“I swear I don’t want to hurt you. Sweetie, please let me help you. Are you hurt? I need to know, so I can help you. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”
“Don’t! Are you—” Her voice fluttered. “Are you here for the Butcher?”
“No. I’m here for you.”
“He sent you, along with the others!” She screamed and uncurled herself from the corner, scooting back against the wall, but there was nowhere to go. “Fuck you, I’m not going back there.” She gathered her feet below her and stood. “I’m not!”
“No, no, no. I’m not taking you. I didn’t mean like that.” Thomas started again toward her.
She bladed her stance in response.
“I don’t want anything from you,” he said. “I just want to help.”
“Go away!”
“Ricard!” The voice came from down the alley. “Step back from that woman!”
Thomas diverted his attention from the child. There were several men in Second Alliance black uniforms. “This kid needs my help.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” A man that Thomas had never met, accompanied by three others, started down the alley toward him. “She’s one of them.”
Thomas didn’t understand. Their comments made little sense. He thought of scooping the child from the alcove. What the hell could they want with this kid?
Thomas turned back to the girl, but she wasn’t there. A woman stood in her place. Blood down her arms that created the trail that led him there. He shook his head. “What did you do with her?”
The woman swallowed hard. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Where’s the little girl?” Thomas begged, snatching hold of her.
She screamed.
“Leave her alone.” The man grabbed Thomas by the arm. His tugging was more of an urge as he was unable to shake Thomas from the woman. “Let’s go, Ricard. Damn it, you need a break.”
“What the hell is going on?” Thomas asked.
“Don’t concern yourself with her at the moment. We have someone to tend to her injuries.”
“But…”
“Let it go.”
Thomas followed his lead, walking from the alcove that held the woman. Two of the Soldiers stepped forward and ensured the woman would comply with their wishes. Thomas looked back to her, hoping to see the child’s face, but all he could make out was a long scar from the corner of the woman’s mouth to her ear.
Chapter Seven
“The name’s Blaine,” the interrogator said, his hand stretched out across the table. Thomas broke his attention from the book he started earlier that morning and extended his own hand to greet the man. “I don’t believe we’ve officially met.”
“No, I don’t think so.” Thomas gave an insincere smile, not trusting this… Blaine, completely. This man that would surely be analyzing every word that Thomas gave to him. A man that would be unable to help himself. It was his job, who he was now, nobody was much more than their duties within the Second Alliance. Thomas knew that a man in his position never exclusively worked their magic on adversaries—they assessed everyone, especially potential candidates in the Soldier Program.
Thomas noticed Blaine seemed intent on speaking at length. “I’m just trying to get my mind right before we head into their camp.” He tried returning to his book.
“I’m not trying to be rude here, but”—Blaine placed his fingertips on the table, propping his hand up like a tent—“we are going to talk.” He tapped his fingers a few times against the wooden top, insisting Thomas rejoin the conversation.
“That’s fine.” Thomas folded the cover, making the block of pages whole again. “I thought you were here to talk to prisoners.”
Blaine nodded. “Oh, I will, but I don’t go into these delicate proceedings blindly.” He pulled the seat opposite Thomas from the table and sat. He cracked his knuckles individually from pinky to thumb then removed a notepad and pen from his shirt pocket. He placed them very precisely on the table, setting the pad to his right, parallel to the table with the pen sitting along a line that ran horizontal across the cover.
“And the lady?” Thomas asked.
“I already spoke briefly with the woman. She gave a great bit of information that I feel you’ll find of use.” He tapped the notepad, which caused the pen to move slightly from its calculated position. Quickly, he fixed it. “It’s fairly obvious what her circumstances are. Speaking with her wasn’t the problem, it was getting her to calm down. But what I wish to focus on now is gathering the facts before I go at the kid.” Blaine eyed Thomas, expecting a response from him, but Thomas hadn’t heard a question. “And… that’s where I require your assistance.”
“I see.” Thomas slid the book to the side, straightened himself in the chair then placed his palms flat against the table. “What would you like to know?” He smiled.
Blaine cupped his hands and squeezed them together as he looked down into his lap. Thomas could see an unpleasant smile take shape—clearly displeased with this sarcastic response. But once Blaine took his eyes from his lap and faced Thomas again, his smile had changed to something more agreeable. “This isn’t a formal discussion.” He tried to soften the mood by waving his hand as if he were swatting a pesky fly from the air. “Seriously, relax. I feel you’ve misinterpreted my intentions.”
“I’m here to assist you with whatever you need,” Thomas jested as he folded his hands on the table and leaned forward a bit. “Whatever it is you need to ask me.”
A lump cleared Blaine’s throat, and he picked at one corner of his mouth with his thumb. He blinked hard then pressed his balled fists together in what had to be one last attempt to get every pop out of his knuckles that he could. “Why is it you’re here?”
“You know why—”
“You said,” Blaine interrupted him, but managed to remain cordial,” that you would answer my questions, correct? Keep in mind that any lies you offer, if proven, could disqualify you from the Soldier Program.”
Joseph… Thomas started to bounce his knee underneath the table, but restrained it by driving his heel into the floor. “Yeah.” Be careful. Play nice. Thomas wetted his lips and started, “The group that came before us missed the Butcher. I’m here to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”
“Good. And how long have you been with the Second Alliance?”
“I’m not sure the exact date, but definitely over a year.”
The questions continued as he sat there—basic questions used to gauge his response—to set the bar for truthfulness. There wasn’t much thought required for each inquiry the interrogator posed. Thomas couldn’t help his mind from wandering as the answers slid easily from his memory.
Thomas wasn’t ignorant to what Blaine worked to establish. What he had trouble understanding was how this man with rounded spectacles held such a position within the Second Alliance. This thin, uninspiring man appeared so out of place next to his Soldier escorts—out of place in general. A man, by Thomas’s estimation, that should not have survived the end of the world. But despite this opinion, the man was clearly important to someone based on the amount of firepower he required and perhaps that was how he had survived.
“How did you come upon the young man you took into custody?”
“Camping here in the library last night when James woke me up. He told me he heard glass break and saw a light move across the bookcases.” Thomas pointed toward the lantern in an effort to validate his explanation.