Tony removed his black helmet, setting it aside. “You don’t seem to understand what is happening. You are going to be tortured. Don’t bother with the answer just yet. I need to make your situation clear first.”
His companion pulled a small dentist’s drill from his bag. The raider had already been secured to floor, his head conveniently placed in a vice. He could, and did, close his mouth, but he couldn’t squirm or turn away.
“Go through both his front teeth,” ordered Tony.
Renee stepped back as the other militia member forced the man’s mouth open, jamming a plastic restraint between his jaws. Judging from his howls, the agony had to be intense. She didn’t care in the least.
“Now, you will tell me where the prophet is. If you and your two buddies don’t have matching answers, you are going to lose another two teeth. This will continue until we get the truth or I’m forced to move on to other body parts.”
A quick personal note here. While I tried to use fear in regards to questioning – the cutting off of toes was intended to scare the man into speaking – Renee chose to move directly to actual violence. I probably would have ended up there, if my prisoner hadn’t killed himself, but you never know. He might have freaked out and told me everything. It would’ve been nice.
“At least two of you are lying,” said Tony, after confirming with the others.
The drill spun again, and Renee moved to the opposite side of the bedroom so she could lean against the wall while her subordinates worked. They had hoped from the start to take a few prisoners. All were going to die in the end of course. It was a death sentence to put on one of those jackets. No raider could ever be allowed to go free, and we weren’t the sort to use prison as a punishment. That said, there was no reason not to squeeze them for information, aside from silly notions of morality. Such things only apply to people, and these bastards are anything but.
“Still not matching,” sighed Tony. He bent down. “Let’s go for a molar this time.”
The raiders held their leader in high esteem. It took an hour and twelve teeth before they all said that he was with the main group that was going to destroy the settlements in Yellowstone National Park. After that betrayal, it became easier. Most of what Renee wanted to know were simple things that the prisoners didn’t care so much about. The biggest was how many had been sent to strike the Black Hills. This was then whittled down to account for the people at the house and those killed previously. The numbers matched, and Renee was confident there were no others in a position to strike at them.
She also learned that the majority were, as previously believed, directly involved with the Yellowstone fight, although there were a few scouts roaming the nearby states. Considering how well Jacob and Captain Briggs had done, Renee could surmise that the raiders were all but gone.
A second personal note. The interrogations took place after the big battles outside Yellowstone that saw the raiders retreat and the cave with their families collapsing. Renee had been fully briefed on those developments but did not share this with those being questioned.
The raiders went on to reveal the location of their equipment. Most was in the house and barn, but they’d stashed food in two other spots and had some weapons in a third. All would be collected for our personal use.
An interesting discovery was that the raiders were terrified of the way things had changed around the country. Originally, they had fled the cities and encountered the prophet who quickly organized a large following. This subdivided and rejoined numerous times in order to fulfill their primary goal, which was the protection of all who’d been oppressed and the slaughter of those causing the harm. The definition of oppressed was not spelled out, but Renee had the distinct impression it focused on those most likely to submit to the prophet’s worldview.
As time passed and the zombies shambled their way beyond the population centers, swarming back roads as well as the highways, their ability to travel freely began to collapse. More and more of their number had to be pulled away from the front lines in order to protect their families. Coupled with the losses they suffered in Wyoming, this left the raiders feeling greatly weakened. It was also the reason they scattered completely the year before. The prophet wanted as many new recruits as possible, but, in the end, few were added to the ranks. By that point, most survivors were in functioning groups, the sort that immediately drew raider ire. The criminals and mentally troubled he favored had either been absorbed into these or were long dead. The raiders had been on a steady downswing, and they knew it.
The trio of prisoners could not shed any light on the prophet’s background. They’d joined up later, after he was firmly established as the undisputed leader. By the way, they didn’t call themselves raiders. They were The Family. Sounds like something from a bad mob movie or maybe something Charles Manson once said, not quite sure about that. Anyway, we continued calling them raiders. That name was permanently stuck in our minds.
There was some information concerning the attacks on Yellowstone and the Black Hills. We were the last of their declared enemies. The fact they’d failed to kill or drive us away had eaten at the raiders as a whole and the prophet in particular. He could not deal with losing, not to the people he hated so very, very much. It was what forced him to return, despite knowing how difficult the venture would be.
* * *
“You look lovely,” commented Rudy, when Renee came outside for a break. “Not a speck of blood or dirt on you. How do you keep yourself so sparkling? It must be a talent.”
“Stuff it. If I was filthy you’d say ‘you look so pretty even with all that grime on you’.”
He laughed. “You do know me. How about joining me for dinner so I can get to know you better?”
“It’s way past dinner time, and the answer is a no.”
The torture had begun before the sun rose and continued throughout the day. The militia members would be spending the night in the house and barn, returning home the following morning. Night travel was always dangerous and complicated and to be avoided whenever possible. Also, Renee hadn’t wanted to interrupt the interrogations or take time moving the prisoners, especially once truthful answers began to flow with little prompting.
I’m going to include my third and final personal observation here. It is the final one for this interlude. I promise. There are many who say that torture does not work. They’ll tell you that people are going to say whatever they think will make the pain stop. There is a great deal of veracity to this. Individuals who are being tortured most certainly will try to make it stop. However, Renee’s method, which is how torture should be handled, eliminates this problem. You separate people in possession of the same information. You then abuse these unfortunates until they both talk and the answers come out the same. With no time to develop a false story, the prisoners will quickly spill the beans. More importantly, it is the only way to pry the most guarded secrets free. Threats won’t accomplish that, nor will low level abuse like sleep deprivation or water boarding. Renee did an excellent job.
“What are you going to do to them?” he asked. “Or is there more to ask?”
“We’re just about done, I think, and I’ll be forcing them to dig their own graves before they’re shot.”
Rudy frowned. “We were going to burn the others and scatter the bones. Why bury these.”
“Oh, I’m not actually planning on burying them,” she said, eyes glinting in the fading twilight. “I just want them to suffer a bit more before I do shoot the lot. I’ve also told them that their families were dead, after I got what I wanted. Two of them had kids in that cave. They were crying, just like all the people they raped and tortured and murdered over the past few years did.” She spat on the ground. “Maybe I should just toss them on the fire instead, let them burn alive.”
* * *
“I’m pretty certain there are no raiders anywhere near us. Whatever’s left is in that group Jacob and Lizzy went after, or off scouting somewhere. I don’t know how m
any were doing that, but it isn’t many. Can’t be more than a handful or two.”
“Perfect,” said Briana. “Put that back.”
Asher looked up, frowned, and returned to his mother’s bedroom, the makeup case gripped in his tiny hands.
“I can’t take my eyes off him for an instant,” she complained. “Lately he’s been treating eye liner like crayons.”
“He’s a good kid,” remarked Renee, “even if he did pour a bottle of ink on my boot that one time.”
“That was not intentional. He was trying to open it – another reason I have to watch him all the time – and when it spilled you just happened to be in the way.”
Renee smiled. “It was pretty funny, after the fact. How is the childcare thing going? You ever decide on getting a permanent babysitter?”
“No, I’ve decided to stick with the system of having some of the older women offer daycare and help out when they’re free. Jacob and Mary are going to be back soon anyway, and Steph’s always ready to take him for a little while if there’s no one else around.”
“So many babies. I might have to have one myself soon, before I’m feeling completely left out.”
Briana snorted. “It’s not like everyone is pregnant or with kids.”
“Seems that way sometimes. We are growing. Give it thirty years, and this place will be booming.”
“Thirty years.” She rose and picked up Asher who’d come back into the room, walked past all his toys that were sitting on the rug, and gone straight for the cabinet where the dishes were kept. “No, you don’t. Go play with bunny or the matchbox cars.”
Letting out a dramatic sigh, as only a three year old can manage, the boy grabbed the stuffed rabbit and began to feed it little metal cars. Imagination is a wonderful thing.
“We should do a celebration,” said Renee. “It’s been forever since we had one.”
“Shouldn’t we wait for my husband to come back? Jacob should have, hopefully, the prophet and the last of them dead soon. Captain Briggs said he thought it was a done deal.”
“Not a chance. We do one now for all we accomplished. Then we do another when he gets back. After all, Briana, why have one party when we can have two? I’ll tell the brewery to get to work. There’ll be a lot of beer that’s going to need replacing.”
“Fine,” she laughed, waving Renee off. “Go get Steph and whoever else you need. Party with my blessings. I can’t drink, and the way my stomach’s going I probably shouldn’t be walking around staying up all night either. I had Asher puking after he saw me go through a bout of morning sickness.”
“Yuck. I’ll be sure to bring you some cake.”
“You can give that to the little one. I’m putting on way too much weight as it is.”
“Briana, you aren’t at all fat.”
“Yeah, and it’s going to stay that way too.”
* * *
“Oh…”
Renee’s head was throbbing, deep seated aches that came one after another. Worse, she realized with a fright, her shirt was not where she’d left it, namely on her well-toned frame. What had happened, and why was Rudy lying next to her? Rudy! She leapt to her feet. Rather, she attempted to get up but only succeeded in falling over. This was followed by wrenching twist in her gut. Renee managed to scoot a few feet to the side so she could vomit in a trashcan.
“Too much of a good thing,” she moaned, thoughts briefly shifting to what poor Briana went through every day with her pregnancy.
Okay, her pants were still on. Thank goodness for that. Rudy’s were as well. Better still. Now, she needed to concentrate. Renee vaguely recalled speaking to one of the interrogators over a glass of ale. He’d been feeling conflicted about what they did. But, these were raiders they were talking about. The monsters deserved what they got and more. Unable to relate, Renee suggested he talk to one of their counselors.
That unpleasantness taken care of, she danced with somebody – Renee couldn’t remember who – and had a few more drinks. Rudy had appeared, flirting with everybody sporting a pair of breasts. She caught his attention, and… What? A drinking contest. That was it. They matched shots. Oh, what a stupid, stupid thing to do, and she’d already been close to falling over when they got started.
Renee looked about more carefully. She was in the back room of the tavern. One of her friends ran it, and she’d helped move casks and plastic containers often enough. They had probably caused too much of an uproar and were hustled back here to sober up. Or maybe they stumbled into the room for some hanky panky. No way that was the case. Renee wouldn’t stoop so low as to sleep with Rudy, no matter how plastered she was.
There was her shirt, and it was covered in vomit. That would explain why she wasn’t wearing it. Renee felt much better thinking she threw up on herself, or that someone else threw up on her. Both were preferable to giving Rudy a free look. Disgusting as it was, she pulled it on before giving the snoring man a good kick.
“Wake up.”
Rudy didn’t budge. He didn’t respond at all.
“Wake up. Hey, shithead.”
Nothing.
“Stay here then.”
Renee collected her things and slipped outside. It was late, and the common room was dark. There were others passed out though, something that cheered her immensely. She carefully made her way around the bodies and stepped into the crisp pre-dawn air.
Chapter VII
“It’s good to have you back,” said Captain Briggs, “and I’m sorry for your losses.”
The casualties from that final battle had been light, something for which I am quite grateful, and the wounded would all recover, including Lizzy who was anything but happy concerning her personal situation. Then again, she was stuck in the hospital, so I didn’t have to listen to her complain. Her being more pissed off than usual really wasn’t much of an issue.
“How are your efforts going?” I asked.
“Good so far. We have barricaded all the roads into Yellowstone, and by Yellowstone I mean the forested areas. The plains in the north up around Montana are too open. Zombies are out in the dirt as often as not. Because of size, and the need to allow wildlife to migrate, we aren’t trying to fully wall ourselves in like you have over in the Black Hills. It should be more than sufficient however.”
“And no trouble from that big group? Any come back?”
Our innovation had been copied with a Yellowstone pilot flying over the shambling horde that had been approaching. They were not following any raiders and soon turned in a vain effort to catch the helicopter. At last report, they were filtering through Jackson.
“A few stragglers reached us and were put down, but that’s about it.”
“What about the islands? Any news from them?”
The captain settled back in his chair. We were in Yellowstone proper, sitting on the porch of an old ranger station overlooking some small geysers and bubbling pools. It was quite pleasant outside, and we were enjoying the weather and scenery while we could. Opportunities to do so were few and far between.
“They still want to use Yellowstone and the Black Hills as a starting point to clear the center of the country, although no actions are anticipated until early next spring. They have asked that we secure the area as best we can in the meantime and keep as many airstrips open and in good repair as possible, particularly those with long runways.”
I snorted. Oh, God! I was copying Briana’s bad habits. This was not going to happen a second time. At least Briggs didn’t know her well enough to catch on.
“Keeping open the small airstrips we already use in South Dakota, Montana, and around here is easy. They’re isolated, hard to get to, and rarely end up infested. The only major airport with super long runways that we can really support is Ellsworth Air Force Base. It’s mostly clear at present, but I can’t guarantee that won’t change. We don’t have the people to occupy it permanently, not even if we totally linked up. I’ll keep an eye on the place, and clearing it right before it’s put to u
se shouldn’t be too hard. But, there is a big difference between going in with a hundred guns and spending a day shooting and having squads patrolling it 24/7.”
“I concur. We will know in advance before they move, so there should be ample time to prepare when that date rolls around.”
It appeared Captain Briggs understood my concerns, which was to be expected. The man was military and had a good grip on logistics and all the zillions of problems we faced. I wonder how long it’ll be before he’s promoted.
“I’m cutting back on our overhead flights too,” he continued. “We’ve burned through most of our fuel reserves.”
“It is getter harder to replenish them,” I agreed.
There was still plenty at Ellsworth, and Briana had sent some teams to the more distant municipal and private airports to take whatever they had. This was then transported to the airstrips we used regularly and pumped into their tanks, or otherwise stored within the Black Hills so we could refuel the choppers based there. It was a slow, tedious process, made worse by the fact that Marcus, who normally handles such matters, was still absent. We were just about at the point of sending someone to check on him, might have already if experience hadn’t shown that first contacts often take an exceedingly long time.
“They are ramping up production at the refineries in Hawaii. I should say the refinery. There are two in Oahu, but only one is currently running. The other may go online in the future, depending on their needs. It’s being maintained in the meantime.”
“At least they don’t have to scrounge for gasoline,” I commented, “and since you can’t really fly that in to us, our ground transportation is going to keep getting more and more complicated.” An idea popped into my head. “Why don’t we swap some horses, get the breeding population a bit more diversified? Get the numbers up too.”
“I have no problems, although I don’t know enough about horses to really say what we should or should not do. Plenty of people here I can delegate to.”
Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 3): Salvation Page 19