by R. P. Wolff
Jose stared down and shook his head.
Hector estimated that there must be about a hundred heavily armed guards, about twenty vicious German Shepherds, and four busloads of convicted murderers.
The convoy turned down a side road, drove for a few miles, and came to a slow stop. There was a large open field with woods in the distance. The guards from the other vehicles stormed out of the vehicles with their military-style weapons drawn and surrounded the bus.
“Holy shit,” said Jose. “What the fuck is up with them?”
“I know,” Hector said. “Why are we stopping in the middle of nowhere. There’s no prison here.”
The bus door open. “Get out,” the bus driver demanded. Both guards stood up and pointed their weapons at the prisoners.
“Why are we getting out here?” a prisoner asked politely.
“Take a piss. Stretch out your legs.”
“I don’t have to take a piss,” the same prisoner said.
The guard calmly walked to the prisoner, who was sitting in an aisle seat, and smashed the butt of the rifle into the prisoner’s face. The guard quickly stepped back to his original position, but another prisoner charged at the guard.
The guard at the front shot a bullet into the ceiling, which was deafening. “Make another move and you’re dead,” the front guard shouted. “All of you, get your asses off the bus now.”
There was silence. Hector knew that the prisoners were weighing their options if it was worth it to fight the guards. Additional armed guards charging into the bus made their decision easier to not fight back.
“Get off this bus right now or we’ll kill all of you,” a new guard said.
The prisoners got the hint and hobbled off the bus. The jingling of the leg cuffs almost muffled the sound of the barking dogs outside the bus.
Hector didn’t believe the bullshit that the guards wanted them to take a piss or stretch their legs. They had only been riding for a little over an hour, and prisoners were used to holding their bladders. What were they going to do to them? he wondered. Maybe they were going to set them free. Who knew what that crazy Zelda Mater was up to? That would be great, but he doubted it based on the guard smashing that prisoner’s face.
Hector got off the bus. The guards led them to the open field and ordered them to piss. This was awkward. Plus, no one probably had to take a piss anyway.
Guards, in impeccable white uniforms, surrounded the prisoners with many of them holding barking dogs. Hector couldn’t believe how many guards there were. He figured that there were about half as many guards as prisoners. That was way more than usual.
“I don’t like this, Holmes,” Jose said to Hector.
“I know,” said Hector. “How long do they want us to wait out here?”
Two of the military trucks drove on the grass and parked the vehicles so the trucks’ back faced the men. The guards in charge were arguing with each other and seemed panicky.
The scene was weird for Hector.
Then something odd happened. The guards nearest to the woods broke the circle and joined the guards on the side. This opened a path to the woods, which was about a hundred yards away. Were they trying to dare them to make a run for the woods? They seemed to be tempting them, but the guards seemed tense. Hector noticed that several of them took the safety off their rifles.
Something was up.
Guards tore off the heavy cloth on the sides and rear of the military vehicles, exposing the inside of the vehicles. To Hector’s horror, he saw massive machine guns mounted to the vehicles. Before he could react, bullets sprayed into the crowd from the machine guns. Then the guards on the side started shooting at the prisoners.
Hector saw many prisoners struck with the bullets and go down. The prisoners yelled and started hobbling towards the woods as fast as they could with the leg cuffs restricting them. Hector joined them, but prisoners kept dropping and moaning in pain.
The guards released the dogs who chased down and bit the prisoners. This was a planned ambush! Now Hector realized why the guards left an opening: so the guards wouldn’t accidently shoot each other.
Hector shivered as he hobbled. For some reason, he had more slack on his leg cuffs than usual, so he could move quicker than the other inmates. He knew that his life was about to end. He thought about his younger brother who was also in prison. He wished he would have been a better role model for him.
Hector glanced back. He was in the lead, but there were only about twenty prisoners left, each of them gasping as they ran for their lives. Hector could hear their bodies thump to the ground. The dogs caught some of the prisoners, and the prisoners screamed.
Hector had a glimmer of hope. The woods were only about twenty yards away. Maybe if he made the woods, he could escape. He kept hobbling and finally made it to the woods. He quickly glanced back and saw only five prisoners still running. The dogs seemed to be preoccupied with the prisoners that they previously captured.
Bullets sprang all around Hector. How could they miss?
“Get them,” a guard shouted. “Don’t let them get away.”
Hector could hear the footsteps of the guards sprinting towards him. There was no way he could outrun them with his leg cuffs. He wasn’t going to give up, though.
The bullets from the trucks stopped and now the guards that were running towards him were shooting their guns. Hector veered off to the left as the other inmates went to the right. He hoped that the guards would follow the other inmates, who were closer to each other. He was right. Most of the footsteps drifted away from Hector and towards the others, but there were still several guards chasing him. They were about thirty yards away from him. Hector zigged zagged through the woods trying to make it hard for them to get a clean shot off, especially with all the shrubbery and trees.
Hector, experienced at running from the cops and rival gang members, knew that he couldn’t outrun the guards, so he looked for a hiding spot.
He found it. It was a fallen tree stump, about twenty feet long and about three feet in diameter. It was huge. He climbed over it. There was a little natural hole underneath the bark and had lots of leaves. He worked his way under the tree and spread the leaves on top of himself. It was a good hiding spot. They would have to hop over the tree and turn back to see if he was there, but they wouldn’t be expecting him to hide so early in the chase. They would expect him to be running. This was Hector’s strategy when rival gang members and the police chased him. Find a hiding spot early. They’ll never expect it.
Sure enough, the guards ran past his hiding spot. Hector prayed that there were no dogs with them. His hiding spot might fool a human but not a trained dog.
It worked.
Hector lay still for about a half an hour. The sounds of the gunfire and guards running had died down. Were they gone? Could he chance leaving now? Where would he go? Where was he?
Hector started crying. The horrific sounds of the fallen prisoners tormented him. He was doomed. He stopped crying and realized that he was free or somewhat free. He hadn’t been free for ten years. It felt good. He was going to enjoy the feeling for the little time he probably had left.
His feeling of triumph was short lived. He heard the unmistaken sound of dogs barking and men approaching. He sighed. It was just a matter of time before the dogs sniffed him out, and the guards would shoot him. He started crying again. “God, please help me,” he whispered out loud.
Should he fight back? He thought of finding a rock or a branch as a weapon but couldn’t find any. No, it was useless. When they found him, he would surrender and take the bullet.
From the sound of things, it appeared that the guards were spread out, and he could hear a dog barking but only one set of footsteps running behind the dog. They were close.
“Please, Jesus, save me,” he said. “Don’t let the dog smell me.”
The dog’s bark intensified.
“Slow down, Kelly,” a man said. They were now by the fallen tree, and they had stopped
running.
Hector held his breath and shivered. He was truly going to die now.
“Where is he at, Kelly?”
They hopped over the trunk. The dog barked hysterically and started digging up the leaves.
Hector prayed, “Hail Mary, full of grace …”
“Kelly, stop,” the man said.
The dog stopped digging and reduced his bark to an intimidating growl.
“Come out,” the man said in almost a whisper.
Hector knew it was no use pretending he wasn’t there. “Okay, okay, I’m coming out. Please don’t shoot.” Hector made the sign of the cross and glanced up.
He held his hands up and peeked his head out. This was the end. Hopefully, it would be over quickly.
The guard was older and looked to be in his forties. He pointed the rifle at Hector.
“Go on,” Hector said. “Get it over with.”
But the man did not shoot. Instead, he leaned down and whispered, “Go on. Get out of here.” He started helping Hector out of the hiding spot. “Go that way.” He pointed in the opposite direction of the distant sounds of the other dogs.
Hector froze. He couldn’t believe that this guy was going to let him go. It must be trap.
“Go. Get the fuck out of here,” the man said. “I’m trying to help you.”
“Why?”
“You have ten seconds to get out of here before I shoot you.”
Hector didn’t hesitate and hobbled towards the direction the guard suggested.
“Wait,” the guard said.
Great, I knew it was too good to be true, Hector thought. Hector stopped.
“You can’t get too far with those leg cuffs.” The guard reached into his pocket and threw Hector keys. “Those are cuff keys. Undo yourself and throw them back to me.”
Hector’s hands shook as he hurriedly undid the leg and hand cuffs. He threw back the keys. “Thank you. What’s your name?”
“Never mind what’s my name,” the guard said. “Just get the fuck out of here and don’t mention to anyone what I did here. I don’t agree with the fuckin’ Mother of all the Gods.”
Hector ran. He could run fast now without the cuffs. He couldn’t believe that the guy broke the third commandment: thou shalt not take the name of the Mother of all the Gods in vain.
◆◆◆
Hector started shivering. It was a cold November evening, and the sun was almost setting. He had run and jogged for hours. He stopped and sat on a huge rock. He was confident that no one was following him anymore. That guard, who saved him, probably told his other fellow guards that he cleared the area, or Hector hoped he did.
But Hector had a more pressing problem: what was he going to do all alone in the woods, with no coat, food, or water? It was going to be dark soon, and he didn’t have a flashlight. How was he going to sleep with all the animals and bugs all over the place? He had no shelter. He rubbed his arms trying to keep warm.
He had hoped that he would have a found an exit from the woods, but he hadn’t seen any sign of an opening. He knew he couldn’t hike in the dark, so he needed to find a place to sleep. He was starving and thirsty, but he couldn’t find water in the dark.
He got up and continued his hike, searching for an ideal place to sleep. He wondered if the Maters shot Jose. They probably did. Hector shook his head at the thought. Hector figured that he was probably the only one to get away. The others couldn’t have gotten far with the leg cuffs, and Hector actually didn’t get away. He was lucky enough to have a guard let him go. The others probably weren’t so lucky.
Hector froze. He heard movement in the distance. He hid behind a tree and panned the area. Between the vast number of trees, he saw what looked like several tents. People! Water! That was his first thought. Who were they? Were they Maters? Would they help him? He studied his outfit. It was an orange, dirty jumpsuit, with the word “inmate” stenciled on the back and front. Even if they weren’t Maters, they surely wouldn’t help an escaped convict.
But he had no choice but to see if they would help him. It was either that or die of starvation in the woods.
He started his slow, cautious hike to the tents.
He didn’t get twenty feet before he heard the unmistaken sound of someone arming a gun behind him.
“Stop,” a man’s voice said. “Don’t make a move. Put your hands above your head and kneel slowly.”
The person started walking towards Hector and was now only about ten feet away, Hector guessed. The guy flashed his flashlight repeatedly towards the tents. Someone sitting outside one of the tents picked up a rifle and ran towards them.
Hector figured that if they were Maters, he was dead. This would be the third time that he thought he was going to die in one day. He couldn’t bear this anymore. But if they were Maters, why would they be in the woods? Maybe they were camping on the Conversion Day and didn’t know.
He would soon find out.
The man at the tent, who looked to be in his fifties, finally arrived at the scene, pointing his assault rifle at Hector. The other man was still behind him.
“Who are you?” the older man asked.
Hector wasn’t going to lie. How could he? His uniform showed his status. “My name is Hector Gonzalez. I was a prisoner at Huntsville. The Mater guards took about two hundred of us to an open field and murdered us with machine guns. I think I’m the only one to survive.”
Hector could see the man studying him.
“Where did this happened?”
Hector turned to point and saw the younger man, maybe even a boy, holding a handgun at Hector. “Over there. I’ve been on the run for hours.”
“Are you trying to tell me that guards just opened fire on prisoners, but they let you go?”
“Yes. If you want, I can show you, but I’d rather not go back. Are you Maters?” Hector held his breath on this question. The answer would determine if he would live.
After a long silence, the man said, “Are you?”
“No, I’m a Christian,” Hector replied.
“How do I know that and how do I know you’re telling the truth?”
Hector kept his hands on top of his head not wanting to startle the men. “I think it’s obvious I’m a prisoner with this orange jumpsuit.”
“But how do I know that you didn’t just escape, and the mass shooting you’re talking about is fake?”
“Other than showing you, I don’t know how to prove it. I think Zelda Mater is trying to kill all convicted murderers.” Oh shit, Hector thought. Why did I just tell them that I’m a convicted murderer. Stupid. Stupid.
“Murderer? You’re a convicted murderer?”
“Yes, but let me explain.”
“There’s no explaining if you’re a murderer.”
“Please, let me explain.” Hector didn’t wait for their approval and continued. “I killed a rival gang member who was going to kill me, so it was sort of self-defense.” Hector lied. He wasn’t sure if the victim was going to kill him. “I was young at eighteen and didn’t know shit. I’m almost thirty now, and I know better. I’m not the same stupid person I was back then. I was eligible for parole in two years until this shooting happened.” Hector started whimpering. The days horrific events took a toll on him.
“So you’re still a murderer,” the man said.
Hector had enough. He was cold, starving, and thirsty for water. He was going to give them a choice. He held his hands in front of him in a surrender signal, and said, “Look, either shoot me, help me, or let me go. I’ve been through hell today, and if you want to kill me, get it over with.”
Hector held his breath.
After several minutes of agonizing silence, the man said, “About fifteen of us in a nearby rural area decided to hide in the woods once we heard about the Conversion Day. We are Christians also. We are hiding; waiting out the storm.”
Hector exhaled. They weren’t Maters.
The man continued, “We brought a lot of supplies and weapons to hold
us over. Plus, we have a clean water supply by the creek near our tents. We have two people on watch stationed about fifty yards away from camp. Justin, my son, behind you, found you. Good job, Justin.”
“What’s your name?” Hector asked.
“I’m Steve.”
“Steve, can I have some water? I’m dying.”
There was another long silence. Steve pulled out a rope and threw it towards Hector.
“Okay, Hector, we’ll give you some water, but you have to tie yourself with that rope. We’re not too eager to help convicted murderers, but you were honest about it.”
Hector grabbed the rope and tied his hands as good as he could without hurting his wrists. Hector said, “If you help me, I’ll be glad to help you on protecting your camp from the Maters. I’m not a bad guy. I’m really not. I just made a huge mistake when I was young. You’ll see.”
Chapter 9
“Linda, can you please have the Secretary of the Treasury come to the Oval Office,” Zelda spoke into her speaker phone.
“Yes, Madam President,” Linda replied.
Three days had passed since the Conversion Day, and she was horny. She couldn’t go another day without sex, and she planned on seducing the sexy Bruce Wade. Plus, she needed him for a secret mission.
The containment project was improving, but there were still millions of infidels unaccounted for. Some of them fired on the guards, but the military easily defeated them and promptly killed them in front of the crowds. The guards rushed off the ones that surrendered to a conversion prison. Zelda figured that it would take a year to smoke them all out. The United States was huge and gave plenty of hiding spots.
The infidels that had children were behaving amazingly well. They worried what the government would do to their kids. Zelda smiled on this thought. It was great leverage and guaranteed that they would not cause problems.
The infidels who were single caused more problems. They had nothing to lose except their own safety. Many of them had escaped the conversion prisons during transportation. This was unacceptable to Zelda, and she let Colin know about it in private, inflicting a little dose of pain. She needed to get control of the two groups that could challenge her throne: the single infidels and the infidels still at large.