by Ric Beard
“Mine,” he grunted. “Don’t even know how to use ‘em, or you wouldn’t have needed that light.” Tapping his glasses twice, he sighed in relief as the room took on a yellowy glow. Peering down, he saw a trail of blood rising up the wall from the back of the man’s head.
Scruff asked himself what Jenna would do in a situation like this and figured he knew the answer.
He kicked the fucker, anyway.
Sloshing sounds nearby grabbed his attention, and he peered over his shoulder to spot the squirming man whose face he’d slammed into the water. His boots thrashed liquid before him as he trudged toward the watertight door, leaned his head across the threshold with the rifle clutched at his chest, and glanced up the concrete-floored hallway in both directions.
Scruff spied a lever on the wall and walked up to it. This is where the squirming cocksucker had stood when he smiled at Scruff through the wide window, right before he’d electrocuted him in the standing water. The wide, black plastic ribbed tube with a mass of colorful wire sheathes ran down the wall on one side of the torture chamber and into the water beneath.
A strange effect on the glass coupled with the blackness inside the room and out here in the hallway caused the men to appear as dark silhouettes inside. The one Scruff had slammed face first into the water stirred again.
Scruff closed the water tight door and turned the wheel until it screeched. Returning to the lever, he glimpsed the man. The lone survivor balanced on the edge of a folding chair to get to his feet. He slapped a hand to one side of his face and blinked repeatedly, as if trying to get his bearings as his unstable legs failed to cooperate. Finally, his knees locked and his eyes found the window. The way his eyes danced around in their sockets, Scruff knew his adversary couldn’t see. Scruff grabbed the lever and pulled it down with a heavy thud.
Nothing. The man inside still sat there, his eyes dancing.
“Shit.”
Scruff kicked the console in front of him. “Shit!”
A whirring sound filled the air, and Scruff turned in a jerky circle, the rifle held at the ready. The lights in the hallway flickered and dimmed again.
Scruff muttered under his breath. “Come on.”
Flicker. Blackness. They ticked, there was a popping sound as a bulb broke, but then the filter on his smart glasses activated as the hallway bloomed alight.
Scruff turned and peered back through the window.
“Now he sees me.” Scruff gave a gentle wave.
His features awash in confusion, the balding man in the soaking black shirt and camo pants raised his hand and waved.
That dip shit is actually waving at me.
Jenna’s voice suddenly echoed in his head as Scruff’s finger traced the top edge of the cold, metal lever.
The Foundation is your family now. We have rules.
Scruff shook his head as if he might will the voice away with his rage.
We don’t kill people unless we have to, Big Guy. But if we have to, we do it with prejudice. We put them down so they don’t get up, just like the interstate. But it’s all about balance. Don’t do it unless you have to. Self-defense. But if you have to, she’d leaned in close and growled, wreck them like we used to do the big trucks out on Old I-40.
He turned his eyes back on the man as his finger ran back and forth on the cool metal. The man held up his hands, pumping his palms toward Scruff, begging for mercy as he’d read the intent on his face. But Scruff couldn’t hear a word. A frown crept across his face. Adrenaline surged through his body as he relived the pain and disorientating nausea resulting from his time in that room.
…Unless we have to, Big Guy.
Scruff looked on the floor next to the man’s boot. A carbine lay in the standing water. The man inside the room followed his gaze down to the floor and then slowly raised his head again.
Scruff ticked his head downward and tapped the glass with his finger.
Go for it. Pick it up.
The man held his hands out and shook them again.
Scruff pumped his head.
The man shook his head.
Scruff nodded.
The man shook his head violently.
Scruff smiled and reached for the lever, watching as the man’s face turned the pale shade of a parsnip. He tapped the glass again, jerking his head toward the lever.
The man doubled over, grabbed the weapon, and raised up again, holding it out to his side and yelling something.
Scruff grunted.
Close enough.
The loud report of the lever engaging filled the hallway as Scruff slammed it down. The lights overhead flickered as the man’s shoulders jerked suddenly, his mouth fell open, and his head tilted back. It was like the asshole was shouting at the ceiling. He shook so hard the rifle slipped from his desperate grip and splashed into the water. Scruff raised the switch, and the bastard fell back into the chair.
The man looked around, snot rolling out of his nose, drool running down the side of his mouth. When his eyes regained composure and finally came up to meet Scruff’s, he was presented with a long, thick middle finger.
Sneering, the man eyed the rifle again.
Scruff threw the switch and marched down the hallway beneath the flickering lights, checking his own rifle as his soaked boot hit the first metal step.
“Self Defense,” he grunted.
Chapter Fifty
NOT SO TOUGH
50
“Hey!” Jenna yelled as she banged on the glass. “Hey! Get me out of here!”
The man’s back pressed into the glass just inches from her face and Jenna banged near the back of his head, wishing so intensely she could connect with his worthless skull. A moment of vertigo spun the room, and she fell back to the floor, just barely placing her hands to break her fall in time.
A sound filtered into the cage from outside, and the familiarity sent joy surging through her, even as she spun under the influence of her body’s revolution. Part of her didn’t believe it, and she couldn’t turn her head to verify it was true. The moment of vertigo passed as her adrenaline pumped, and she felt a warmth creep into her chest.
Yes! I know that sound! Scruff grunted!
The lights flickered, and Jenna’s head shot up just fast enough to catch a flash of broad shoulders beyond the perfectly round patch of baldness on the back of Augustus’s head. Then it was black.
Moving slowly to preserve some sense of balance, she slapped her palms to the glass for leverage and crawled to her feet. The lights flickered, and she just made out a tangle of long, sandy blonde whiskers a foot long.
The lights flickered on.
The towering hulk of a man, with a soaked, braided beard running down to the center of his chest, stood over her captor with his fists clutched by his side. His thick fingers spread and then gripped again as his knuckles turned white. His chest rose and fell in long, angry breaths.
All the clothing on Scruff’s right side was soaked. The same side of his hair was matted down. His face was purple with rage.
Scruff’s gaze traveled over the man’s shoulder and locked with Jenna’s. She folded her arms over her chest and covered herself as she searched for her shirt. Her thumb flicked away a tear, and she realized a smile was engulfing her face. She pulled the shirt over her head and turned back to face her friend. But the smile faded into a sneer as she turned her attention to the back of the man who’d tortured her for a time indeterminate.
“Secure the asshole, Scruff.”
Scruff’s lip ticked up on one side, and a blur of motion shot across Augustus’s face, causing his head to snap sideways in a concussive blow. He slipped and the side of his head slammed into the glass. Jenna glared at his wiry, shit-colored hair as he slid down the glass and onto the concrete floor. Scruff turned and slammed the door. Turning the wheel hard, he looked over his shoulder and grinned at the bastard sitting on the floor as he theatrically flipped a hook into an eye screw on the outer jamb.
“Pick him up.”
Scruff’s giant hand reached out, grabbed the mother fucker by his neck, and raised him off the floor so fast his feet left the ground for a second. Even as his limp body waved back and forth, Augustus’s hand crept behind him as if he’d forgotten Jenna was there.
“Weapon!”
Scruff grabbed the man’s arm and spun him around, wrenching it behind his back as he slammed him face-first into the glass.
“Aah!” He yelled as his nose made impact. Blood ran in rivers down the glass.
Digging into the man’s pocket, Scruff revealed a folding knife and held it up for Jenna.
“Thanks, babe.”
Scruff grunted and tossed the knife over his shoulder, where it clanked against the metal door and rattled on the floor.
Jenna stepped forward and leaned her face close to the glass so the mother fucker’s was just on the other side.
“Time for you to do some talking, asshole.”
“I’m not telling you shit!” Scruff leaned forward and the man’s face squeaked against the glass as he dragged it sideways, and his eyes glared at the trail of blood following. “Ok! What do you want?”
Not so tough, after all.
“Where’s Sampson hang out?”
“Um…”
“Scruff, he thinks he’s going to lie to us. What do you think?”
“I think little man better start talking.” He grabbed a handful of hair and slammed the mother fucker’s face into the glass.
Augustus’s eyes rolled in his head and danced an errant jig back to center. Blood seeped over his bottom lip as he faltered on what were probably rubbery knees. Scruff’s biceps tensed into boulders as he adjusted for Augustus’s weight.
He spat blood in reply. “Boss is at the mine in Shawsville. Go there, and I promise, you’ll die like the bitch you are.”
Did he say…
His face slammed into the glass again, and his body must’ve turned to mush because Scruff had to slowly lower him to the ground.
Jenna pointed over to the corner next to the rusted cabinet. “Push that ladder over there through the door at the top. I’ll climb out.” More tears came as she watched her husky friend jump to it. “I can’t believe you’re alive. He told me he killed you.”
“Almost did. Mother fucker.”
Jenna laughed inappropriately. Then she fell to the concrete floor and heaved harder. Rolling to her side, her arms crossing her belly, she laughed until she thought she might have lost her mind. Then the laugh transitioned into crying, and tears streamed down the side of her face and across her nose. Her eyes popped open as Scruff kicked Augustus, and Jenna heard the air wheeze out of his chest. She stepped aside as the ladder clanked through the opening and rattled to the floor inside the case. She tossed her clothes through the hole in the top. She didn’t want to spend another second in the god-forsaken…
Eyeing the air holes as she stepped on the final wrung during her ascent, Jenna wondered what kind of fish were stored in the huge tank.
She didn’t wait to put on the rest of her soggy clothes before she jumped on Scruff and allowed him to raise her off the ground into a bearhug that stole her wind. She didn’t mind at all, this time.
Scruff picked up their enemy and pushed him through the crack and into the cage, allowing him to fall feet-first to the floor where his limp body collapsed. Jenna eyed the ladder on the inside.
“It’s like a bad puzzle. I guess there’s another ladder. They have to pull people out of there somehow, even if they kill them first. Let’s find it.”
She grabbed his arms and held up a finger. “Follow my finger.”
He gripped it and shook his head with a smile. “I’m fine, doc.”
His response was met with a squinting eye and a smirk of suspicion. “Muscle twitches?”
His eyes rolled upward as he considered it. He nodded.
“Head pounding?”
He nodded.
“Were you unconscious?”
A third nod.
“Okay, we get the fuck out of here, but then I’m checking you out.”
Scruff shrugged.
“Do you know where the rest of the crew is?”
“Two dead.”
“How?”
“Electrocution.”
Jenna nodded. “I saw the lights flicker. Good for you. I’d have killed them, too.”
Scruff smiled, revealing the long, slightly yellow teeth that looked like they belonged on a horse. “Self Defense.”
“Right.” She winked. “Sure. Let’s find that ladder….and let’s grab whatever weapons we can muster.”
They crept around the underground compound and eventually found a weapons cabinet with three rifles. One was a sniper job with a scope. Jenna threw the strap over her shoulder and clutched her own. There was a loading station next to the cabinet and boxes of ammunition. They loaded to capacity and headed for the stairs after clearing the floor and determining the three men they’d dealt with were the only ones there.
In one room, they found the two men Scruff had gotten his hands on when they were captured. One had suffered a broken leg, and the other had a bandage wrapped around his head. Scruff locked the door from the outside and left them there as Jenna continued up the hall.
They found their pulse weapons laid casually on a console of some kind with all sorts of buttons. It had no power. They dropped their rifles, except for the sniper rifle Jenna had slung over her back, and retrieved the pulse guns and their holsters.
Marching down the dingy, tiled floors toward the stairs, Jenna stopped after she passed a long window.
“What?” Scruff asked.
Jenna stepped backwards without turning around and peered through the bay window. After her eyes perused the scene, she shivered. A scowl followed.
“Fuckers,” Scruff said. “We should give them the same.”
Jenna didn’t respond. Though horrified by the scene inside, she couldn’t seem to peel her eyes away.
Lawkeeper Jones, the ally who'd given them a place in his town to aid the addicted, hung inside with his wrists strapped across his chest, his body suspended a foot or so off the ground by others. Cuts of varying width covered the visible parts of his torso, painting his chest, abs, and legs in blood. The brutal sight beneath his waist finally forced her eyes away.
“Sampson is exactly what we thought. There’s a reason he’s on the bottom floor. They never planned on letting him out.” She gripped the wheel to the door, but it wouldn’t budge. Scruff tapped her aside and tried, but the metal wheel wouldn’t spin. There were no apparent locks anywhere on the door. Jenna glanced back in and frowned a final time, careful to keep her eyes at the dead man’s eye level. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
They made their way back up the grungy hallway and climbed the three flights of stairs to the starlit sky.
Jenna flicked a finger to the east and then at Scruff. He nodded, and only the hair on the left side of his head moved. Jenna smiled and he returned it with a curious expression. She shook her head in lieu of an explanation, and he shrugged, raising his rifle to look through the scope, past the fence, and up the hill. She saw the night vision inside Scruff’s scope paint a faint bluish circle around his eye. Jenna peered through her own scope, looking West.
Scruff held up two fingers. “On the ridge.”
“Rest must be patrolling the tarmac. Can you hit them from here if you need to?”
Scruff shook his head. “Second’ll dive for cover.”
“We could each take one, but from here, it’d be like setting off an alarm for any others.”
“Plan?”
Jenna leaned against her wall and lowered the pulse rifle. “We wrap around and clear the tarmac. They won’t hit us from that hill easily, especially if we’re moving.”
A man appeared from the other side of the wall and spotted them. His mouth dropped open.
“Shit!” Jenna barked. Then she planted the stock of her rifle into the man’s jaw, stepped forward
as he teetered backward, and kicked him in the chest, sending him onto his back. Scruff peeked around his wall, and Jenna peeked around hers. Nodding at each other, they each grabbed a leg and pulled the man under the shelter at the top of the stairs.
Distant yelling descended down to them, and Scruff’s head jerked around.
“They’re coming.”
Jenna aimed her weapon up to the ridge and peered through the scope at the man on the right, then the left.
Chapter Fifty-One
WENT SOUTH
51
Albeit rife with bad news, Lexi’s message couldn’t have been timed any better.
Lucian,
Shit went south in Blacksburg. Might have to work out a jail break. Long story.
Sasha says Moss has to make the call. He’ll be coming in with Sean from OK City, soon.
Task the drone, tell Sean Lucinda Proctor is in the town jail and relay message to Moss.
Should I sneak out and go for Jenna or help our shadowy friends?
Hope you find Nina, soon.
Love…L.
Lucian replied and told Lexi he would find a way to get to Jenna. She would want him to focus on the rookie. So, he would find Nina, then go after Jenna. She should stay with Sasha and wait for Sean and Moss.
Then he’d gotten a return on the radio signal and triangulated it off Sampson’s towers to trace the location of the cart Nina had stolen from that loser at the farm.
The thrill had been short-lived when he realized the cart was abandoned.
Lucian plopped down on the wooden bench seat of the electric cart and sighed.
Chapter Fifty-Two
MIND OUR OWN BUSINESS
52
Dragging himself out of bed and leaving the farm when he felt like he could have slept for another week hadn’t been easy, but the hunk of pork Nadine packed away for his breakfast on the road had done the trick. Though Sean had hoped to learn more about The Black and their way of life in the city from which they hailed, Moss had held fast, saying he’d tell the story to the whole Foundation. Sean didn’t think it would’ve killed the guy to tell it twice, but why make waves.