by Mike Staton
“Sarah?” he called out, not caring if someone heard him. He didn’t care if something heard him. He just needed to know where she was and that she was safe.
He jerked his hands, felt his bindings bite into his wrists, and planted his feet starting to turn his chair around to get a better view of the rest of the room.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, there buddy,” someone said behind him. He didn’t recognize the voice, but the half hour before his bout with unconsciousness was blurry at best. He knew it wasn’t Carlos or Sarah. “Keep that up and you’ll end up hurting yourself again.”
“Where’s Sarah?” Percival asked. He didn’t heed the warning to settle down. He pushed up with his right foot, succeeding in lifting himself, and the chair he was bound to, off the floor.
“Sit down,” the gruff voice behind him said. A hand clamped down tight on his shoulder and painfully thrust him back to the floor. “Stop moving.”
“You’re not answering my question. Who are you? Where’s Sarah? Is she okay?” Percival wished he could have kept the panic out of his voice as his heart climbed into his throat. He twisted again, but remained seated with his feet planted but not pushing him up.
He needed a plan, not to brashly jump through this situation with a hope and a prayer. One of those concepts was dead and the other didn’t have anyone listening on the far end.
“That’s because we don’t answer your questions. It goes the other way around.” A soldier moved into Percival’s vision and sat on the edge of the bed opposite him. Percival didn’t recognize him and the black stenciled name was missing from his uniform. His high and tight was getting a little shaggy and he would have benefitted from a shave. He wore black sunglasses, despite the fading light from outside, hiding his eyes.
“So, what? You’re some expert interrogator here to make me spill my deepest darkest secrets?” Percival spat out. He literally spit a little bit of blood from his mouth. “I ain’t got any.”
The man’s face split into a toothy grin, revealing yellowed and disgusting teeth. “That’s not what your friends have said.”
Percival forced a smile onto his face. It hurt the split in his lip and he didn’t feel it, but wanted to show something other than the panic and dread that clouded his stomach. The man used past tenses, either as a tactic or just as a habit, indicating that Carlos and Sarah had gone through this already. Not were going through it presently.
And it implied, if the man was being truthful, that they’d talked about something. Percival didn’t know what this man could want to know. Who’d killed his friend?
Percival would be willing to cop to that crime. He hadn’t taken any pleasure in killing Finnen, but he wouldn’t run from the deed either. It may not have been his bullet, Carlos had been firing as well, but it was his decision to leave her there whilst zombies invaded.
“What do you want?” Percival repeated.
“You to stop asking questions,” the gruff man answered.
“Well, in an interrogation, someone needs to be asking questions,” Percival said. He looked away from the man and out the window. The fading yellow light gave an approximate timeframe for him. He’d been out for a few hours, at least. He began to piece together what’d happened.
“You guys aren’t exactly stellar examples of honesty and truthfulness.” Someone had clocked him in the back of the head. Was it this man? Some other jarhead or leatherneck? It’d knocked him cold. For a time it had knocked him senseless even. He gritted his teeth to pull the pieces of the time right before blackness enveloped him back into perspective.
“I’m not here to ask you questions. That’s the Lieutenant’s job,” the man answered.
That jogged Percival’s memory slightly. Lieutenant Proxies had wanted their weaponry discarded, likely to make it easier to take them into custody. Why Percival had been clocked in the head was still a mystery, but having fallen face first would explain why his face hurt and the bloody nose.
“Right. What happened to,” Percival said. He paused to dreg his bruised memory up before continuing. “Escorting us safely to a different region?”
“Tha’s after yer questioning,” the grunt answered.
Percival pulled his gaze back to the man’s sunglass hidden eyes. “Then hurry up and get the Lieutenant in here. Ain’t got all day, and light’s wasting.”
Percival’s anger hid the dread he was feeling. He was separated from his friends. He was battered and bruised. His weaponry and ammunition was nowhere nearby. He didn’t know what to do and the creeping helplessness set fire to his emotional state. All of the dread and grief and guilt over hard decisions and poor decisions and killing swept into the forefront of his mind.
He lowered his head fighting the sweeping feeling that letting go and ceasing to care was the correct avenue to take. He shook his head. He fought back tears, wrestling with emotions that wanted to further spoil his mood and day. He needed, if ever, to be strong right then and there. He’d figure some way out of this predicament and deliver Sarah and Carlos safely home. They deserved that much.
The sound of footfalls brought Percival’s head up. Proxies walked into the room, rubbing a hand against the reddish stubble on his chin. Anger flared in Percival’s core and drove the other conflicting emotions aside.
“You two-faced, son of a--,” Percival snapped.
“No need to not be pleasant in this exchange,” Proxies cut him off. “Simon, you’re dismissed. Go see to the girl.”
Grunt stood up from the bed, snapped off a salute that was lazily returned. “Yes, sir.”
He marched out of the room.
“Easy for you to say. Your hands aren’t tied to a fucking chair,” Percival snapped at Proxies. He struggled against the bindings.
“That’s for both of our safety, Mister Polz.” Proxies took a seat across from Percival. “Have a couple questions for you. Questions that may infuriate you or cause you to become violent.”
“Let me guess. This is just protocol. Like I’ve not heard that before.” Percival rolled his eyes. “What’s the standard response for a POW? Name, rank, and serial number?”
“Your sarcasm’s not needed or appreciated,” Proxies said. He leaned forward. “Let’s start with an easy one: How many of you are out there in the suburb?”
“You’ve got all of us here in this house. That is assuming you’ve still got Sarah and Carlos here.” Percival glared at Proxies. He didn’t see a reason to lie at this juncture though.
“We know you were traveling with more people than the two we caught you with,” Proxies said. “Where are they?”
“Dead. You shot one, one went crazy attacked another of my party and I shot him then his infected girlfriend,” Percival rattled off. He surprised even himself with how tight and cold his voice sounded. “Fuck you.”
“I am sorry for your loss.” Proxies didn’t sound sympathetic in the slightest as he took out a small notepad and checked a note. “Why did you shoot Private First Class Finnen?”
“Simple. She shot at us first. You know, a wise man once said ‘If someone tries to kill you, you kill them right back.’ Didn’t always used to be that way. Once upon a time we were civili—“
Proxies cut him off. “That’ll be enough. She was the…” Proxies bit back whatever he was about to say about Finnen. “What were you doing back in that house?”
“We forgot something we lost. Thought it might be there.” Percival skirted around the fact that they were looking for Roy Joy. If this military unit hadn’t caught him, and it didn’t sound like they had, Percival didn’t want to point them in his direction. Or give them a reason to go looking for him.
Percival might not be able to protect him directly, but at least he could prevent the man from having unwanted attention.
“Did you find it?” Proxies asked.
“Negative. What was Finnen doing there?”
“Why did you take her weaponry?”
“Weapons are a valuable commodity out here now. A serviceabl
e rifle and ammunition? Better than gold.” Percival leaned back in his chair. He could do this all day long. Most of his answers had been truth or common sense.
“And her identification?” Proxies asked. He took out a pen and scratched a fresh note into his pad.
“Figured someone, family, friends, or comrades, might want them. Know what happened to her. I’m not heartless and didn’t go into that house looking for someone to kill. Unlike you.” Percival drew a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“We’re not here to kill anyone either,” Proxies said.
“I’ll call bullshit on that front. I have a dead friend who would beg to differ.” Percival’s lip quivered and ached as Andrina’s death flashed before his eyes again.
“Where’re you from?” Proxies asked.
“What’s it to you?” Percival answered.
“Make this easier on yourself,” Proxies responded. He leaned back, seemingly at ease.
“Quid pro quo, Lieutenant. What am I getting out of this little question, question session?” Percival snapped.
“A sense of civic duty. But I’m willing to concede. I will answer a question of yours if you will stop resisting this.” Proxies closed the notepad.
“You call this resisting?” Percival let out a low chuckle. “I just don’t want a fucking one-sided conversation. I’m answering your questions. I’m uncomfortable. I’m bloody.”
“All regrettable outcomes of our prior interaction.”
“Which we were also compliant in.” Percival sneered this time. He jerked his hands against the restraints tying his hands to the chair. “Just what the fuck are you doing here?”
“I’m not at liberty to say,” Proxies answered smoothly.
“What? I’m not gifted with sufficient clearance?” Percival chuckled again. The world had gone to hell in a hand basket and here some military prick wanted to hold onto some top-secret plan to… save the world?
“No. You’re not. Civilians aren’t cleared to know what we’re doing here.” Proxies folded his hands in his lap and fixed Percival with a stare that wordlessly said that he was done answering questions. “I hope you feel satisfied with my answering your questions. You’ll not get another. Now, where are you from?”
“What’s my incentive to answer you?”
Proxies sighed. “I don’t think you understand the situation here, Mister Polz.”
“Then take a fucking moment and explain it to me.” Percival hoped this was a slip in the questioning and the flow of information would reverse. He hadn’t told Proxies anything of true importance, but it didn’t change that he didn’t want to answer more questions without knowing just what might be the endgame consequences.
“Part of our presence out here is to ascertain the viability of the survivors, civilian, militia, and full military, we come across. It is not the specific reason we’re in this town. It is a subset reason. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. I have already asked these questions of your companions. They were more forthcoming in their answers than you’re being and I need to confirm what they have to say against what you say.”
“So you’re confirming stories? Looking to trip me up and see where I’m lying to you?” Percival leaned forward as far as his bound arms would allow him. His shoulders barked soft pained complaints to him.
“It’s not that I don’t think you’re being truthful, it’s that most people aren’t.”
“Who fucking hit me?”
“Greyson and he was properly punished for the assault,” Proxies answered automatically. Percival didn’t believe him.
“I’m from Texas. Waco to be specific.”
“Quite the trek up here from Texas,” Proxies said. He took the notepad back out and made a note.
“I’ve got strong legs.” Percival didn’t want to mention the college. Especially by name. He didn’t want this asshole visiting. Brown College was small and nestled in the equally small town of Prosperity Wells, but it was on most maps.
“Where’re you heading?” Proxies asked. His hand made a circling motion on the pad with his pen.
“Canada. Seems cold up there. Maybe the zombies’ll freeze,” Percival rattled the lie off as though it were second nature. More than a couple of the council meetings of the survivors at the college had made the argument that they should head further north with hopes that during a bitter winter the zombies would freeze. The optimistic group also hoped that the freeze would eliminate the zombies rather than just immobilize them until spring.
“That’s odd,” Proxies said quietly.
“What’s odd?”
“Your friend didn’t mention anything about Canada. He didn’t say anything about northern states either.”
Percival’s guts seized up. They hadn’t exactly had a moment to craft cohesive stories for where they were going, or where they’d been, but seemed second nature to him not to tell these guys about their home. He couldn’t blame whomever had said something that conflicted with his statement either. Maybe it was just Percival’s paranoia that was driving him to want to protect and prevent these dangerous military folk from waltzing into their camp and ‘liberating’ them from zombies.
He settled back against the chair again.
“Struck a nerve?” Proxies asked, feigning concern. The lilting smile on his face gave away the deception. “The truth, now. Where’re you going?”
“North,” Percival said. It wasn’t exactly a lie. At least not a direct one. The college was north of their current location.
“Specifics, Mister Polz,” Proxies pressed. He punctuated the question with a disgusting stream of tobacco juice that splattered the leg of the bed.
“Campus of the College of Northern Tennessee,” he answered. “Technical branch.”
Proxies scribbled something into his notepad. “Thank you, Mister Polz.”
Percival had a burst of hope that his subtle lie miraculously matched up with whatever had been said by the others. Perhaps it had just elaborated on whatever bare bones Proxies had already gleaned. Regardless, Percival had a tiny measure of hope that the military would be directed toward a college campus that he didn’t call home.
Even if it meant he’d just sacrificed a potentially tech rich scavenging land. The other college campus was on their list of places to go and contact or raid as necessary. But it wasn’t on the docket until the following year, at the earliest. Technology was wonderful, but the essentials were far more important.
Having solar power paled when you were starving with nothing in the fields.
“Why’re you heading there?”
“It’s home now,” Percival answered automatically. The question had caught him off guard. And he’d been thinking about his actual home campus.
“Really? I thought you said Texas was home.” Proxies’s feigned surprised snatched Percival’s mind back to the present conversation with a stab of irritation.
Exhaustion and pain were beginning to take their toll on him. He ached from wounds no one could see as well as the injuries he’d incurred in the flight from the suburb and the fall in the basement. He let his mind race to make up a fresh lie that would match the half-truth he’d told Proxies.
“Yeah. Was. But it’s all gone now. Can’t call a place that’s destroyed home. An’ Sarah’s home is at the campus.” Percival blended truths. Their home now really was campus. She didn’t expect to ever see California any more than he’d expected to see Texas again.
“Hmmm…” Proxies made the noise that, in Percival’s mind, said he already knew damned well that Sarah wasn’t a native to Tennessee. Much less a resident of that particular campus.
“What?” Percival demanded.
“How did you meet your current companions?” Proxies asked.
“On the road.” The best lies have a kernel of truth to them and this one could apply to how he met both of his companions.
He’d been walking home in the rain one blisteringly cool autumn day when Sarah had given him a ride. It’d been
a couple months later when he gave her a far hotter ride in the middle of winter.
“Which one?” Proxies asked.
“Both. Carlos we met together just a few days ago,” Percival answered truthfully. “We were traveling north along the interstate and pulled off at a depot we thought we could find some gear at. Carlos was there.”
Proxies made a note. “Thank you for the information, Mister Polz. I know this isn’t easy, but we’re nearly done.”
“Happy to hear it. My hands get untied after that?” Percival forced a smile that he didn’t feel.
“Maybe. Why did you come back into the city? It was clearly excessively dangerous and deadly for you and your group of travelers.”
It had been deadly primarily because of the asshole sitting in front of him. Or someone under his command. Percival was quiet for a time, thinking of how best to answer the question. He hadn’t wanted to come back into the city. He didn’t want to lay the blame on Sarah’s shoulders and he certainly wasn’t about to tell Proxies that. He also wasn’t going to tell him that they were looking for Roy Joy. But they had been looking for someone.
He opted to use the same reason for going back into Roy Joy’s house. “We lost somethin’ yesterday and it was critical to us to regain it. Same reason we went back to the house we’d slept in. Silly shit we don’t actually need.”
“Funny how the sentimental stuff can hurt the most. Am I right?” Proxies smiled. He dug the wad of tobacco from his lip and dropped it on the floor. “Thank you for cooperating. I’ll get someone in here to tidy you up.”
Percival had a sinking feeling that meant something other than cleaning the blood off his face and cutting his hands loose from the chair. He sagged down as though he’d been physically beaten and let his chin sink to his chest. Had he failed everyone who’d put their faith into him? Everyone on his team? The majority of them were corpses now. Everyone back at the campus? They wouldn’t starve. That was certain, as this was little more than a scouting trip after all. But there were those there that would wonder what had happened to them and possibly come looking.
