“You sound like you’re proud.” Thompson didn’t know what to make of the man, he thought he didn’t understand him and probably never would.
“I am proud. I took an oath and I always kept that oath. I am proud of that. He tried to rob a pharmacy and was caught by two cops as he left the store. That’s when the shooting started. All three were hit but the crook got it the worst. He would have died if I hadn’t got there early into it. The cops wanted me to let him die and they said as much. But I wouldn’t abandon my oath. The cops never liked me after that, one of them even told me that ‘payback is a bitch’ and he let me know that sooner or later I would ‘get mine.’ I never knew if he meant in reality or something else. I guess I didn’t want to know. You were in the military weren’t you? The Army?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“You took an oath too?”
“Yes.”
“What would it have taken for you to break your oath?”
“I wouldn’t have, for anything.” Thompson considered that perhaps they had more in common than he could have ever thought.
The two sat there studying each other for a moment and then both realized that the conversation had ended. Thompson got up and walked out of the room without a word and the man was left alone once more with his thoughts.
Their conversation left him on the bed thinking about his life since the collapse and all those principles he held dear before. Thinking about it in retrospect he realized that he became everything he was sure only a few years ago that he wouldn’t, couldn’t possibly ever become.
Before, in the old world, he always considered himself a decent man, a “good” person. He believed in God and always tried to follow “the Golden Rule.” But all these years struggling to survive every day had its toll. This encounter with Thompson had only made the truth of it impossible to deny any more. In truth he was a liar, a beggar, and a thief. He had done all of those things to survive and what frightened him most was how it didn’t take much prodding for him to do them either. All it took was an empty belly or waking up cold. He was even a killer, something just a few short years ago he couldn’t even imagined. Being a “good” person, knowing right from wrong, was irrelevant to it all. He did what was necessary to stay alive at the time and let his conscience agonize over it later. Despite his high morals he had to admit that he would do anything to survive.
Early in the morning on the tenth the man was already awake by the time the compound was roused and began their morning routines. He was feeling much better and was on his feet again. Amy Helton had come for Joshua only a few minutes before. The man was restless; he had been in bed long enough and while they had needed a good rest, it was time for him and the boy to be on their way again.
As he studied the ceiling at his leisure, a subtle movement there in the far edge of his vision caught his attention. It was Thompson standing in the doorway again. He looked exactly the same as that first time the man had seen him standing there.
“Can you come to the back room … we need to talk.” He seemed solemn as he spoke, almost as if he were trying to be unfriendly.
He got up and quickly followed him to their new surgery and as he did tried to recall the last time he had seen Thompson laugh or even smile.
Thompson went inside the room and stopped there by the table near the door, the man following right behind. “Come in.”
The man entered and walked around Thompson as he studied the new addition to the room. It was a large stainless steel table. It appeared to be the same kind used by morticians to prepare bodies in funeral homes. Obviously it was one of Doc Susie’s new additions.
“I’m sure I told you that this was going to be our new surgery, Doc Susie brought this with her from Greeley.” Thompson proudly patted the corner of the table with his hand.
The man thought there was something strange and new in Thompson’s behavior, he didn’t seem himself and the man was certain something was going on. He questioned what it was. “Why did we need to talk back here? You wanted to show me this? It’s nice, but …”
Thompson came right to the point and there was no mistaking the seriousness in his tone. “I wanted to speak to you about this last week but Doc thought I should put it off until you were feeling better, until you were one hundred percent again.”
“Okay, I’m feeling better. What do you want?” The man had a newfound nervous sensation starting to grow inside him.
“In your travels you’ve probably noticed people that were missing their little finger on their right hand, haven’t you?”
That anxious feeling continued to build in the man as he questioned exactly what they were talking about. “Of course, some people have been cut up by gangs, it’s like a mark on their victims …”
Thompson abruptly interrupted the man. “That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it.” It was clear Thompson was in no mood for games even though the man was still uncertain what the game was. “I’m sure you’ve noticed people that had their right pinky finger cut off, and I’m also sure you knew what it meant when you saw it.”
Now the man knew what they were discussing and it didn’t cure his apprehension but only made it worsen. He just continued to stare at Thompson, not knowing how or even if he should respond.
Thompson didn’t need the man’s answer as he already decided where the conversation was going. “Yeah … you know, probably seen it plenty of times before. What you might not know is where it came from. We’re not exactly sure ourselves. It started about four years ago, somewhere in the Midwest. If you were caught stealing they would cut off your little finger. If you were caught taking basic necessities, food, clothing, something like that, they would cut it off at the first joint. If you were caught with anything else they would take the whole finger.”
“Why you telling me this?” The man was becoming more anxious by the moment and he really didn’t want to know the answer to his own question.
“We’re going to have to take your finger.”
“What?!” The man looked at Thompson unbelieving and thought he must be joking. But he could see in Thompson’s still sober expression that this was no joke.
“You’re a thief, you’ve already admitted it so don’t bother to argue. I know you were only stealing to keep yourself and that boy alive but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re a thief. Now you’re going to be punished like one. It’s the new law out here and you will be punished according to the law.”
Thompson sat down on the corner of his prized table, across it he casually addressed him in that new indifferent tone the man was getting to know very well. “Let me explain to you what’s going to happen now, you’re going to do it or we’re going to do it. Either way it’s going to be done. If it takes ten of us it’s going to be done.”
Behind Thompson in the hallway, the man could now see at least four soldiers and then Doc Susie appeared there in the doorway in front of them. She wore scrubs, surgical gloves and an apologetic look on her face, “I’m sorry.”
“You’re all crazy!” Somehow the man still hoped this was a joke but the fear in his gut told him it wasn’t.
Thompson continued in that unmoved voice, “I’m just trying to explain to you how it is. It’s the law and no one’s exempt from it. If we have to do it we will, and then you will be sent on your way without Joshua.”
“I won’t let you take him from me!” Instantly anger overwhelmed the fear in the man and despite inconvenient reality felt he could take all of them on.
The room was filled with emotion but Thompson still had none to show, and now the man was wondering if he had any human feelings at all.
“And I won’t allow that boy to go off with an unrepentant thief. You will be sent on your way, just like we found you, with nothing, nearly nothing, and alone. On the other hand, if you do it yourself, you’ll show me that you admit your guilt and take responsibility for your actions, that you regret your crimes. If you do that then you can go, and Joshua can g
o with you, and we’ll help you as much as we can, food and water, whatever else we can spare. But that’s only if you admit that you’re a criminal and prove to me that you’re truly sorry about it.”
But Thompson’s cold demeanor couldn’t quench the man’s heated anger that continued to grow. “Who are you?! Some little tin-pot dictator! That’s who you are! You have no right! You …”
“I am the commander of this group, that’s who I am, and right now that includes you!” As Thompson cut him off at last the man thought he could see a small glimmer of emotion there inside the automaton. “For going on five years I’ve protected these people from harm. I’ve kept them safe, from starvation and disease, safe from marauding gangs, deserters, escaped convicts, thieves and looters. And I’ve kept them safe from people like you, people wandering around the countryside with their head in the clouds. People so stupid they shouldn’t be alive … but somehow are!” The machine had now stood up from the table and was screaming at the man, not quite the detached bystander he was moments before.
The man could see that the ‘commander of this group’ was hardly in control of his emotions. Thompson could see it too. He suddenly paused and closed his eyes, like he was burying those undisciplined feelings deep inside again. That distance was starting to return to Thompson’s voice, “We’re through talking about it. Make up your mind.”
Thompson reached over and took a clean folded towel from the doctor and placed it on the table. He then opened it up to reveal a heavy scalpel inside. Thompson then backed away, leaning against the far wall and waiting for the man’s answer.
From the doorway Doc Susie interjected, “It’s sterile.”
Thompson was now in control again as he once more coolly addressed the man. “I’ve told you how it is. Now what’s it going to be? Make a decision.”
He was enraged, and for a moment the man thought about standing and fighting, but common sense rapidly overtook him again. He looked them up and down and probing all of their faces knew Thompson wasn’t lying and it was going to happen, one way or the other.
With no more consideration, he picked up the blade with his left hand and put his right on the table. The man folded his other fingers under and now only the little one remained, standing out pressed against the gleaming sheen of the steel. He took the blade and gently laid it there on top of his finger behind the nail, the razor edge easily finding the hollow between the bones. He looked Thompson directly in those once more unfeeling eyes and took a firm grip on the handle. Not even looking, he pushed the blade forward slicing over halfway through the soft sinews of his finger. Immediately he pulled the blade back, the second stroke finishing the cut right through to the table.
His fingertip was now severed and the blood began to flow across the shining metal. The entire time both the man and Thompson never took their eyes off the other. The man’s clenched teeth his only admission to the pain he was suffering.
Without delay, Doc Susie rushed to the man’s side and applied a dressing. “It’s all right. We’ll get you fixed right up.”
But Thompson wasn’t satisfied, “We’re not done Doctor.”
She was stunned with his indifference and promptly scolded him, “What more can you want?!”
“You know what I want, don’t you?” Thompson still wouldn’t take his eyes off the man. “Say it!” those half buried feelings once again coming to the top.
For a few hushed seconds both callously stared at each other, Doc Susie stood between them applying pressure to the man’s finger.
Thompson’s anger finally broke the silence again. “SAY IT!”
The man knew what Thompson wanted to hear and resentfully complied, the words sticking in his throat. “I’m a thief.”
“And?”
“And I’m sorry.” The man felt violated as he said it. But it didn’t matter because he would endure anything to keep Joshua in his life.
The man’s meager confession seemed to be enough for Thompson, the tension clearly leaving his entire body. “Okay, let’s go men.” Thompson then turned and promptly left the room, walking down the hallway with his small army following behind.
Doc Susie was left there holding the man’s bleeding finger and in the deafening silence the two of them could find not a thing to say to each other.
Late in the afternoon Joshua came back, eager to tell the man about another exciting day with Amy. He immediately noticed the man’s bandaged finger and after examining it worriedly asked him, “What happened?”
The man put on his best fake smile and with a counterfeit cheer reassured the troubled child. “Oh this, I just hurt my hand a little, but it will be all right.”
Joshua was relieved with the man’s explanation and went to lay down for a much needed nap. Then the boy suddenly found himself held there helpless in a suffocating hug. The child struggled to breathe as the wind was squeezed from him, but despite the discomfort it was good feeling that the boy treasured.
The next morning, Thompson was at the door again, as if nothing had ever happened between them. “When are you and Joshua going?”
“We’ll be going in the morning.” After the events of that previous day the man couldn’t believe they could speak together in such a civilized tone.
“I didn’t think you would stay, but I had to ask. You might not believe it but I’ll tell you again that you are very welcome here.”
“We have to be going.” The man’s good manners barely concealed the anger underneath.
“I understand.” Thompson finally accepted the idea. From behind his back he produced the man’s boots; they had been cleaned and had new laces. “We’re still fixing your clothes. You should get them back later today. But for now put these on, I need to show you something.”
The man had an anxious feeling inside again, “I don’t know.”
Thompson seemed understanding, “This might be hard for you to believe but I am trying to help. Please let me help you.”
The man took his boots back from Thompson and decided to take a chance. Thompson had always been honest with him before. “Okay, give me a second.”
With his boots back on for the first time in almost a month the man was starting to feel himself again. Without another word, Thompson led him out into the hallway and proceeded to the exit door for the first time since this all began. This was also the first chance the man had to look around and he noted one feature he never had a chance to notice before. On the other side of the building was an elevated walkway that looked down on the hall and into his room. From examining it the man noted that in the darkness it would have been easy for him to be watched without him ever knowing.
Thompson opened the door and the bright sunshine flooded the hall, momentarily blinding the man. It had been so long since he felt the warm sun on his face. They then crossed the compound with Thompson pointing out several buildings of different sizes and ages, there was easily a dozen people coming to and fro. Finally they arrived at their destination, a small stone farmhouse that the man assumed was the original structure at the site. It looked much as it must have a hundred years ago, except for a few antennas towering above it and some small panels on the roof above a window. The man took another quick look around and noticed that every building within sight had those same panels, evidently there to collect precious sunlight.
Thompson opened the door for the man, “Go in.”
A soldier was sitting at a chair there inside and instinctively gripped a pistol on his belt. The man hadn’t seen him before. “Sir?”
“It’s all right. He’s with me,” Thompson told the soldier and again addressed the man, “Go on in.”
The man entered the small room with Thompson right behind him.
“This is where all of our operations are run.”
Three of the walls were covered with large maps of all the surrounding states and with a large one of Nebraska right in the center. There were also several of the United States of various sizes and a world map too. Every singl
e one had pins, handwritten notes or some type of markings although the man had no idea what any of it meant. Most of the forth wall was covered with handmade placards crafted from large pieces of white poster board, ‘SOPs’ for everyone there. Beside them was a dry erase board with only two words, “poppycock” and “jelly” written in blue marker. Under the posters was a line of metal filing cabinets that went from one end of the wall to the other. Up front, next to the only window was a small desk with a phone, and on the far wall under the maps was a large table with those hand radios the man had seen countless times since. They all stood there in a neat row in a recharging unit. There were a few odd chairs, but only a single one with castors, from the floor it looked like it had gone from one end of the room to the other, over and over, for quite some time.
Thompson addressed the soldier again, “It’s okay Paul, take a break.”
The man stood there in the middle, curiously studying it all until Thompson interrupted him.
“This room is where everything happens. Every piece of information we get, from our patrols, the radios, informants, travelers like you, it’s all collected and correlated here. Everything we know about the rest of country, the world, is right here on these walls and in these cabinets.” Thompson walked to the large map of Nebraska there in the center. “This is what I wanted to show you.”
The man approached the map and took a much closer look.
“This is where we are, right here,” Thompson pointed it out with his finger.
The man was surprised as it appeared nearly twenty miles short of where he thought he was.
Thompson went on, “And this is where you’re going in Wyoming, right?” Thompson pointed out the general area where the man’s brother was.
The man silently agreed.
Joshua (Book 1) Page 24
