“Neither did I…”
Chapter 14
The onslaught within the camp was even more forceful than Jasmine and Angela thought. Even though the tower explosion killed most of Owen’s men, the remainder within the camp were killing each other in sheer panic, which made it that much more difficult for them to get in and get the survivors out.
Jasmine saved one clip from her sniper rifle, but used the remaining grenades, which made the cannon useless, and was close to running out of shells for her Mossberg and bullets for the Glocks.
It was thirty minutes or more before the chaos ended and, other than the wind that picked up, the camp became quiet. There were faint moans but those ended quickly as Jasmine and Angela found the source and ended it with a bullet. Angela stood over one of the men that Jasmine had shot earlier and emptied her Glock into him.
“Feel better?” Jasmine asked.
“A little,” Angela answered morosely. “He was the one who took Carmen’s baby.”
“Where do they keep the prisoners?” Jasmine asked.
“In a fucking dungeon in Owen’s place, but it’s more like a torture chamber,” Angela answered. She then wiped tears from her eyes. “I have stories to tell you when you get back… You will be back.” She looked at Jasmine with tear stained cheeks. “Tank will make sure you’ll come back, you’ll see…”
Angela then nodded in the direction of a building that stood at the end of the street. “That gleaming piece of crap, he called his palace. Follow me.”
“You know, I think I heard Tank speak maybe a hundred words, and not once was there profanity.”
“I inherited my mother’s tits and my father’s vocabulary, so sue me.”
Jasmine laughed. “Proud of those, tits, aren’t you?” She was going to miss Angela. She almost wanted her to come with her. She was definitely a good fighter, and her sense of humor was good company.
“Absolutely. Now if I had your tight little ass—Tank’s words, not mine—I’d never enlisted. I’d have married some fat old fart and took his money after he died.”
Jasmine howled in laughter. Yes, she was really going to miss Angela, but she also knew Angela was going to make it back safely, and in the course of doing so, she would be promoted to Lieutenant and spearhead the opening of outposts between the cities, most of which would be supplied by Owen’s arsenal and food source in the beginning. After time the cities will see the importance and support them and even branching out to create outposts in all directions that will play a major role as people started leaving the underground cities to rebuild.
“Take me there,” Jasmine said, walking in the direction of Owen’s house. “We save every last one of them…”
Chapter 15
The dungeon.
Four stories beneath the palace.
The palace was originally a library complete with a tornado/fallout shelter converted to a temporary safe house that would house the residents of the small town until after the impact. A small town with a population of around fifteen hundred people that didn’t believe the impact would be so devastating. It was nothing more than a bad tornado is what they expected. The residents would live there two, maybe three days, a week tops.
Then the entrance collapsed, cutting the town off from all contact.
Three months later the food ran out. Less than a week later they drew straws to see who would be willing to kill the first person that would soon be their next meal. They started with the infirmed, then those with medical problems where they depended on medical attention, then the elderly, and finally only the strong survived.
Owen’s father was one of the strongest and he protected his son.
While trapped beneath the library the men began digging not only up but down with the good intentions of building a better place: a city of their own based on the designs of the Underground Government City that was less than seventy-five miles away. The same city the small town didn’t want to go to for the mere fact of not wanting to be controlled by the US government. As Owen’s father, the town mayor had preached. Why, we have everything we need in our fair town. Why should we give everything we own and become a socialist when the impact will happen on the other side of the world? What he was really saying was, I don’t want to give up my position. Here, I’m a big fish in a small pond; there, I’ll be a small fish in a large ocean. And while the killing for food continued, Owen grew darker, hungrier.
“Oh, my, God!” Jasmine screamed out when she fell to her knees. There were over fifty women and children in the dungeon. All of them in various stages of health and well being; all of them contained in one method or more in confinement. There were jail cells that held all of the children like veal. They were suspended off the floor with bands around their arms and feet. The women were either jailed or shackled to the floor or walls.
A couple women were strapped to various torturous devices that Owen used when satisfying his insane cravings. Except for Angela, a woman would only refuse once. The second time she became a meal. As for Angela, and unbeknownst to her, she frightened Owen. Through rumors, he had heard of Angela’s brother and his association with a gypsy, and Owen feared gypsies as he did witches and ghosts, and believed the gypsy would come for him. He was right.
Angela helped Jasmine to her feet. “I’m so sorry,” Angela said. “I should have warned you.”
As they awakened, the women began to cry along with Jasmine, all calling out to Angela. Then the children started, and finally everyone in the dungeon cried out.
The wail sent chills down Jasmine’s back as she turned and slowly, pathetically climbed the stairs, all the while wishing she had not killed Owen so quickly, wishing she could have taken him out a limb at a time only to make him suffer long before she finally killed him. What is happening to me, Jasmine wondered as she reached the first landing. I’m turning into the people I hate.
“Where are you going?” Angela called out in a panic.
“To get the fucking bus and to kill every motherfucker from here to there and back.”
Carmen’s baby lay in a hammock, alive, suckling on a bottle of mothers-milk, being prepped for roasting.
“You don’t have to go alone, you know. You could use a wingman… I could be your wingman,” Angela said just moments after the last woman and child entered the bus. “We can take him out.”
Jasmine was silent for a long moment before finally answering, “No. You have to go back to Kansas and let them know what’s going on out here. Let them know about Owen and the new outposts.” She pulled her pack up and fastened it, then checked her weapons. “You also have to give Tank the cannon. Tell him it was great but a little too big for someone like me.” She looked at her nails. “I think I broke a nail.”
Angela laughed. “He’ll be worried about that.”
“Make sure you tell him how much I appreciated all he did for me,” Jasmine said while laughing. “He is a good man and I will never forget it.”
“You come back for him, you hear.”
“I will. I owe him my life and a dinner he’ll never forget,” Jasmine said, nodding. “And I expect to see you there before you go back to Oklahoma, okay?”
Angela nodded her head and fingered tears from her eyes.
Jasmine hooked a 250cc Honda dirt bike to the back of the BSA in case she needed it to cross the river. The BSA was good on flat land but she wasn’t sure if it would get across and up the rugged terrain that lay ahead of her. She then climbed atop and settled down. She turned the key and then cranked the bike over, and finally smiled. She loved this bike but the dirt bike would get her across the Red River and into Dallas.