Marie’s eyes filled with panic and her bottom lip quivered. She was in way over her head—and by the looks of her, she knew it. Smart, she might be. Smart enough to tangle with a man like Clyde? Not even close.
“Don’t listen to him,” Pete said. “He loves to bluster. I’ve never met a man more in love with his own voice than David Clyde.”
One of the convicts standing near Clyde laughed at that, and Clyde turned and shot him in the head, spraying blood, brains, and bone on anyone who’d been standing near. And at a nod from Clyde, another of the convicts hit Pete in the stomach with the butt of his own rifle.
Though he’d braced himself for the blow, he folded with a grunt and gasped to catch his breath. As soon as he felt able, he straightened to a standing position.
Around him, some of the convicts were looking like they were seriously questioning their life choices right now. A lot of them were just looking pissed off.
But Pete hadn’t given up yet. It wasn’t in his nature to quit. Some of his men, along with Jeff’s group of inmates, had escaped, and they wouldn’t leave him without attempting to free him and Marie. Of this, he had no doubt. Ryan could spew his poison, but Pete trusted his men.
“I told you earlier,” Pete said. “Clyde doesn’t give a shit about you guys. He’s nothing but an egomaniac.”
The man with Pete’s rifle pummeled him in the guts again, and while he was bent over, hit him in the back hard enough to drive him to his knees.
Marie cried out. “Stop it! Please. And for Christ’s sake, Pete, shut up. Quit egging him on.”
“I’d take her advice,” Clyde said. “She’s obviously smarter than you.”
Clyde was about to say more, but a few more convicts arrived then, escorting the men they’d captured. Yu was one of them.
“Sorry, Cap,” Yu said.
“Don’t apologize,” Pete said.
“Captain?” Clyde said, feigning delight. “I believe that’s a promotion for you, Mr. Marshall. Congratulations.”
The man with Pete’s rifle nudged him in the ribs with the business end and said, “Thank the man, why don’t you?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“I suppose your lack of enthusiasm is to be expected,” Clyde said. “If I understand martial law properly, your commanding officer must be dead for you to have taken command.”
Pete wasn’t about to tell Clyde he’d taken command before Sadler had so much as broken a fingernail. “He was beaten to death by your charming colleagues. Who, consequently, broke your promise to kill Andersen first.”
“As they say, good help is hard to find.” Clyde laughed, and the men around him joined in even though he’d just insulted them.
“You’d better be careful to time your laugh track just right,” Pete said to the men. “Or your fearless leader here will blow your brains out just like he did to your friend.”
That earned Pete another blow, and this time the butt of the rifle struck hard enough to crack a rib. He felt it splinter, could imagine what it might look like as if he was looking at an X-ray.
But that was neither here nor there. He could still function with a cracked rib. He didn’t have a choice.
He wondered whether Clyde had always been so reckless, or if he’d finally slipped into a different, out-of-control sort of madness. For a smart guy, he didn’t seem to comprehend that if the tide turned, the convicts could take care of him without breaking a sweat.
“As I understand it,” Clyde was saying, “there’s quite a bit of animosity toward Warden Andersen among the inmates here.”
Subject change, Pete thought. Time to pay attention.
“I propose an exchange,” Clyde said. “Warden Andersen for Ms. Simons.”
“Done,” Pete said.
“That was easy.” Clyde looked around, nodding at the convicts. “It seems you and these men hold Warden Andersen in the same low esteem. I wonder if you’ll feel differently when you learn what I have in store for the two of you.”
One of the convicts bounced on his toes. “He’s got a show planned.”
Chapter 16
Pete didn’t give two shits about what Clyde had up his sleeve. He’d been watching the inmates, and there were more than a few who were beginning to show discontent. Clyde had forgotten something important: These men had not ended up in Mueller because they liked to follow rules.
They also didn’t tend to like authority. Even if that authority came from someone like Clyde.
The longer Pete could stall Clyde while stirring the pot, the better.
“How do you propose we make the trade?” he asked. “You could send Marie. She’ll tell the men that I want Andersen brought here. They’ll follow my orders.”
Clyde decided that was funny and didn’t respond until he’d made a big show of laughing. “Can’t fault a man for trying, eh? But no, I think I’ll keep Ms. Simons here with me. I suppose I should send one of your men, however. If I send one of mine, he’ll be gunned down on the way.”
“Send Yu,” Pete said.
“And who would that be?”
Yu stepped forward and Clyde gave him a once-over that said he didn’t amount to much. “You do understand that your captain is not part of this trade, correct?”
“Cap, there’s got to be another way.”
“There isn’t,” Pete said. “And it doesn’t matter. The only important thing now is getting Marie out of here. I can deal with my fate.”
“Guys like you are always the same,” Clyde said. “Heroic. Self-sacrificing. Stupid. The most basic human instinct is survival, but here you are, ready to throw yourself into the fire for a woman.”
Yu didn’t look happy about it, but Pete knew he’d follow orders. And he wasn’t really throwing himself into the fire just for a woman. No, he was going to stay here, keep his eyes and ears open, and look for opportunities to kill David Clyde, preferably without getting himself killed in the process.
Because he’d come to the realization that getting rid of Clyde was probably the only way any of them was going to get out of this shitshow alive.
Clyde ordered Yu released and sent him off with the reminder not to forget to bring Andersen, which set most of the convicts to laughing and hooting. When they were done with that, they began throwing around ideas about all the ways they wanted to make Andersen suffer. Pete supposed Andersen was going to receive an object lesson in reaping what you sowed.
He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, exactly. Yeah, the guy had done terrible things—and allowed his guards to do things that were probably even worse. That didn’t mean he deserved to be tortured. Did it?
He decided that the easiest option was not to think about it too much, and put the idea to the side. Figuring out how he was going to get out of here was more important, anyhow. Andersen would have to watch out for himself.
Yu left with a backward glance at Pete, and then Clyde had Pete and Marie thrown into one of the cells, with the rest of Pete’s men crowded into the cell next to them.
“How are you guys?” Pete called.
“Fine,” one man said.
“Pissed off,” said another.
“Eyes and ears, men. Eyes and ears.”
“Hooah.”
“I heard something while you were gone,” Marie said. “Clyde was talking to one of his men, someone he seems to trust. He said he has supplies stashed in a warehouse in Anchorage. Old cars that wouldn’t have been affected by the EMP. Radios in a hardened box.”
“Interesting. I wonder if it’s true. How would he have known to protect things from something like a solar storm? We had no warning about that.”
She shrugged. “The number of crimes he’s pulled, he probably learned a thing or two. Maybe that was just him being careful. You think he was talking about it just to let me hear?”
“I don’t know,” Pete said. “I can’t even guess what that guy is up to. He could have expected you to be listening. He could have other plans, ones he hasn’t shared with the
majority of the convicts. But all information is good information. Now we just have to find a way to use it.”
Marie wrung her hands. “You were right. You tried to tell me I was fixated, that not all the men in this jail were like my brother, and I should have listened to you. Now they’ve got us both, because of me.”
Pete put his arm around her shoulder but couldn’t think what to say. Agreeing with her or telling her he’d been thinking more along the lines of “pathologically obsessed” was hardly going to make her feel better, and what did it matter, now?
A pair of convicts strolled in front of their cell just then and saved him from having to come up with an answer.
“I’m surprised men like you would take orders from a weeny little shit like Clyde,” he muttered.
“Pete. Please.” Marie gripped his arm.
One of the men turned and stepped close to the bars, though the other one urged him to continue on with their walk. “What do you know about who’s in charge?”
What Pete was going to say next was risky, because knowledge could be power, especially if it was doled out at the right time. “How do you see this playing out?” he asked.
“At some point the authorities will show up, and we’ll have a load of hostages to bargain with. Andersen will be dead. Some say the devil you know, but that prick has earned every bit of the pain he’s going to get. I’d rather get a new devil and see that one dead.”
The guy’s friend grabbed hold of him and pulled. “You want to get your head blown off?” he hissed, looking over his shoulders to see who might have overheard.
The two men got into an altercation, pushing one another and throwing punches, and the convict with the common sense won out. He was pulling the other away from Pete and Marie’s cell when Pete got up, went to the bars, and said softly, “Clyde’s not telling you everything. There are no authorities anymore. You’re only going to trade one tyrant for another.”
The guy stared at Pete for a long moment… and then allowed his friend to drag him away.
“We’ll see if that pays dividends,” Pete said.
“Is it true?” Marie said.
“Unfortunately, it is. Bahar picked up a radio transmission. The flare was huge. Mother Nature did Clyde’s work for him. It’s a giant reset. The question is, how far back are we going to slide? How permanent is this going to be?”
“I—” She choked up and took several seconds to compose herself. “It’s hard to believe, isn’t it? The idea that I can’t just pick up a phone and call my friends. No more news to chase. No more flicking a switch and, voila, the lights come on. We’ve taken a lot for granted. If I’d known, I would have taken more time to enjoy that last pumpkin spice latte.”
Pete chuckled. “And I had you pegged as a triple-espresso-straight-up kind of gal.”
Marie smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Pete could guess where her mind was at. It was sobering to think about how much they’d taken for granted. How much had disappeared. He didn’t really want to touch on the question of whether it would ever come back. Or whether life as they’d known it was gone forever.
He met her gaze again. “Marie, listen to me. If the trade happens—which I have my doubts about—you need to get out of here as fast as you can. You don’t want to be stuck in Mueller with Clyde, or most of these other men. Any chance you get, take it.”
“You said most.” Marie took his hand. “Don’t tell me I finally got through to you.”
“It wasn’t you,” Pete said. “Though you tried hard enough. It was Jeff Blackwell. He came forward of his own accord and saved our asses. He was part of the group who came here with me. I just hope he made it out okay.”
“Do you think your men will come for us?”
“I do. But I don’t know if they’ll succeed. We’re low on ammo and, though I hate to say it, Clyde has been two steps ahead of us the whole time. Which is why I want you to promise me you’ll run when the opportunity presents itself. Don’t stay behind, thinking you can help someone else. Don’t think any of these men will help you if you get into a bind. You get loose, you’re your only ally, got it?”
Marie looked hesitant.
“Promise me,” Pete repeated. “To honor the men I’ve lost, and your brother too. Promise me you’ll run.”
“Okay. I promise.”
Chapter 17
Eventually, exhausted by the last twenty-four hours, Pete dozed. Marie woke him after what felt like about ten seconds, shaking him gently. A group of inmates was standing with their backs to the cell.
Marie held her finger to her lips, then looked out and up at the ceiling.
“Do you see?” she whispered.
Pete ducked forward and looked up—and saw a familiar face.
“Harry,” he said wonderingly. How had he gotten up there?
“Who?” Marie asked.
“Look away.” Pete didn’t want them to give away Harry’s location.
Before he could tell her who Harry was, Yu returned with Andersen, the pair escorted by a few of Clyde’s inmates. The other inmates jeered and spit, and a few even fired their weapons at the ceiling.
“Jesus.”
Pete mentally crossed his fingers, hoping Harry hadn’t caught a round. He took a chance and looked up at the ventilation grill again, but Harry had gone. That, or he was dead. Pete got up and paced. He wished Clyde would just come get him so they could get the ball rolling. He’d die, or he wouldn’t, but waiting around for either outcome was torture.
“You’re making me nervous,” Marie said.
“Sorry.” He kept pacing.
“I don’t really know how to say this—”
Pete stopped moving and looked at Marie. Her eyes were glossy with unshed tears.
“If we’re not going to get out of here, promise me you’ll kill me if you can.”
Pete inhaled deeply, then let the breath go. He understood exactly what she was saying. And he didn’t want to let it go any further than that. He certainly didn’t want to waste any time thinking about it. “I promise.”
“Thanks.”
A surge of noise came then, followed by an unearthly howl of pain. And once it started, it didn’t stop.
“Andersen,” Pete said.
Marie looked like she’d say something, but only swallowed. And then, finally, the waiting was over. Clyde and a group of inmates came to collect Pete, Marie, and the others.
The convicts jostled them roughly as they herded them toward an area at the other end of the cellblock. One of the inmates groped Marie on the way by, and she screamed at him to fuck off. Pete lunged violently and almost freed himself from the men who were holding him. It pleased him to see the momentary panic in their eyes.
It pleased him until one of them punched him the ribs that had cracked earlier.
When the tears cleared from his eyes, Pete saw that Clyde’s inmates had cleared the common area of all furnishings and erected a crude sort of ring made from bedframes, desks, and broken pieces of chairs. They’d also stacked a smaller table on top of a larger one and placed a leather office chair at the very top.
Clyde was seated in that chair, with a pair of inmates on either side, probably to make sure the chair didn’t roll from its perch. Pete would very much like to see that happen, to watch Clyde tip backward, ass over teakettle. If he cracked his skull when he landed, that would be even better.
Andersen was already inside the makeshift ring on his knees. He was shirtless and barefoot, and someone had cut his face and gouged out one of his eyes.
Marie made a small, terrible sound when she saw him, and Pete wanted to tell her to buck up, because it was only going to get worse. He almost felt sorry for Andersen. Almost. He wondered if things would have gone bad so quickly if Andersen had been a just, law-abiding man. Maybe then it wouldn’t have been so easy for a snake like Smith to slitter into their midst.
As it was, he had a feeling things were going to get very, very bad for Ander
sen before this was all over.
The inmates swung one of the bedframes aside like a gate and someone shoved Pete into the ring with so much force he almost fell before he got his feet under him.
“Pete!” Marie cried.
The men holding her laughed, and one of them moved, wrapped his arms around her from behind, and squeezed her breasts.
“Are you a man of your word?” Pete shouted at Clyde. “The deal was Andersen for Marie.” He was hoping there’d be some argument here. Hoping he could stall the proceedings so Harry and his men could do whatever they had planned.
Clyde held up his hand and the inmates fell silent.
“I’m afraid I’m a bit of a liar,” Clyde said, and the convicts cheered and shouted and stomped.
As soon as the volume dropped, Pete yelled, “A liar. You hear that? You’re cheering now, but what are you going to do when you find out he lied to you, too? Once you’ve served your purpose, he’ll discard you like trash.”
“Shut up, soldier boy.”
“Why should we listen to you?”
Someone behind Pete threw an apple. It sailed through the air and hit Pete in the back of the head, which raised the festive atmosphere to a higher level. He looked around at the ruddy, angry faces of the inmates, their grimacing mouths and narrowed eyes—hunters’ eyes locked in for the kill—and despaired.
Is this who we really are, when everything else is stripped away?
It seemed crazy to him now that he had put his trust in Jeff Blackwell. In the end, he was just another convict, and if Clyde hadn’t unknowingly wronged Jeff, Pete had no doubt he’d be in the middle of this mob, jeering along with the best of them.
He should have listened to Ryan and left Mueller and the men inside to their own devices. Except if he’d done that, he and his men would be outside in the elements, and ill-prepared for it.
Meanwhile, Marie had finally had enough of the groper. She whirled and jammed the heel of her hand into his nose at the same time as she kneed him in the balls. The guy dropped like his bones had turned to water. A few of the men near Marie laughed, but then one of them backhanded her across the face so hard that she went sprawling.
Stone Cold Fear | Book 1 | Powerless Page 14