by James Hunt
Dean was already waiting for him when he stepped into the conference room accompanied with a few of the large brutes that had become frequent in these meetings. The thick brows and wide jaws didn’t make for the most articulate speakers, but that wasn’t their job. Gordon was the mouth. They were the muscle.
“Well?” Gordon asked.
“We have a unit ready to go into New Orleans, and we’ve doubled the sentries at all of the oil refineries we have a presence at,” Dean answered.
“What about the ones where we don’t have a presence?”
“Sir?”
“The President is making a play on resources, and this is our time to choke them out. If we control the oil, we control everything else. Do you understand that?”
“Mr. Reath, they’ve already sent Special Forces units to those locations.”
“Then I guess that’s why we have Class 3 sentries, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“When can we pull the trigger?”
“Whenever you’re ready.”
“Good. I want a unit of Class 3s sent to the other refineries and a mix of Class 1 and 2s down in New Orleans. Make it happen.”
Gordon slapped the table and left, leaving Dean and his two gorillas to do what they did best: break bones. His phone rang and he saw that it was Jake. “Tell me you have some good news.”
“Todd Penn is definitely our guy. He was a professor at the University of Stanford.”
“Why didn’t that show in our background reports?”
“Good question.”
“Pass the information along to Grives. And see what else you can find. Everything will be pointless if we don’t get the soil data. Keep pressing.”
Gordon hung up and shoved the phone in his pocket. The calm before the storm had passed and the first winds were already gusting his way. Gordon had to keep the ship on track or he’d sink in the violent waves crashing against him. Now wasn’t the time to falter. He was so close.
Chapter 6
Alex’s request for bullets had been granted at the front gate, which the sentries weren’t very pleased about. Alex walked in the same direction as last time until Jake and Sydney’s Humvee rolled in with a breeze from the south and came to a stop a few feet from Alex’s knees.
“How’d the battery hold up?” Sydney asked.
“It quit on me last night after I got your message.” Alex pulled the laptop out of his bag and exchanged it for the fully charged one that Sydney provided him. Sydney received a glare from Jake, then hopped back into the Humvee.
“Your name checked out,” Jake said. “He did have a daughter. And he was also a chemistry professor at the University of Stanford, so he’s definitely our guy. The lab rat says he wouldn’t be able to produce something like that without a lot of equipment, so you need to find out where his lab is. And it needs to happen soon.”
“Look, it’s not like I haven’t been trying. There’s no doubt those people are definitely hiding something, but none of them are talking. They don’t trust me.” Alex ran his hands through his hair, attempting to pull out his frustration.
“He has a wife,” Jake added.
“What?” Alex asked.
“Emma Claire.”
Alex remembered the woman from his first day. The kindness of her smile, the softness in her voice. Besides the old man and Todd, she was the only one that had said more than three words to him.
“My sentries are going to plant some contraband on her during a surprise inspection tomorrow afternoon, and her punishment will be ten lashings on the whipping post. During the proceedings, you’ll attempt to stop it. That should buy you all the good will you need.”
“No. You can’t do that.”
“Then I’ll save those ten lashings for your friend Meeko.”
“If you lay one ha-”
“What?” Jake interrupted, his voice rising over the open plains around him. “What are you gonna do? This isn’t a request. It’s happening. So make the best of it.”
Jake climbed back into the Humvee and drove back to whatever snake hole he slithered out of. Once the Humvee was a small dot in the distance, Alex glanced at the sky. It was already mid-morning. If he was going to hunt and make it back to the community with fresh game by tomorrow, then he’d have to start quickly.
***
Alex followed his normal routine upon his return. He returned the rifle along with the cartridge during his check-in, then dropped off the birds he managed to track down at the meal station. The end of work bell rang and the clothes factory let out behind him. He looked over his shoulder, searching for Emma, but was unable to find her in the crowd.
“You solved my crossword puzzle.”
Alex jumped slightly at the old man suddenly walking next to him. “Christ.”
“I don’t think we ever formally introduced ourselves. Ben.”
“Alex.”
The two shook hands, and Alex could feel the cuts from the sewing needles on Ben’s fingers. He was afraid that if he squeezed too hard he’d open up the wounds, but since Ben gave him a firm squeeze, Alex reciprocated.
“I’d been stuck on that one for a while,” Ben said as they continued their walk up to the house. “Thank you.”
“Yeah,” Alex said, still darting his eyes through the crowd around him, looking for Emma.
“Interesting word you solved,” Ben added. “Apostate.”
Alex slowed his walk for just a moment as a cold chill climbed up his back. He hoped Ben didn’t notice. “Depends on the beliefs a person is renouncing.”
“But how do you know which side is right? Who determines that?”
Alex hadn’t given it much thought. All he’d done since this hell started was take it one day at a time. That’s all he tried to do. Make it through tomorrow. And when that day was in the books, he moved on to the next one, and then the one after that, until they all just blended together. The only thing he worried about was making sure food was in his stomach and the bellies in his community. That was something he could control. That was something he could put a tangible mark on.
“I just focus on the things that I can do,” Alex said.
They made it back to the house where the two other young housemates continued their distrust and discontent with Alex’s presence. Alex shut the door to his room and reached for his sack. He fired up the laptop, keeping a close eye on the door to make sure no one would enter. He prayed that Meeko had sent him a message. He had to make sure he was safe. The sixty seconds it took for the computer to turn on were the longest in his life.
When Alex saw the message from Meeko, the building pressure that had built within him escaped in one long, slow, shaky sigh. With a still-trembling finger, he clicked on the email.
Deer Alex,
Im glad your OK! And don’t worry I haven’t been causing trouble. At least not alot. I don’t think the showers can run out of hot water. I tried it the other day. Everyone is glad your safe and they all say hi back. Cant wait until you get to come home.
Meeko
Alex shut down the laptop and walked over to the window in his room. Although he couldn’t see the setting sun, the glow of the evening sky was a beautiful burst of blues, reds, oranges, and purples. He’d always heard Wyoming was a beautiful country, but tomorrow it would be replaced with pain and blood.
***
The hum of the sewing machines were in full effect. Emma stitched the last piece of the sentry uniform together and tossed it into the basket next to her, which was promptly taken and replaced with more raw materials to be sewn together.
Emma had mastered the efficiency of the process. She could do it with her eyes closed. But despite her efficacy as a seamstress, she longed for something more. The community around her had a collection of over six doctorate degrees and decades of lab and research experience. But those bright minds were endangered by muscles with guns.
Today was different though. Miles away, tucked underneath the dead earth, was life i
n the form of their lab. She had to keep the smile on her face from showing. She didn’t want to draw any unneeded attention to her at the moment, so when two of the sentries edged her on both sides, she felt her heart rate spike.
“Citizen,” the sentry said. “I need to remove you from your station and perform an inspection.”
Emma’s machine stopped and she complied. She glanced at the workers around her. Their machines were still running, but their eyes were diverted to the unfolding scene.
“Arms up,” the sentry said.
The rough hands of the sentry groped her body. She closed her eyes as the sentry lingered around her chest.
“Where did you get this, citizen?” The sentry asked.
Emma opened her eyes, and the sentry was dangling a granola bar in front of her. “That’s not mine.” The hum of the machines died down and Emma spun around to the other sentry behind her. “Really, I-I don’t know whose that is. It’s not mine!”
“Our community’s trade post doesn’t barter these,” the sentry said. “Your punishment will be carried out immediately.”
The sentry subdued Emma by her arms, and the rest of the workers were ordered to cease their duties to witness the punishment. Emma resisted as much as her small frame would let her, but the sentry easily overpowered her. “Please! It’s not mine! I swear!”
The sentry clamped both of Emma’s wrists together in one of his hands and wrapped the whipping post’s leather cord around them tightly. Once her wrists were secure, he raised them high on the pole to expose the length of her back. She felt the tearing of her shirt as the sentry ripped it open, exposing her bare skin to the sun above and the crowd gathering around her.
“Citizen!” the sentry said. “You are charged with the illegal possession of calories, which were not reported to the Coalition. Your punishment shall be ten lashings.”
Emma pulled against the leather restraints. The crowd around her began to spin. Her muscles tightened. “Emma!” She immediately searched the crowd to look for Todd’s face. She found him trying to break through the line of sentries holding him back. “Emma!” She watched one of the sentries slam him to the ground, shoving his knee into Todd’s face, crushing him into the dirt.
The sentry uncoiled the whip on the ground. Emma clenched her jaw and squinted her eyes shut in anticipation of the strike. The sentry brought it high above his head and cracked the whip forward, ripping a gash across Emma’s back. Emma’s mouth and eyes opened wide. The sensation of the pain spread to the far extremities of her body. It was like a fire that had torched her back and then immediately iced over, overloading her senses with the extremes of each.
The sound of the second crack coincided with another shot of pain. Emma’s knees buckled, and what feeling she had in her legs immediately vanished as she hung from the leather straps like a piece of meat. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and followed the same downward path as the blood trickling from the gashes on her back.
Emma waited for the other lashings to come, but instead of the crack of the whip, she heard the distinct thud of a body hitting the ground. She found enough strength to slowly turn around and see one of the sentries on his back while the others peeled a man off of him, who was then tied to the whipping post beside her. It was a face she recognized, but before she could remember who it was, the crack of the whip sent another spasm of pain through her body.
***
Both Emma and Alex were carried into the medical center by a few of the community members and placed on two makeshift tables that had been cleared off and brought in from the community center. Emma had completely passed out while Alex was still coherent. All he could focus on was the lake of fire on his back spurting lava onto the rest of his body.
The two were laid face down, exposing the ten lashes apiece across their ragged backs. The community was lucky enough to have someone who had actually studied medicine as their attending physician, who also doubled as a worker in the sewing department.
“Haven’t had a whipping in a while,” Ben said, scurrying around to gather the materials to apply to the torn flesh on their backs.
The sentries ordered everyone out except for Ben. Todd remained behind though, holding Emma’s lifeless hand and examining the gashes on her back. Each line of aggression seeped deep into her pale skin. Bits of jagged flesh scattered over her body.
Ben pushed Todd out of the way and laid a strip of cloth over Emma’s wounds. “You need to go, Todd. Now.” The sentries in the doorway had their weapons aimed at Todd, and when he took a step toward them, Ben grabbed Todd’s wrist and whispered in his ear. “You won’t do her any good if you’re dead.” Ben let Todd go and he passed the sentries without incident.
One sentry remained stationed at the door while Ben worked. He reached into the cabinet and pulled out a small bottle of ointment. When he opened the top, only a thin layer of the medicine remained at the bottom. The shredded strips of flesh on Alex’s back were twice that of Emma’s. “Alex, I don’t have enough to treat-”
“Give it to her,” Alex said, his voice weak.
“If I do that, you may die of infection.”
“Do it.”
Through his half-closed eyelids, he could see the floor and the table next to him where Emma lay motionless. Her face was turned away from him, but a small puddle had formed below the surface of the table where she lay. A continual drip splashed onto the floor, slowly enlarging the puddle below.
The humid stench of wet copper filled his nostrils, forcing his consciousness awake. The scent was familiar. It was blood. Alex lay there, staring at the slow, steady drip that was fed from the trickling river down Emma’s back. Drip. I did this. Drip. The scars on her back are my fault. Drip. My hands are stained with that blood. Drip. I did this. Drip. I did this. Drip. I. Did. This.
A deep, empty pit formed in the middle of his chest. The overbearing pain of the black hole ripped through his body and numbed his back, face, and arms. He could see his fingers wiggling on his hand but felt nothing. His eyelids grew heavy. Alex tried to keep them open, but the lakes of fire on his back overwhelmed his senses. Another figure appeared in his peripheral view. A distant shadow. He felt the touch of a hand on his head. His body relaxed. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 7
The next day the sentries determined they’d had enough of Alex stinking up Main Street and returned him back to his own house to fester. Once he was tossed onto the living room floor they marched off, leaving him to find his own way to the cot in his room. He clawed his fingers into the floorboards, pulling himself forward. Each movement sent a ripple of pain down his back. Finally, he managed to push himself off the floor and fell chest first into the wall next to him for support for each shaky step forward until the bed was close enough for him to collapse on.
Every muscle in his body went flaccid once his goal was reached. The only movement after that were the involuntary shakes from the cold sweat that broke out from his exertions. His mouth was dry. The parched lips begged for water. He reached his trembling hand out, his fingertips scraping against the rim of the bucket. Finally, he curled his fingers over the bucket’s rim and pulled it toward him.
Only a thin film of water remained, and Alex’s hand scraped against the bottom. He cupped the water, which spilled over the sides of his palm as he brought it to his mouth, pressing his chapped lips to his wet skin. He repeated the action until he didn’t have the strength to continue. And there he lay, with his hand hanging from the side of the bed inside the water pail.
Dried blood stained and clotted the white bandages sticking to his back. Alex could feel the fabric glued to the wounds like a protective shell. He felt hot, stuffy. His bloodshot eyes looked up to the window. The sun was out of view, but he could see the blue sky and the large oddly-shaped clouds that passed by.
Through the involuntary spasms of pain, a memory surfaced from the depths of his mind. It was of his father. It was spring. He was a boy, and he an
d his father were lying in the grass looking up into the sky above. The hum of cicadas and the chirp of birds filled the air around him. There was so much life then. He could feel the tickle of the blades of grass on his arms, neck, and the backs of his legs. The smooth, soft feel of grass whose smell would always take him back to weekend mornings playing sports or his father mowing the lawn. He loved that smell.
But while the sky outside that window was still blue, the land that it spread over was dead. The smell of grass was no more. The sounds of the forests had disappeared. And his father had long since been buried. He wouldn’t experience those things again. His only reality were the cuts along his back, and the only smell was the blood staining the bandages.
The next few days were a blur. He would fade in and out of consciousness. At times he became aware of people in his room, but he was far too tired to acknowledge them. He could feel hands gently working the bandages on his back. He would see his water bucket disappear, then refilled the next time he reached for a drink. Food rations found their way onto the floor next to him that he would pick at when he had the strength to chew.
Alex had tried a handful of times to push himself off the rickety bed, but each exertion was met with the same wincing defeat. Ben would stop by once a day in the morning before work to clean the wounds and place fresh bandages on his back. He discovered that the other housemates had been the ones to tend to his food and water during the first few days he was out. And once he had recovered enough not to pass out after performing the simple tasks of reaching for his food or water, he finally had a chance to meet the two wiry, brash young men he lived with.