I apprise Greg of my progress and my plan. Greg’s response is faint with the radios having to go through so many thick, concrete walls but I hear him acknowledge me. I think about taking the three women to him before heading to the fourth landing. If something happens to me, they will be left here and I won’t have helped them much. There’s still time before dawn approaches and the teams begin their journey down so I’m not as caught up with a time crunch as before. However, I’m here and the situation is pretty much under control although that could change in an instant.
“Well, there’s nothing to it but to get to it,” I say quietly to myself with a sigh and start for the first set of steel steps leading to the catwalks above.
Setting my boots carefully on each rung in order not to let my steps ring out, I cautiously climb to the first catwalk level and mount the stairs leading to the third level, and then the fourth. The door with the light shining through the small window is the second one down. I ensure the first wing is empty before crouching at the lit window.
Peering in, I see an empty hall like the others. Apparently preacher man feels secure with his bodyguards, assuming that’s what they are, only being close by. I open the door quietly and make my way down the room as on the lower levels; increasing hell’s count one soul at a time. I reach the last door and peek in. Sure enough, it’s the one who thinks he was called to purify the earth.
He is standing with a woman on her knees in front of him. He has a handful of hair and a gun to her head. I can’t go in like the other rooms. If I take him out, he could have a responsive twitch and shoot the woman. I swing the door open and step inside with my M-4 aimed at his head. The woman turns her head to glance at me and preacher man whips his around.
“Who the fuck are you?” He asks angrily.
“I’m the last person you want standing in this room with you,” I answer.
“Put that gun away or I’ll call my guards,” he says not releasing the woman or moving the gun from her head.
“You mean the ones who are soaking the bed sheets with their blood,” I say.
“You’ll never make it past the others,” he says; his eyes widening a touch with fear.
“This is just not your day for being right, is it?” I say. His eyes widen further.
“Stay back or I’ll shoot her,” he says thrusting the gun harder against the woman’s head.
“Go ahead. She means nothing to me. It’s you that I’ve come for,” I reply. “But I tell you what. You have two doors to choose from. One, you can shoot her and I shoot you, or two, you can release her and I let you go. A life for a life either way. You choose.”
The door closes. His eyes dart around the room fearfully, as if a way out will appear, before coming back to rest on the end of my suppressor only a few feet away and pointing unwaveringly at his head.
“If I let her go, you’ll let me go?” He asks.
“Yep,” I answer.
“Okay, I choose door number two,” he says.
“That’s the one I’d pick,” I say.
He releases the hold on her hair and removes the gun from her head. The woman scrambles to her feet and backs away from him wrapping her arms around her body.
“Ma’am, go into the hall and wait for me there,” I say. With a look at the man and then at me, she scurries past me and out of the door.
“Nice and slow, set it on the ground,” I say nodding at the gun he is holding at his side. I track his every move waiting for any quick movements as he kneels slowly and sets it on the floor. He then stands back up.
“Are you clean and pure?” I ask. A confused look crosses his face.
“Yes, I am,” he answers with a quivering voice.
“Good. Then that’ll make your transition easier,” I say. The confused look continues. His eyes then widen as he catches my meaning.
“But you said…” he stammers backing up.
“I lied,” I respond.
The bright flash highlights his open-mouthed fear as if caught with a camera. Part of his brain, which once held his very confused and warped thoughts, splatters on the concrete wall; his life-giving blood streaking down to the floor. The muffled gunshot lifts him from his feet and slams him into the sink against the wall. He falls to the side slumping over the steel toilet. Fitting end, I think gathering up the woman’s clothing and leave the room.
The woman is squatting in the far corner by the door with her arms wrapped around her; her body shaking. “Is… Is he?” She asks with a trembling voice. I nod setting her clothes on the floor beside her.
“Good,” she spits. “All of them?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I reply turning around so she can get dressed and to keep an eye on the far door.
She finishes quickly and we head down the stairs to the other women. There could still be others patrolling that we missed so I remain alert. Gathering the women, we start back through the building with me clearing the route and them behind me. One of the women still occasionally sobs but we make it to the roof stairs without encountering anyone. I let Greg know we are coming up and we trudge upward stepping out onto the roof. I take a deep breath in anticipation of feeling the refreshment of the chill night air. I do get my breath of fresh air but forgot about the dead cattle in the distance. The air that rushes into my mouth and nose is tainted with the undertone of thousands of dead, rotting carcasses. It’s only a little better than the stifling and stale air inside. The ambience of the building is thick with the horrors of what went on inside.
The sky is clear and the moon casts light downward making for good visibility. The wife of the man looks around the group huddled together on the flat roof. With a cry of discovery, she runs to where her husband sits. He stands and they embrace. He flinches with her tight hug from his injuries but folds his arms around her.
“You made it,” Greg says as I move over to him. “Does that mean the bill has been delivered?”
“Paid in full,” I answer.
“Good. You look like a mess,” he says eying my face.
“I feel like a mess,” I say. There is the release of tension in finishing what we came to do. The adrenaline ebbs and an overwhelming tiredness replaces it. “I’m going to lie down and rest. Keep an eye on the door.”
“Will do,” he replies. We are interrupted a few times by the men and women coming over to thank us.
“Thank us later, we’re not out of here yet,” I reply a couple of times. A shriek sounds out from far away, like the faint howl of a coyote on a still summer night; almost forlorn. I feel adrenaline try to enter into my already tired system but exhaustion has set in. All heads turn toward the distant sound. We all know what that sound is and it strikes dread in all of us, especially as we are all outside.
“Perhaps we should go inside,” I say to Greg.
“Might not be a bad idea although I kinda like it out here,” he replies.
“Yeah, me too but that could change in a hurry,” I say.
I really don’t want to move again but I’m sure our scent is being carried on the night air. We are still a few hours away from dawn and not out of danger yet. Greg and I gather everyone up and head inside. There are a lot of bumps and some curses as the others shuffle and grope in the dark. We find a large room close to the bottom of the stairs and hole up for the night.
There’s No Place Like Home
The rest of the night passes without incident. I take the first aid kit and administer what I can to the man who was beaten and whipped. We get little rest although Greg and I take separate watches in order to try and recoup some of our lost sleep. At daylight, we move through the tangle of corridors until we find a way out into the sunshine.
We walk around the large prison structure until we find the loading docks. The walls cast shadows deep into the compound from the low lying sun of the morning. Several pickup trucks are parked in the loading area. There should be enough to bring everyone out but if not, we’ll scout the area and find others. Horace and the teams should be about an hour or so away if they left at daybreak. I would open the rear gate but I’m not sure these people didn’t have friends that might show up.