The Mayflower Project: Deconstruction Book Two (A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller)

by Rashad Freeman

  “But…but the earthquakes, the storms aren’t over. This place, this whole city is gonna be ripped apart.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I work for the government, this is all I’ve been working on for nearly a decade. Trust me.”

  Tucker narrowed his eyes and twisted his lips to the side. Huffing, he scratched his head then straightened up. “So, you’re telling me we are all gonna die?”

  “I know somewhere safe, somewhere the highest in the government have kept a secret, I can take you there.”

  “I don’t know. I mean I don’t know you, I don’t even know your name.”

  “You can trust me, my name is Ma---“

  Tucker’s hand bashed into my cheek and it felt like my nose had just exploded off of my face. Every sensation came rushing back into my body and I quivered like I’d been laid on ice. Tucker started to laugh and as my vision cleared I scowled at him.

  “Are you fucking serious man? I’m a doctor? I’m gonna help you escape?” he laughed. “Shriver get in here! This idiot is up.”

  I was so confused. My head was spinning and I was too busy trying to cope with the pain to really appreciate what had happened. Even as Shriver waltzed into the room I was still out of it.

  “Damn look at you!” Shriver shouted. “I messed your face up.”

  “What do you want me to do with him?” Tucker asked him.

  “Take him to the field, let him see how the rest of them get along. Then put his ass to work.”

  “Up!” Tucker roared and grabbed me by the arm.

  He pulled me from the table and as my feet hit the ground my legs buckled. I dropped to the floor and fell into the cabinets, knocking my head against the metal handle.

  “Put these on,” Shriver growled and threw my boots at me. “Don’t need you stepping on a nail and dying before it’s your time.”

  I rubbed my head and started to lace up the beige, hiking boots. At least if I managed to get away now, I didn’t have to do it barefoot.

  I tied the last knot then slowly scampered to my feet. I fell again and shook my head to try and clear the cobwebs.

  “Jesus,” Tucker groaned and grabbed me.

  With his hand clenched on my arm, I managed to right myself. I leaned back against the table then balanced on noodles that were struggling to support me. Slowly, I could feel my body starting to wake up, my muscles straining to function.

  “Move it,” Tucker ordered.

  With a shove in the back, I made my way out of the door and into the hall. I tried to look around, but Tucker pushed me forward and I stumbled through the glass door and into the backyard. Collecting myself, I turned around and grilled him before looking out across the back.

  “What is this?” I gasped.

  “These are the ones that don’t listen,” Tucker replied with a sinister grin.

  There was a group of men with dog collars around their necks. They were attached to nylon cords that ran the width of the backyard so that they could move across the yard, but no further. The men were shirtless with welts covering their torso’s and bruises covering their faces.

  There were no fences, but I could see men with guns posted at the far corners. Another man roamed the yard and occasionally would stop and whack one of the prisoners across the back.

  “Why?” I grumbled.

  “Why not? You see this one here?” Tucker said as he reached down and grabbed one of the men.

  He was in his sixties, with thinning, gray locks and spots of facial hair that looked like the rest had been pulled out. He was frail and his sagging skin was a clear indication that he was being starved.

  Tucker gripped his hair in between his fingers and pulled the man’s head up until he was staring into my eyes. His piercing, glare sent chills through my arms and down the middle of my back. It was an empty, hopeless longing for death. They couldn’t have been here more than two weeks, but the man was broken, almost pleading for me to end his life.

  “This one here, his name is Landry…Kirk Landry,” Tucker said angrily. “He worked at the prison. Look at him wrong and he gave you a shot. He doesn’t give shots anymore.”

  Tucker pulled back harder, like he was trying to rip Kirk’s head from his neck. Kirk gagged and started to squirm in pain. His yellowing teeth gleamed under the sun, but Tucker just yanked a little more.

  “Good old Kirk here loved to put me in solitary. I once did 65 days straight. Now, now Kirk works for us, right along with the rest of his soulless coworkers.”

  He let Kirk go and shoved him back to the ground. “You don’t have to be out here, you can work, earn your keep, hell maybe one day get a room of your own. Choice is yours.”

  I stared down at Kirk and then to the rest of the men they had locked out there. I felt a level of pity for them, but I couldn’t concern myself, I needed to escape.

  “I don’t want to be out here,” I said simply.

  Tucker smiled. “Good. Sounds like you’re starting to learn. Follow me.”

  We headed around the side of the house and I got my first chance to look at the landscape. We were in the middle of nowhere. Off in the distance, across a flat plane, I saw another house. It was maybe two miles away, but other than that there was nothing, but empty fields and a barren dirt road.

  Windows ran along the side of the house and near the corner there was an unfinished wooden door. It had a square window in the center and as we passed I managed to steal a look inside.

  I could see food and guns right out in the open, like they didn’t have a care in the world. It was there supply room and it looked like they’d been collecting for months. That, or stealing from everyone they abducted and put to work.

  “Hey!” Tucker snapped. “This way.”

  I followed him around the corner. We made our way to the front of the house and passed a large green tent, like the kind the military would use. I paused and tried to look inside of that too, but Tucker pushed against my shoulder.

  “Don’t worry about in there. Maybe, maybe one day Theo will let you have some fun.”

  “Theo’s in charge?” I asked him.

  “For now,” he replied casually. “Just do what you’re told and you’ll make out alright.”

  I nodded and we kept walking. We headed to the front of the house to a faded, white carport. Underneath, there were rows of tables and large buckets of water. The tables were stained in blood and filthy rags and entrails were all over the ground.

  A man was sitting near the back of the carport. He wore a camouflage hat with dingy, brown hair sticking out of the sides. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his jean jacket and he had his boots propped up on the table, relaxing.

  A red and beige four-door, pickup truck with a trailer attached, was parked to the side. The engine was running, but it didn’t look like anyone was inside.

  “Benson, I got your replacement,” Tucker called out as we got closer.

  “Good…I hope he’s not squeamish,” the man at the back said as he took his hands out of his pockets and stood up. “What’s your name?” he looked to me and asked.

  The memory of getting my ass beat was fresh in my mind and I shivered at the thought. Squinting, I cast a look at Tucker and he nodded.

  “You can answer him.”

  “Max,” I replied.

  “Well Max, you any good with a knife? You ever gut someone?”

  “Huh?”

  Tucker laughed. “I got shit to do Benny, have fun.”

  He turned and walked off, leaving me with Benson. I swallowed and started looking around. There was a lot of blood and I wondered if maybe I’d said something wrong. Maybe this wasn’t a job after all.

  The grass was stained and spotted with black patches where old blood had dried. Guts dripped from the table where someone had tried to rinse them off, but done a piss poor job. The space underneath the carport was like a slaughterhouse and I was cattle being blindly led to a bloody end.

  Benson pulled a hooked kn
ife from his waistband and held it up. It looked sharp enough to cut through wind and I was sure it could easily disembowel me. He twisted it around in his hand, making sure I could appreciate the razor-sharp edge.

  I took a few steps back and felt my heart try to tear through my ribcage and run off. Benson grinned and I couldn’t tell if it was amusement at my fear or anticipation.

  “The balls,” he said. “You gotta start at the balls. You see that’s the trick, cut a little circle around then slide the blade gently up.” He motioned with the knife and zipped it through the air.

  “Wh…what?” I asked.

  “Shit…we’re cleaning hogs man, damn hogs. Tucker didn’t tell you?”

  I didn’t respond. I scanned the yard, looking for hogs on any other kind of animal. Before I could finish my search, Benson smacked me in the back of the head.

  “You hear me?” he snapped.

  I turned around and shook my head from side to side. “No, no Tucker didn’t tell me.”

  “Well alright. Help me get the hogs out of the truck. We got a lot to do.”

  For the next thirty minutes I helped Benson pull dead hogs out of the bed of the truck. They were heavy and still dripping with blood from where they were shot. The stench was almost unbearable and I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed it sooner.

  There was a total of six hogs that we laid out in the lawn. Benson looked at them for a moment then started to loop a rope around one of the hog’s legs.

  “What we do is hang em upside down,” he told me.

  He stood up and pulled the rope over a pole attached to the carport, hoisting the pig into the air. A stream of brown liquid poured from the things nose and splashed onto the ground.

  “You can go ahead and practice on this one,” he said and held out his knife. “By tomorrow you’ll be on your own.”

  Skeptically, I reached out and grabbed the blade. I looked at it then looked at the pig and frowned. I’d never done anything close to gutting an animal and the idea turned my stomach. Beyond that, the only thing I could remember from his little tutorial was to grab the damn thing by the balls.

  “Come on now,” Benson grunted. “You get to cutting this pig or I’m gonna start cutting on you. You didn’t wonder what happened to the guy that did this before?”

  I swallowed and reached my free hand out toward the pig’s genitals. I looked at the knife then with a frown grabbed its balls and stabbed the blade into its pale skin.

  “Now put your finger under it so you don’t cut into the intestines,” he ordered. “Slide the knife—” he stopped.

  A gunshot rang out echoed through the air. Benson froze and looked back toward the house. The walkie talkie on his belt crackled then Tucker’s voice fizzled out.

  “It’s happening. Shriver and Dale jumped the gun. Get rid of the new guy and get down here!”

  Benson glared at me and I tightened my fingers around the knife. My heart thumped against my chest and my muscles twitched with anticipation.

  “Well,” he started. “Sorry your stay couldn’t be longer.”

  With that he reached toward his back, for what I could only assume was a gun, but I wasn’t gonna wait and find out. I lunged forward and swung the hooked knife with all my might. The razor-sharp blade swept across his neck, carving a horrendous gash from side to side.

  He froze and every bit of color drained from his face. Blood poured down his neck, soaking the collar of his shirt. Gagging, he gripped the oozing wound and garbled out a few intelligible words before falling face first into the dirt.

  I paused, I’d never killed a man before and something about watching the life leak from his body was surreal. But I didn’t have time for surreal, if I was gonna escape, the time was now.

  I dropped the knife and rushed toward the truck. Jumping inside, I slung it into reverse and backed up, slamming the trailer into the carport.

  “Fuck!” I snarled.

  I pulled forward again then jumped out and started to unhook the trailer. Another gunshot crackled in the sky and I trembled just as Benson’s radio barked again.

  “Benson what the fuck? We need you here now!”

  I could hear screaming in the background and I feverishly worked to get the trailer off. I stood up and kicked it over and over then with a clunk, it fell to the ground.

  Hurrying, I rushed back to the driver’s seat and stopped. How far would I get with no supplies?

  I looked around and strained my ears for a sign that someone was coming. I could hear yelps and commotion, but it was coming from the back.

  I swallowed then jumped out of the car and ran back to the side of the house. I barreled through the gray door and stopped just inside.

  Shelves of dry food rations and water lined the walls. On the floor, there were boxes filled with pistols and boxes of bullets. It made me think of my gun I’d lost.

  As quickly as I could, I took a few buckets of food to the truck and a carton of water. The voice in my head told me to leave with that, but I ran back inside and grabbed a handgun and tucked it into my waistband.

  Rushing back to the front, I heard a muffled grunt as I passed the green tent that had almost begun to blend in with the landscape. I paused and leaned my head toward it, listening in silence. There were whispers and sounds of labored breathing coming from inside. Curiosity gripped me and I poked my face into the slit between the canvas.

  It was dark, too dark. I took a step in and the curtains closed behind me. My eyes slowly adjusted and figures seemed to materialize out of thin air.

  There were ten women, chained to massive cinder blocks, wearing nothing but bras and panties. Theo had created his own little brothel. It hadn’t occurred to me before, but I hadn’t seen a woman anywhere and now I knew what they were doing with them. The men worked while the women filled their other needs.

  The ground inside of the tent was covered with a patchwork of soiled blankets. The air was foul and moist and left a sticky residue on my skin. I cringed as my mind tried to imagine what horrible things took place in the dark.

  But what could I do? I couldn’t save everyone and the longer I stayed there, the closer death got to me. Every passing minute was time that I needed that I couldn’t get back.

  Frowning, I slowly walked backwards and pushed the curtain to the side. I couldn’t take my eyes off of them, I wanted to help, but I wasn’t a hero. I was just a guy that wanted to live.

  There was nowhere to take them, nowhere to hide them, so I turned around and stepped outside. The curtain clung to my back and a few rays of light slipped in and cut a beam through the tent.

  I glanced over my shoulder and my heart jumped as every detail of their gaunt faces was illuminated. Men were such pathetic creatures. We didn’t create, we only consumed and ruined, leaving broken shells behind.

  For a moment, I scanned from side to side then paused. There was a familiar face in the sea of pained visages, a marker that shined brighter than all others. She’d been beaten and her face was bruised. Her shirt was torn and her jeans were ripped and stained with blood. Her hair was slicked against her forehead and twisted together with mud and gravel, but I was certain….it was Cindy.

  CHAPTER 25

  DON’T TURN YOUR BACK ON ME

  My mind was flooded with thoughts at the sight of her. Hate, love, disgust. The pain I felt was just as real as if someone had been carving into my flesh with Benson’s knife.

  Part of me wanted to run to her, to lift her into my arms and kiss her. I’d failed her. I wasn’t there to protect her. All of this was my fault.

  The other part of me, the bitter, angry part hoped that she hadn’t seen me. I wanted to turn and walk away, to be rid of her for good. I wanted to leave her there with the other women to a fate I couldn’t imagine. She deserved it.

  I pulled myself away and let the curtain fall behind me. I crouched to one knee just right outside, weighing my decision. With a deep breath, I grabbed a handful of dirt and rubbed it between my fingers. This, is
what she gets, I told myself.

  For every lie she’d ever told me. For every hollow “I love you.” For all of the times she kissed me, knowing she shared her most intimate moments with a man I’d called my friend. She deserved so much worse.

  It was like fate was punishing her. Like the twisted arms of karma had found her, but wanted to show me first that she’d gotten what she deserved. Who was I to stand in the way of destiny?

  “You can’t,” I mumbled to myself.

  But there was no conviction in my words. My feet wouldn’t leave, but my heart wouldn’t let me go back in there.

  More gunfire crackled and I jumped. I took a deep breath and leaned my head back, staring up into the sky. For reasons I couldn’t explain, I still loved her and there was no way I could leave without her.

  Grunting, I stood up and turned back around. I walked into the tent then crept closer and closer to Cindy, not trying to rouse any suspicion.

  Most of the women weren’t paying any attention. They’d probably been drugged or had been abused so badly they were still in shock. Either way, if they screamed or made any noise, none of us would make it out.

  “Cindy,” I whispered as I knelt next to her. “Cindy wake up.”

  I shook her arm and brushed my hand across her face. She pushed me away and groaned, but I continued.

  “Cindy, you’ve gotta wake up. We have to go.”

  I pulled her by the arm until the chain around her waist tightened and yanked her back. The sudden snag caused her to finally wake up and she growled in pain.

  I brushed the hair out of her face and she stared me in the eyes and gasped. Trembling, she raised her hands and touched my cheek with her fingers, pressing against my skin as if she thought I might vanish.

  “How are you here?” she mumbled. “Am I dead?”

  “No, you’re not dead. I’m gonna get you out of here.” I smiled at her and kissed her forehead. “Where’s Jake?” I asked for reasons I couldn’t explain.

  “They…they killed him.”

  My first emotion was remorse. Jake had been my friend for years and to hear that he was no longer alive actually hurt. But deep down I smiled. Some part of me felt his lies and deception had finally caught up with him.