by Jordan Ervin
Jack shook his head, pointing up at the security camera mounted in the corner. “They can see everything we do. We pick that gun up and do anything but kill one another with it and they’d fill this room with flash bangs or smoke before storming in here. We know they have plenty of men. Derrick said he wanted a certain caliber of man. It’s easy to shoot someone if you’re scared enough, but kill a man with pliers…well, like I said earlier. You have to get creative. You have to be certifiably insane. That’s who and what they need. They need soulless men to do the work of monsters.”
“We can still hold out,” Adam said. “We can figure out a way.”
“Adam, I’ve been keeping track of the meals and torture sessions. It’s day eleven. He said they’d have those drugs by now and we both know we can’t afford to prolong this any longer.”
“I’m not going to kill you,” Adam replied quickly. “You’re the one who has something to live for. You’ve got a family. You’ve got your wife Leila, your best friend Alan, and everyone else who had been depending on you for months. They’re out there, thinking we’re likely dead. They need you. Me? I’ve got nothing. I have no one.”
Jack’s eyes began to glisten as Adam finished. He gazed back at Adam for five silent seconds before letting loose a laugh and glancing to the side.
“You’re wrong about that,” Jack said. “I might have forty people to unite behind me, but you have a nation to revive. In the end, uniting America together saves ten thousand families. Maybe ten times ten thousand. Don’t let me be the reason we lose our best chance at saving America.”
Adam stared back at Jack silently, trying and failing to produce an argument. Jack and the others had looked to him for leadership since leaving the homestead. Even Gene had let Adam become the shepherd. However, the simple truth was that Adam didn’t want to keep fighting. He didn’t want to safeguard the flock. Even the dream of raising America from the ashes of war was a daunting and demoralizing thought. He had lost everything in his failed quest to keep America united, and he couldn’t help but believe he would somehow lose even more attempting to resurrect his fallen nation. He wanted nothing more than to pass on from the world that had collapsed around him and save one man’s family in the process. If he could die doing that, then he would die a happy man. If he could convince Jack that he was the one who should live, then maybe….
“Why Red?” Adam asked, his lips returning to a grin.
“Red?” Jack replied, confused.
“Alan,” Adam began. “You’ve called him Red since the first night I met you.”
Jack’s face twisted into a smile before laughing.
“Not just me,” Jack replied. “Everyone at Metro called him Red his rookie year. Being his closest friend, I guess I never got over the name.”
“Why?” Adam asked with a smile.
“Because he was the man with one of the most legendary rookie calls in the history of Nashville’s police department,” Jack replied.
“What happened?”
“It was our first night on patrol,” Jack said, lowering himself back to the ground with a wince. “We graduated the academy together and we were as green as a wild Tennessee field. Alan and I were working West Nashville in a little suburb called Bellevue. We were about a mile apart—each one of us in our own car ready to chase down some thugs or do some big drug bust. Nevertheless, Bellevue was a quiet suburb and we hadn’t done much more than join our sergeant for some late night pancakes. That is, until we got a call. There was a railroad that cut through town and two trains had reported a flashing red light near the tracks. It was about two-thirty in the morning down this old road no one really traveled at night, so Alan went out to investigate. Care to guess what he saw?”
“I don’t know,” Adam said. “Abandoned car with drugs, maybe a bomb?”
Jack smiled, shaking his head. “Alan had rolled up to a fifty-three year old drunk who had stuck a red battery-powered light bulb between his two fat cheeks before proceeding to moon each passing train.”
“You’re kidding me,” Adam said.
“I shit you not,” Jack said, chuckling. “We had twenty year veterans saying they’d never heard something so outrageous in their careers. Now the police department’s official stance on hazing was a zero tolerance policy, but that didn’t really stop anyone from giving him a nickname and asking him if he had to catalogue the evidence himself.”
Adam burst out laughing. They sat there cackling, their laughter a welcomed substitute for the constant fear. Eventually, Jack wiped the tears away and continued.
“He hated the name alright,” Jack said as they heard a loud bang—the sound of the latch down the hall that always echoed a few minutes before their torture. Adam glanced that way and his grin quickly faded, though Jack only stared at the pliers next to Adam. “Alan and his wife were always good family friends and I promised not to tell anyone the truth about the name I gave him. Seems that’s a trivial promise to keep when you’re knocking on death’s door.”
“You’re not going to die,” Adam said. “You’re going to—”
“Adam, I can’t do this to myself,” Jack interrupted, looking over at Adam. “Don’t make me kill myself with a pair of pliers. I can think of a dozen ways for you to get it done but I can’t rip out my own throat with them.”
“Damn it, Jack, I’m not going to kill you!”
“Yes, you are,” Jack replied bluntly. “I don’t know what drugs they’re bringing, but I know it’s going to change us from the men we are right now. It’s better one of us dies and the other lives to avoid that for now. Be smart, get away when you can, and you hit them hard for me. Now come on, I can see you want to do it.”
Adam tore his eyes away from Jack and glanced down, surprised to see the pliers gripped in his hand. He didn’t even remembered picking them up. He sat there, staring at them as though he wanted to drop them like a hot iron.
But Adam couldn’t let them go.
“Please, Jack,” Adam said. “I…I can’t do this.”
“You have to,” Jack replied, standing to walk over to Adam before kneeling down in front of him. “I just ask…please make it quick and take care of my family.”
“Jack, I can’t….”
“You have to.”
“I won’t—”
“Do it!”
Adam roared as he raised the pliers overhead, watching his reflection in Jack’s wide, teary eyes. In that brief moment the world slowed to a crawl as his mind began to race.
He thought back to the moment he had first killed in order to survive assassination attempts in Chicago. He had then killed again in Montana to avoid capture and again while surviving the first battle in a war that ravaged the remains of America. Since then, Adam had killed to endure the road, but something shifted in Memphis. Adam murdered a stranger simply to cross a bridge. He had become just like those men he had killed in the past, taking a life for selfish desires. Now, Adam was on the verge of murdering a friend, a man who had once saved his life. In that brief moment of hesitation, as Adam held a simple tool overhead that was on the verge of becoming a weapon, he realized only he could decide when it stopped.
Only he could prevent the beast inside from bursting forth and consuming all the good that remained within him.
Adam bellowed as he chucked the pliers across the room. They crashed against the concrete wall loudly, falling to the ground with a clatter. “If America has to be rebuilt on an ocean of innocent blood then I want no part of it! I won’t have a part in it! We can beat whatever’s coming, Jack. We can—”
The latch on the door slid back and the two men instinctively crouched like dogs awaiting a beating. Derrick Neal walked in, glaring at them both with a frown.
“I was really hoping to avoid this,” Derrick said as he shook his head. He then ducked back out into the hallway. “Room Eight when the five of you finish up!”
“You’re not going to win,” Adam said, his lips nearly curling back into a snarl. “We�
��re not going to kill each other.”
“Is that so?” Derrick replied as he entered the room. “You know, you two are one of the last pairs down here. Still, there are a few others who refused until the end.”
“We’re different,” Adam said. “We can—”
“Did you know one of the last couples to give in were husband and wife?” Derrick replied coldly. “They stood with each other strong for nine days. But an hour ago we gave them the injection. You wouldn’t believe how fast they turned on one another. It took five seconds of unimaginable pain before they started wrestling over their weapon. Granted, I gave them a hammer so it was a little easier in the end. Still, the tool didn’t faze the husband one bit, especially when I threatened to put him back under if he didn’t finish the job. Now, you got this one last chance to do what needs to be done before things get really bad for the both of you.”
Adam looked over at Jack before they both shifted their gaze to the pliers across the room. The tool seemed to pulsate with temptation, tugging at Adam like a steak attracts a man who’s dying of hunger. He had no idea what was coming, but every fiber of his being wanted to avoid whatever would cause a man to kill his wife.
Adam rose as two men walked in, though he didn’t glance over at them. He simply rose, mustering as much dignity as he could as he spat in Derrick’s face. “Go to hell.”
“Actually, that’s your job now,” Derrick replied as he leaned in close. “I gave you a chance. I want you to remember that as you—”
Adam jumped as the tip of a silver cylinder jammed into Derrick’s neck. Derrick’s eyes went wide and his mouth flew opened to shout just as a gloved hand wrapped around his jaw, cutting off his scream. Adam glanced over at the man with the cylinder and nearly collapsed from the wave of emotions that hit him.
“Marc!” Adam said, though Marc’s eyes never left Derrick. Marc tossed the cylinder behind him and Alan caught it, hushing both Adam and Jack as he approached Derrick with the cylinder in hand.
“So I take it I only need to press this little blue button and you’ll be like the others in the rooms before this one?” Alan said. Derrick’s eyes went wide and he shook his head violently, terror overwhelming his face. “Good. Now you’re going to keep your mouth shut and only speak when I ask a question or I’m going to press this button and leave you to rot in your anguish, you sick bastard. We clear?” Derrick nodded and Marc slowly pulled his hand away. “Good.” Alan reached up and touched a hidden earpiece. “Lev, where are you man?” Alan paused for five seconds before cursing under his breath. “Copy.”
“Wait,” Jack said. “Leila, is she—”
“She’s fine,” Alan said as Lev ran in with two sets of clothes. “Everyone’s fine, but we have to move fast.”
“The feed’s looped and we have twelve minutes till they come back down,” Lev said as he ducked into the room, greeting Adam and Jack with a nod as he tossed them clothes very similar to the uniforms they wore. None of them had firearms, though they each held a knife at the ready. The clothing they tossed him matched that of every Recruit Adam had met during his eleven days, though he paused as he located the tiny hole in the black uniform—a red ring above his heart. He shuddered, thinking of the dead man that had likely worn those clothes minutes ago, before tugging the heavy shirt overhead and covering the hole with a black vest Marc gave him.
“So what happened in Memphis?” Jack asked as he dressed.
“When you guys went tumbling over the bridge, we made a run for the other side of the river with the hopes of following whoever took you,” Alan replied. “We had to fight our way through the second blockade, but there were only a few of them and they didn’t stand a chance. Still, by the time we made it across the bridge, we had no idea where the boat had taken you.”
“I managed to get Gene in contact with the Texans fortifying South Little Rock and we made our way to them,” Lev said. “We were about to head further into Texas, but we found out about the prisoners they have up here a few days ago. We didn’t want to leave, knowing you three might be here. Texas said they wouldn’t allow their men to be risked on a foolhardy rescue mission, but that didn’t stop us from volunteering. When Lev finally hacked into their surveillance system yesterday morning and located you two, Gene led an emergency exfiltration to save you.”
“What about Edward?” Adam asked. “He was—”
“Edward’s fine,” Alan said. “Despite their standing orders to refrain from assisting us, a few of the Texans snuck away with Gene. They located Edward in the living quarters above and are sneaking him back to the extraction point.”
“Why’d you come?” Adam asked, turning to Marc. “I wouldn’t think you’d be moving much yet.”
Marc pulled back a long piece of black cloth that encircled his forearm and powered on a digital screen. He swiped around the screen before clicking once and showing it to Adam.
Wouldn’t miss it for the world…maybe for a glass of French wine and a buttery croissant.
Adam shook his head and laughed as he stepped over and shook Marc’s hand.
“Glad to see you got your voice back,” Adam said.
“It’s an old smartphone from the days before the nVision craze,” Lev said, glancing back out into the dimly lit hallway. “He can type out text if he needs to, but he’s been plugging in premade responses for the past few days for faster communication. Granted, they have Marc’s usual sense of mockery in them.”
“I’d be disappointed if they didn’t,” Adam replied, buckling his belt as he eyed Derrick. The man looked terrified, like a hen that had just realized it was cornered in a hollow with foxes. “What about him?”
“He’s coming with us,” Alan said as he slowly approached Derrick. “Near as we can tell from Lev’s surveillance, he’s got some authority in the camp, possibly enough to help us walk out of here with no questions asked.” Alan raised the silver cylinder, his thumb hovering over the glowing blue button. “I think Derrick’s going to help us, because if he doesn’t, I’m going to press this button. In fact, if he says anything or does anything that might make me unhappy—perhaps something I might suspect to be a code word—I’ll turn this thing on and throw it away. Do we understand each other?”
“Yes,” Derrick replied quickly. “I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll cross the river with you and tell you everything I know about our defenses.”
“Damn straight you will,” Alan said.
“Eight minutes,” Lev said, looking up from his watch. “We’ve got to hurry. Lev also hacked Derrick’s personal drone in the other room, looping its feed and programing it to stay put. They don’t send their surveillance drones down here because of the close quarters, but there will be hundreds of them just as soon as we’re above ground. If we’re going to make it out, we can’t let them have the time they need to get curious.”
“Agreed,” Alan said, turning back to Derrick. “You’re going to lead us out of here and you’re going to make sure to mislead anyone who asks about us. You’re going to tell them we arrived with this morning’s shipment of drugs. You’re then going to walk with us east on Riverfront Drive and over to the old pallet factory on Brother Paul Drive.”
“But there’s nothing down that way,” Derrick replied.
“Nothing but our guys waiting for us,” Alan said with a grin.
“How will you cross the river?” Derrick asked.
“Quickly and out of sight,” Alan said before turning to Adam and the others. “Stay quiet and remember—you’re a Patriarch until we’re out of here. Try to act like it. Derrick…lead the way.”
They followed Derrick as the man did his best to mask his nervousness. Derrick drew a handkerchief from his belt and dabbed at his forehead as they began down the hallway. Alan grabbed Derrick by the shoulder as they approached a door, causing him to jump.
“Here,” Alan said, motioning to the door to his left. Derrick nodded and opened the door, but Alan quickly reached out and pulled it shut. “I meant lo
ck it!” Before he closed the door, Adam’s eyes darted inside, catching a glimpse of the three naked men who lay motionless on the floor. He now knew where they had acquired his uniform.
Derrick’s face went pale and he nodded his head, drawing his keys and locking the door from the outside. He paused before turning to the side and emptying his stomach.
“Get with it,” Alan said, raising the silver cylinder.
“I’m trying!” Derrick said, wiping his chin. “Forgive me, but those were friends of mine.”
“And forgive me,” Alan growled as he approached. “But we had to walk around with you assholes in the middle of the night and watch as you forced twelve people into fighting to the death.”
“It’s not what you—”
“Don’t even dare try to justify what you did,” Alan growled.
“We were following orders,” Derrick said. “They’re getting everyone ready to go either south or north and—”
North….
Adam started as the word seemed to echo through the dim hallway. He looked around at the others, checking to see if they showed any signs of hearing something as well. Everyone simply stared at Derrick as he tried to explain himself out of torment. The voice sounded just like it had in Memphis, DC, and Chicago, but it had always been specific. Now, it was simply one word and Adam had no idea what lay north of Little Rock.
“…you might never want to,” Alan was saying, “but that doesn’t make you innocent. That makes you—”
“What’s north of here?” Adam asked quickly, stepping forward. “You said they were moving everyone either north or south.”
Derrick paused before nodding his head. “What about it?”
“What are they moving them for?” Adam asked, stepping in closer. “What’s north?”
“An outpost,” Derrick said. “A place called Fort Harding.”
“What’s there?” Adam asked.
“It’s just an outpost, but it’s fortified and has some armor,” Derrick replied. “If they join up with Texas it will give them an angle to hit us from behind. We were getting all Recruits ready to either attack north and take the outpost or charge south and strike the Texans across the river.”