The Survivalist (Freedom Lost)

by Arthur T. Bradley

  Mason didn’t know how to answer that. He wanted to say that he would have calmly taken them into custody, but he also remembered the terrified young waitress tied to the bed, soaked in piss and semen. She had lived, but that was about the extent of her good fortune. Some crimes could not be righted. They could only be avenged. It was not the proper mindset for a lawman perhaps, but it was what had filled him that day.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Leroy said, waving it away. “They got what they deserved, and I was honored to be standing beside you when they did.”

  Mason nodded. “You were a good partner, Leroy. I never doubted for a minute that you had my back.”

  Leroy swallowed hard as if touched by the words, and said, “How is it that you weren’t killed at Glynco with the others?”

  “I was away on leave when the virus hit. By the time I got back to Glynco, it was too late.” Mason didn’t share the fact that he had hunted down and punished those responsible for the attack. “What about you?”

  “As folks were bubbling up with blisters, I was out rounding up a joker who’d been threatening a district court judge.”

  “Did you get him?”

  “Can you believe that slippery bastard jumped out a three-story window to avoid going to jail?” He cracked a smile. “Only good thing about the outbreak was that it saved me a ton of paperwork.”

  Mason glanced around the clubhouse. “How’d you end up here?”

  “That’s sort of a long story. Let’s just say that after I heard what happened at Glynco, I sort of wandered for a bit. To be honest, I was feeling pretty low. Thought maybe there wasn’t much use in living anymore.”

  “What changed?”

  Leroy pulled a thin cigar from his shirt pocket, wet the crown with his mouth, and bit a small hole in the cap.

  “I had the good fortune of running across a real nice family,” he said, spitting out the piece of wrapper. “They took me in for a time, fed me, made me feel like there was still a little good left in this world.”

  Mason nodded. “The kind touch of a stranger can do wonders.”

  “In this case, it not only raised my spirits, it helped me to find my way.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I discovered that they were hurting in a bad way. The husband was hobbling around on crutches, thanks to being winged by a gang of teenage hoodlums. That left the missus and her two daughters in constant fear that they’d be grabbed up by the young men.”

  “It’s that kind of world out there. What did you do?”

  “I’ll tell you what I did,” he said, lighting the cigar with the quick flick of a match. “I found those boys and explained to them the error of their ways.”

  “Did that help?”

  “Not really, no.” He stoked the cigar to life with a few puffs. “To be fair, I think they were too used to living in a world in which right and wrong had to play by different rules.”

  “What happened?” Mason was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

  “I took it upon myself to make clear the severity of the situation.”

  “You killed them?”

  Leroy puckered his lips and blew a smoke ring.

  “Every last one of them.”

  Mason said nothing. He had killed plenty, trying to right the wrongs of the world. Even so, there was something a little disturbing about Leroy’s prideful tone.

  “You know, I never did go back and tell that family they were safe. I suppose they eventually figured it out.”

  “I’m sure they’re grateful for not having to look over their shoulders anymore.”

  “I suppose.” Leroy took another long puff of the cigar. After he exhaled most of the smoke, he closed his mouth and swallowed, forcing the last bit out through his nose. “Truth is, I don’t even really care. I came to understand that it wasn’t about preventing suffering or injustice that drove me.”

  “No? What then?”

  “It was about cleaning the shit off my boots.”

  Despite Leroy’s callous language, Mason couldn’t argue the point. The junkers were just the latest reminder that much of mankind was reverting to their baser instincts.

  “After putting those dogs down, I realized that I’d found a righteous purpose in this new world.”

  “You’re out to make sure that no one gets a free pass.”

  “Spoken like a true lawman,” he said with a nod. “Along the way, I met up with others interested in establishing a society in which right and wrong still meant something.”

  “Is that what this camp is? A place where right and wrong mean something?”

  “You’re damn straight it is. Don’t get me wrong. I know it’s not perfect. But it’s a whole lot better than what’s out there.” He flicked ashes toward the clubhouse door. “The folks in Grey’s Point work hard and play hard, but nearly everyone here has learned to respect the rules.”

  “And if they don’t?”

  “If they don’t, their neighbors report them. I made sure of that by offering a modest reward to those turning in violators. I figure that way everyone’s in this together.”

  “If you remember your history, you might recall that reward systems like that have a way of breeding their own criminals. Thief-takers, I believe they were called—folks who set up heists only to report the unsuspecting robbers.”

  He shook his head. “It’s not like that here. I have a thorough investigation done of every reported infraction. Also, if we were to see someone reporting an unreasonable number of criminals, we’d take notice. Once we conclude that someone is indeed guilty, we make an example out of them. Instead of stockades or public hangings, we opted for a contest. Good versus evil. The righteous against the fallen.”

  “You’re talking about your tournament.”

  He smiled. “You know I’ve always had a thing for a good old-fashioned showdown. The tournament lets me experience that without getting all shot up.”

  “Will this be the first?”

  “Third, actually. It takes a month or two between each to put them together. Not only do we have to come up with some pretty fantastic challenges, we also have to ensure that we have enough competitors on both sides of the aisle.” Leroy took another long puff on the cigar and blew smoke out into the room. “What about you? Where’d you hitch your wagon? I see you’re still wearing the badge.”

  Mason reflexively touched the Marshal’s badge on his waist. He had accepted that it would forever be a part of him.

  “I’m working for the New Colony. Running down trouble. Gathering supplies. That sort of thing.”

  “I figured as much. You were always the Boy Scout of the bunch. Is that why you’re here? We do something to piss off the colony?”

  Mason shook his head. “I’m not here on official business.”

  “But you’re not here just to catch up with an old friend either. You want something. I can see it in your eyes.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re not leaving here without getting it. Do I have that about right?”

  “I don’t know if I’d put it that way.”

  “What I know is that you’re a man who moves with dogged purpose. While that isn’t something to be ashamed of, it can also be a royal pain in the ass.” He looked at his cigar, wrinkled his nose, and flicked it out an open window. “Okay, so let’s hear it.”

  “You have a prisoner, one of the men who marched across the stage. I’d like to secure his release.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Jack Atkins.”

  “Atkins…” he said, chewing on the name. “Can’t say as I—” Leroy suddenly snapped his fingers. “Yes, yes, I remember Jack. Older fellow, claimed to be a Navy bird.”

  Mason nodded. “That’s him.”

  “It’s like I’ve always said, desperation can make good men do bad things.”

  “What’d he do?”

  “For starters, he stole someone’s belongings. That by itself would’ve put him on my shit list.”<
br />
  “What else?”

  “When the owner confronted him, he shot him dead.”

  “That doesn’t sound like Jack. Did anyone see the killing?”

  “Only a dozen people. Even with that, I had one of my men investigate the whole thing.”

  “And?”

  “And he concluded that Jack was at fault.”

  “Who did the investigation?”

  Leroy’s eyes narrowed. “Are you saying you don’t believe him, or me?”

  “I’m only asking who decided that Jack was a murderer.”

  He took a moment to consider the request before finally answering.

  “His name’s Ramsey, but before you go getting all suspicious, I should tell you that he’s been with me from the beginning.”

  “What’s he like?”

  “A little rough around the edges maybe. No different than you and I were at his age. Plus, he’s got that face to contend with.” When Leroy saw that Mason didn’t understand, he said, “Poor bastard got hit by lightning when he was a teenager. Believe me. You’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Even so, mind if I talk to him?”

  Leroy shrugged. “I don’t see why not. But it won’t change anything. Jack’s already in the tournament.”

  “Can’t you put someone else in his place until I get to the bottom of this?”

  “I could, but I won’t. This whole camp is built on rules. If it were to get out that I’m willing to bend them for a friend, well, you can see how that might look.”

  Experience had taught Mason that Leroy was not a man who changed his mind easily. Still, he had to try.

  “His daughter’s here. She came up with me to search for him.”

  Leroy pressed his lips together. “I’m sorry to hear that. I really am.” He looked as if he had more to say, and Mason waited until he found the words.

  “There might be a way.”

  “Tell me.”

  “The rules allow for any man to take the place of another. We put that in so younger sons could step in for an aging or ill parent. No one wants to see an old woman shot dead.” He settled back against the chair.

  “You’re saying that I could fight in his place.”

  “I am. But before you go raising your hand like some damn fool, you had better think this through. You wouldn’t only be putting your life on the line, you’d be signing up to kill a man who hasn’t committed any wrongdoing against you or yours.”

  Mason took a long moment to consider things. Killing was never to be taken lightly, neither was risking one’s life.

  “Are the gunfights fair?”

  “Everything about Grey’s Point is fair. Honestly though, I’d feel a whole lot better if you just took the little lady home and let things be how they’re gonna be.”

  “If I take Jack’s place, I’d only have to defeat one gunfighter to earn his freedom?”

  “That’s right.” Leroy’s eyes dropped to the Supergrade. “But it wouldn’t be with that tack driver. Each challenge has its own assigned weapons.”

  That added an element of uncertainty to things. Even so, Mason didn’t see how he could go back and tell Jessie that he had left her father to die.

  “I’ll do it.”

  “Are you sure? Because once you sign—”

  “I said I’d do it.”

  “Yeah,” he said with a resigned nod. “I thought you might.”

  Chapter 14

  Tanner coasted the old station wagon behind a thicket of trees before bringing it to a stop. An enormous brick building stood in the distance.

  “Why are we stopping so far away?” asked Samantha.

  “Figured we might want to take a look-see before we go charging in.”

  “Right,” Sister Margaret muttered from the backseat, “because that worked so well with Dr. Langdon.” She apparently hadn’t quite gotten over Tanner making her sit scrunched together with the other three nuns in the back while Samantha got to ride shotgun.

  “Come on, Sam. Let’s go see what trouble we can get in.”

  Samantha opened the door and lifted out her rifle, giving it a quick once-over.

  “That building is no place for a child,” chided Sister Margaret.

  Neither Tanner nor Samantha replied. It had been asked and answered, as the saying goes.

  They walked around to the rear of the station wagon and dropped the tailgate. Tanner dug through his backpack until he came up with a flashlight.

  “Leave your pack if you like, but bring your flashlight.” He clicked his on and off a few times. “It’s bound to be dark in there.”

  “Oh great,” she said, fishing it out. “Just what I always wanted to do, poke around a haunted insane asylum.”

  “No one ever said it was haunted.”

  “Like there’s any other kind,” she muttered, closing the hatch.

  Leaving the good sisters behind to say prayers on their behalf, they headed off toward the DeJarnette Center. It was positioned atop a gradual hill, and between the razor wire grass and clumps of rotting garbage, it was nothing short of a miserable slog.

  The structure consisted of two enormous brick buildings held together by a third one that looked like it might have been added to house an indoor swimming pool. Measured end to end, the center easily stretched five hundred feet. The windows and doors had all been boarded up, no doubt an attempt to keep out vandals and metal thieves.

  A six-foot-high chain link fence blocked entrance to the stairs, a tattered yellow hazardous material sign plastered across it. The gate had been chained closed, but it didn’t look very tight. Tanner pressed a shoulder against it, creating a gap large enough for him to slip through.

  Samantha stopped short and studied the sign.

  “You do see this, right?”

  “They probably put that up to keep out looters. Worst case, there’s a little asbestos floating around. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”

  She frowned, not at all convinced.

  “You can go back and wait in the car with the ladies if you like.” There was something about the way he said “ladies” that was anything but flattering.

  She growled and pushed her way through the gap.

  Once she was clear, Tanner veered toward a set of concrete steps that led to the asylum’s main entrance. At the bottom of the stairs, they paused to stare up at the enormous structure. Cracked paint covered the once majestic colonnade of Ionic columns. Dirt, animal feces, and rotting wood stained nearly every square inch of the once white trim and cornice, and a thick web of dried vines coated the underside of the lower story’s overhang.

  Samantha slowly shook her head. “Not haunted, my foot.”

  “It’s just an old boarded-up building.”

  “I’ve noticed that whenever you use the word ‘just,’ things end up getting really awful.”

  “Bah,” he said, starting up the stairs. “That’s just your imagination.”

  “See! You did it again!” she said, following after him. “Seriously, I have a bad feeling about this.”

  “Have you ever once had a good feeling about going into a spooky old building?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Why do you suppose that is?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Could it be because every time we go into one, something tries to eat us?”

  “Correction,” he said, stepping onto the landing. “Something tries to eat me. You apparently taste like day-old haggis.”

  “I don’t know what that is, but I’m sure I don’t taste like it.”

  They stopped picking at one another long enough to examine the double doors leading into the center. Both had been nailed shut and covered with thick sheets of plywood. An intricate web of vines had stitched itself to the face of the wood, daring anyone to pull it down.

  Samantha reached for them, but Tanner gently pulled her back.

  “Not a good idea, kiddo.”

  “Why not?”

  “Count the leaves.”
/>
  She stared at them a moment, finally understanding.

  “Poison ivy.”

  “Which means we’re not getting in that way.”

  “There must be a door around back that Dr. Langdon’s men use,” she offered.

  “I’m sure that’s true, but I’d rather come up from behind them if at all possible.”

  “So you can clobber them?”

  He grinned. “Clobber—I like that.”

  “I thought you might.” She let her eyes wander over the entrance. “What about that?” she said, pointing to one of the boarded-up windows. “No vines.”

  Tanner walked over and examined the window. The bottom corners of the plywood had been kicked loose from the inside, but nails still held the rest in place.

  “I think we can make this work. Stand clear.” He grabbed the bottom of the board and pried it backward. The lower half broke free, and he hurled the wood out into the grass.

  “Go in and check things out,” he said, squinting to see into the dark hole.

  “Me?”

  “No reason for me to squirm through that little hole if it doesn’t go anywhere.”

  Samantha peered in. A thick dusty curtain hung down, blocking her view. She used her rifle to push it aside, but the room beyond remained dark and eerie.

  “Did I mention that I have a bad feeling about this?”

  He clasped his hands and held them out for her to stand on.

  “Up you go.”

  “You do realize that sending a twelve-year-old girl into a haunted house probably qualifies as child abuse?”

  “You’re stalling.”

  Samantha reluctantly slung her rifle across her back and climbed through the broken window. She pushed past the curtains and stood for a moment, letting her eyes slowly adjust to the darkness.

  “Well?” he said.

  “It’s dark.”

  “Yeah? And?”

  “Scary too.”

  He let out a frustrated sigh. “Is there a way to get into the rest of the building? I don’t want to squeeze through this tiny hole without good reason.”