by Miriam Bell
“Since you have taken one of our leaders, one of you will die.”
The unconcerned voice of the man sends chills up my spine as his deep brown eyes narrow. He motions toward Daniel as I lash out.
“Nooooo,” I yell- the pressure of a gag tightens around my mouth.
I break out in a cold sweat as I attempt aimlessly to break from the rope around my wrist. Two soldiers carelessly pull Daniel to his feet.
He’s weak and bleeding, hardly able to see through his swollen eyes. Helpless to protect him, I watch as a young man treads intently toward him. He punches Daniel in the stomach multiple times without pause. I struggle as I’m held down by my captors. Daniel grunts in pain as a knee slams into his already bleeding face. Blood pours from his broken nose and injured chest. They release him and he falls motionless to the ground.
“Get up,” the young guy says as if he’s bored.
He bends down taking a hold of Daniel’s shirt and pulls him into a kneeling position. The shirt rips displaying the horrible gash across his smooth skin. Fear smoothers me.
“No,” I muffle out around my gag.
“Yes,” Ben’s deep voice responds, “Now you will think twice before you strike out at us.”
I want to scream at him and shout into the sky that they were the ones who attacked us first. They are the ones who seeked us out. Even if they recognized those facts, it would not matter. We were dead as soon as the soldiers arrived. There were too many of them for us to take, we were too weak where they were so strong but the comment still causes guilt to take root. A long blade appears in the young man’s hand. I look away as Daniel struggles with what little strength he has left. The pure violence of the situation brings tears to run down my grimy cheeks.
I hear the sounds of a grappling, followed by a loud crack. Jay’s heavy body collapses to the ground with an agonized groan. He rolls trying to free himself but I know it is no use. We will witness even more horror and be defenseless against the searing memories they leave behind. I close my eyes and ignore the screaming piercing the inner walls of my head.
A sickening sound whirls through the air. There is a sick hack the moment the blade connects with flesh and I feel the hot blood splash onto my clothes. I hold in my sanity still not bearing to look. Another chopping sound and another splash of blood slams onto my skin until the soft thump of Daniel’s head hitting the ground follows. I open my eyes and scream behind my gag.
Daniel stares unseeing into the sky- blood gushing from his remaining neck. The memory of Tom’s death and lifeless eyes flash in front of me. I snap. My body flushes hot as every reasonable thought I knew flies out of my mind. Thrashing against my captors, I rip at the bindings on my wrist. The thin rope bites into my skin focusing all my anger and hate. I stomp Ben’s foot throwing my elbow sharply into his ribs. He roars in rage but is silenced when I latch my hands firmly on the sides of his head and collide my knee with his face. He lands motionless.
“Jay!” I shriek as the firm hands of strangers grabble at me, holding me down.
I kick savagely, connecting with a hard body. I break out of holds only to be grabbed by another then another. Anger seems to blind my eyes and yet fuel my body. I hear bones snap as I punch, kick, and perform every fighting technique Connor has ever taught me. Pain spikes across my face as one man punches into my cheek, then again and again until bruising fingers dig into both of my arms. I scream with a savageness I never knew I possessed.
“Enough!” Ben roars.
I’m thrown to the ground with tears burning in my eyes. Through the pain I see Jay laying on the dirt.
“Jay?” I sob, stopping my fighting only to hold my breath.
Please God make him move. A spot of blood dirties his golden blond hair.
“Jay?” I whisper.
I don’t want to be alone. My chest aches ignoring Daniel’s headless body lying so close. Jay’s hand flexes slightly- his fingers digging into the dirt.
“I’m okay Millie,” he rasp.
I sag in relief letting my tears fall quietly down my stinging cheeks. With a painful expression, he tries to stand on his shaky feet but a nearby soldier pushes him back onto the dirt.
“Stay down,” the man yells.
I murmur a prayer, the first one I’ve ever uttered as Jay’s eyes land on Daniel’s body. Ben having recover from my blow draws my attention back toward him.
“Well. Well. He’s alive. Happy?” he spits, “If you move one more time though, he won’t be for long.”
I flinch at Ben’s furious voice.
Two men grab at Jay to bound him like me.
“You want to die next?” the young guy yells with blood lust into Jay’s face.
“Hell is waiting for you,” Jay replies weakly to the young man. “Hell is waiting for all of you.”
Before I can respond, one of the men holding Jay takes out a nightstick, a weapon policemen used to carry before the bombs. I can only identify the object because my dad would allow me to flip through old pictures of the prison. Among them was a photo of two policemen in cleaned, unwrinkled uniforms- their arms around each other laughing. One gives a toothy smile while the other strikes a serious pose and points his night stick at the camera.
My heart aches at the flash of recognition then freezes as I realize what our captor intends to do. The hard wand strikes Jay in the head. His unconscious body again slams into the ground.
“Noooo,” I scream out in a panic to get to him. “If you kill him….” My words are met with a snicker of laughter.
“If I kill him, what?” the young man laughs.
In a last ditch effort, I headbutt one of the men holding my bindings and struggle to break free. It doesn’t work. I wait for the inevitable strike of the night stick.
“If you don’t keep her under control she’s going to hurt herself or someone else,” a familiar voice says.
I stare in shock attempting to process what I don’t want to comprehend, what breaks my heart to know.
“Don’t look at me like that Millie,” he says.
My tears dry as I shake my head, baffled. I’m speechless. Turning my head away, I’m confronted with the two dead bodies on the ground, one headless and one armless. I taste a salty tear on my lips and silently beg for Jay to be alive.
“Don’t cry.”
A firm hand tilts my chin up as a tear escapes down my cheek. Bryan’s warm eyes bore into mine.
“Everything is going to be okay. Trust me,” he says, lifting off my beret.
My hair tumbles down my back as a mind numbing pain explodes in the back of my head. I’m not surprised when the numbness of the darkness welcomes me.
Chapter Twenty-Five
I wake to the noise of rain pounding the top of a tent. My head throbs painfully while my sight remains blurry. I’ve no clue where I am or how long I’ve been out. The room is dark with a poor amount of light shining through the plastic tent windows. Panic beats within my chest but I take a deep breath and wait for my clearing eyes to adjust. The tent encasing me is large and erected on freshly cut grass. The ground is speckled with the remains of a damaged strip of concrete. Sidewalk? A long wooden bench lines one of the walls with an iron end table sitting empty beside it.
When I shift my arms, I feel the tight grip of my restraints but instead of rope, its metal. Handcuffs? I’m dizzy but I strive to stay awake. There were always plenty of handcuffs at the prison but we never used them for anything. Most of them were boxed away in the furnace room until we could figure out a more productive use for them. I wish I had taken the time to learn how to pick one.
A rustling noise catches my attention. When I straighten and glance behind, I discover the soft blond of Jay’s hair.
“Jay?” I ask with urgency but he doesn’t answer.
He sits slumped forward barely breathing. A peculiar metal contraption is the only thing separating us. The object, a strange metal pole that swerves horizontally across the ground and into a concrete base buried i
n the dirt, is immovable. I’ve never seen anything like it before.
“Jay,” I whisper a little louder.
His leg bends inward but he doesn’t turn.
“Are you okay? Jay!” I try adjusting myself so I can see his profile better.
Dry blood tangles the smoothness of his hair and reminds me of the sudden strike of pain into my skull. I utter a slight sob at all the dark blood crusting my skin and clothing. With a deep shudder, I lock all memories of Carter and Daniel out of my thoughts. We need to escape. We need to warn the others.
The front flap of the tent opens and I pretend as if I’m still asleep.
“Don’t bother, girlie. I’ve already seen you’re awake,” Ben says with a hint of smugness.
I continue my act as he lands in a big heap on a small bench. He breaths an overly exaggerated sigh.
“You just won’t make things easy, will you?” he remarks.
The statement stirs the desire to laugh but I continue to play unconscious.
“Guess who had to carry you all the way here? Yeah, me. Guess who has waited for you to wake up? Again, me.” I hear a clicking noise. “I’m not playing games with you. You talk to me now or I’ll march over to your little friend and kick him in the groin. Been awhile since I’ve had the pleasure of performing such a treat.”
I meet his gaze.
“You’re an ass. You know that?”
A sneer appears on his bruised face. I broke his nose. I take a small satisfaction in the knowledge.
“I’ve been called worse but never twice from the same person,” he replies.
I continue to glare at him as his flashlight illuminates the room.
“Nice nose,” I say with a sly grin.
His sneer disappears. It’s almost humorous to see his large body fitting tightly onto the small bench. My grin grows wider. Ben stands with his fists clenched.
“You’re lucky I got orders not to harm you,” he sneers.
I laugh, the sound coming out a bit crazy.
“I’m pretty sure the knot on my head where you hit me disagrees.” I pause, “In other words you failed,” I say and struggle with the handcuffs.
Before he can respond the flap of the tent opens again and reveals a small skinny man. He rushes in, stops dead in his tracks, and stares.
“She’s awake,” he comments rapidly, blinking his eyelids. “Sir?” he then questions Ben.
“She just woke up. I haven't had time to send a message,” Ben replies appearing annoyed. The skinny man nods and then quickly leaves the tent.
“Well. That’s that.” He waves his hand at the closing flap. “We should get plenty of company soon.” Ben sits down hard on the bench rubbing at his eyes.
“You don’t look so hot,” I say, hankering to aggravate him.
“I’m sure I don’t. It’s been a long day,” he replies, removing his hand from his eyes and studying me.
“You don’t seem like a kind of man who wants to cleanse the world.” The words leave my mouth before I can put a halt to them. He lets out a snort.
“You figured that out quick,” Ben says, stretching out his legs.
“Why do it? Why march around killing innocent people? Why not settle down somewhere and figure out a way to live peacefully?” I ask, generally curious.
“Sweetie, to survive you go where the people are.” I purse my lips, confused. He takes a deep breath. “The world is a cold hard place. If you aren't living in numbers then you aren’t living long. I find an opportunity, I take it.”
“We’ve lived, the four of us, for years until we met Bryan and later were attacked by you,” I say.
Ben gives a disbelieving grunt.
“It isn’t nice to lie, girlie.”
I roll my eyes.
“Oh please. You know nothing,” I mock in my most condescending tone.
“I know all about your prison community, your supplies hidden away at the plane-” he stops short and narrows his eyes allowing his mouth to gape open. “You’re a smart one,” he snaps and leans forward toward me, still sitting on the bench. “You’re also very lucky-” The entrance of the tent opening interrupts Ben’s last sentence.
The skinny man re-enters holding back the wet flap. He bounces on the balls of his feet impatiently as Ben stands again. A freshly clean soldier enters through the opening followed by two cloaked figures. I instantly recognize both of the masked men, one by the deep blue cloak he wears, the other by the many visits he has made to my nightmares. The stark white crow mask stares down at me, burning fear into my soul. The once large tent is now too small to contain us both. Panic rises as I focus on my breathing, striving hard not to pass out. Breath in. Breath out.
The white mask continues to glower over me- his black velvet cloak swaying with a sudden step in my direction. With all my might, I push back against the metal bars wishing to escape the gloved hand reaching for me. I cringe as it nears my face.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Ben speaks up, drawing the cloaked man’s scrutiny. “Remember Nicholas?” The black gloved hand retreats allowing me to find my voice.
“Let us go!” I exclaim, transferring all of my fear into anger. “If you don’t let us go I will kill every last one of you.”
I don’t recognize my own voice. It’s a mixture of defiance, determination and pure terror. The new soldier smirks at my remarks then straightens when he notices the blue cloaked man watching him. Ben ignores my outburst and addresses our visitors.
“She hasn’t been awake for long,” he comments with tension radiating underneath his skin.
“Why is she still handcuffed and crusted with blood? She could’ve been washed while she slept.” The voice projecting unrelentingly from beneath the white mask chills my very core. Ben pales where he stands.
“Didn’t I tell you to clean her up?” I sit, frozen mirroring Ben’s rigidness.
“I’m sorry ma’am but she can’t be trusted. The thought of washing her while she slept didn’t occur to me,” Ben admits, his face that of a repentant man. “Forgive me. Three days without sleep….” he struggles with his words before continuing. “I’ve been sloppy.” Ben rubs at his eyes hard, showing a glimpse into his weariness.
I remain still venturing to wrap my mind around this new information. It’s a woman, not the man I always thought it would be. All of the crows have been men so far. I think back, picturing them. I’ve only seen two of their faces, the old man who attacked me and Nicholas. The other masked figures that were gathered earlier could’ve been women. I can’t be sure. I stare at the black cloaked figure looking for any other distinct tells. She has none. Damn the crow mask and hood!
The masked woman nods her head and says, “You’re right. I won’t kill you today. I’ve asked a little too much of my men this past week.” Her cloak sways slightly as Ben relaxes a fraction at her words. “Just remember when I release you from your duty today that next time there won’t be any mercy.” She pauses allowing the full weight of her words to settle. “Understand?” Ben nods allowing exhaustion to finally take over his features. “Good.” She remarks almost chipper. “Thomas, please escort our Captain to his tent.”
The skinny man opens the tent’s flaps one last time as Ben rushes through, never looking back. Thomas with a hurried hast follows and vanishes into the dark stormy night.
“Now then, Cliff you may go as well,” she says, dismissing the other soldier.
He startles, “But I can’t protect you-”
The woman lifts a heavy draped hand silencing him.
“I have nothing to fear. Now go.”
Cliff stands unsure for a moment before walking toward the entrance.
“I’ll be right outside,” he says, vanishing into the darkness.
The velvet blue cloaked figure stands like a statue in the corner not having moved since entering. He reminds me of a watchful bird, one who never makes a wasteful or unnecessary movement.
“Jamie, please,” the woman’s voice beck
ons from across the room. After a moment’s hesitation, the watchful bird concedes.
“You should reconsider,” a gritty damaged voice remarks hoarsely from beneath the crow mask.
I have to listen hard in order to understand what is being said. The voice is so mutilated and muffed from the mask that I find myself wondering what could have happened to cause such a trauma. I chastise myself with a brutal reality, this is the enemy, they killed my friends. I don’t care what type of pain may have been inflicted on them. I just want out of this tent with Jay, to find Lonnie alive. I just want to go home and protect my father. An image of Connor flashes in my head causing an unbelievable desire for survival to flow through me.
The woman removes her worn gloves revealing ivory skin. She then reaches for the crow mask with her bare hands and begins to unfasten the leather material. I hear the sound of latches and brace myself for what is coming. She bows her head allowing the mask to fall away from her face. I shift, nervous to view into the dark heavily draped hood. The shadows keep her well hidden until she lifts her head. The unlatched cloak falls to the floor and my breath catches. The first thing I notice within the dimness is her beautiful hair. The color is deep red, the same color as mine. Her face sharing the same crooked smile and button nose. She approaches cautiously as if I’m a wild animal.
“Millie, don’t be afraid. No one is going to hurt you,” she says, reassuringly.
I don’t know what expression she identifies on my face but she halts a foot away from my reach. The way she holds herself is strong and capable as if she has faced down an army and claimed victory. Her features are too sharp and stern to be called beautiful but yet her presence is drawing.
I realize I’m shaking and my cheeks are wet. I don’t remember crying.
“You’re-” I choke to say the words but they catch on my tongue. I recognize the silver cross hanging from her thin neck. I close my eyes, a sharp pain cutting through my heart. The face before me is that of my mother’s but it isn’t my mother’s. It’s of that her killer’s, my aunt.