by Logan Jacobs
“What…?” Terry asked in a befuddled voice. “Who…?”
“Walston sent them,” Grant reassured him quickly. “And that means no more drugs for you tonight. We need you to be able to move when the time comes.”
Terry nodded and looked around at the group of people who were all staring at him.
“What’s with the armor?” he finally asked.
“Borrowed it from a museum on campus,” Becka replied. “Do you like it?”
“It must weigh a ton,” the dark-haired soldier replied.
“Not really,” Becka said. “But then maybe I’m finally getting used to wearing it all the time.”
“Where did Walston find you?” Terry asked. “Raiding this museum on campus?”
“Driving north,” I said. “He agreed not to ask too many questions about some of the items we had if we found the missing engineers.”
“And you two,” Becka added.
“Knew he couldn’t risk sending anyone else,” Terry said with a grunt. “Knew that when we left. Glad he found someone to come look for us. This place is killing me.”
“Did a doctor look at the bullet wound?” I asked.
“Vet,” Grant supplied.
“He sewed it up,” Terry said. “But it wasn’t in the cleanest conditions.”
“Those bastards were going to let him die,” Grant growled. “But the vet leapt in and started to help as soon as they dragged us back into the town. By then, the townspeople had seen us and what had been done, and though they’re afraid of Dean, they didn’t like the idea of shooting their own soldiers. So Dean’s been stuck with us.”
“Thank God for that,” Brills replied. “Grant here’s been keeping everyone steady, even when we lose someone to a dinosaur.”
The curly headed woman blushed and tried not to look at anyone.
“It just pisses me off what those bastards have done,” the female soldier replied. “This is the time for us to come together, not turn against each other.”
“I agree,” the blue-eyed Korean said. “I don’t think any of us would be alive if we hadn’t worked together.”
Becka and I nodded in agreement with that assessment, and even Brills looked over at his fellow engineer and gave a nod.
“I should warn you,” Grant said. “If I have a chance to shoot Dean, I’m taking it.”
I wasn’t quite sure how she imagined that would happen, since none of us were giving up our Glocks, but maybe she pictured taking down one of the guards and snatching his gun. No one else seemed to know what to say, either, so we let the comment pass and slipped back into more mundane conversation about the dinosaurs we’d seen.
By the time the guards returned with the day workers, it was clear the rumor mill in the cafeteria was already hard at work. Our little group drew plenty of attention from the other captives, and as soon as the workers entered the door, their fellow captives quickly swept them away for long, whispered conversations that resulted in even more people staring at us. Brills stood up after he’d spotted the engineers in the group and quickly moved to join them. He pointed at us, waved his hands a couple of times, and patted a coworker heartily on the back while giving him a big shit-eating grin.
“There’s no way they don’t raid tonight,” Grant whispered as she watched the show.
“We need somewhere to hide the pistols until we need them,” I said.
“Aren’t we going to shoot them as soon as they walk in?” Becka asked.
“They’ll be looking for that,” Grant replied. “If they see anything that looks like a gun on you, they’ll start shooting before you can even raise the barrel.”
“And they’ll shoot a lot of other people as well,” I added.
“There aren’t a lot of options in here, as you might have noticed,” Grant said.
“The stage,” Terry said with a grimace. “They have everyone go stand on the stage when they want to conduct a search, and there’s all sorts of dark spots there.”
“Won’t it look suspicious if we just go up there now?” Becka asked.
“The folding chairs are stacked up there,” Grant suggested. “You could grab a few and bring them over here, so were not all crammed onto the cot.”
“Let’s go grab some chairs,” I said as I stood up from my spot on the floor.
My companions stood up as well, and we walked casually toward the stage. We stopped for a moment to talk to Brills, who introduced us to the surviving members of his team. There were ten staff members of the power plant left, including Brills, as well as the two soldiers. It was going to be a crowded ride back to Peterborough, if we could pull off our escape.
“We’re going to grab some chairs,” I said. “I think Corporal Grant is a little tired of having us hanging out on her cot.”
“There are folding chairs behind the curtains,” Brills suggested. “That’s where we found the rest of these chairs. Though I should warn you they really aren’t that comfortable.”
“Well, we’ll take a look,” I replied.
We continued on our way, with occasional stops to introduce ourselves. We met three other travelers that had been swept up in Dean’s rise to power, but the rest were locals who hadn’t cared for the new order. We didn’t breathe a word about an escape plan or even mention the word freedom, and explained that we had heard about the missing engineers and soldiers in Peterborough, but didn’t mention that we were looking for them. It didn’t matter, because it was obvious that everyone in there now believed we were there to spring the engineers.
“Will this work?” Becka asked when we finally made it up the stairs to the stage.
The stage wasn’t large, and there wasn’t much of a backstage area, but nonetheless, there was a dark curtain to seperate the two. There was a nice gold curtain at the front of the stage, though it didn’t look like anyone had used it in ages. The pulley was rusted and dust covered the ropes, and Becka sneezed when she accidentally brushed against it and sent a cloud of dust into the air.
“Here are the chairs,” Hae-won called out, just loud enough to be heard over the din of voices in the cafeteria. “But some of them are rusted. They may not open.”
I joined the Korean by the stack of chairs while Becka sneezed her way toward the back of the stage.
“See any good spots?” I asked as I pulled out some of the chairs.
While I wrestled with one of the chairs, Hae-won leaned over to investigate the rest of the stack.
“There is a good spot here,” Hae-won replied quietly as she pulled a different chair from the pile. “I will hide my Glock here.”
“There,” I said as I finally got the chair open. “It’s sort of dirty. Is there a better one back there?”
“I don’t see any,” Hae-won said as she looked through the chairs.
The two of us moved out of sight behind the curtains just long enough to conceal the Glocks, then we reappeared a moment later with wooden building blocks creating a nice bulge beneath our shirts.
“I can’t take this,” Becka said as she joined us a moment later. “I think I’m allergic to this dust or something.”
“We’ll find you a decent chair,” I replied.
The blonde nodded, patted her side where the gun used to be, and then sauntered from the stage. I watched her as she crossed back toward the soldiers, and then she dropped onto the cot with another sneeze and an apology to Corporal Grant for dumping so much dirt onto the blanket.
“I think this is the best we can do,” Hae-won sighed as she pulled out two more chairs.
“Then let’s take these,” I said.
We left the stage with the chairs and our mysterious bulges, and I saw several people start to whisper again as we rejoined Becka and the soldiers. I set up the chairs, dusted them off as well as I could with my bare hands, and then offered the first choice of chairs to my companions.
“That was well done,” Grant noted. “They’re all convinced you’re planning an escape and that you have guns you’re carr
ying.”
“I just hope Dean falls for it,” I remarked.
“He will,” Grant said. “He has no choice.”
Food appeared a short while later, brought into the cafeteria by the woman with blue eyeshadow and two teenage girls. Two more men with rifles followed them inside and kept an eye on the crowd while the women left the offerings on one of the tables. I noticed the men kept a close eye on our little group, and I wondered if word had already reached Dean about our possible escape. I wondered then how Dean communicated with his rat, or if the rat was really some sort of electronic surveillance. Even as I thought about that, I looked up and saw the small domed cover for a camera.
The women left, and the lock was placed back on the door. That seemed to be the signal to the other people in the room, who all moved quickly toward the table.
“Are you sure there’s a spy?” I asked Grant as we stood up. “I see there’s surveillance cameras.”
“I saw those as well,” Grant replied. “But there’s no audio with those. I still think someone in here is talking to Dean.”
“But how?’ I pressed. “No one’s left this room since the group came back from the fields or whatever, and it’s not like there’s anywhere you can go to pass a secret message.”
“I’ve been working on that,” Grant replied. “I think it’s the loos.”
I glanced toward the two bathrooms, and nodded.
“A listening device?” I guessed.
“That’s my thought,” Grant said.
We arrived at the table and saw that tonight’s dinner consisted of hard rolls and some sort of stew with lots of carrots and a few chunks of stringy meat. It didn’t look very appetizing, but then Dean probably didn’t see the need to provide much more than was required to keep his laborers going another day. I picked up a bottled water and a couple of rolls, and returned to our little circle.
The others soon joined me, and judging by the looks on Becka’s and Hae-won’s faces, the decision to skip the stew was probably a good one. Corporal Terry was looking better and more alert, and he even managed to eat nearly a whole bowl of the stew that his fellow soldier fed to him.
“I thought MRE’s were disgusting,” Terry said when he was done.
“The rolls aren’t much better,” I told him.
“I’m not sure what kind of meat this is,” Hae-won said as she poked at a piece. “It may be dinosaur.”
“Okay, I’m done,” Becka said. “What do we do with the bowls and the spoons?”
“We pile them by the door,” Grant replied. “They take them away in the morning when they come to announce who’s working.”
“Anyone else done?” Becka asked as she stood up.
“Here,” Hae-won said as she passed her bowl to the Brit.
“We’re done as well,” Grant said as she passed over what was left of the soldiers’ meals.
Becka joined the small group of people stacking bowls by the door for a few minutes, then returned and dropped back into her chair.
“Everyone’s waiting for us to do something,” Becka said. “I can feel it.”
“It won’t be much longer,” Grant replied. “They’ll turn the lights off soon, and then when they think everyone’s asleep, they’ll burst in.”
“So we just pretend to go to sleep,” the Korean girl mused. “What do we do with our armor?”
“If you can sleep with it on, that’s great,” I said. “But we won’t have a lot of time once the shooting starts to stop and put it back on. We’ll need to move quickly if we’re going to make it back to the minibus.”
“I can’t believe I have to spend even more time in this thing,” Becka sighed.
An hour later, the lights in the cafeteria all clicked off, and those who weren’t already in their cots fumbled around in the dark to find a spot. Grant had already warned us, and we had found a pair of empty cots near the stage. The girls were able to fit into one cot together, while I took the second one. I kept an eye on the door, even though all I could see was the emergency exit sign.
There was a lot of rustling and murmuring at first, but as one hour became two, the noise faded away and several people began to snore. I thought about closing my eyes for a moment, but decided that was probably a bad idea since I was bound to fall asleep. It was hard enough staying awake by focusing on the bright red letters that spelled out ‘Exit’, and I tried to come up with a few mental games I could play to stay awake.
Near hour three, I heard something thump softly against the door, and I was instantly awake. I saw one of the girls shift as well, and then Becka’s golden hair rose up for a moment. The lights in the cafeteria sprang to life, brighter than they had been before, and several men burst into the room. Two held the rifles on the prisoners while men with cricket bats and farm implements spread out across the room.
“Right!” one of the men with a rifle bellowed. “Everybody up and on the stage. Now!”
The prisoners scrambled to their feet as the men started to move among the cots. Anyone who didn’t move fast enough was shoved from their mattress, and the lucky ones landed on their feet. Cots were overturned, the few personal items people had were searched, and garbage bins were tipped over all while we were herded onto the stage.
“You,” one of the men said, and I realized it was William. He still had the revolver, which he waved around one-handed like he was in some buddy cop movie.
“Where are your guns?” William demanded as he pointed his own weapon at me.
“What guns?” I asked.
“Frisk them,” William ordered.
Several men approached me and the girls, and though we protested, one of the riflemen appeared, and we were forced to tolerate being patted down. No guns were found, though, and a search of our cots turned up nothing more than a few children’s blocks. Angry, William turned on the soldiers next, and he knocked Corporal Terry to the floor as he searched their cots. I felt Corporal Grant tense up as she stood next to me, but she kept her composure even as William waved his gun at the injured man.
“Leave him alone,” Grant called out.
“We should have killed both of you back at the center,” William spat back as he raised the gun toward the stage and waved it again.
Grant stood her ground, but the rest of the group split apart and started to look for places to hide. Becka, Hae-won, and I quickly returned to the spots where we had hidden our guns while William and Corporal Grant continued to have their staredown. The other men with William seemed to be losing interest in their search, and one even shrugged and walked back toward the door.
“There’s nothing here,” a man with a pair of long shears said. “Let’s go. I want to get some sleep some time tonight.”
Soon, it was just William and the two riflemen, and the riflemen looked like they were ready to call it a night as well. William only had eyes for Corporal Grant, and so no one paid any attention to the fact that me, Becka, and Hae-won had slipped into the darkened areas of the stage. Hae-won and I quickly reclaimed our Glocks, and I saw Becka pull hers from a pile of kidsized costumes. The three of us sidled closer to the front of the stage where Grant was still standing at attention while William leered at her.
“William’s the real danger,” I whispered. “He doesn’t really know how to handle the revolver. I’ll take him out while you two shoot the men with the rifles. Make your shots count and don’t let them get out that door. Once they’re down, even if they’re not dead, run for the door and don’t let anybody put the lock back on.”
“I’ll take the one with the bad toupee,” Becka replied, and Hae-won nodded.
We stepped apart and took our positions. One of the riflemen seemed to sense something was going on, and he started to raise his rifle again. Hae-won was faster, though, and she fired two quick shots before the man could warn the others. One shot hit the man in the shoulder, but the second shot caught him in the gut. His dingy t-shirt suddenly turned red and tendrils of blood moved down his pants leg. The imp
act had knocked him backward a step and his arm sagged from the shoulder wound.
The man with the bad toupee was the first to react, and as I’d guessed, he made a run for the door. Becka fired as he moved, and her first shot pinged off the concrete just over the man’s hand. He ducked down as he ran, but two steps later, Becka’s next shot smashed into the side of his head, just above his ear and exited out the other side with an explosion of brain matter. He managed half a step before his legs stopped working, and then he crumpled to the ground just as his fellow rifleman slumped against the wall and slid to the floor, a long red trail of blood smeared on the wall as a marker of his path.
That just left William. The two-bit wannabe jumped when the first shot rang out and then swung his revolver in a wide circle as he searched for a target. He landed on Corporal Terry, who was still on the floor near the cot. William started to aim the gun at the soldier, an act which set Grant into motion. She leapt from the stage and started toward the pair, but I had William in my sights by then.
I pulled the trigger while William was busy posturing for Terry, a first shot at his head and a quick second shot at the spot where his neck met his spine. The first bullet carved a sizeable hole in the back of William’s head, and chunks of greasy hair and brain matter splattered to the ground. The second bullet sent out a plume of blood that left an arc of red across the cafeteria floor. William’s body didn’t swivel or jerk, like they always do in those slow motion sequences in movies. It just flopped forward, face down onto the floor, like a toddler’s toy tossed aside for something newer and shinier.
Grant kicked the body aside as she went to help her fellow soldier, and I saw one of the locals tentatively jab at William’s gun with his foot, then decide to leave it alone. I looked toward the door to make sure that no one had managed to lock it again, and saw that Hae-won had it open. The Korean stood in the doorway with her Glock at the ready while she scanned the hallway for trouble. Becka, meanwhile, was gathering the rifles while urging the other prisoners to remain calm. I dropped from the stage and made my way to the two soldiers, and I helped Grant pull Terry to his feet.