“Oy,” he said, taking me by the arm. “You idiots have had her long enough. She’s wanted in questioning.”
“I’m coming with,” Galt said.
Deutsch put his hand on Galt’s chest to stop him. “No, you’re not. I brought her in. She’s mine.”
“She’s not a piece of property.” Galt swiped Deutsch’s hand away with a little too much force. Deutsch tried not to wince. “And for the record, I was the one who picked her up in my sights first, Douche. Get the hell out of my way.”
Glowering, Deutsch finally backed down, rubbing the new welt on his hand. Galt led me from the room with a gentle hand on my back, keeping himself between me and the other soldier. I waved to Kalupa, who waved back with a sad look on his face. If Base One had more guys around like Kalupa and Galt, maybe it wouldn’t be such a terrible thing to be stuck here after all.
“Listen,” Galt muttered close to my ear so that Deutsch couldn’t eavesdrop on us. “Chances are, questioning is going to suck. Stay calm. I’m going to be there the entire time.”
Galt and Deutsch escorted me down the long, white corridor, through a back door, and into another building that was no warmer than the last two.
“Jesus, this whole place is a maze,” I murmured.
“It’s so intruders can’t find their way around,” Deutsch announced.
“I don’t suppose you could get lost, could you, Douche?” Galt asked.
“I swear to God, if you call me that in front of Buddy—”
Galt whirled around and grabbed Deutsch by the collar of his uniform. “Buddy’s coming to questioning? Why didn’t you bother to tell me this before?”
Deutsch scrabbled to free himself. “Get off me! She killed an entire unit. Of course, he’d want to see her!”
“You know what happens to the women that Buddy interviews,” Galt snarled, his face inches away from his adversary’s. “They’re practically falling apart at the seams by the time he’s through with them.”
“I won’t fall apart,” I said.
“See?” Deutsch finally wrestled out of Galt’s grip. “She’s totally fine with it.”
“For now.”
The third building seemed to be full of offices. I peeked into a few of the open doors as we passed by them and caught sight of soldiers working at their desks or goofing off instead. Most of them glanced up at me, intrigued by the newcomer. In that sense, Base One was similar to Camp Haven. It got boring to live the same life day after day. Any kind of news broke up the monotony, even if it was only for a couple of seconds.
“Hiya, Galt,” one of the soldiers called through the doorway, craning his neck for a better look at me. “Did you find a stray?”
Galt kept his gaze straight forward. “Sure did. See you later, Kips.” When we were clear of that particular office, Galt whispered in my ear. “Remember that guy’s face. Don’t interact with him. He’s one of Buddy’s favorites.”
“Let me get this straight,” I whispered back, keeping an eye on Deutsch to make sure he kept his back turned to us. “I should only make friends with the guys that Buddy hates?”
“Basically.”
“Kalupa said Buddy likes you.”
“I’m the exception to the rule. Eyes front, Deutsch!” he barked to the other soldier, who had looked over his shoulder as our muttered conversation reached his ears. “This doesn’t concern you.”
“Just because you outrank me doesn’t mean I can’t make your life a living hell,” Deutsch challenged.
“I’d like you see you try,” Galt said. We reached a new door, this one closed and locked. Galt fiddled with a ring of keys on his belt. “Come on. In here.”
The interrogation room, for lack of a better title, was the least welcoming out of all of Base One’s interiors, and that was saying something. It was bare except for one small table and a rickety chair. The far wall had a black mirror set into it, one of those windows that people could hide behind while they studied you unabashedly. I glared at my reflection, wondering if Buddy Arnold was standing on the other side, and fought the urge to raise my middle finger to the glass.
“Keep a cool head,” Galt said, leading me to the chair. He unhooked a water canteen from a loop on his cargo pants and set it down on the table in front of me. “Everything goes a whole lot smoother if no one yells.”
“How many people start yelling?” I muttered.
The door opened again to allow someone else entrance to the room, a man so tall and muscular that I couldn’t collect his appearance all at once in the tiny interrogation room. Galt and Deutsch backed up against the wall, each snapping to attention, shoulders back and hands flat against their thighs like wind-up toy soldiers. I looked the man up and down, from boots the size of small barges to the crown of his shiny bald head. He had rolled the sleeves of his uniform up to emphasize the bulge of his biceps. Each of his long legs were about as thick as the tree trunks in the forest outside. When my gaze reached his face, I found a permanent sneer across his mouth, a jaw so boxy and square that it could have been shipped through the postal service, and a raised, ropey scar that cut diagonally from the middle of his forehead, across the lid of one piercing green eye, and down the rest of his cheek. This had to be Buddy Arnold.
Chapter Nine
Buddy Arnold’s breath smelled like tinned anchovies, as if he had popped open a can just prior to his entrance and snacked on the tiny fish for the sheer pleasure of feeling the bones crunch between his teeth. The stench alone was enough to incite an intense sense of displeasure at Buddy’s presence, but the sparkle in his eyes as he recognized me made my blood run cold. He smiled with only half of his mouth, as if the nerves in the other half had been destroyed by some unfortunate incident. I tried to square my shoulders and keep his gaze, but as his crooked smirk grew wider, my fight or flight response told me to flee as fast as possible. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option.
“You,” he said. That was it. He remained standing, shoulders back, his hands loose and easy at his sides. This was a man who did not fear opposition. He invoked too much unease in those around him, and no one dared to test his show of strength.
“What about me?” I replied. Dry. Empty.
“Oh, ho!” Buddy spread his arms, looking first to Galt then to Deutsch. “She’s a feisty one! Tell me, which one of you brought her in?”
“I did, sir,” Galt and Deutsch replied at the same time. Galt rolled his eyes as Deutsch, too eager, bounced on the balls of his feet.
Buddy snapped his fingers. “Deutsch. Out.”
Deutsch immediately stopped bouncing. “But, sir—”
“Out!”
The soldier didn’t dare refuse a direct order from his superior, but as he followed Buddy’s finger to the door, he grumbled under his breath about the lack of respect at Base One.
“What did you say?” Buddy challenged.
“Nothing, sir!” Deutsch slipped out of the interrogation room, but I doubted that he would return to his post outside the front gates of Base One. Presumably, he would join whoever else was watching the interrogation from the other side of the reflective window.
Once Deutsch was gone, Galt spoke up. “Sir, Deutsch was out in the field during the incident.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Buddy said, digging a finger into his ear and flicking away whatever came out on the tip of it. “But Deutsch is a blithering, ass-kissing idiot. Besides, I assume he’s already told you his account of what happened in the woods that day?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then we’re squared away.” Buddy planted one hand on the table beside me, his enormous palm flattening out against the metal surface. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Sergeant Major Buddy Arnold.”
“I know who you are,” I told him. “And I would appreciate it if you respected my personal space.” To emphasize my point, I jabbed at the pressure point on the inside of his elbow. His reflexes were too quick for me to make contact, but it got him out of my immediate area. Galt hissed,
and when I caught his eye, he shook his head once to either side.
Buddy, who had taken a step back from the table to evade my unprovoked attack, nursed a pretty sneer, but when I challenged him with a stare, the expression morphed into his signature lopsided simper.
“From my understanding,” he began, “you have come to Base One to take advantage of our hospitality. Were I in your position, I might afford my hosts a little more respect.”
“Can we cut the shit?” I said. “We both know that Base One isn’t as reputable as it claims to be.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning if your operation was officially approved by the United States government, it would have been more obvious,” I replied. “I’m not blind, Buddy. This whole place is outdated, from the equipment to the uniforms. Your guys are dressed in gear from the eighties. If this place were legit, the Army would have figured out a way to deliver updated accommodations to you.”
“Perhaps you haven’t noticed,” Buddy said, “but we’re in the middle of a national crisis, and in the Army, we use what we have on hand.”
“Really? And what would the Army think about you and your soldiers marching into a camp of innocent civilians and burning the place to the ground to steal their supplies and eliminate competition in the surrounding area?”
Buddy glared at me. “Camp Haven was an accident.”
“Bullshit.”
“Speaking of which,” he continued, unbothered by my accusation, “we have you in this room for a reason. You could be tried for murder considering you killed several Base One soldiers that night.”
“Out of self-defense,” I replied. “If you want to talk about death, go back to Camp Haven. The place is a graveyard. Bodies everywhere.” I rose from the chair, unable to remain seated any longer in this man’s abominable presence. In the corner, Galt shifted his stance, unsure what to do, but Buddy lifted a hand to keep him at bay. “You killed my family, my friends, the only people I had left in my life. When your soldiers tried to capture me, I believed that no good could come of it. It was my life or theirs.”
Buddy crossed his arms and studied me, his eyes roaming up and down my body as if he were trying to figure out how one woman from the city in her late twenties had managed to take down multiple trained soldiers. “We never had any intention of killing you, Miss Fitz.”
I cocked my head. “You know my name?”
“I’ve been watching Camp Haven since the blast went off,” he said. “I thought we could learn from their ways. They got along well, but the place was practically Amish. Then you showed up, and I watched as you convinced those bozos to set up a working radio tower. That was when I knew I needed you at Base One.”
“You want me to build you a radio tower?” I asked, confused.
“Base One already has a tower,” Buddy said, “but it’s been out of service for quite some time now. I need you to get it working so that we can contact the authorities in DC.”
“What makes you think I would do anything for you?”
Buddy stepped into my personal space, looming over me. His crossed arms brushed against my chest. “Because I know how women like you operate. Base One isn’t just home to a bunch of soldiers who murdered your people. There are innocent civilians here, civilians who I’m sure you care about.” He examined a fleck of dirt beneath his fingernail. “You have one week to get the radio tower up and running. If you can’t manage that, I’ll pick one civilian a day to torture on your behalf. Is that understood?”
There it was. Buddy’s lack of humanity. Everyone had warned me about it, from Kalupa to Galt to the soldier in the woods a few days ago, but it had taken a good five minutes for Buddy to pull it out of his back pocket and put it to use. Buddy was a corrupt man, drunk on power and fear mongering, which made the place that he commanded, Base One, a corrupt establishment. The people here were no safer than on their own in the woods, and I was the only one who could do anything about it.
“It’s unrealistic to expect me to fix the tower in a week,” I said, keeping my voice low so as to not anger Buddy further. “I don’t even know what’s wrong with it, or if Base One has the supplies I’ll need to repair it.”
“One week,” Buddy repeated. “Perhaps my incentive will encourage you to work as diligently as you did at Camp Haven.”
“Incentive? It’s a threat!”
“Semantics.” He snapped his fingers. “Galt! Show Miss Fitz to the tower so that she can examine it. Your week doesn’t start until tomorrow morning,” he added to me. “Eat something and get a decent night’s sleep. Then you can start working. See? I can be reasonable.”
“Reasonable, my ass,” I growled, taking a step toward Buddy with clenched fists. Galt grabbed me around the waist before I could do anything stupid.
“All right then!” he said as he escorted me away from Buddy. “Let’s get moving, Miss Fitz. I’ll give you a tour of the compound.” He steered me into the hallway and out of the building through a back door.
I squinted as my eyes adjusted from the dim oil lamps indoors to the bright natural light of the sun. A gust of wind turned up the collar of my new uniform. “So that’s Buddy Arnold?” I asked Galt as he pointed us toward the center of the camp.
“That’s him.”
“I can’t wait to punch him in the face.”
I spent the remainder of the day with Galt. We inspected the radio tower first. It sat in the direct center of Base One, and the control panel was at the very top. We had to climb up a rusted rickety ladder built into the side of the tower to get up to it. The control room was tiny, and the windows had been busted out, either by weather or vandals, long ago. There wasn’t much to stop you from tumbling over the edge of the tower if you happened to trip. The view was amazing, so long as I didn’t look directly toward the ground. Up here, I could almost pretend that I lived in the sky with the birds. I was level with the tops of the highest trees and could see all the way to the smoky ruins of the city. In addition, from this height, I could map out all of Base One. I scanned the grounds, trying to commit the layout of the compound to memory as quickly as possible. The knowledge would undoubtedly come in handy later.
The tower itself, thankfully, wasn’t beyond repair. It had mostly been sabotaged by exposure to the elements. The equipment was outdated, but I could make it work. Little did Buddy know that I needed a functional radio as much as he did. It was the basis of my rescue plan, and Buddy had given me exactly what I needed to bring him down once and for all.
“Can you fix it?” Galt asked. “Please tell me you can fix it.”
“Oh, yeah,” I said, examining a control panel. “I can totally salvage this piece of crap.”
Galt, it turned out, was quite useful. He was the best soldier I could have asked for to get me around Base One on my first day. He pointed out important buildings—like Buddy’s quarters—and shortcuts from one end of the compound to the other. He introduced me to soldiers like himself and Kalupa, men who had been shanghaied by Buddy to complete his deeds for a shot at survival in a post-apocalyptic world. I memorized their faces. These were the men who I could go to for help once shit hit the fan. At the end of the day, after Galt had taken me to the mess hall for dinner, he led me to the women’s barracks.
“It’s not much,” he said, leading me through the rows of bunk beds. Every single one was occupied. Women and children alike stayed here, some of them sharing mattresses to make room for others. Their eyes followed us as Galt showed me to a top bunk at the very end of the room. “Buddy freed this one up for you.”
“What do you mean, he freed it up?”
“Don’t ask. Lights out is in twenty minutes. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Galt left, and I was alone with the other female civilians of Base One. I climbed up into the top bunk and sat against the wall, dangling my feet off the edge of the bed. Every face was turned toward mine. I scanned each one, hoping to see someone, anyone, who had made it out of Camp Haven alive. The women averted their
eyes as soon as I met their gaze, but once I moved on to look at the next face, I felt their stares again. I didn’t recognize anyone. Pippa wasn’t here either. I leaned over the bed to address my bunk mate, a woman in her thirties with short dark hair and thick shoulders.
“Hey,” I said. “I’m Georgie.”
The woman glanced up from a book she was reading and smacked my outstretched hand like a fraternity brother greeting his friends. “Addison. Nice to meet you.”
“What happened to the woman who had my bunk before?”
“We prefer to remain ignorant on that front.” She set her book aside and looked up at me. “How’d you get here?”
“I walked in,” I replied, unwilling to share the entire answer. “Is this the only dormitory for women, or are there others? And where do the men sleep?”
Addison pulled the sleeves of her thermal over her hands to keep them warm in the drafty bunk. “You didn’t see outside? There are about ten barrack buildings, four for women, six for men. Why?”
“I’m looking for someone,” I said. “Two someones, actually. A seventeen-year-old girl named Pippa and a tall Welsh guy named Eirian. Sound familiar?”
“All the guys look the same to me,” she replied. “I can’t help you there. There’s a Pippa staying in the medical unit with a baby. Is that her?”
Relief rushed through me. “Yes. Is she okay? How do you know her?”
“I work there,” she said. “I used to be an EMT before all of this garbage happened. She’s hanging in there. Stress plus postpartum depression is screwing with her. That’s why she stays there.”
“Can I see her?”
“She’s off-limits,” Addison said. “No visitors.”
“Of course,” I grumbled. “Can’t you get me in?”
“No offense, but I don’t know you,” she said. “And I’m not about to break protocol to get you in to see some random girl. Sorry about that.”
She returned to her book, and I knew that the conversation was over. Nobody at Base One wanted to be associated with a rule breaker. It might bring Buddy’s wrath down on them. I rolled over and stared at the ceiling, where someone had carved their initials into the plaster.
Blackout (Book 2) Page 11
