Gordon continued to strain and groan.
“Here, look at your beautiful wife,” Jacques said as he placed the binoculars to Gordon’s face.
Gordon looked and was horrified by what he saw. The feelings of hopelessness he felt with Hunter came rushing back. Around Samantha the snow was soaked red with blood. Jacques would do it; he was mad and would mutilate his beloved wife. He couldn’t allow this to happen; he had to relent. He grunted, “Stop, please.”
“What did you say?” Jacques asked.
“Stop, I’ll do it, I’ll do it,” Gordon grunted.
“I’m sorry, I can’t understand you,” Jacques said fully knowing what Gordon was attempting to say but couldn’t clearly due to the gag. He enjoyed the torment and meant to squeeze out every ounce he could. He raised the handheld radio and ordered, “Put the blade to her left breast.”
“No, no, I’ll do it, I’ll do it!” Gordon grunted as he began to bounce up and down in the chair.
Terror gripped Gordon’s face as one of the guards placed a long blade against Samantha’s bare skin and held it there, waiting for the order to cut.
Jacques looked down at Gordon. He stepped out in front of him, clicked the radio and brought it to his mouth.
Gordon kept grunting, “I’ll do it, I’ll do it!”
Jacques lowered the radio and asked, “What?”
“I’ll do it.” Gordon groaned.
“Remove the gag,” Jacques ordered.
A guard ripped the duct tape from Gordon’s face.
“I’ll do it, I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t hurt her, don’t harm her. I’ll do anything,” Gordon begged.
“I thought I made myself clear. How do I know you will take me seriously?” Jacques asked as he raised the radio once again.
“I’ll give you Cascadia. You can have it, all of it, just give me my wife back unharmed.”
“You’ll sign a treaty acknowledging the area now claimed as Cascadia as Western Canada and you’ll support that claim by getting your council to approve?” Jacques asked.
“Yes.”
Jacques keyed the radio and said, “Cut her down from the post. He’s agreed to the deal.”
Gordon looked past Jacques and watched as they removed Samantha unharmed.
“I want to see her,” Gordon said.
“Of course, I’m a man of my word,” Jacques said.
The guards removed the restraints that bound Gordon to the chair but kept his arms tied together. They lifted him up and stood him in front of Jacques.
Jacques could see he was defeated; Gordon’s eyes said everything. He had broken Gordon and won. “Take him back to his room.”
The guards dragged a weary Gordon away.
Jacques joyfully said, “A family can always be leveraged to bring the greatest man down.”
Gordon’s anger shifted to despair as he wept.
“Get a good night’s sleep, Gordon; I’ll need you fresh for the signing tomorrow.”
West of Joseph, Oregon, Republic of Cascadia
Lexi stopped short of opening the side door to the house. She had deliberately taken longer to conduct her patrol so as not to have to deal with Nicholas. Just as she was warming to the thought of having him around and with the coincidence of them being from the same town, she began to feel that uneasy feeling return. Having people around her was dangerous, not for her physically, but emotionally. Growing an attachment to someone in this world would only lead to disappointment or suffering.
The sun had set an hour before and the full moon was riding high in the sky. She loved the muted glow the full moon cast. It gave enough light to make out where you were going but still provided cover if you needed it.
Beau was reliable as ever; he sat patiently at the door, waiting for her to open it up.
She knew he had to be hungry, but still she hesitated. Would she find him passed out? Or wide awake in a drunken stupor, which she imagined would be worse. If he was anything like her when drunk then he was probably roaming the house, mumbling and passionately replaying all the tragedies in his life. This was something she didn’t want to experience.
She peeked through a small pane of glass on the door but couldn’t see anything inside. Maybe he was asleep, she thought.
Beau whined when she touched the knob.
“Ssh, be quiet. I don’t want to wake him,” she whispered as she turned the knob and opened the door.
Stealthily she stepped inside and closed the door.
The moonlight shined through the windows, lighting a path that led through the kitchen and into the living room, where she had left him. When she entered the living room, she found the recliner empty.
Beau stopped at his bowl of water in the kitchen and with ravenous thirst lapped at the water.
Lexi unslung her rifle and set it next to the bay window, removed the pistol from the holster on her tactical vest, and shoved it into the belt on her pants then took off the heavy vest. She stretched and rubbed her shoulders. It felt good to be free of her gear.
Beau sauntered up and put his wet muzzle against her dangling hand.
“You hungry?” Lexi whispered.
“Yep!” Nicholas said loudly from the hallway.
“Shit,” Lexi said under her breath. She could tell by his tone he was drunk.
Nicholas stumbled into the room and plopped down on the recliner. “That was some patrol you went on. Did you go to Portland and back?” he mumbled.
She ignored him and took a step to go back into the kitchen when her foot kicked something on the floor. She looked down to see it was the bottle of Jim Beam but it was empty. She picked it up and said, “I see you stayed busy.”
“I don’t feel any pain, I’ll say that,” Nicholas replied.
Disgusted, Lexi went into the kitchen and opened a cabinet where she remembered seeing some canned food. She pulled out several cans of Kipper Snacks and tossed them on the counter.
Nicholas got up and stumbled into the kitchen. “What’s for din din?”
“Fish.”
“Yummy.”
Lexi peeled the lid off the first one and was greeted with the familiar strong fish odor.
Beau whimpered and panted with excitement.
Lexi dished the fish into a bowl for him.
“That smells awful. There has to be something else,” Nicholas said as he turned and opened cabinets.
Lexi shook her head at his behavior; she opened a can for herself and quickly left the kitchen to get away from him.
Nicholas found an unopened bag of oyster crackers and said, “I love these things.” He ripped the bag open, spilling many of the small crackers onto the floor. He stumbled back into the living room and headed for Lexi, who was perched on a chair next to the window. “Want some,” he said as he stuck his arm out almost hitting her in the face.
She brushed his hand away and said, “No, thanks.”
“More for me,” he said as he took several uneasy steps and fell into the recliner.
Lexi stuffed the fish into her mouth and finished it off by drinking the cottonseed oil.
“Now that’s fucking gross,” Nicholas said.
“You have to appreciate each calorie. I take nothing for granted.”
Nicholas stuffed a handful of crackers into his mouth and chewed with his mouth open.
“It appears there’s no one else within miles of us,” Lexi said. She wanted to give him an update and get the conversation onto something more serious.
“People who live in bum fuck call this bum fuck.” Nicholas laughed.
“I tried to find those people you talked about, the ones who had Stephanie,” Lexi said.
“Oh, you don’t want to find them, they’re bad news. You might think you’re tough, but you’re not that tough,” Nicholas said.
She ignored his condescending comment and said, “Where are they?”
“Why?”
“I want to know.”
He shoved another handful of crack
ers into his mouth and answered, “About two miles north of where you met me.”
“Okay.”
“What are you thinking? I hope it’s not something stupid.”
“You said the people were slavers. Did they capture you both?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Lexi wanted to know, so she pressed him, “Why did you say they were slavers?”
“Because they fucking were. I know fucking slavers when I see them.”
“So there are more people being held against their will,” Lexi said as her mind began to formulate a plan of attack.
“That’s right, you look at yourself as some sort of vigilante. Listen, my pretty little friend, your sexy self ain’t gonna be able to do anything against those fucking savages. I’m a fighter, and those motherfuckers mean business. Please take my advice and avoid them at all costs.”
“Can you go to bed now?” Lexi asked.
“No.”
“Then can you shut up?”
“You have the worst personality I’ve ever met, and that’s saying a lot.”
“Ssh,” Lexi said. She closed her eyes and rested into the chair.
Nicholas looked at her silhouette. She was incorrigible and rude, but none of it took away from his attraction to her. In fact, the more she acted out, the more he grew to like her. He opened his mouth to talk but she shut him down immediately.
“Ssh.”
He did what she said and remained quiet.
The silent seconds turned to minutes.
The alcohol mixed with fatigue began to take its effect on him as he slowly closed his eyes.
Abruptly she got up and went into the kitchen. She return just as fast with a jug of water and three Advil and placed them on a table next to him. “You’ll need these.” She went back to her seat and sat down.
He opened one eye, smiled and thought to himself, She likes me.
DECEMBER 28, 2015
“Never, never, never, never give up.” – Winston Churchill
Banff, Alberta, Western Canada
Gordon lay staring at the ceiling. He hadn’t been able to sleep nor had he been able to come to grips with what had happened or what was going to happen.
He and Samantha hadn’t spoken much since their reunion. Both were in a state of shock.
Samantha spent much time in the bathroom, seeking time alone to cry. The trauma of what happened made her fearful that once Jacques took control of Cascadia, he would terrorize the population in a similar fashion.
Unable to sleep Gordon rose and went to the bathroom to check on Samantha. He knocked softly and asked, “You coming to bed?”
“Leave me alone,” she replied.
He didn’t want to push her. He sympathized with her pain but felt helpless to comfort her. He walked to a window that overlooked the mountains. The light of the full moon lit the white snow. Dawn was still hours away and with it would bring judgment day.
He began to ponder why humans had to make things worse. Greed seemed to be a driving force behind many of those tyrannical leaders who sought power. They weren’t satisfied with what they had; they needed more and more as if their appetite couldn’t be satiated.
What was he to do? He was stuck. If Samantha wasn’t here, this would be an easier thing to deal with, but Jacques was correct, family could be leveraged against you. They were his greatest strength and weakness. His family gave him purpose and their safety made him do anything to ensure they lived in peace, but that included losing everything he had worked so hard for so they could live in peace. It was a sick and twisted thing.
The bathroom door opened and Samantha came out sniffling. She headed straight from Gordon.
He turned and greeted her with open arms. “Sit with me,” he said tenderly.
She sat on his lap and laid her head on his shoulder. “I’m scared.”
“I know.”
“Not like before, I’m really scared, Gordon. This is different; I don’t know how we can escape this. The man is brutal. Even if you sign that deal, why would he even hold up his side of the bargain and let me go.”
“We’ll figure this out, we always do,” Gordon said hoping his words could bring comfort.
“I love you,” she said.
“I love you too.”
“If we get back, I want to leave, I want to move to Hawaii or Alaska, I want out of Idaho. I’m done fighting, I am done. This will never end. It’s like whack-a-mole. We get rid of one bad person and another pops up in his place.”
He petted her hair and said, “Whatever you want, baby.”
“Maybe Hawaii, sunny beaches, warm.”
“That sounds nice.”
“Doesn’t it?”
“It does.”
She yawned heavily and said, “I’m going to lie down, I’m tired.”
“You go do that,” he said and gave her a kiss.
She jumped in the bed and curled up with a pillow.
Gordon turned back to the window and looked out. Once again he was in a precarious situation and needed a Hail Mary pass to survive, only this time the end zone seemed impossible to reach.
West of Joseph, Oregon, Republic of Cascadia
Nicholas’ snoring was unbearable and only proved Lexi’s point that men were gross.
The room was frigid with no fire to keep them warm. Lexi decided against it for security reasons. She didn’t want their smoke to lead someone to the house. With three blankets wrapped around her she cuddled into a ball on the chair.
Dawn would come soon and bring warmth. The temperatures had dropped well below freezing by evidence that a thick layer of frost had developed on the inside edges of the windows. Curious, she reached out and touched it. Then like a child she traced her sister’s initials, CT, into the frost. She stared at the initials. She wondered how many times Carey had traced her initials somewhere or doodled them on her school notebooks or on notes to friends. She missed Carey so much. How could someone be so cruel, so barbaric as to murder the innocent? How could someone blindly follow a God that allowed the murder and abuse of innocents? Who would follow such a group or cult or religion? So much that she had seen after the lights went out hardened her belief that humans lacked humanity, then occasionally she’d get a glimmer of hope, but her experiences on the road since had been example after example of humanity's devolution. Before the lights went out, Americans would toss out plates of food without regard; now people murdered for crumbs or scraps.
Nicholas shuffled in the chair and turned onto his side, which temporarily stopped his heavy snoring.
“Thank you,” Lexi said under her breath.
She thought about Nicholas. How odd that she’d find someone from Solana Beach on the road? It was just too weird. He seemed nice, but she couldn’t let her guard down with him. She had to admit that he became more sympathetic with that tie but mainly because he too had lost a sister. They had a connection in that regard.
The thoughts of Nicholas and his sister led her mind to wander to the slavers who had killed her. These were the exact types of people she sought to bring her brand of justice too. Killing people like them was her purpose now. She needed to find them and rain violence down on them. The more she thought about the slavers, the more her anger grew. She imagined in her mind’s eye them raping the women or children they held. She could see their savagery as clearly as if she were watching it.
She tossed off the blankets, grabbed her gear and rifle, and walked into the kitchen. On the counter sat her main backpack; she rummaged through it until she found a small LED lantern, her firearms cleaning kit and sharpening stone. She turned on the lantern but on to the red light. Doing so provided her enough light without lighting up the entire room and giving away her location to anyone who might be outside.
She opened her cleaning kit and removed everything she’d need: patches, a rag, oil, Hoppe’s #9 and a brush. She dropped the thirty-round magazine from her rifle, pulled the charging handle back, and locked it to the re
ar while keeping her hand over the ejection port to catch the round that had been chambered. She removed her spare magazines from the pouches on her vest and placed them all on the table. One by one she unloaded them. Once they were unloaded, she lubed up the brush and began to scrub each magazine and made sure the springs were in good condition. Satisfied she had done a good job, she reloaded the magazines and tapped the back of each magazine against her palm to ensure they all were set.
With the magazines checked, cleaned and reloaded, she unscrewed the rail knobs on her ACOG and removed the optics, setting it carefully to the side on the table. With the optics removed, she popped the rear pin and opened the receiver. She pulled the charging handle back and with it came the bolt receiver group. She took it out and set it down. After that, she removed the spring and popped the forward pin to completely separate the upper and lower. If Lexi was anything, she was thorough and meticulous. If she was going into battle and was going to die, it wasn’t going to happen because her gear malfunctioned.
She took her time on each piece. First scrubbing with Hoppe’s, then wiping down and finishing off with a thin coat of oil. Like an old veteran, she quickly pieced the rifle back together, put the ACOG back on, and inserted a fully loaded magazine. The last touch was to chamber a round; she pulled the charging handle back and slapped the bolt catch. Her rifle was loaded and ready for action.
She repeated this with her Sig, a Glock she kept as a secondary, and a small revolver she carried on her ankle.
With the firearms done she turned her attention to her knives. Lexi carried seven on her at all times. Tucked into the small of her back she carried two Kershaw six-inch knives. The other four knives were folding knives from various makers like Spyderco, Benchmade, and her new favorite was from Zero Tolerance. Lexi was a brand whore before and she continued to be in the apocalypse. The phrase you get what you paid for meant a lot even now. While she didn’t pay for the gear, she’d do a lot to get quality gear. It literally could mean life or death. The knives she kept on her waistband, rear pocket, side pocket and one on her vest.
One by one she sharpened the knives and wiped them dry. Nothing could be worse than a slippery blade.
The Razor's Edge: A Postapocalytic Novel (The New World Book 6) Page 10