“Yeah, cause that’s the difference.” Thomas moved just slightly further over the edge with both hands waiting for James to make his move. “Ready?” Thomas clapped his hands together again.
“Yep.” One last bounce and James rushed toward the wall, leapt for Thomas’s hands, scraping the ivy from the building with his boots. Their hands clasped. The two strained—Thomas inched back from the ledge as he pulled James with him. James’s feet continued chopping at the wall. “Come on!” Bit by bit, they grunted through the stress until both of them finally lay in the gravel. “Hell yeah, man.”
Thomas shifted to one knee and grabbed his gear. “Stay low. We’ll move between those A/C units.
James nodded, picked up his rifle and pack then followed Thomas toward the north side of the building. They quietly made their way across the roof, picking spots in between the rocks where the lining was exposed. They settled into position—James watching the rear while Thomas glassed over the southern portion of the densely wooded park.
A small barricade stretched across the service road that led into the park. Two guards, both armed with rifles, held post there. One stayed partially hidden between the wood and flimsy metal. The other patrolled the space in front of the barricade between the sidewalks.
As Thomas took the binoculars along the road, he spotted a rover dressed casually—jeans and a t-shirt—holding his own rifle while he marched along his route. Thomas tapped James on the shoulder and whispered, “Three. All armed with long guns. None of them appear scoped.” He scratched the details in his notepad as he said it. “We should be okay up here.”
“Is it the Butcher’s men?” James scooted toward Thomas and took his own binoculars across the park.
“It’s got to be, right? Who else would be out there?” Thomas continued to eye them, focusing more often on the rover—noting that his patrol ended toward the intersection with the boulevard that separated the woods from the campus. He stood for a moment in the shade of several trees, watching over his surroundings before bending down to tie his shoelaces.
“That’s definitely his people.”
“Positive?”
“Just look. All of them have that scar he puts on them— you know…” James rolled his hand as if to bring Thomas up to speed. “The Butcher. He marks his people across the cheek.” James ran his finger from the corner of his mouth back toward the ear.
“I just thought it was a stupid nickname or maybe his job before Almawt.”
“Nope… Same scar—mouth to ear… Always mouth to ear.”
“Damn,” Thomas said under his breath. He just stared at the Butcher’s men. The rover stood from tying his shoelaces and turned back toward the woods. Why the hell would someone let that happen? You’d have to be desperate to let someone do that to you. Brainwashed… Thomas looked on as the armed stranger disappeared into the park.
James leaned back against an A/C unit, removed a thick, white portion of a deer’s antler from his rucksack and began carving—he started to hum a tune that Thomas couldn’t quite place in his head. “What is that?” Thomas nudged him. “I know I know it.”
“You’ll figure it out.” James looked up for only a moment to give Thomas a teasing grin, then resumed.
He isn’t going to change. It’s probably wrong for me to expect that already…
“We sleeping up here tonight?” James asked.
“No.” Thomas pointed. “That’s the hatch that goes straight down into the maintenance room connected to the library offices. That’ll suffice for the—” Thomas jerked his binoculars to the right. James perked up, setting the antler to the ground.
A lone traveler approached the park on a bicycle that whined with each revolution of its wheels. The small trailer attached to the back teetered from loose books that shifted about as the man squeaked his way from the parking garage adjacent to the college.
This is what they had waited for—someone to interact with the camp—someone to give them an idea of how they ran shop. Thomas was certain the men from earlier had made their way into the camp, but they didn’t observe the process.
“What’s tha—“
“Shush.”
The man approached—the guards patted him down—he was allowed to enter. Not a lot to that, huh?
A few hours passed. James had prepared food from some cans (which consisted of opening them and putting a fork in each.) He set two aside for Thomas, but the spectacle of arrival after arrival had kept him away from his meal. The scattered caravan of strangers didn’t stop. After a slow start, now, they were in business, managing to spot them from all over—men, different in appearance, but similar in this strange, menacing eagerness by which they came.
Each traveler arrived as peasants with a tribute for a king or simply payment. It didn’t matter. They came and left—most of them with much less than when they arrived—only one case broke the pattern. A woman, tethered, she trudged alongside a man and child. After an hour or so, only the man and child left, pulling a bounty of food and ammunition in a cart they hadn’t arrived with.
The occasional shadow of clouds that cooled them throughout the day became lost in the slow descent into night. It seemed to signal the end of the Butcher’s operations for the evening. A parade of men filed out of the park, many of them Thomas couldn’t recall seeing. He set his binoculars and notepad down. The watch was over. In the early evening light, he was unable to make out the details needed to justify this any longer.
He took the cans James had prepared and began to eat.
“What’s the plan?” James asked.
“We have to hit them at night.” Thomas took a bite and chewed as he reflected on their next move. We really need more time to properly scout these guys. I’m going to have to get in there and get some better details. I can’t think of any other way to do it. “There’s just too much foot traffic during the day. We don’t need extra enemies. Even if they don’t want to fight, these people will be in the way.”
“What’s the count?”
“Of civilians or guards?”
“Civilians.”
“Sixteen men that I saw come and go, but maybe twenty more just now that I had no idea were in there. Tomorrow after the meet up I’m going in.”
“By yourself?” James’s eyebrows knitted with disbelief.
“We aren’t going to learn enough from the outside. The bulk of their forces have to be on the inside if that many people are coming and going. That’s where all their valuables are—everything they want to protect. We could sit out here for weeks, and we aren’t going to know anything.”
“I’m going with you,” James insisted. “If things go bad, you aren’t going to want to be by yourself, especially with the one guard patting everyone down.” James locked eyes with Thomas. “You’ll never get a weapon in there.”
He’s right, but… Am I going to be able to trust him? Thomas couldn’t risk going it alone among these fanatics—these people willing to disfigure themselves for some unknown purpose. He could possibly meet the same fate or worse if he were found out. He drew in a hard breath, looking straight at James. Damn it, I don’t have a choice.
“I…” James threw his hands up and shook his head. “I get it, man, but I’m owning it. I’m not gonna do anything stupid. You have to give me a chance to prove it.”
Thomas lifted his eyes toward the fading sky, unable to immediately agree to this. Not knowing how sincere this plea was is what turned his stomach. He knew he might not have a choice but to give into James—their trials ultimately tied together. I was told I’m in charge… But even then… I can’t to do that to him even though I probably should. I’ll let him stew a bit. See how that sits with him. See how he reacts to that. Then… Then I’ll make the choice.