Unable to sleep, Granger reviewed his plan one more time on how he would resist divulging any critical information. That he would be tortured, he was in no doubt, and as an ex-soldier, knew he would eventually break. Everybody breaks. That was what had been taught to him in the military. A human being could only endure so much pain.
He wouldn’t be tortured by a professional interrogator, however. That meant that perhaps he could devise a strategy to determine what he divulged and what he kept secret. The thing he dearly hoped not to reveal was The Ring, the second line of defense he and his team had almost completed before his capture. As well as providing a fallback position, it had been designed to aggressively repel any attacker.
With cleverly-designed interlocking fields of fire that offered an advancing force few blind spots, an overconfident Mason could easily stumble into a nasty trap. The more he thought about it, the more Granger felt that perhaps he could even aid him in doing exactly that. He smiled to himself grimly. In the last few hours of his life, he would do everything in his power to make that happen.
There was the sound of his door being unlocked. His right hand had been cuffed to a heavy chain wrapped around the bed frame, and he turned awkwardly on his side to see Russ enter the room. He was followed in by Doney, a burly man with a pasty face and thick black hair brushed back in a short quiff.
In Doney’s right hand was a mug of coffee, in the other, what appeared to be a couple of granola bars. Granger’s eyes immediately fixed on them. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast the previous day.
“Morning, Ned,” Russ said cheerfully. He gestured to the guard. “As you can see, Doney has brought you breakfast in bed. Don’t tell me we don’t take good care of our guests here. That right, Doney?”
Doney grunted. He handed the coffee mug to Russ. “Here, take this while I uncuff him.”
Russ gestured over to the bedside table. “Leave it over there,” he instructed. “That’s what a bedstand is for.”
Doney glared at him a moment, then crossed the room and placed the mug and granola bars down. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a key and uncuffed Granger.
Granger sat up in bed, rubbing his wrist, then picked up the mug and took a sip. It was instant coffee, with creamer and sugar. Normally he took it black, but he wasn’t complaining. Placing the mug down, he ripped the wrapper off one of the granola bars and bit off a large chunk.
Russ watched him carefully. “Eat up, Ned. You’re going to need all your energy today. In an hour’s time, you’re going to meet your friend, the sheriff.”
Granger stopped chewing and a surprised expression came over his face.
Russ chuckled. “Well, meet might be a bit of an exaggeration. Perhaps more of a wave. You won’t get within three hundred yards of him.”
“What’s the purpose of that?”
“A smart guy like you ought to know. It’s called proof of life.”
Granger stared at him. Proof of life meant only one thing. Mason intended on trading him for something. What that was, he had no idea. “What are you up to?” he growled.
“Aw, nothing much. Just Mason thinks he can swap your crinkly old ass in exchange for Camp Benton, that’s all.”
Granger stared at Russ incredulously. “He’s crazy! John will never agree to that.”
Russ shrugged. “Mason’s argument is that seeing as he’s taking the camp one way or the other, why not do it without any more loss of life. Including yours. Personally, I’m not convinced.”
“He’s dreaming,” Granger said. “The camp is too well defended. If you thugs try taking it, you’ll get your asses kicked.”
“We’ll see.” Russ winked at him. “Now, a little inside knowledge on how your defenses are set up would certainly help the cause, wouldn’t it? If you thought about it hard enough, I bet you could easily figure out a way for us to break in.”
A contemptuous look came to Granger’s face. “I’m not telling you anything. I’d sooner die before I do that.”
Russ remained undaunted by his reply. “The trick on my part will be to make sure you don’t die until after you give us what we want.” He gestured over to the bedstand. “Finish your coffee so Doney can cuff you again. Then rest up. It’s going to be a long day. If Rollins doesn’t agree to Mason’s terms, it’s going to be an even longer night.”
CHAPTER 22
After breakfast, Camp Eastwood’s three recruiters set off on their mission. Loading Pete’s Tacoma with enough provisions to last them several days, they headed out of camp and down into the valley.
Pete sat behind the wheel with Ralph riding shotgun. In the back seat, Maya, the designated navigator, studied a large roadmap spread across her knees.
As they drove past the camp perimeter, Ralph poked his head out the window to where Cody and Clete stood by the side of track. They’d just dragged a felled tree back to let them by. “So long, suckers!” he yelled, giving them a sloppy salute. “Don’t slack off while we’re away!”
When they reached the valley floor, Pete pulled onto the old Highway 2 and headed in the direction of Chatsworth. From there, the trio planned to head south along the southern perimeter of the Cohutta, passing through towns such as New Hope, Ellijay, and Amicalola along the way.
If they hadn’t found anyone willing to join them by then, they would drive east and check out the towns of Emma and Juno. After the recent showdown with Chris, the three had agreed with Walter that it would be best to search for survivors south of the camp, rather than north. There was no point running into unwarranted trouble.
“Appreciate you guys volunteering to come with me,” Pete said once they were a few miles out of camp, holding onto the steering wheel firmly as the pickup dipped and yawed on the highway’s uneven surface.
“Seemed like something fun to do,” Ralph replied. Though good with a gun, he knew damn-all about living in the boonies, and it had been an impulse decision on his part to volunteer for the task.
In the back seat, Maya sighed. “Turning you into a hillbilly is proving harder than I thought. No sooner have we settled in here than you want to hit town again.”
Ralph stared out the window as they wound their way up the side of the Alaculsy Valley. Down below, the rushing waters of the Conasauga River were in view. “Only one-horse towns around these parts,” he said. “Soon as you’ve driven into them, before you know it, you’ve driven out the far side again. Nothing too exciting about that.”
Maya chuckled. “Ralph, haven’t you heard? Times have changed. Even a one-horse boonie town has got the potential for excitement these days.”
Pete glanced up at her through the rearview mirror. “I daresay you’re right. I’m sure we’ll run into something strange before this trip’s over.”
Ralph buzzed his window up and leaned back in his seat. “Here’s to hoping. Last time I ran into something strange, I found Maya. Sure pleased how that turned out.”
***
Ten miles south of Chatsworth, Pete exited Highway 411 and steered the Tacoma around a dogleg junction before picking up Route 76. The three had spent two hours searching the area for survivors. They’d taken Route 52 and driven to Fort Mountain State Park, reasoning it was the kind of place people might be drawn to. Their reasoning had been correct, and they’d come across a group of eight camped out by a small lake. The group had greeted them with outright hostility, however, and the trio’d left the area quickly.
“This is all getting way too tribal,” Maya said with a frown. “It reminds me of a book I read once about an explorer traveling from one side of Borneo to the other. Every jungle village he passed through had some beef going with the one he’d just left. Absolutely no one was getting on. Uhh…ring a bell, anybody?”
“Borneo?” Ralph asked, raising an eyebrow. “Aren’t those dudes cannibals?”
“Sure used to be. Maybe they are all over again,” Pete said. “Let’s hope the next place we show up at, they don’t try and eat us.”
Maya laughed. �
��Did either of you hear that old joke about the missionary who gets captured in the jungle?” she asked. “The tribe takes him back to their village and throws him into a pot of water. ‘Hey, you can’t boil me! he shouts as they light a fire underneath him. ‘I’m a friar!’”
Skirting around the southernmost tip of the Cohutta, the three headed in the direction of Ellijay. There was a large lake nearby. Hopefully they’d find people on their own there, or in pairs. Then it would be up to Pete and Maya to sell them on the great community they were building in the Alaculsy Valley.
At an area called Tails Creek, Maya got Pete to slow down.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“According to the map, there’s a cluster of lakes and streams behind the forest to our left. Could be worth a look. What do you think?”
Pete came to a halt and Maya passed him the map. Studying it a few moments, he handed it back to her. “Why not? There’s a junction a couple of miles ahead. It’ll take us up to one of the lakes. Let’s see if we get a better reception there than we got at Fort Mountain.”
A few minutes later, Pete took an unpaved road into some thinly-forested woodland. On their right, they soon passed a private road that led up to a large house on top of a hill, then around the next bend, a lake came into view.
Pete slowed down. A few hundred yards ahead, two vehicles were parked along the side of the road, one in front of the other. Fifty feet away, a tent had been pitched by the lakeside.
Two men stood by it. One was short and stocky and wore a dark T-shirt, khaki shorts, and hiking boots. The second was taller. He wore a checked shirt and jeans. Both stared at the approaching Tacoma.
“Only two people. This looks more promising,” Pete remarked.
“Pull up,” Ralph told him. “Let’s not get too close until we figure this out.”
Pete stopped the pickup in the middle of the road, leaving the engine running. He peered out the windscreen alongside Ralph, assessing the situation.
The nearest vehicle was a silver Volvo. A face suddenly popped up to stare out the back window, and began waving a hand frantically at them.
The men strode over to the car, covering the ground quickly. The taller of the two opened the Volvo’s back door and leaned his head in, and whoever was waving stopped. The shorter man stared back at the Tacoma, gesturing aggressively that they should turn around and leave.
Ralph frowned. “I don’t like the look of this. Something’s up.”
“They don’t seem like the type we’re looking to recruit, that’s for sure,” Pete said nervously. “Maybe we should just get the hell out of here.”
Ralph took his point. In a world where the normal rules of human interaction were dead and buried, a situation like this only invited trouble. Nonetheless, he shook his head. “I don’t think we can. The person in the back of that car is a child.”
Pete’s eyes widened. “You sure? It’s too far for me to see properly.”
“I’m sure.”
Ralph had 20-20 vision. He was in no doubt that the person he’d seen through the back window couldn’t have been more than ten years old.
“Given vPox’s fatality rate, the chance of either of these two men being their father is slim,” Maya said, leaning her head over the seat rests so she could get a better view. “There’s no way we can leave here. Not until we find out what’s going on. All right, how we going to play this?”
“Turn the car,” Ralph told Pete. “Make it look like we’re leaving, only park it across the road.”
Pete tugged at the wheel and reversed several feet. Putting the car into drive, he drove forward and parked its horizontally across the road.
Ralph grabbed his Bushmaster and opened his door. “Everyone out this side,” he ordered, indicating to Pete to follow him out the passenger door.
All three exited, and stood on the far side of the hood facing the two men. The engine block would give them some level of protection from any gunfire that might ensue.
“Hey! What are you doing?” the shorter man yelled warily. Both men had drawn their pistols and had stepped behind the Volvo. “Get the hell out of here!”
“Not before we talk to the kid!” Ralph yelled back, keeping his Bushmaster out of sight below the hood. “Who is that, and what are they doing with you?”
“That’s my daughter!” the tall man shouted out. “And she’s doing just fine.”
“You believe that?” Ralph whispered to Maya.
“Not yet,” she whispered back. “Get them to bring her out so we can see for ourselves.”
“Bring her out of the car!” Ralph hollered out again. “Soon as we see she’s okay, we’ll be on our way.”
There was the sound of low voices as the two men conferred, then the tall man walked around the side of the vehicle and opened the back door. He leaned in and talked to the person inside.
“There’s something very wrong with this,” Ralph muttered. “I don’t like it one bit.”
A moment later, the man stood back and a young girl around eight or nine years old stepped out of the car to stand beside him. She had blonde hair with ringlet curls, and wore a pink T-shirt, shorts, and sandals.
Raising her hand, the girl waved over at the three. “Hi!” she called out in a faltering tone. “I’m okay. Thank you for asking.”
“You sure, sweetie?” Maya asked. “You want to come over and talk to us?”
The girl shook her head. “Please…you better go now.”
Squinting hard, Ralph stared at the girl’s left hand that was nearest to the door. A surge of anger ran through his body. “These two bastards are holding her prisoner,” he hissed.
Pete’s eyes shot up. “What makes you so sure?”
“Her wrist is tied to something inside the car, probably the door handle. That’s why she didn’t run out when we got here.”
“Sonofabitch,” Pete cursed under his breath. “What are we going to do?”
“Soon as she gets back into the car, we’re going to take down these sick puppies, that’s what. Pete, on my command, you go left, I go right. Got it?”
“Got it.”
Maya waved to the girl. “All right, sweetie. You can get back inside now. Bye!”
“Okay…bye!” With a wave of her hand, the girl stepped back into the vehicle.
As soon as the tall man slammed the door shut, Ralph raised the Bushmaster to his shoulder. Taking quick aim, he pulled back on the trigger at short intervals.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
The man doubled over as the first bullet caught him in the stomach. The second and third caught him in the chest and he fell to the ground.
“Go, Pete!” Ralph roared.
Stepping out around the front of the Taco, Ralph sprinted to his right, opening up a field of fire at the remaining man, who’d ducked behind the Volvo again. As he ran, Ralph fired off several more shots, careful to ensure none of them went near the back seat of the vehicle. Glancing to his left, he saw Pete dart behind a tree. He held his pistol in a two-handed grip and began shooting too.
“Stop!” the man yelled in a frightened voice, cowering behind the hood. “I’m not going to shoot.”
“Throw your gun out!” Ralph shouted. “Somewhere I can see it.”
A moment later, a dark object sailed through the air. It landed in the grass several feet away from the vehicle. Ralph nodded to Pete and the two men strode warily over to him from either side.
Crouched on his heels, the man stared up at Ralph. “Please, don’t kill me,” he whimpered.
“Get up,” Ralph growled.
Maya sprinted over to them. Reaching the Volvo, she pulled open the back door. After peering inside a moment, she turned to Ralph grimly. “Quick, give me your knife.”
Ralph unsheathed the tactical knife at his waist and handed it to her. Leaning inside the vehicle, Maya’s elbow moved up and down, cutting something.
She stepped back. “All right, sweetie, out you get.”
The l
ittle girl stepped out of the car. To Ralph’s amazement, a moment later, the slender figure of another girl clambered out to stand unsteadily beside Maya.
Perhaps sixteen or seventeen, she had shoulder-length brown hair and wore capris, a short-sleeved cotton blouse, and hiking boots. Both her legs and arms were bound, the reason for her awkward movements. Maya swiftly cut the nylon cord from her wrists. Squatting, she cut the rope binding her feet.
Ralph jabbed the muzzle of the Bushmaster into the man’s chest so hard the man cried out in pain. “You sick bastard! Did you hurt these girls?”
“No, I swear to you. We…we only just found them.”
“Is that true?” Ralph asked the older girl.
She nodded. “We’re okay. Only because you got here in time.” Her lower lip quavered. “They planned on taking me into the tent. Said they’d hurt Laura if I put up a fight.” She looked over at the younger girl. “She…she doesn’t really understand what’s going on.”
Ralph faced the man again, a dark rage building inside him. “So help me God, I’m going to send you to hell!” he thundered.
“Wait!” Maya cried out. “Let me take the girls away first.” Putting her arms around both their shoulders, she led the two girls back to the truck.
“Please…don’t,” the man said beseechingly. “I swear to you, we were never going to harm her…only…only…”
“Enough,” Ralph spat. He prodded the man with the Bushmaster, then gestured for him to walk around to the far side of the Volvo where they wouldn’t be seen.
“Give me the Sig,” he said to Pete walking beside him, who still held his P226 in his grip.
Pete shook his head. “Can’t have you doing all the dirty work,” he replied, grim-faced.
Ralph looked at him. “You sure?”
Pete nodded.
Ralph took a couple of steps back while Pete lifted his pistol, placing it against the man’s temple. With a whimper, the man closed his eyes.
A shot rang out and he slumped to the ground. Standing over him, Pete put one more round in his head then holstered his weapon. In silence, he and Ralph headed back to their vehicle.
No Direction Home (Book 2): Eastwood Page 9