The Apocalypse Fugitives

by Peter Meredith

  Sadie came back on and spoke quickly. "Is Ipes talking through her? You know like using her mouth?"

  Deanna at first stared at the radio in disbelief and then she snuck a look at Jillybean in the truck; the little girl was jabbering away, holding the toy, eight inches from her face. "No, it's Jillybean doing all the talking," Deanna said, forgetting to use the call sign.

  "That's ok then," Sadie said.

  "No it's not ok. It's a sign of mental illness, most likely post traumatic stress disorder. It's making her…unbalanced. She won't let go of the idea of saving her friends even though it would be suicide to try."

  The radio was silent for a few minutes save for a distant fuzz. When Sadie came back on, her voice was lower, more somber. "If it's suicide, tell her not to try. Neil is smart; he might be able to get away on his own."

  Neil didn't rank very high in Deanna's eyes. Not only was he physically unintimidating, he had also failed horribly as a leader. Deanna also noted how both Jillybean and Sadie had been entirely focused on saving their friends as if all the other prisoners were merely tagalongs and unimportant.

  "I'll let her know," Deanna said, coolly. "Black, out."

  She turned off the radio and went back to the truck to find the troubled little girl staring out the window. "Ipes says he doesn't know how to help. He says he can't think of a thing. That doesn't sound like him. Do you think he's sick?"

  "Let's not worry about him for now," Deanna replied. "Sadie said that since it was so dangerous to attack the River King that we shouldn't try. She thinks we should get moving on to Colorado."

  Her soft golden eyebrows went up in surprise. "Really? Huh. Well you can go if you wanna. I'm going to figure this out."

  "This isn't a puzzle you can figure out. It's lots of men with guns against us two. That's all the figuring you need to do."

  Jillybean shook her head. "No. It's a puzzle we just don't have all the pieces yet. Hmmmm, I need to draw this out." She leapt out of the truck, cast about on the ground for a proper stick and when one didn't present itself she looked in her ladybug backpack, pulling out a screw driver she had picked up from who knew where.

  Deanna began, "We don't have time…" Jillybean cut her words off by closing the car door. "Son of a bitch!" Deanna hissed, getting out. She went around the truck, wondering if she was going to have to physically drag the little girl to Fort Campbell.

  With the screw driver she began to etch in the dirt. "This is the perimeter fence. Here is the fuel storage area. Here's the brick building with the prisoners and this is that weird building where Sadie and the River King live." She sat back and said, "Hmmm," again.

  "Yeah that's the place, but drawing doesn't make it any less impregnable." Saying the word impregnable set off a subconscious reaction and absently she rubbed her tummy.

  Jillybean caught the move which only added to her confusion. "I don't know that word, but I know pregnant. That's what means a baby is inside you."

  "Impregnable means something impossible to attack."

  "Then you used the word wrong," she stated. "We got bombs. We can blow up the fence and then set the monsters on the guards. Yeah Ipes, I know there's not a lot of monsters outside the river, but we could get enough to..."

  "Enough to what?" Deanna asked. "Even if you get zombies past the fence, all that will happen is that the people will retreat inside the buildings."

  "And they have shooters on top of the buildings," Jillybean said and then stared at the crude map, studying it. "Maybe we could blow a hole in one of the walls of the buildings…no, we'd still have to get to the prisoners before the monsters did, and even if we did, we'd still need to free them…" Her face drooped at the realization that her plan wouldn't work.

  Deanna rubbed the little girl's bony shoulders. "Maybe the base isn't impregnable but we can't attack it with what we have to work with."

  "You're right. The base is a dead end." Jillybean stabbed the screwdriver into the dirt and brooded.

  "Then you'll come with me to Fort Campbell?"

  "No…well yes, but not yet. I still need to figure this all out."

  Deanna glanced up at the sun and guessed the time to be near eight in the morning. She was itching to go and couldn't hide from the reason why: all her friends, everyone she cared about were only twelve hours away from making a trip back to torture and death, and Deanna was unable to do a thing about it. She wanted to run from this insurmountable problem and begin the process of forgetting.

  "There's nothing to figure out. You just agreed with me that the base was impossible to attack."

  Jillybean suddenly stood, ran over to the truck and climbed up into the back. "Yeah, I'm not going to attack the base," she said, slowly while her hands touched the C4 as if the feel of it was somehow enjoyable. She smiled and Deanna swore it was the most wicked smile she had ever seen on a little kid.

  "I'm going to blow up the bridge," Jillybean said.

  Chapter 36

  Captain Grey

  Cape Girardeau, Missouri

  Grey spent the night in one of the "Gladiator" cells being openly stared at by the other cage fighters; some with cool, calculating eyes, most with fear. He didn't look their way and when a few asked him questions he didn't reply. His time was going to be short under the thumb of the River King as he didn't plan on actually fighting anyone.

  It would be immoral to kill an innocent man for the enjoyment of others. He would simply allow his first opponent to kill him. The first unblocked blow would stun him, and the second or third would anesthetize him from further pain. Unless, of course they stuck him in with one of the smaller men, then it would take a few more blows. Yet he didn't think that would happen.

  No, the River King would want his money's worth and make the fight close to being equal. It would only be close because Grey had not seen his match among the other gladiators. Some were big and some tough but there wasn't a Navy Seal or Marine Recon among them as far as he could tell.

  When morning came and the light revealed him more fully to the other prisoners, Neil called down from his end of the prison, "Is Jillybean alright?"

  Grey stared at his friend as an odd sensation came over him. It was like he was looking into the past. The other cages were filled with sad, sickly looking people crammed behind bars wearing nothing but their underwear. It was like Nazi Germany and it made him sick to his stomach.

  "Yes," he answered and then when he had weighed the risks he added, "And so is Deanna." This caused a stir, especially among the female prisoners.

  Fred Trigg felt the need to be an ass and asked, "How'd you get caught?"

  "By trying to save your sorry hide," Grey answered, too embarrassed to say that he had been out maneuvered by the River King. He turned away from Fred and took in his cell mate, seeing him clearly for the first time. He was a tall, rangy man with hair as long as a woman's and tattoos that seemed to grow up from his chest to strangle his neck like some sort of green-tinted skin disease.

  "You army?" he asked Grey, eyeing his BDUs.

  "Yep."

  "Special Forces?"

  "Nope." As long as the man didn't ask, Grey was going to reveal he had been an Army Ranger and had twenty-two confirmed combat kills and a boat load of unconfirmed ones under his belt. He wasn't proud of a single one. For him it was work that had to be done, like exterminating rats.

  His cell mate began again seconds later, "Have you ever…"

  Grey cut across him. "If you don't mind, I don't feel like talking."

  "Sure. Whatever."

  He knew there would come a time for talking. There was no doubt that the River King would come by to gloat; it was in the man's DNA. Somewhere around mid-morning when the prison wing was beginning to heat up and the smell was enough to drain the life out of a person, the River King came in, waving a tan hand under his nose.

  "My you are a rancid smelling bunch! But not for much longer. I have good news for our guests: we will be shipping you back this evening! So good bye stink
. Right?"

  He actually looked like he expected someone to thank him. Neil said, "Yippee," which caused a number of smiles.

  The River King grinned, sourly. "Laugh it up, Neil. I'm not even going to charge Gunner for returning you. I'm only going to ask that he makes you fight in the arena first."

  Neil caught Grey's eye and winked. "They better watch out in the Piggly Wiggly cuz I'm going to go craaazy!"

  From across the prison, Grey smiled at his friend.

  "You can go crazy, Neil," the River King said. "Just as long as you die."

  "Didn't you hear me?" Neil asked. "I said craaazy. I didn't say I was going to die."

  The River King dismissed him as if he was shooing away a fly. "He can go crazy, but you Captain Grey, I'm looking forward to see what sort of skills you have."

  "You're looking at them," Grey said. "Oh, I forgot my best move." He leaned back on his bunk and stuck his hands behind his head.

  "You think you're not going to fight?" The River King laughed. He turned to one of his henchmen. "Get me the girl with the messed up face."

  "You said you would let her go," Grey said, sitting up at once.

  The king's eyes twinkled. "I will if you fight and if you don't fight, I will hurt her very badly. Watch."

  Melanie was dragged forward and like all the fugitives she was wearing nothing but bra and panties. The River King raised an eye brow. "You got a nice body, but you should really consider carrying a paper bag around with you for everyone's convenience."

  She didn't reply to this; she only hung her head.

  "Leave her alone!" Neil yelled, pushing forward to the front of his cell.

  The River King answered with a simple, "No." He then punched Melanie in the stomach and she went right to her knees, gasping for air. "Aw, would you look at that, Captain Grey? You disobey me and someone gets hurt. Now let's see it work like it's going to tonight in the arena. Al, go get our friend Neil. Captain Grey you're going to hurt him or I will hurt her."

  Neil didn't need to be dragged out of his cell; he walked out with his chin up. "You're going to have my friend beat me up? Sounds good. Women like a man with scars. Come on, Grey make me manly."

  "This is ridiculous," Grey said as his cell door was opened. "You want me to punch Neil?"

  "Or this poor ugly creature gets her nose bent the other way," the River King said, sadly as if he was without any other choice.

  "Come on, pussy," Neil taunted, Grey. "Give me your best shot."

  Grey put up his fists. "Maybe you should close your eyes," he suggested. The River King snorted with genuine laughter and Neil shook his head. Grey punched him in the face, pulling it at the last second to lessen the blow. Still it landed flush on the nose with a thumping sound.

  "Oh, ow! Son of a gun that hurt." Neil said, holding his face and walking in a little circle between the cells.

  The River King shook his head. "No, no, no. Try again. Really hurt him this time."

  "You want me to hurt him?" Grey demanded. "Fine. Here you go: Neil, you look pathetic in your whitey-tighties. Almost like a little boy." Neil had sprouted tears in his eyes from being hit across the bridge of the nose and now he started to laugh so hard that he was actually crying.

  "How's that?" Grey asked the River King who was also smirking. "I made him cry."

  "No, I made you, make him cry," the River King corrected. "And that was the whole point to this exercise. You have learned that you are going to do what I say, when I say it. Like tonight, you are going to fight to win, because if you don't win there will be serious repercussions." He drew a thumb across his neck: the universal sign for slitting a throat.

  "You'll kill her if I die?"

  "She's really useless to me otherwise. Here, how about you get to know her more. Get in the cage with them," he said, nudging Melanie with his boot. "Try to convince him not to lose. With your face, I suggest doing it doggy style."

  The River King laughed at his own joke shutting the cage door himself. After seeing Neil back to his cell, he left along with the guards who were all eager to get out of there because of the smell.

  Melanie stood shivering with fright, her arms around her near bare torso. When Grey started to unbutton his BDU shirt she backed to the corner. "I'm just giving it to you to wear," he said.

  "Thanks," she said, keeping her chin down so that her brutalized features were partially hidden. "I'm Melanie. We met a couple of days ago but just briefly."

  "I remember."

  She pointed at her face. "How could you not?"

  They made small talk, something Grey normally despised however he could tell that Melanie needed to talk and to be heard. Out of compassion he listened and replied. Thankfully, their cell mate, the tall lanky man was also in the mood to talk and soon he took over Grey's duties in that area. He seemed nice enough yet Melanie never left Grey's side.

  Grey spent the remaining hours of the morning going over the moral conundrum he found himself in. To allow himself to be killed meant there would be two innocent lives sacrificed: his own and Melanie's, yet if he became a killer in the arena there was no telling how many lives he could take. Where did he draw the line? How many men would he have to kill before he could sacrifice Melanie? The question went round and round in his mind; the answer never came to him.

  When the sun was directly overhead they were fed; the gladiators getting full meals to keep up their strength and the prisoners barely getting a few mouthfuls each. Grey shared some of his food with Melanie as did their cell mate who eventually introduced himself as Harvey. It was strange to Grey when he realized that Harvey was lonely. Before Melanie had been forced into the cell with them, he had worn the same tough-guy sneer that all the gladiators wore. Now he was eagerly chatting and was very friendly. Grey hoped he wouldn't have to fight him; he was becoming too human in his eyes.

  After lunch, as the prison became stifling and the air grew heavy, Melanie and Harvey's conversation ceased as a lethargy enveloped the prison and a drowsiness that was spell-like crept over everyone.

  Those with bunks stretched out, those without found whatever floor space they could cadge. No one managed to keep awake; although it was doubtful anyone tried. Grey's only thought before sleep took him was of Jillybean. Was she on her way to Colorado like he had asked her? A part of him, the selfish part, hoped that she wasn't. He hoped she was out there plotting and scheming with Ipes in order to free them. Things had unraveled so fast for their group that it seemed unfair to him. And soon they were going to be scattered, irrevocably so.

  It was depressing and he hid from the thought in the refuge of sleep. The hours slipped by and gradually the heat grew less as evening approached. The prisoners perked up; most wished they hadn't. Their countdown to a fate worse than the River King's prison was fast approaching and when the guards came in and started sorting the prisoners based on where they were going, a number of them began to slip into panic.

  Next, the guards went down the lines and zip-tied the prisoner's hands together. Only then did the River King, along with a dozen bodyguards carrying assault rifles, come in to gloat once again.

  "Sorry, no time for long goodbyes, people. The convoy is back and is being re-fueled. Dixon, have your crew take charge of the prisoners and get them out front. I want this to go smooth, if anyone gets cute put a bullet through their knee. Understood?"

  Dixon nodded. "Got it."

  "Good," the River King said, before turning to Captain Grey. "Fight time, Grey. Stand up, let me take a look at you. Turn around, good, good. I really like that you gave up your shirt to the girl. It means you're connecting, it means you'll really fight." He turned and looked past the bound fugitives lined in the corridor and to the other gladiators. "Who should you fight?"

  The River King mused on this, eyeing the men, some of whom stared right back and some of whom did their best to be overlooked like grade schoolers who couldn't answer a teacher's question.

  "I think Davis," the king said, gesturing to one o
f the larger men in the group. He was very dark complected which made his white smile appear all the more sinister when he grinned; it was as if he'd been hoping to be picked. He began to work his beefy shoulders in small circles, warming up. "Davis used to play defensive end for TCU," the king said. "He enjoys hitting people."

  Before Grey could say anything, Dixon began barking commands and the line of prisoners started moving toward the lone exit, shuffling along dejectedly, again reminding Grey of people being marched off to concentrations camps. He eyed each as they passed. To those who would look up he would nod, solemnly. Michael Gates gave him a short-lived grin, Fred Trigg, a shrug. The women from The Island were too beaten down to do anything but hang their heads, while Marybeth Gates walked by looking far older than her thirty seven years. Her face was deeply lined and her mouth drooped.

  Only Neil seemed unaffected, strangely so. He came last and Grey stuck his hand through the bars to him. Neil grasped it with both of his. "Do I look more manly?" he asked, referring to the swelling across the top of his nose.

  "Yeah, you're a regular stud," the River King said, cutting in, trying to be hurtful. Neil only rolled his eyes as though the River King was nothing but a bratty kid brother that was best ignored.

  "I was going to say a sexy stud," Grey said with a smile.

  Neil laughed and stuck out a hip. "You know where the dollars go."

  "Ok, that's enough," the River King said.

  "Just a second," Grey said. Though he had joked with Neil, he was actually worried for him. Neil wasn't himself. "What's wrong? You're acting strange, like you don't really uh…"

  "Like I don't care?" Neil asked. "Because I don't. In fact I'm a little relieved that we were caught. I'm tired of all this crap: the running, the fighting, the zombies, the assholes like this jerk." He flicked his eyes to the River King. "I never wanted to be leader either and I never…"

  He stopped and shook his head. Grey knew what he was going to say: I never wanted my wife to die.

  "This is all very touching but there are crowds waiting for a fight," the River King said after a glance at his watch. He then snapped his fingers to one of the guards who began pushing Neil out of the prison. "Time to get the show on the road! I bet the crowds are getting edgy. Al, get Davis out of his pen. Hannigan, come get this pathetic excuse for a soldier."