“Sweat bees don’t lie,” the man said.
After a minute, he used the cardboard to separate the bees from my arm, screwed the cover back on the jar and handed it to the boy, who put everything back into the bag.
“I don’t get it,” I said.
“Whenever anyone gets bit, the bees won’t come near ’em. You’re fine.”
“What are you going to do with me?”
“Up to Travis. If I was you, I’d tell ’im what he wants to hear.”
“What, that his daughter’s alive?”
“Yeah, just like that.”
“But she’s dead.”
“Like I said, tell ’im what he wants to hear.”
“Then he’ll let me go?”
“No. But he might go easier on you before he kills your sorry ass.”
“What’s your story?” I said to the boy. He refused to meet my eyes.
“He makes himself useful around here, if you know what I mean,” the man said.
“Glad to see you guys are setting a good example for the youngsters.”
“I ain’t into it, but some of the others are.”
“Does Ormand approve?”
The boy left the room as the nailhead unzipped himself and peed against the wall. I scrambled to my feet to jump him, but another nailhead came in, pointing his weapon at my head.
“Ulie, what did I tell you about not paying attention?” he said as the first man zipped himself up.
“He ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Ulie said, and belched like a moose. “Too broken up ’bout Griffin’s death, I guess. He’s clean, by the way.”
“Do you two even believe in what you’re doing?” I said.
“That ain’t the point,” the one with the gun said. “It’s like this town is one big, dangerous, happenin’ club. And it don’t matter who you came in with. What matters is who you go home with. And Ulie and I here are goin’ home with Ormand.”
“You got that right,” Ulie said, and took another swallow of beer.
I watched as these two comedians went out and locked the door. For what seemed like hours, I stared at the beer bottle. There was still a frost on the brown glass and little beads of condensation. It didn’t matter—I was going to be dead soon anyway. Why shouldn’t I enjoy a last beer? Didn’t I deserve it?
I grabbed the bottle and brought it up to my nose. The smell was so familiar and inviting. Just one sip. What was the harm? One bottle. No way to get wasted. I could handle myself.
Yeah, I was lying again. Where there was one, there were six. Then a whole case. All I wanted till I emptied these vats.
Something strange happened. Might have been the blow to my head. Or God speaking to me. But I saw Holly standing across from me. I reached out a hand to touch her. She wore a pretty pale-green summer dress, the one I’d seen her in on our last anniversary. She watched me with the beer, her head cocked a little to one side.
I’d promised myself so long ago that I wouldn’t go back. More importantly, I promised her. Chances were excellent this wasn’t going to end well for me. I’d be dead, and these jerk-offs would go on terrorizing others in the town. As if the draggers weren’t enough. I gripped the bottle tightly and threw it hard against the wall. It shattered into dust.
They’d find me dead. But they wouldn’t find me drunk.
WHAT THOSE ANIMALS DID to me I can’t say—I don’t want to think about it. I will tell you that most people have no idea the suffering the human body can endure. It defies reason.
Ormand called it “cleansing” and appointed that paragon of patriotism Travis Golightly to carry it out. And they were careful not to go too far. They did enough to make me scream till my throat went raw. After the first few times, I almost didn’t feel anything at all. That seemed to enrage Travis, and he looked for new ways to hurt me. Most of his rage came from wanting Griffin. I knew that, and despite edging closer to oblivion, I never changed my story. Griffin was dead.
Random thoughts flew into my head like confused bats during those cruel, pain-filled hours and days. Most centered around Warnick and the other soldiers. Why hadn’t they come? They must’ve known something was wrong. Springer and Popp were dead. I was near dead. Were all the rest dead too? That last image floated in and out of my head, making the pain worse.
Many of the nailheads stayed drunk. There was enough beer in the place to keep them in that state for weeks, even months. During the torture I saw Travis struggling to control his men. Causing me pain was a boring waste of time to them. All they wanted was to drink. And so what started out as an audience of a dozen foot soldiers dwindled to a lone assistant—Ulie.
Mostly I saw men in this place, but occasionally one or two women made an appearance. All were young, and I got the sense they provided the “entertainment.” They were probably scared and chose to stay, getting passed around like beer jugs rather than facing the undead outside. Some couldn’t have been older than Griffin.
After the last cleansing, someone realized I’d need to eat if they wanted to keep up this sick game. They’d gotten hold of some MREs and threw one in with me in the cold room. Ulie stayed with me, trying to get me to take the food.
“This might be your last meal,” he said. “I think tomorrow Travis is gonna do you.”
“Maybe killing me will bring back his daughter.”
“Yeah.” Ulie looked ashamed. “Lemme know if you change your mind about the beer. There’s plenty. Now would be a good time to have it. Oh, I found these in a first-aid kit. Thought you could use ’em.” He placed a foil packet of ibuprofen in my hand.
“Thanks. Why do they call you Ulie?”
“Dunno. Guess it’s because I like to talk a lot. Passes the time.”
After Ulie left, I stared at the MRE. I was too sick to eat. Every bone in my body ached, especially my leg. Some of my teeth were loose, and my lip was swollen. I thought a couple of my ribs might be broken, and I was almost blind in one eye. Although I didn’t want to prolong this black hell, I remembered what Warnick said about hope and decided I needed to live a while longer. So I took the ibuprofen, drank some water and forced myself to eat.
Outside, I heard cursing and singing and women screaming. I didn’t know if the noise was from pain or drunken glee. They were on a real bender out there. I guessed they knew they were doomed and decided to go out partying. In another age I might have joined them.
The constant cold made me drowsy. I had trouble keeping my eyes open, even though my head hurt so much. I felt myself falling and drifted into a dreamless sleep, feeling sweat bees on my arm.
Ulie leaned in close, his breath ripe with stale beer and jerky, gently shaking my good shoulder. Another nailhead was with him. They looked grim.
“It’s time,” Ulie said.
They got me to my feet. As I stood, intense pain shot through my left leg. I was unable to walk on it. The two men threw my arms around them and half carried me out of the room, across the main floor of the brewery and into the manager’s office.
The place stood empty and silent, the opposite of the night before. The floor had been swept, and there was no sign of the drinking and debauchery that had taken place.
I expected Travis to be waiting for me, his rifle still attached to his skeletal hand, ready to end it. But as I entered, I found only Ormand Ferry.
He sat behind the desk in a plush leather chair, the light from the desk lamp glinting off his wire-rimmed glasses. He was smaller than I remembered, and I realized that I’d never seen him up close. It had always been from a distance, on a stage or a makeshift platform.
The two nailheads sat me in a chair opposite the desk and left. My head felt thick, and I had a hard time focusing. For a while the leader of the Red Militia watched me, his hands under his chin. Then he got up and examined me as if he were a trained physician. I said nothing. He poured a glass of water and offered it to me.
“Thanks,” I said.
Streamers of blood floated in the water as I set down the glas
s. This detail did not escape Ormand. In fact, it seemed to trouble him.
“I want to apologize,” he said.
“For what?”
“Travis shouldn’t have gone so hard on you. Usually our methods are less … destructive. The fact is, he’s devastated over the loss of his daughter. He seems to think you’re lying about her death. I’ve assured him that there is no reason you would lie. Is there, Dave?”
“Is there what?”
He shifted in his chair, apparently unused to not getting a straight answer. “Is there a reason you would lie about Griffin?”
“No.”
I guessed the sorry condition of my face, especially my eyes, made it impossible for him to read me. My voice was flat and devoid of emotion. I made sure not to look away.
“I didn’t think so,” he said, and leaned back. “Besides, I don’t think you could’ve maintained such a story after what Travis did to you. To be honest, I’ve overlooked a lot where Travis is concerned. He can be unpredictable. With everything going on in the town, it’s difficult for me to stay on top of all facets of this operation. I’m sure you can appreciate that.”
“What is going on?”
“We are gaining ground in our campaign to bring order.”
“I thought bringing order was Black Dragon’s job.”
“Their job is to put down civil unrest. They don’t care about you and me. They want to stop any and all activity they see as disruptive and be on their way. They’re mercenaries, for God’s sake. Did you know they’re shooting civilians at will and burning the bodies?”
“I know they’re killing draggers to rid the town of this scourge.”
“‘Draggers.’” He chuckled artificially. “Once you put a label on someone, you are free to do what you want, is that it?”
“Wait, are you suggesting these are sick people who need help?”
“It’s not for me to say, I’m not a doctor.”
“Look, they’re dead. And they’re eating people.”
“The point is, I believe our organization has more of an interest in preserving this town than the Black Dragon thugs. And I would hope you do too.”
“Are you asking me to join you?”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing. We’re helping people, Dave. Not like those overpaid contractors. We’re feeding and sheltering people till this scourge, as you call it, is over. I can see that you’re strong. You’ve stood up to this—”
“Torture.”
“This cleansing, and you’ve come through it. You seem to want to live. I’m giving you a way to do that. They tell me you don’t drink.”
“Used to.”
“You see? We need more people like you. People who can control their urges and work for the good of the community.”
“Where are these people you’re talking about?” I said. “The ones you’re protecting.”
“Somewhere safe. The soldiers who were sent to protect them failed. Now they’re in our care.”
“You’re killing soldiers.”
“We always offer them the choice, the way I’m doing with you. Some have seen the wisdom of what we’re offering and have come over to our way of thinking. The ones who don’t, well … That reminds me. I want to thank you for removing Chavez from the equation. He was becoming a real problem for us.”
“How did you know?”
“Give me some credit.”
“Do you know why more soldiers haven’t been deployed to stop this thing?”
“No. All we know is that the area is completely sealed off. No one is getting in or out. So it’s up to us.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I need to think about it.”
“Of course. I’ll give you until tomorrow morning. I won’t be here, but you can tell Travis your decision.”
“How do you know he won’t kill me even if I decide to join?”
“I don’t.”
Ormand looked past me, and the next thing I knew, Ulie and the other nailhead were in the room with us. They helped me from my chair. I still couldn’t put weight on my bad leg.
“Leg bothering you?” Ormand said.
“It’s fine,” I said. “Do you think you’ll win?”
“It’s not about winning, it’s about doing what’s right. And yes, we will do what’s right.”
I stopped at the door and faced him. “What if there’s no way out of this thing? Then what?”
He smiled, his eyes obscured by the reflection on his glasses. “There’s always a way out.”
Back in the cold room, I thought about the meeting and about what Ormand had said. He frightened me. Though I had no wish to join this circus, I thought doing so might help keep me alive long enough to find Holly and Griffin.
What they said about Ormand was true. He was charming and charismatic. And his words almost made sense. Almost. They might have been words of peace, but they implied a very real threat. He was like an outsider running for office. Was that his plan? To set himself up as the savior of the town so that, when all this was over, he could go into politics and further his group’s agenda?
My headache had subsided, but my leg felt worse. Swelling and tenderness burned around the tibia, where Travis had beaten me mercilessly with a length of iron rebar. I thought the bone might be fractured.
Despite my condition, I looked forward to a meal. I heard the door unlock and expected Ulie to come in with my MRE and some water. But it was Travis who came through.
He didn’t look well. As I lay against the wall, I smelled something foul coming from him and guessed that gangrene had set into his burned arm and hand.
Travis stared at me, his rifle pointed downwards. In our drinking days, Jim and I used to be able to carry on a conversation with him at least. Did Travis even remember back that far? I hated him so much for the pain he’d inflicted, but I forced myself to remain calm.
“Is the Beehive still standing?” I said.
“I don’t think about it much anymore. There’s more important work to do.”
“Like saving Tres Marias.”
“Ormand says he believes you. About Griffin.”
“I’m sorry, Travis.”
“How’d she die?”
“Are you sure you want to know?”
“I do.”
As an alcoholic, I was good at lying. There are two things to remember when telling a lie. First, provide enough detail but not too much. Otherwise it will sound made-up. Second, mix the lie with the truth. That way there are always parts of it that others can corroborate.
“After your men destroyed our compound,” I said, “we found some of them in the front yard—including Kyle. He was already dead from the blast. Then he turned, and we had to shoot him. Griffin went crazy and took off on us. We chased her all the way down to the stream, but it was too late. A horde was on her. Travis, you have to believe me, we tried to save her. In the end, we had to shoot her. I’m sorry.”
“We sent men back there, looking for her. We never found her body.”
“We burned it. Did they check the pit?”
Travis shook his head. He looked away and sucked down the pain. “I loved her,” he said. “You may not believe that, but I did.” He went to the door. “I hope you choose to die in here.” Then he walked out as Ulie came in with my meal.
“What’s Ormand up to, Ulie? I mean, what happens after all this is over?”
Ulie looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was listening. “He has some big ol’ dreams. Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s lookin’ to be governor.”
“But he murdered soldiers. They’ll throw him in prison.”
“The way he sees it, some of those guys went bat-shit crazy. Look at Chavez. If that ain’t proof enough.”
“It’s a crazy world. I guess anything’s possible.”
“So you gonna join us?”
“What did your friend say? This is the happening club. I need to stay alive.”
“Good choice, Dave.”
&nb
sp; “Travis won’t like it.”
“Don’t worry about him,” Ulie said. “Ormand put ’im on a short leash. You just start to get better.”
“Thanks, Ulie.”
So, without even realizing it, I’d decided. It made sense. I needed to survive for Holly and Griffin. Now I needed a weapon.
THE FRANTIC BANGING ON the door and hungry death shrieks awakened me. As I prepared to die, automatic gunfire echoed in deadly bursts. Men shouted and women screamed—but this time it was terrified screaming. Rapid footsteps pattered as people fled in one direction, then another. I couldn’t focus. What was happening?
A single gunshot resounded outside the door.
“Let’s try in here.” It was Holly’s voice.
“Holly!”
“Dave!”
I tried to stand, but my leg wouldn’t support me, so I waited as the door handle jiggled. Soon gunfire exploded and the door flew open, revealing Holly and Griffin. I couldn’t believe it—it was like a mirage. They were both armed, sweat glistening off their lean, muscled arms. From where I sat, they appeared unharmed.
Greta bounded in, barking and whining. She jumped on top of me, knocking me back and covering my face with dog slobber. Holly knelt down and checked my bruises.
“You look like shit, Dave.”
“I didn’t think you guys would come for me.”
“We had to make sure you didn’t give in to temptation. I mean, honestly. A brewery, Dave?”
“Hey, you can smell my breath.”
She leaned over and took a sniff. “Hmm.”
Then she kissed me.
Holly and Griffin grabbed my arms and got me to my feet. As we made our way to the door, my bad leg dragged behind me uselessly.
Outside, pandemonium reigned, with nailheads and soldiers shooting it out as draggers poured in from God knows where. As we reached the door, I saw Ulie impaled on a forklift, still alive, the draggers devouring him as Travis’s pit bull tore at their legs.
The Dead Series (Book 1): Tell Me When I'm Dead Page 25