by Redding, Mae
“No!” I screamed.
“Give it to him again!” Damian barked orders as they forced him to stand, holding him in place. “And make sure you watch, princess!” Damian sneered as he pointed his pistol at him. I had no choice but to watch, unable to fight back as he suffered through another vicious attack because of me.
“Damian, please!”
“Morrison wants to make sure everything is understood! No one will go unpunished for going against him!”
“You’re going to kill him!”
I sobbed uncontrollably. Gage’s legs gave out and his body hung as the men restrained him, his bloody face, swollen, mangled. I felt sick to my stomach as my desperate, shattered cries became lost in the roar of the fire as I turned my head, unable to watch anymore. The sound of an engaged bullet cut razor sharp into the tumultuous night as Damian cocked his pistol.
“I said watch!” Damian said. His raged voice sent a panic through me like nothing I'd ever felt before as my eyes flicked back to him. He pressed the pistol to Gage’s head.
“Please stop!” I pleaded, as I helplessly watched. “Please! I’ll go with you!”
“You’re already coming with me, Jade.”
“Just stop hurting him!” I cried, his dark eyes, void of any signs of remorse. I stopped struggling. The raindrops fell harder. My wet clothes hung heavy from my body and my saturated hair clung to my face.
Damian ordered the men to stop and they let Gage fall. “Now say good bye,” he said, as he shoved me to the ground. “Because this is the last time you’ll ever see him.”
I fell to his side, his body hunched in pain on the wet grass and I touched his head. He bled from an open gash over his eye. Blood streaked from the rain that fell on his face.
“I’m so sorry, Gage!” I kissed him in between my sobs. He groaned as he mumbled something but unable to hear him, his words became lost in the roar of the fire. I clung to him as Damian grabbed me and pulled me away.
“Watch your back, Gage,” Damian said, as he kicked him from behind in his already wounded ribs. He gasped as the swift blow forced the air from his lungs. “I will be back to finish this…You tell Kane he’s next!”
My cries, drowned out by the pouring rain in defeat as Damian carried me to the front of the house. I fought with everything I had. Hysteria set in, terrified about what might happen to Gage. I looked around wildly, desperate for someone to help him, to hear me, to see the fire, but no one came and he forced me into the back of a car.
“Where’s Trey?” I screamed at Damian, which instantly gave me another backhand to the cheek.
“Not another word! I will go back there and shoot him right now if you don't shut up! Gage and I… we aren’t finished!”
I wiped my eyes then turned my tears painfully inward as we rode out of Little Creek. The ride, eerily quiet with the only things heard was the mundane squeak of the windshield wipers and Damian's tempered breaths next to me.
I started to shiver as the air, cooled my wet skin. Water dripped from my hair onto my arms and caused goose bumps to travel over my body. I looked down at my saturated nightshirt to see it clung to my body. Tears surged again as I peeled it from the front of me and thought about Gage with no one to help him. A feeling of hopelessness gnawed at the pit of my stomach.
I inched closer to the door then rested my head against the window and stared out at the inky darkness that stretched for miles. My blank stare fixated. The old stores and restaurants passed by in a blur as we drove into the abandoned city. The once brightly lit stores and streets that thrived with life were broken, barren, and black inside. The ghostly labyrinth looked nothing as I remembered and resembled everything I felt at that moment. I took in for the first time the incredible destruction Kane didn't want me to see and tears swelled as I understood why he wanted to keep it from me.
Uncontrollable teardrops spilled over the rims of my eyes as we passed the hospital. The last place my mom was alive. Uninhabited, the rows of windows were as black and sad as the day it became a tomb for thousands of the dead the virus consumed.
The roads were desolate and quiet. Hundreds of empty, abandoned cars plagued the sides. Paper and garbage littered the roads. Gage had said there were about ten thousand people who lived here still, though it used to be the home of ten times that.
I couldn’t possibly imagine what it would have been like for Kane. To go building to building looking for the ones who died. They couldn’t have possibly recovered all of the bodies and I was sure there were some still out there left undiscovered.
The city hall, the tallest building in the city stretched thirteen stories into the ominous sky and loomed nearer. Newly built several years back in front of the old jail and part of the whole city block, reconstructed around the failing structure. A twenty-foot cement wall with barbed wire curled at the top severed the space between them around the square to cover up the eyesore like a Band-Aid over a gaping wound.
We turned just before the city hall down a narrow alley with cement walls on either side then stopped at the end at a black iron gate. It opened like jaws of a predator, ready to consume me. The car lurched forward, the blade of the windshield wiper squeaked as it skimmed over the drying glass. The rain had stopped but the ground, still covered with dark silken puddles, spit up water as the tires drove over the uneven asphalt.
My heart surged with panic in my chest as I looked back over my shoulder through the rear window. The gate closed behind us. The unknown of what waited for me gutted my insides. Every breath constricted and sharp like a razorblade as we pulled up to the back entrance of the jail.
The car door opened, a burst of cool air rushed inside as black-gloved hands grabbed me. I struggled as two of the Militia carried me up the cracked steps and through the back doors. A leathery hand clamped down over my mouth and muffled my screams. Every muscle in my body taut as I fought them with everything I had but they were too strong.
Grey narrow walls with a black stripe ran the length of the hallway about shoulder level and seemed to close in around me while my helpless cries echoed against their boundaries. They carried me to a small cement room with a mirror on the wall, but no way to see out. A small mattress lay on the floor and a toilet in a corner.
A devilish smirk seeped across Damian’s face as he stood over me, he stepped closer disintegrating the space between us. He reached for something behind me as he held my wrist. His fingers a clenching vice against my small bones. Him on one side, the guard on the other as they restrained me, the silence eating on me like piranhas on flesh as they pressed me into the corner.
“Why are you doing this?” My voice wavered with panic in a frightened hoarse whisper. He stepped back. His eyes surfed over me, lingering in places as he examined me, and examined his work. Then without a word, they left the room and shut the door, leaving me in darkness.
The rough nylon ropes he tethered me to burned my wrists as I struggled with no avail to get free from the wall. I settled onto the old smelly mattress, curled up into a ball in the corner and rested my head against the wall.
Absently, I traced the rough grooves in between the cinderblock bricks, waiting for time to pass. Minutes ticked by like hours as I listened to the sounds out in the hall. Every sound magnified through the nonporous walls. The clang of automatic locking doors and heavy trodden footsteps echoed loud. The indistinguishable sounds of men’s voices resonated down the tunnel-like hallways.
My cheek hurt and I ran my fingers over my face. My cheek felt puffy and dried blood crusted under my swollen cracked lip. I rested my elbows on my knees, put my hands over my face and cried. My queasy stomach churned as I thought of Gage, left on the ground in my yard badly beaten, gasping for air and barely alive. I remembered the words he said to me less than a week ago that it would be over his dead body Damian would get me and I feared with an overwhelming surge of tears that his very statement might have come true tonight.
The door opened and I looked through the blur of tears t
o see a man walk in with another man that followed behind and by his arrogant stride, I decided he must be Morrison. Stocky in stature, his gut hung slightly over the top of his pants. He had mousy brown hair with streaks of grey at the sides under a black bandana he wore over his head.
With exposed tattooed swords and skulls that sleeved his arms, I wondered how anyone could have ever trusted him to lead the rebuilding of our civilization. I hated this man. I didn’t know him but I already knew I hated him. I glared at him and sunk further into the mattress as he approached me. He stood in front of me with Olympic grandiosity and command and then grabbed my arms, pulling me up to stand and face him.
“Where is my brother?”
“I’ll ask the questions,” he said firmly. His deep voice sounded about as dark as his uncaring black eyes. The stale smell of cigarettes on his breath along with a stench of alcohol nauseated me further. “I’m Dale Morrison and you are going to tell me everything I want to know.”
“I doubt that!” I stared at him as my heart pounded. I couldn’t breathe. His eyes narrowed as he loomed imposingly over me.
“Sooner or later, you will. Where did Kane go?” He demanded.
“I don’t know.”
“We can do this easy or you can make this difficult on yourself. You’re lying! Where is he?”
“Kane doesn’t tell me where he goes. I don’t know!”
He turned towards the mirrored glass. At that moment, the mirror moved into the wall. I saw through the clear glass into the next room as Trey bound to a chair received a brazen blow to his ribs by a man in the room. His face, bloody and beaten, hung onto his chest.
“I don’t know anything!”
The guard picked up an object from the table in the far corner of the small room. I recognized the object instantly and I gasped as panic flooded through my veins. A long metal rod with a black handle gripped in his hand with two one-inch long spikes at the end. A blue current coursed between the two points. Trey’s eyes grew wide as the man jabbed the cattle prod into his ribs. His body jerked and thrashed uncontrollably as he wailed with raging hot pain. Every muscle went rigid in his body, his neck veins corded and pulsed as he strained against the surge of current.
“Please stop! Don't hurt him!” I begged and Morrison ordered the men to back off. Trey’s body fell limp, his face reddened and his breaths exaggerated as he tried to recover.
“The more you fight me… The more he’s going to get it so I suggest you cooperate.”
“I told you, I don’t know anything about where Kane is! If I knew I would tell you!”
Silent tears rolled down my cheek from my impulsive suggestion of giving up Kane to this evil man, but I couldn’t bear to see Trey hurt and I would do just about anything to get them to stop.
Morrison squeezed my shoulders as he shoved me against the wall. He stepped closer and touched my bruised cheek with his fingers. My breath caught with the fear of him touching me as he slowly ran his fingers through my hair and grabbed me by the back of my head. He clenched my hair in his fist as he pulled my head back and towered over me. He forced me down to the mattress, my arms hung by the ropes and cut into my wrists.
I struggled as he motioned for one of the other men to come over. He had a syringe with a clear substance in his hand with a long pointed needle.
“This is going to continue between the two of you until one of you breaks! Who are his contacts?” Morrison fumed with his face red with anger.
“I don’t know, I already told you, Kane doesn’t tell me anything!”
“This is Roger Jackson. Maybe you might recognize the name of his son… Quinn Jackson… The man you killed.”
“Maybe if he wouldn’t have attacked me, he might still be alive!”
“You're probably right about that.”
“Then why am I here! Why is my brother here, he wasn't even there!”
“Let's just say, you're going to have a long time to sit and figure it out.” Jackson said, as his dark calloused eyes bore through me. I shifted uncomfortably under his stare.
Jackson’s face looked leathered and worn, aged beyond his years. At one time, he might have been quite handsome. He still appeared physically strong with his toned biceps that stretched the sleeves of his black shirt. His balding head shaved smooth reflected the glow of the light that hung just above him. The only hair unshaven was the short salt and pepper stubble that framed his lips and extended down over his chin.
My breaths increased in dreaded anticipation with each step as he walked towards me. His stride resounded in bold arrogance through the heavy sounds of his black boots. This was Quinn's dad, Damian’s dad! I could see how Damian resembled him, an almost identical younger version of him. Not only did they have the same missile guided steely eyes but possessed the same self-bolstering ego. Their characters, defined and blatantly visible by their cynical boldness and hostility.
I twisted and tried to pull my hands free, which Morrison held pinned against the wall with his hands.
“You sure Damian can handle her?” Morrison asked Jackson.
“All the more challenging,” Jackson boasted as he glared at me. “You know, you are a lot like me.”
“I am nothing like you.”
You’re more like me than you realize. See, I’m just protecting my family. Wouldn’t you do the same if someone killed your little sister?”
“You stay away from my sister!”
“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on doing anything to her, but I can’t guarantee your brothers will have the same generosity. It’s too bad your dad isn’t around to see this.”
“Where is your dad anyway?” Morrison said, with a devious glare.
“He’s dead.” I gave them both a puzzled look.
“Richard Kennington… I don’t think so. It'll take more than a catastrophic epidemic to bring him down,” Morrison jeered, the undertone of sarcasm and resentment laced deep in his words. “You know, I’ve met your dad... He worked for the railroad, right?”
“Yeah.”
“He’s transported supplies back east for me in the past. In fact, that’s what he was doing on the last trip he made,” he paused, his eyes shifted as he watched me closely for a reaction. “Are you sure he’s dead?”
“If my dad was alive, you wouldn’t be here. He would have put you in your place a long time ago!”
“You think your dad could have taken me down? Maybe he would have…” He leaned in closer, his voice, low and sinister. His roughened dry lips so close to my ear that I felt his hot breath against my cheek. “Would you kill me if you had the chance, Jade Kennington?”
I hesitated as my heart pounded violently out of my chest. “Maybe…”
“You mean, if you had a loaded gun with me standing in front of you, you would say... Maybe?”
I didn’t like that he toyed with me and I was furious again. “Why don’t you give me that gun of yours and find out!”
Morrison stood up straight and chuckled. “You have more of your dad in you than I thought. Maybe you do have what it takes to kill me, Jade… We'll have to make sure you never get the chance,” Morrison said, and laughed. “Get your payback, Jackson.”
“I’m going to enjoy this,” Jackson said, in a low shady voice. I couldn’t move as Jackson knelt over me. With a calloused hand, he pierced the needle into my skin and injected a clear liquid into my arm. “You just might, too.”
The room started to spin as my strength disappeared and left me vulnerable and unable to fight. The heaviness of my arms and legs weighted me to the mattress. Jackson untied my arms and they fell to my sides. He picked me up and pulled me out of the room. My legs could barely hold my body as they struggled to keep up.
The walls moved like waves in the ocean, obvious effects of the drug. Jackson's voice sounded drawn out with his words warped by his disfigured face as the unpleasant feeling of floating down the long hallway poured over me.
“She’s all yours,” he said, as we came to a room.
Jackson shoved me towards Damian and I stumbled to the ground. The square grey tiles of the floor were cold with an overpowering smell of mildew. Suddenly, a powerful spray of ice-cold water hit me like a thousand nails. I wanted to scream but I couldn’t as I struggled for air and curled up into a ball. It seemed like an hour passed before the hosing stopped, though my perception of time felt drastically altered. The weight of my clothes from the water stung me as little red blisters appeared over my skin.
“Did you enjoy your shower? Don’t expect it to be your last. I want to make sure you're well taken care of… We are done for now,” he said. I didn’t move, I didn’t try to get away, I lay there, exhausted. My eyes closed and I let the tears quietly fall as he turned and spoke to one of the guards. “Lock her up… there’s something I need to finish.”
CHAPTER 25
I woke with a start, like a screaming alarm clock in my head, surrounded by a disorienting blackness to the all too familiar sounds of his footsteps. My heart raced. I struggled to breathe in dreaded anticipation of the brutal interrogations. Fearful in a slowed, drug induced state, I gasped as the door bashed against the wall. Damian grabbed me and pulled me down the hall. The lights blinding to my overly sensitive eyes.
“Please… not the showers,” I begged, but lacked much persuasion.
“Jade!”
I heard my name as we moved past an open doorway. I latched onto the doorframe. My white-knuckle grip stopped Damian and I fought to get away.
“Trey!” I screamed, as I saw him through the doorway. He struggled against Rubin, the guard and the ropes that held him. He received a few blows before they wrestled him face down on the table. Trey’s face, beaten and badly bruised, red from the strain as he struggled pointlessly to get to me.
I elbowed Damian in the nose. Stunned he let go of his grip on me as he grabbed his face in agony and I scrambled to get to Trey. I clung to him desperately. His shirt, the same shirt he wore that night they took us revealed dirt and visible bloodstains, damp with sweat from his struggles.