The checkpoint cleared the car through. Marcus didn't miss the sneers and laughter coming from the soldiers. He could imagine the Duncans weren't well-liked among the men and women working for Callahan. The sedan pulled up in a small parking lot. Marcus was yanked from the car, even as he tried to fight. Men grabbed his legs as he thrashed and tried to kick. He was carried horizontally into a cement-like building.
Inside, Marcus remembered suddenly the pieces of Max's story he had heard. She described the building as something used for animals or butchering of animals. When he was thrown into a room, he landed hard on his back, his head bouncing off of the ground. He was left like that and he had to keep his eyes closed to stop the room from spinning. He wanted to vomit, and he figured after the blows to his head, he had a decent concussion.
He was still on the ground when a pair of shined shoes entered his blurred vision. He was lifted then roughly placed in a metal chair. His head hung down, a monster of all headaches splintering his skull. The shined shoes lead to an impeccably pressed uniform. Marcus wondered what servants there were around that took care of the dry cleaning. It took a moment for Marcus to focus on the face. The cold eyes and perfectly combed hair were dead giveaways that this was Major Callahan. Max had described him perfectly and Marcus didn't have to guess twice.
"They're on their way, you know," Callahan said.
Marcus just stared at him. He was well aware of what the man was saying, but he didn't feel the need to dignify anything Callahan did or said with an answer.
"You aren't important to me, Jonathan Marcus Kline. From what I've gathered, you aren't useful to my cause."
He knows who I am, Marcus thought to himself. The Major clearly had done his homework on the people at the compound. What Marcus had to wonder was how he knew who was behind the walls. Callahan had a folder on his lap and he slowly opened the cover. Marcus immediately recognized his own passport photo on the front cover.
"Jonathan Marcus Kline. You haven't really decided who you are yet in life, have you? Construction, barista, bartender and even a stint as a dog walker. How does someone like you fall in with the likes of the Duncans?" Callahan asked.
Marcus just stared at the man. When the chilling smile broke across his face, it never reached his eyes. He nodded to the soldier standing off to the side. Marcus expected torture or worse. He knew what had happened to Max inside the very walls he was sitting inside. So, though the punch to the jaw was expected, that didn't mean it hurt any less. Marcus felt a tooth slice into the inside of his mouth and blood flavored his tongue. He spit at the ground, red tinging his saliva.
"I see your attitude isn't much better than Maxine Duncan. You do stay more quiet, though," Callahan said with a sigh.
The soldier punched Marcus again in the face and followed it up with a punch to the gut. Marcus couldn't stop the sound as the air flew from his lungs. Then he was left like a gaping fish trying to force air back into his lungs.
"You may think you can outsmart me. You may believe that keeping your silence means I will get frustrated. Maybe kill you. But you would be assuming wrong, Mr. Kline."
With that, Callahan rose and left the room. The soldier followed him quickly, leaving Marcus alone on the metal chair, bent over trying to breathe. The door shut with a clang and a deadbolt locking Marcus in. His arms were still secured behind him and his shoulders felt the strain. After he gathered enough breath to stand, he walked the cell, rotating his shoulders as best he could. He couldn't help but picture Max in the same cell. He thought about her injuries and the torture she went through. Mentally he prepped himself for the same routine.
He didn't have to wait long. The door opened again and three soldiers entered the room. None of them made eye contact, only entering to handle their orders. Marcus was held by two of the soldiers while the other pulled out a large pair of scissors. He first cut the shirt from Marcus, slicing up the front and the arms. Next to go were his boots, which were tossed out of the cell. Then his jeans and socks were yanked from his body and thrown into the hallway as well. The soldiers left as quickly has they had come, leaving a shivering Marcus.
Marcus guessed there was some sort of intimidating practice in leaving someone almost naked and handcuffed. And the cell was fairly chilly, causing goosebumps to rise on his chest and arms. If they planned to freeze him to death, it would take colder conditions than mid-spring weather. He continued to pace to keep his blood pumping and his body somewhat warm. After he became bored with that, he did squats and armless jumping jacks.
He was breathing quickly when the door opened again. The sudden intrusion startled him and he backed up to the wall, preparing for a fight. Instead, the polished Callahan entered again. His entourage followed with a chair. The man sat down again, motioning for Marcus to join him. Instead of being pushed and prodded by the soldiers, Marcus walked over and plopped down unceremoniously. The Major looked at him for a moment before speaking. Marcus could feel the weight of his steely gaze as if he had his hands around his throat.
"Feeling comfortable, Mr. Kline?"
Marcus just stared at him.
"You are important enough that the Duncans are coming here for you. If you give me what I want to know, I won't kill them all," Callahan said.
He dropped the bomb with a smirk on his face and Marcus realized he was wrong about the level of evil he thought was in this man. He was all evil. Marcus thought about the offer, but he was sure no matter what he did or did not give him, he would still try to kill the Duncans. And if he was able to kill the adults, the kids were practically defenseless at the compound. The military could easily take the home. Easton would fight back and Marcus tried not to think about the teenager being killed. The younger kids would have no defense, other to run into the woods. If they made it that far. But could he believe that Callahan wouldn't kill them all if he answered his questions?
"I can't trust you. You'll do whatever you want, no matter what," Marcus said, speaking for the first time.
"I work for the United States Government. I'm here to help protect its citizens. Why would I lie about this, to you, to someone I should be helping support at this time of need?"
Marcus couldn't stop his mouth from dropping open. While Callahan said the words, that maybe a more noble man would have meant, his eyes stayed cold. There was no compassion in his voice. He was cold and calculating.
"The US Government is who caused this. And there's no one in power left that matters. Least of all you. See, I know things too," Marcus said.
"You only know what the Duncans have been feeding you. If I'm right, you've been with them since basically the start. You haven't seen what is going on in the rest of the country," Callahan replied.
"My guess is, pretty much the same as here. This plague moves too fast to just stop at state borders. I know that."
"We need to rebuild, Mr. Kline. And the only way to do that is to handle the renegade factions, like the Duncans."
"Renegade factions? The Duncans keep to themselves. They scavenge supplies just the same as everyone else. If you were so concerned about factions, you wouldn't have had soldiers enjoying time at the Noble Lord's little crazy house in Montana."
Marcus knew the moment he hit a sore spot when Callahan's lips tightened ever so slightly, and his eyes narrowed. Guess he doesn't want people knowing about that, Marcus thought to himself.
"That was a regrettable incident. The Noble Lord could have been a decent partner. But yet another thing the Duncans couldn't keep their noses out of."
"A regrettable incident? Man, you really are out there. The guy was kidnapping women, enslaving them as prostitutes, allowing infected men to use them. How is that not a complete horror show?" Marcus demanded.
"Men have needs, Mr. Kline. You know that. We were trying to provide those needs as best as possible in the world we are in now," Callahan replied. He was nonchalant, picking an unseen piece of lint from his pants.
"Provide those needs," Marcus repeated. He felt a l
ittle dumbfounded. The man referred to kidnapping and rape as if it were a trip to the local supermarket.
"If you are so intent on rebuilding the country, then those kinds of places and those types of people would be the factions you need to deal with. Not a family like the Duncans. They have done nothing to you," Marcus said.
"They have killed my men."
"Ones you sent to their home, to kill them or to take members of the family."
"Charlotte Brewer is not a member of the Duncan family," Callahan bit out. He seemed annoyed now and Marcus knew he didn't like all the information Marcus actually did have.
"She is now. That's the thing about the Duncans, something you'll never understand. As soon as you're with them, you're family. There's no question. That's why they're coming here. I wish they weren't. I wish they would turn around and go home. But no matter what I say, even though I have nothing they truly need, but they will never just leave me behind," Marcus said.
As Marcus spoke, he could feel a lump rise in his throat. He had come to care deeply about the family he was with. Even beyond his initial attraction to Alex, which easily melted away when they became close friends, he cared about each person he had lived with over the last few months. He didn't want to be responsible for anything happening to them.
"And that, Mr. Kline, is why you're still alive," Callahan said.
Marcus shivered, but not from the chill in the room this time. A cold sweat broke out on his brow and he thought about wiping it away. His numb fingers reminded him that he was still restrained. He was being used as bait. While Callahan sat and pretended to study the file on his lap, Marcus glanced around the room. Part of him looked for an escape, though he knew there wasn't one. The other part looked for a way to end himself. If he wasn't alive, he couldn't be used as a pawn. He could only hope the Duncans would turn back and not try to exact revenge on the military camp. They were well outnumbered and the Duncans would know that. They also didn't make losing choices.
Callahan stood carefully, folding his papers under his arm. He looked at the nearby soldier and nodded, confirming orders given before they entered the room. Marcus just waited, not able to determine what was coming next.
"Make it look good, but don't kill him," Callahan said before leaving the room.
Marcus didn't have a chance to figure out what Callahan was referring to before the soldiers stalked toward him. The soldier behind him grabbed the chair he was sitting in, as Marcus thought about standing up, the man yanked the chair from under him. Marcus collapsed to the floor, falling to his back without his arms to catch him. He was just able to save his head from striking the solid ground, but the next blow from the soldier slammed his head backward, cracking it against the concrete. A kick to his ribs sent him sliding to one side, forcing all the air out of his lungs. Marcus couldn't remember the number of times he had been breathless since the soldiers had taken him.
He knew he needed to protect his vital organs. Turning to his side, Marcus tried to curl in on himself, but he had no way to protect his head. The next kick landed on one of his kidneys and the pain caused his back to spasm. His fingers were suddenly grabbed and twisted at an abnormal angle, as the soldier pulled him to his feet. The man wasn't any taller than Marcus, but Marcus couldn't stand up straight. With his hands behind Marcus' head, he yanked him down to meet an upward knee. Marcus' flew backward from the blow, hitting the nearby wall. He started to slide down, but he fought the urge. Staying on his feet would be his goal.
The two soldiers circled him as if he were a penned animal ready to attack at any time. The thought was laughable since Marcus was completely restrained and couldn't even protect himself. One of the men grabbed the metal chair and took a full swing at Marcus' shoulder. Marcus danced away quickly, moving toward the door. Using his hands behind him, he was able to confirm the door was locked so it wasn't an option to end the abuse. The soldiers looked at each other and laughed as they realized Marcus was thinking of trying to escape.
"There's no way out of this room. We won't kill you, though. You heard the Major," one soldier said.
"He didn't say how close to get and he wants it to look good," the second soldier said.
They came at him again and Marcus moved to get away again. But one of the soldiers was faster as his foot snaked out and tangled with Marcus' bare feet. When Marcus went down, it was hard. His chin bounced off of the ground and he again tasted blood in his mouth. Suddenly one of the men stomped on his ankle and Marcus screamed in pain as the joint was pushed to its limit. By the third stomp he knew it was dislocated or completely broken. He tried to stop the screaming, but the pain was more than Marcus had known and he couldn't move his leg to get away from the onslaught.
"Great, now we'll have to carry him," one man said in a low voice.
"Yeah, well, that'll stop him from trying to get away."
Marcus could feel hot tears spilling down his cheeks before splashing to the floor. He tried to turn to his shoulder and roll away, but his ankle was limp, and every movement blinded him with pain. The men seemed to realize he couldn't get away and they took their turns trying to break unnecessary parts of his body. As they worked on breaking his fingers, Marcus welcomed the blackness that finally seeped in and swept him away from the torture. His last conscious thought was he hoped he died and Alex would go back and be safe on the compound.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Alex hunkered down behind a pedicure chair. The smell of chemicals were long gone from the nail salon. But apparently no one seemed to think it was a place to look for supplies. The front windows were intact and the door had been locked when Rafe had picked it. Once they were all gathered inside, they locked the door again and took stations around the large salon. The sun was still up in the sky when they arrived in Rapid City and they knew there wasn't much to be done during the day.
She shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable, her injured leg making that difficult. Max pushed over some towels they had found, and Alex created a small place to elevate her leg. Charlie had scolded her when she saw her cut was beginning to swell, so Alex figured she was doing what the doctor ordered. Max had found a case of soda, champagne, and snacks in the back storeroom. With a glance at the salon menu, Alex found it was one of the nail salons that served mimosas and food to their customers. They all snacked quietly as they waited for dusk to fall.
Alex had continued to watch Max since they arrived in the city. There was no doubt this was the right place for the military compound. Max had become tense and nervous. Her eyes darted all over the place, as if she was waiting for someone to jump out and get her. Griffin stayed close and rubbed her back as he tried to calm her. Max had leaned against him, sharing a whispered conversation. Griffin had kissed her on the forehead before they both tried to lean back and relax. Alex was so thankful that her sister had her high school sweetheart. Not only was it perfect that Jack now had her father with her, but Griffin also had a calming effect on Max.
"You all right?" Cliff's voice came from the other side of the pedicure chair. Alex turned so she could see him around the footrest.
"I guess. I just want to get Marcus and get out of here."
"Do you think it will be that easy?" Cliff asked.
"No. But we can't just leave him," Alex replied.
And that was really what she thought. She knew if they were to get Marcus back, they would need to be able to sneak in, grab him, and sneak out. Without seeing the camp, they already knew they were well outnumbered by soldiers and anyone else Callahan had recruited. When they all got into the salon, Alex had told everyone the story of the conversation she had overheard between the Noble Lord and the soldiers sent by Major Callahan. Max wasn't surprised in the least, commenting on the fact that Callahan was a control freak. And she had no doubt the maniac would endorse someone like the drug dealing, brothel owner. As long as he was an easy pawn to control.
"Have you thought about not going in yourself?" Cliff asked, pulling Alex from her
thoughts.
"No. Why wouldn't I help?" Alex asked, baffled by his question.
"Because you have the kids. They need you. I don't have any kids. Mateo doesn't have any kids. We could sneak in and do the work. And if it didn't go right…well, no one is losing a parent," Cliff explained.
Alex turned to rest her full stare on Cliff before speaking.
"You are still a parent, Cliff, even though your child is gone. And you are needed in this group, just like everyone else. Just because your baby is gone, that doesn't make you expendable. I would never think like that or take actions because of that."
Cliff looked down at his hands and Alex guessed he was staring at his wedding ring. She knew his wife and son were never far from his thoughts. And Alex could understand that after she had to kill her own infected husband. The pain of that loss was an ache that didn't seem to leave her. If it had been one of her children, Alex couldn't imagine she would keep going. Somehow though, Max was able to get Cliff to the compound. Since then he had been a faithful member of their family. Alex couldn't imagine putting him in danger that she wasn't walking into herself.
"It's not the same, Alex," Cliff finally replied.
"Your importance to this group is the same. And I won't hear of you going in on your own again," Alex said. To end the line of discussion, she turned her back again and leaned against the footrest.
An hour later, the sun began to get lower in the sky and they decided they could get moving in the shadows. Everyone took the time to check their weapons and strap additional ammo in all the places they could. Rafe helped Charlie make Albert comfortable on a bed in a back room. The man made cracks about Charlie trying to wax him with the supplies in the room, but when he tried to laugh, he winced and stopped. The Vega family had a quiet conversation and Sylvia was left with Albert. Alex didn't question the decision, knowing the girl had been put through enough already.
Sundown Series (Book 4): Torment Page 27
