by Aurelia Skye
I couldn’t read his expression with the lack of light, but I thought I saw him shrug.
“He’ll be happier without you. He won’t have to share his bride with another. No good Korean girl would consent to such an arrangement. She’s not a whore like you.”
I pulled a gun from my holster, sensing it might get to that point, though I didn’t want to have a shoot-off with Liu. He was still Lian’s father, and he would be hurt at the loss of his father, especially by my hand. That was the kind of conflict that could end a relationship, no matter how much you loved the other person. “It’s obvious you care about Lian, and I do too. Can’t we find some common ground and work from there?”
“I learned a lot of things in the Chinese army. One of the most useful ones I learned was there can be no compromise. Only compliance.”
I was still aiming when his gun fired. I got off a shot, but had no idea if I’d hit him. Unfortunately, his bullet hit me in the hip, and as I cried out, there was a sound of shattering glass from the front window when the helicopter turned its attention to that entry point. It drowned out the sound of our shots, and of my cry.
Before I could manage another, Liu had darted forward, moving surprisingly quickly for a man his age, and clamped his hand over my mouth. He wasn’t overly careful to make sure my nose was free, so I was struggling to breathe as I tried to pull at his hand. Each time I attempted to break free of his hold, it sent a sharp pain radiating outward from my hip and through my pelvis, going up my spine. I went limp from the pain, unable to fight it.
Liu eased me to the floor, and when his hand moved from my face, I drew in several deep breaths before trying to scream again. Instead, I choked on a wad of cloth he jammed into my mouth. The taste and smell of gun oil filled my senses, and I assumed it was the cloth he had used to clean his pistol. I was gagging and gasping, unable to fight him when he bound my wrists and feet together with zip ties that we all carried.
After that, he stood up, dusted off his clothes, and slipped away toward the other end of the store, using the covering chaos of the helicopter and ensuing arrival of militia members to hide his escape from me. I was bound on the floor, unable to move other than to roll over onto my left side. The right side was out, because of the painful gunshot.
I was sure the bullet was still lodged somewhere in my hip, and tears blurred my vision. They were partially from pain, but also from a hopeless sense of despair that washed over me as I heard feet tromping my way. From the heavy footfalls, they wore combat boots, and from the numbers, I was certain they weren’t anyone in our group.
I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my vision, as a face suddenly loomed over me. He was probably in his late-thirties and would have been handsome if he weren’t wearing the black gear that identified him as a member of the New Order Militia. I knew what their ideas and values were, and he instantly turned my stomach.
He looked over his shoulder as he stood up. “Load this one in the truck, and be careful. If we can save her, she’ll make someone a nice bride.”
I squeezed my eyes together and tried to wriggle away from hands that suddenly moved over my body, lifting me in an impersonal fashion. That sent pain shooting through me, and I screamed behind the gag.
I was vaguely aware of the face that had been before me coming into view once more. He was giving me what I supposed could be a charming grin. “Honey, you really have to tell me how you ended up in this mess once you’re out of surgery.”
I moved my hands and chomped at the gag, trying to get him to free me.
He ignored my efforts and waved his hand. The arms holding me moved me toward the front of the store, where I was handed through the broken window to two other sets of hands attached to slightly flabby-looking militia members. As I glanced over my shoulder by angling my head downward, my gaze locked with Liu’s. His grin of pleasure was more chilling than the rapid way the soldiers carried me away from my group, my men, and everything I cared about.
Chapter Fifteen
I wished I could seek relief in unconsciousness, but wasn’t quite that injured. The closest I’d come was when they tossed me into the back of a truck at the trailer dealership, and my hip had collided with the metal floor of the truck. Otherwise, I was awake and alert for the rough ride back. Soldiers surrounded me on either bench, and I was certain they were looking at me, but I was staring at the ceiling, studiously determined to avoid locking gazes with any of them.
Finally, the agonizing truck ride ended, but I discovered that was only the beginning. Two soldiers dragged me through the compound, my knees scraping the floor. I was grateful I hadn’t worn shorts that morning, since it had been too cold. We were at the onset of fall, and the day had warmed up nicely enough that shorts would have been a fine choice, but they would have left my knees raw and bloody.
By the time they took me to a secured room and dumped me in a chair, I was aching everywhere. It started with my hip and radiated outward. Now my entire body was in pain. The soreness in my jaw was even more pronounced than it had been earlier, during the rough ride across the farm field. All my assorted aches, pains, and bruises seemed to be magnified by about a thousand.
They left me alone in the chair for what felt like an eternity, but was probably less than an hour. All they had done was tie me to it, though that hadn’t been necessary. My hands and feet were still bound, and with my hip shooting pains down my leg and up my spine at the slightest movement, I wasn’t likely to be able to run anywhere.
Finally, I heard movement in the outer room. I wasn’t exactly excited when the door scraped open though, since being left alone in pain was better than being in their presence. I lifted my head as far as I could, determined to see the faces of those who’d entered. They made it easier by clicking on a light, and the single bulb seemed to shine with excess brightness. I didn’t know if they’d picked a high-watt bulb, or if it was simply because I’d been in the dark for the last hour or so. Either way, I had to blink to bring them into focus.
Both men standing before me appeared to be in their mid-to-late forties. One of them was still fit and reasonably handsome, but the guy beside him was pudgy and starting to bald. They both wore the black gear of the New Order Militia, and there were stars pinned to their chests.
The slightly younger, fitter one had blond hair with only a few strands of silver shot through it. He stepped closer to me and bent down until he was mostly at my level, though he was still taller than me. He looked like he was in an uncomfortable position, and I was certain he was keeping himself that way so that he remained above me.
“I’m General Duke Barnes, and this is my Co-General, Mitchell Court. You were found in New Order Militia territory, looting our property, and committing vandalism. How do you plead?”
I stared at him impassively, not speaking.
He hadn’t exactly exuded charm before, but now his expression stiffened, and he brought back a hand in a threatening manner. “How do you plead?”
I glared at him. “Not guilty, because I didn’t do anything wrong. You don’t own that area any more than we do.” A moment later, I tasted blood when he slapped me with the back of his hand across the mouth.
“That is our territory, and you infringed. We find you guilty.”
I glared up at him as blood flowed down my chin, angling my head awkwardly in an attempt to wipe it against my shirt, but failing miserably. “I don’t recognize your authority over me.”
“’Remind them to be submissive to rulers and authorities, to be obedient, and to be ready for every good work.’”
I stared at him. “What?”
“Titus three-one. The Bible commands you to be submissive to authority. We have dominion over you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Nice try, but I still don’t recognize your authority.”
The other so-called general stepped forward, and his expression was full of disapproval. “’Let every person be subject to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except from God and those that exi
st have been instituted by God; therefore, whoever resist the authorities resist what God has appointed, and those who resist will incur judgment. Romans thirteen-one.”
I glared at him, sick of their quotes. “’Any fool can make a rule, and any fool will mind it.’ Henry David Thoreau.”
Apparently, he didn’t like being challenged in his rhetoric, because General Court backhanded me at almost the same spot Barnes had struck. I turned my head and spat out blood, unfortunately missing both of them.
“This one’s definitely a sinner,” said Barnes.
“Her husbands will need to teach her obedience.”
I stared at both of them for a long moment, though they weren’t directing their words to me. “I’m already married, but thanks for the attempt at matchmaking. As a matter fact, I’d like to get home to my husbands, so if you’ll just cut these zip ties and undo this rope…?”
They ignored my contribution as they spoke quietly between themselves. When they turned back to me, their dual expressions of determination made my stomach dip, though I tried to hide it behind a brave face. I attempted to keep my expression neutral as I stared at them.
“Since your people deprived Captains Fowler and Gates of their bride, you’ll have to do as a substitute.”
I glared. “No, thanks. Besides, I have this bullet wound…”
“Lucky for you, Mitchell has some field experience. He was a medic in Iraq.”
“Lucky me,” I said softly as they moved closer. I swallowed the lump in my throat when Barnes withdrew a large knife from a sheath at his waist. I tried telling myself that he wasn’t going to kill me, since he was determined to give me as a bride to two of his men, but it still didn’t make it any easier to breathe or lessen the fear until the knife had cut through the zip ties and rope before moving away.
I tried to stand up, but simply wobbled and fell to the floor. Thankfully, I landed on my left side instead of my right, but it still sent a jarring thud through me. I cried out, but neither one of them offered assistance. Instead, they just knelt beside me on the floor, clearly preparing to do some kind of surgery right there.
Either that, or interrogation. I wasn’t sure which, judging from the bundle of surgical tools Mitchell Court unrolled. He selected a pair of forceps and started digging in my wound. When I screamed, Duke made a clicking sound that I guessed was supposed to indicate sympathy. “I bet that hurts.” He shook his head. “I imagine we can arrange some pain reliever for you and have Court numb the area before he continues.”
Sweat was beading on my brow, and it was a struggle to get words to my lips. “What will that cost me? Accepting your men as my husbands?”
His lips twitched upward in a tiny smile for a second. “That’s happening either way. We’re not going to let a young white woman go to waste.”
I screamed as the forceps scraped against my hipbone, vaguely noticing Barnes making a production of rubbing his ear.
“That must’ve been pretty painful, Mitchell.”
“Indeed,” said Court as he twisted the forceps again.
“Stop.” I wanted to demand it, but the word came out more like begging.
“We’ll get you some pain killer and fix you right up as soon as you tell us where your base is. We can’t have your people in our territory.
I gritted my teeth as the pain intensified by whatever Court was doing. “No way.”
“You have to if you want to get through this without great suffering.”
I ignored Court’s contribution to the conversation, keeping my gaze focused on Barnes’s hateful face. It was somehow keeping me conscious, and I realized I was using anger and hatred to fuel my ability to withstand the pain. “What would you do to them if I told you?”
Barnes shrugged “Just what Samuel fifteen-three commands: ‘Now go and strike Amalek and devote to destruction all that they have. Do not spare them, but kill both man and woman, child and infant, ox and sheep, camel and donkey.’”
I shuddered at the fervent zealotry in his expression. “Wouldn’t that be wasting the women?”
Barnes paused for a moment before nodding. “I believe the Lord would want us to save as many white women as we could. The rest will have to be destroyed.”
“I’ll never tell you where they are.”
His smile was chilling. “I’m sure you will. You’re not strong enough to withstand the pain.”
***
Two hours later, I was barely clinging to consciousness, but I had proven them both wrong. I’d withstood the torture of Mitchell Court removing the bullet in my hip without any painkillers. Then I had withstood a series of electric shocks designed to hurt, but not incapacitate, me. After all, they wouldn’t want me unable to have my wedding that night. Finally, they had given up, at least for now, but I was certain they would send for me to interrogate again after my farce of a wedding to the as-yet-unknown Fowler and Gates.
They stood now, watching me silently as Kassandra and a couple of other women entered. Court was busy cleaning his hands, and Barnes was just staring at me with a brooding expression.
Kassandra came to stand beside them, putting her hand on both of their shoulders in what was probably supposed to be a respectful fashion. My eyes were still swollen from tears that I’d been unable to prevent shedding, but I could see that her expression looked dead.
“Why do I have to be here? I don’t want to deal with her.”
“Because we told you to,” said Barnes in a tone that brooked no argument.
Kassandra’s lower lip came out in a pout. “Can’t some of the lesser wives take care of her? It’s beneath me to clean her up and get her ready.”
“Nothing is beneath you if your husbands command it,” said Court.
“But—”
I gasped as Kassandra cried out when Barnes slapped her across the face. Genuine tears came to her eyes.
“’Wives, submit to your husbands…’” trailed off Barnes in a pointed fashion.
With a sniffle, Kassandra finished, “’As to the Lord.’”
“Should you really be hitting your pregnant wife?” I asked in a dry voice. I didn’t have any moisture left, having wrung out every drop between crying and sweating during the last two hours.
Barnes frowned. “Kassandra isn’t expecting. She hasn’t blessed us with that gift yet.” He scowled at her as he added that part.
Kassandra ducked her head. “I only said that so your friend wouldn’t kill me.”
I snorted. “She’ll be shocked to find out you lied again.”
If Barnes and Court had any interest in what we were discussing, they didn’t show it. Instead, they issued a few commands to Kassandra before leaving the room.
Court had bandaged the area, and I assumed he’d done sutures. It had certainly felt like he was stitching something as a hot needle had gone through my skin several times. I was still able to feel a trickle of blood when the two women on either side of me pulled me to my feet. Kassandra didn’t offer to help. She just waved them forward as they half-dragged, half-carried me between them.
We left the room where the generals had conducted their surgery/torture, and they brought me into a communal bathroom. I gasped when the wives dropped me into a bathtub that was only lukewarm, and I was still in my clothes. I tried to fight them off, but didn’t have the strength to do so, and they soon had me stripped, scrubbed, and my hair lathered and cleaned.
There was an air of efficiency about them that suggested they had done this before, and they were both unable to meet my gaze. I didn’t think they were ashamed of their behavior so much as they had been beaten down by their circumstances. I felt sympathy for them. I even felt a little sympathy for Kassandra when I looked at her, seeing her cheek reddening from the slap she had taken from her so-called husband. It was a very pale imitation of the emotion though.
After I was bathed, they dried me off and dressed me in a simple white gown. It wasn’t nearly as elaborate as the one poor Lori had been stuck in, and I was
happy for that—though I might have preferred an elaborate style that would’ve slowed down Fowler and Gates from taking it off my body later.
After I was dressed, they prodded me down the hall, still providing some assistance so I didn’t fall. I was steadier on my feet, but I was still unable to stand fully upright. They moved me to the front of the altar, and the few people in attendance didn’t seem to blink an eye at the fact I was being half-dragged up the aisle.
The same minister who had been set to perform Lori’s mockery of a marriage stood at the altar, along with two men I hadn’t seen before. I didn’t know or care who was Gates, and who was Fowler, but one had brown hair, and one had black hair. One was probably late-twenties, and the other was mid-thirties. Judging from the way they stood, I assumed the black-haired, older one had some sort of authority over the slightly younger one. He stood a step above on the makeshift altar.
The women placed me at the foot of the altar, not directing me to climb any of the stairs. Instead, they forced me onto my knees, and though I tried to stand, I couldn’t quite manage it. When I tried again, a heavy hand landed on my head, and I looked up to see my younger groom bending down to hold me in place, like I was a disobedient dog. I showed him my teeth and growled at him, but he appeared unfazed.
“We’re here on this joyful occasion to join Thaddeus Gates, David Fowler, and their wife in holy matrimony.”
I glared up at the minister. “I have a name.”
He ignored me, and he seemed to be good at that, because he continued to ignore anything I contributed as the ceremony continued by rote. We reached the part where the men said “I do,” and they said it without hesitation. I actually laughed outright when the minister skipped over that entire section for me. “You’re a credit to the cloth, Father.”
At that, he did glare at me. “I’m not Catholic,” he said, sounding scandalized. Those were the only words the minister spoke directly to me. In less than twenty minutes, he declared us married, and my husbands stood on either side of me, bending down to lift me to my feet. They carried me without effort, though I tried to strain against them. I wasn’t sure how I was going to escape, but I was desperate to do so.