by Ryan King
No, thought Nathan a moment later as his eyes started to water and his nose burn, not grenades…tear gas.
They had effectively isolated him from his support. Nathan realized with a flash that they wanted to take him prisoner without getting shot by his family, whom they had obviously spotted despite Nathan’s efforts to conceal them.
These guys are good, thought Nathan with combined admiration and fear.
He considered making a run for it. They didn’t want to kill him and once he got on the other side of the tear gas, it would cover his escape and work in his favor. Going through the tear gas wouldn’t be pleasant, but he knew it wouldn’t kill him, and he had endured much worse.
He turned to look at the gate to see how much time remained for him to escape. Sure enough, there were two men waiting there looking at him through an open door. One held a riot gun aimed straight at Nathan. He saw the flash from the barrel at the same time he felt a blow to his stomach, like someone hitting him with a baseball bat.
Nathan fell to the ground and looked up at the sky with wisps of tear gas floating overhead. He tried to place his hands over his stomach to stop the bleeding. He must stay conscious to survive.
Stay awake...stay awake...stay awake..., he kept telling himself over and over, as he slipped into blackness.
*******
Nathan slowly realized he could hear voices. He kept his eyes shut and cast his senses around him to determine his environment. He did not think yet about the fact that he should be dead. His training had been too good and complete, he focused on gathering information he needed in order to make decisions.
He knew he was in a chair and he felt his ankles and wrists were bound by metal shackles. The room was small, gauging by how the voices did not echo. There were two of them in the room. They were talking about him he felt, but could not tell exactly what they were saying due to the fact that they whispered. Why would they be whispering?
“Look. He’s awake,” said one.
Nathan mentally prepared himself for the ordeal. He had been through the Army’s Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape School, SERE, and knew how interrogations worked. Giddy up, he thought, opening his eyes and looking at them.
The huge man Nathan had seen outside earlier on the wall walked close to Nathan and looked down at him calmly. “Hello, sir. My name is Officer Jim Meeks, and this is Officer Kevin Jenkins. It is our intention to treat you with respect and courtesy, but that is only possible if you treat us with the same in return.” Meeks’ voice grew firmer. “That means no spitting, profanity, biting, throwing bodily wastes at us, or in any way trying to injure us. You will also follow our instructions without question or delay. This is for your own safety. Do you understand what I have said, Major Nathan Taylor?”
This was a strange way to begin an interrogation and Nathan realized these were prison guards, and they had just given him their standard ‘new convict’ script. “Yes sir, I understand. Might I ask what has happened to me and where I am?’
“Certainly,” replied Meeks, “you are in Hancock State Prison. You approached and we saw the rest of your crew in the woods with guns. Normally, we would have simply ignored you, or driven you off with tear gas, but the boss was curious, so here you are.”
“But I was shot,” said Nathan sucking in his stomach and feeling an immediate wave of pain wash over him.
“Yes, with a rubber slug,” said Jenkins. “Hurts like hell, but doesn’t penetrate clothing or skin. I aimed for the solar plexus in order to knock you out. You’ll be sore for a week, but no real damage. The Doc already checked you over and said you were good to go.”
Nathan grimaced and nodded. He had been totally outwitted. It was sure to happen at some point. He noticed the water bottle on the table. “May I have a drink of that please? I’m pretty thirsty.”
“You may,” said Meeks. “I’ll even unshackle one of your hands so you can do it yourself, as long as you promise not to try anything stupid. I don’t want to have to pepper spray you in this small room.”
Nathan smiled again. “I'll mind my manners and keep my elbows off the table, I promise”
"Good enough," said Meeks and pulled a ring of keys from his belt to unlock him. Nathan noticed that Jenkins pulled his pepper spray from his belt and moved over to the other corner of the room so he could have a clear view of Nathan while Meeks uncuffed him.
“What happened to my family?” asked Nathan.
“The boss will be in here in a minute to talk to you about that and any other questions you have,” replied Meeks. “I’m here to welcome you and make sure you understand the rules. Also, I will take it very personally if you disrespect Warden Buchannan.” Meeks looked at Nathan sternly. “Do we understand each other, Major Taylor?”
“Yes sir. We do,” replied Nathan as he slowly drank the cool water, letting it clear the foul taste out of his mouth. He noticed for the first time that he was dressed in hospital scrubs and not his normal clothes.
Meeks nodded and walked over to the door where he knocked three times. The door opened partially, and Meeks told another man that they were ready and the door closed again. Meeks placed a chair across the table from Nathan and then went to stand behind Nathan. Jenkins remained across the room looking at Nathan. Neither spoke further.
A few moments later the door opened again and the one-eyed older man from the wall entered. “Good afternoon, Major Taylor. My name is Harold Buchannan, and I now run the prison here.” He sat across from Nathan and laced his fingers in front of him. Both stared at each other without saying anything. Harold obviously expected Nathan to break the silence.
Nathan decided to indulge him since he had questions, but thought he would throw a curve ball, “What happened to your eye?”
Harold unconsciously reached up and rubbed the patch and then smiled at Nathan. “That’s a long story and nothing to do with us here and now.”
“Am I now a prisoner here?” asked Nathan.
“Only for the moment, and we promise to treat you well,” said Harold. “We’re not really a prison anymore.”
“What are you, then?” asked Nathan.
Harold’s look became a little less businesslike and slightly melancholy. “Just a group of people trying to survive, you might say.”
“I understand where you’re coming from,” replied Nathan trying to make a human connection as he had been taught. “That’s exactly what my family and I are trying to do.”
“Is that your family out there?” asked Harold.
Nathan decided not to lie. “Some are my natural family, some I’ve adopted. They’re all I’ve got now. So yes, they’re my family.
“I see,” nodded Harold. “Why did you walk up to the prison?”
Nathan thought carefully before answering. “We’ve been on the road for a long time and we try to stop at every house or building we see. Sometimes they’re abandoned and there’s food. Sometimes people are still there and will give us shelter or trade for supplies.”
“Sounds dangerous,” said Harold.
“It can be,” replied Nathan.
Harold contemplated that for a moment and then turned, holding out his hand to Jenkins, who reached down onto the floor and handed Harold a manila envelope. Harold dumped out the contents, which proved to be what Nathan had been carrying in his pockets.
Harold sifted through the items and lifted up Nathan’s military identification card, “Says here that you are a Major in the U.S. Army.”
“I was a Major in the U.S. Army,” said Nathan. “Things changed after that day, I guess.”
“What did you do in the Army?” asked Harold.
Nathan again decided not to lie. This man was trying to get to something, but Nathan did not sense any malice. “Lots of things. I enlisted as a paratrooper, then went Special Forces for several years. I got married and the life didn’t really agree with having a family, so I went to night college and then Officer Candidate School. I was commissioned an intelligence officer.
For the past five years, I’ve been in counterintelligence, mainly focusing on security, terrorism, and counter-espionage.”
Harold looked satisfied. He sifted through a few other items before holding up Nathan’s driver’s license. “Says here you’re from Mayfield, Kentucky. That’s in the JP, isn’t it?”
“In the what?” asked Nathan, unsure if he had heard correct.
“The JP. The Jackson Purchase.” Harold looked much tenser suddenly.
That's what he's getting at. It's important to him, thought Nathan. “I guess so,” said Nathan. “No one really calls it that. I believe it has some sort of historical connotation from the 1800’s.”
“Well, that’s what they’re calling it now,” said Harold.
“Who is calling what now?” asked Nathan with growing confusion.
Harold looked a bit frustrated. “Where exactly are you and your family headed, Major Taylor?”
“We’re headed home, to be with family,” said Nathan.
“And home is in the JP,” Harold said this with a knowing tone, as if it explained everything.
Nathan was getting a little annoyed. “Listen, I’m getting the feeling this JP is important to you for some reason, but I’m just trying to get home to be with my family. I haven’t been able to talk to them since everything went to hell. I’m pretty worried.”
Harold looked at him with growing amazement and then glanced at Meeks behind Nathan. Nathan turned just in time to see Meeks shrug his shoulders.
“You really don’t know, do you?” asked Harold.
“Know what?” said Nathan in chipped tones.
Harold sat back in his chair and rubbed his face with his hands before looking back at Nathan. “That the JP is the only place in this whole damn world that is still sane. That they have electricity for goodness sake! They have government and law and rules and heaven forbid taxes!”
Harold said this in a rush and now stopped to stare at Nathan. “It’s the place to be if you want to survive in any normal, civilized sense. The only problem is they are very selective in who they let in.”
“Selective? How?” asked Nathan.
“Only people who are from the JP before N-Day can get into the JP. And you are from Mayfield which my map tells me is inside the JP,” Harold said this while holding up the driver’s license.
“But none of you guys are, am I right?” Nathan asked, but they just looked at each other expressionlessly. “And you think if I take you there, you might be able to get in if you are with me. Is that right?”
Harold’s jaw looked set. “Yes. That’s about right.”
Nathan sat back in his chair. “And just how do you even know this is true? Word of mouth isn’t necessarily reliable, you know. We’ve heard a lot of crazy stories on the road.”
“It isn’t word of mouth. We’re getting it directly from the JP by their regular radio broadcasts,” explained Harold.
Nathan was struck silent. Radio. That means electricity. That really could mean civilization and stability. There might still be someplace in the world that was somewhat normal and where you could live without someone trying to cut your throat every time you close your eyes to go to sleep. Could it be true?
“Will you take us?” asked Harold plainly.
“Do I have a choice?” asked Nathan. “You’ll just keep me here until I say 'yes'.”
“No,” said Harold with a sigh. “We can’t force you. Wouldn’t work. We need you to be our committed and sincere advocate to the JP. I suspect if we take you there by force, it could be a problem the minute we need you to speak on our behalf.”
“So you’ll let me and my family go regardless?” asked Nathan.
“Yes,” Harold answered after a pause. “But consider something. I bet it has been hard for you coming all this distance. It’s a dangerous world out there. I have almost thirty trained and armed men in addition to their families. Might be a safer way to travel.”
Nathan thought for a moment. “I’ll tell you what. I don’t like making decisions under duress. You release me, let me go back to my group to talk it over, and if we come back, the answer is ‘yes.’ If we don’t, the answer is ‘no’.”
“The hell we will!” said Meeks as he suddenly lay heavy hands on Nathan’s shoulders.
“Now we see the real deal, huh? Everything you’ve said is bullshit,” growled Nathan giving Meeks a killing stare. The big man returned it and Nathan jerking away from the hands on him. Months of stress, fear, and pain burst out of him. “Get you damn hands off me, I’m not one of your convicts! Look at yourselves! You’re so used to dealing with prisoners you don’t know how to act with normal people!”
Harold held up a palm to Meeks. “Easy there. I meant what I said. We need Major Taylor here to do this because he wants to do it. No other way works.” Harold paused again, sizing Nathan up. “I don’t really know what else to say other than I hope you’ll consider. For the sake of my people, and yours…do this.” Harold nodded at Nathan and then stood up and left. As he passed out the door, he said over his shoulder to the men, “Let him go.”
The two guards looked at each other and then Meeks started unlocking the shackles, cursing under his breath.
Nathan stood slowly and painfully, looking at the two guards. “Just out of curiosity, when is the next scheduled JP radio broadcast?”
Chapter 18 – Under the Stars
Nathan was as relaxed and calm as he could remember being in a very long time. He didn’t feel like the entire weight of the world was upon his shoulders and that every mistake might be his last…or get one of his family killed. Now he was part of a pack.
Nathan had always been a dog person and studied how they socialized. A dog’s world is the pack and one of the cruelest things you can do to a dog is to isolate them. Nathan always considered himself more of a loner, but he now appreciated being part of a large group.
Twelve days out of Hancock Prison, Nathan sat smoking the last of Harold Buchannan's Vegas 5 cigars with Harold and the prison doctor, Bobby Wilson.
"How are your patients doing?" Nathan asked. The burden for the women and girls was another he gladly shared.
"Physically they're fine," answered Bobby. "They're finishing up the rounds of antibiotics I prescribed all of them."
Harold said, "Those are going to be hard to come by. Did they all need them?"
"Need, well, better safe than sorry. I really couldn't do any lab work or anything. Besides those pharmaceuticals have a limited shelf-life. And honestly I think the pills are helping in other ways too. What ails them isn't all physical, but sometimes being under a physician's care and following directions can help in other ways as well."
The men sat quiet for a moment, and Nathan contemplated what else could be done. Everyone tried to do their best to support and help, but no one knew how, except to make sure the women and girls understood they were safe and that people cared about them.
Since leaving the prison, travel on the road was slow going at times, but it felt like they were flying after months on foot. "Will they be okay walking? The bus is down to fumes and won't go further," said Nathan.
Bobby said, "Oh yeah. They'll be fine. A couple could still ride in the truck if they needed to, couldn't they?"
They looked at Harold who insisted on bringing both vehicles even though it meant siphoning gas whenever possible. The truck had a hitch for the trailer full of supplies and a winch they used a few times a day to pull jammed cars out of their path.
Harold said, "Certainly. Anyone in particular we should assign to drive the truck?"
Nathan smiled because he knew his sons were always vying for positions behind the wheel. "There's no shortage of volunteers. Doc, you can keep an eye out as we have more walkers and let us know if someone looks like they need a break."
"Be glad to," answered Bobby.
Nathan shook the ash from his cigar. "I really appreciate everything you all are doing. I mean that. A couple weeks ago we were struggling, and now..."
He raised his chin and sniffed the air. He guessed it was rabbit cooking on the grill, but regardless it smelled wonderful. A few more meals before the propane ran out, and he knew the two guards who were hunters would continue to provide for them. "Now I'm camping every night in good company. What more could a man ask for?"
"Uh, how about cable television?" said Bobby.
"Or cold beer," added Harold.
"Maybe some deep dish pizza," quipped Bobby.
Harold put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes with a smile, "A nice hot tub."
"Okay, okay," admitted Nathan, "there is room for improvement, but at least we don't have someone trying to cut out throats or in danger of freezing to death or of having to eat our boots."
"Yet..." said Bobby.
"What a bunch of optimists I hitched up with," said Nathan in mock disgust.
"Just being realistic," Harold smiled, "only thing to do is enjoy each day and not stress too much over tomorrow."
Nathan didn't answer but he thought that was pretty wise advice. He found he could actually enjoy life. Being fed and rested certainly helped. Security was now also less stressful. Counting Nathan and his two boys, they numbered thirty-six men and women working in rotation to guard the camp every night. With at least three people on duty at all times, he wast as rested as he had in ages which made him feel like he needed to do something.
Nathan finished his cigar, took his leave of Harold and Bobby, and walked the perimeter. Then he checked out the vehicles, and finally on his family. Everything looked in order. He settled down beside the bus as night approached and stripped down all his weapons while munching on a bit of rabbit. His guns were already clean, but more never hurt.
Finally, having done all he could think of, Nathan lay down beside a dozing Bethany. He gazed upwards and admired the wondrous stars in the heavens above. Nathan was always amazed when he could get away from the city on a clear night to gaze up and actually see the edge of the Milky Way Galaxy in all its beauty. He graduated with a communications degree years before, but he thought he could have been perfectly content to be an astronomer and spend all his days gazing up at the stars.
