the tent was warm, but Jonah was still shaken by what had happened. Although he had been in the military, a close cousin to prison, he’d never been locked up, and that’s what his present circumstances felt like. He definitely should have been put in jail on a few occasions, for fighting or driving while drunk, but he’d been fortunate enough to escape those risky circumstances relatively unscathed.
That certainly wasn’t the case for him now. Jonah had deduced that he was either a prisoner or only being kept alive to serve a purpose he didn’t understand yet. He’d heard the rumblings of the men as he woke up from whatever had put him out. Thankfully it wasn’t a bullet that had been shot in his back after Perry had grabbed him. It was a tranquilizer of some sort. Although he was looking for any opportunity to lash out, fight, or just plain old escape, to get back to his loved ones, Jonah tried to act as calm as possible.
Jonah was often confused by his occasional depression. Whenever it happened, it came on suddenly, similar to catching a cold. Some might call a depressed mind a weakness. Jonah knew better, of course; it was something he’d dealt with most of his adult life, but regular healthy people had no idea how hobbling it could be. And if there were ever a time for Jonah to be depressed and feeling low, it was definitely now: trapped, far from his people, but worst of all, his vulnerability was putting them in danger.
Except Jonah was on a mission, and when in the midst of one, he was in mission mode, which meant he was stronger than Perry looked. The military had made a huge mistake by kicking him out all those years ago for selling drugs. They should have changed the rules. Punished him, of course, but military punishment, and not given up on him altogether. He would have taken it, whatever the reprimand had been. He would have learned from his mistakes and could have attained a very high rank. He was sure of it. But would he be alive now if he’d been able to remain in the military?
