“If you insist.” Visibly annoyed, he crept back into the chair. “Since we are changing gears, I feel it best I start it off with my own inquiry.” He attempted to crack his knuckles again in preparation for another round, but they were spent. “What do you know about her?”
“I don’t know anything about her. Just saw her running past me, but I didn’t see anyone chasing her. I figured somebody was by how she was moving, but I couldn’t tell.”
“What if it had been the Butcher’s men chasing her? Moving in to try and reclaim her?”
“The idea of it being a trap crossed my mind, but…” Do I tell him? Thomas worked his eyes through the room, yawned, obviously buying time, but at the moment he didn’t care. He couldn’t appear crazy or worse, weak. He very clearly saw a little girl, not a woman, not in the slightest. Then… it wasn’t her. Does that make me crazy? “When she passed me I thought I saw the scar.” The lie came out like expelled food that had held his breaths hostage. “She ran past so quick… I just didn’t get a good look, but figured if she was one of the Butcher’s women, I could get some good Intel.”
“You saw the scar?” The question soaked in skepticism. “Even though she ran past ‘so quick’ as you put it?”
“Yeah.” Thomas coughed. Is that a tell? A sweat began to build up in his hands—a nervousness inside him elevated his heart beat. “I’m pretty sure I saw it as she ran past. You know what I mean. It happened quickly, but I definitely saw it.”
Thomas couldn’t prevent himself from stumbling through his answers. But after a short while, Blaine revealed that they had eyes on Thomas the entire time. He already knew the lengths Thomas had gone through to find the woman. His tone was much more relaxed now, and Thomas welcomed it. He’s not trying to trap you.
Blaine continued speaking the details, pointing out a few concerns, but overall nothing to give any indication he didn’t believe Thomas’s account.
Thomas took a slow, deep breath, trying to settle the rise of his chest. Calm down! You’ve done well. This Soldier spot is yours. The nervousness subsided. “I had to take the chance. Like I said, I saw the scar and knew the Intel would be worth the shot.”
Just as Thomas had finished his statement, one of the Soldiers brought the woman from a backroom and into the office. The blood. He craned his neck to check on her.
The Soldier sat her down at one of the computer desks in the corner, and a medic began to look her over. He pitched some bandages that were striped red, cleaned the wounds, and began wrapping both her arms with fresh gauze. They allowed her to sip on some water and take a few bites of what had to have been the stalest crackers left in the world. “Did you guys hurt her?” Thomas’s eyes shot back to Blaine. “A blood trail led me to her.”
“You should know better than that.” Blaine hung his head with disappointment. “Why are you here?”
A pause. Thomas wasn’t budging—he wanted the answer to his question.
“Our purpose is to save them,” Blaine said. “You know damn well we’d never hurt her.”
Thomas considered it to be the truth, but something existed in the woman’s eyes that made Thomas second guess Blaine’s solemn words. Maybe it was the blood or the speed by which she moved. The hurried feet. All he ever saw were the bottoms of them as she ran with her flowing hair pulled back by the fear that propelled her. Surely, she ran from someone. At the moment, it appeared to be them. They were the only ones found to be chasing her. Had something gone awry?
“How did it happen?”
“We located her near a tree on campus. She was sobbing as she cut herself. We attempted to stop her, but she ran. She kept muttering to herself, but she may have been delusional. There’s no telling how long she’s been alone or whether she suffers from some sort of mental illness. She’s lucky we intervened as she might very well have succeeded in killing herself.”
“What did she say during the interview?”
“She spoke briefly of abandoning her sister,” Blaine replied. “I didn’t require her to elaborate. There wasn’t a need. She’s been through enough. It was important to let her know she has a way out. She provided adequate Intel, but wants our protection. Before we commit to finding her a job and a place within our world, we need to confirm that she truly wants a new life.”
“So what should I expect?”
Blaine took his notepad again and flipped through a few pages. “She said there are eleven women, a few kids, the Butcher, and about fifteen armed guards.”
That’s fewer than what originally thought.
“They’ve enlisted a few individuals we would consider civilians—a cook, a nurse-type, and a mechanic. The Butcher’s set up below the gazebo as initial reports indicated, and the sleeping tents radiate outward from there.” Blaine set the notepad in front of Thomas. “She drew a crude map of the area.” He traced the diagram with his finger as he spoke. “The tents where the women conduct their business are on the northwestern side of the gazebo. All of their valuables are stored within a U-haul parked near the playground south of the center. We’ve provided a map of the area. I’ll lay them out and ensure this information is available for the evening’s briefing.”
“Any details on weapons?”
“She lacked specifics but said there are ‘long ones’ and pistols. It sounds like most patrol with one of each.” Blaine withdrew the notepad from Thomas. “She stated the women have an agreement to surrender if attacked. The men expect them to fight alongside them, but they’ll refuse. You shouldn’t have to concern yourselves with them being a threat once the assault begins.”
“Any word on how the system works there? What do I need to say or do?”
Blaine peeled back another page of his notepad. “They’ll accept anything and everything. Mostly, they desire ammunition, guns, gasoline, water and food. She’s seen them take books and clothing but they don’t equate in value.”
“Books will have to do. We’re not going to arm them. We’re also not looking to engage with the women. We just need a way in.”
“Let me interview the kid, and I’ll attempt to speak with her again once she’s had time to rest.”
“I’ll be right here.”
Thomas looked on as Blaine entered the office and motioned for one of the Soldiers to escort the kid from the library to someplace more appropriate for a “conversation.” As Blaine led the other two from the office, Thomas decided to part the pages to his book once again. Shortly after, he found himself slipping toward sleep—the words fading in and out with each indentation that pushed the story forward.
His focus faded—the lack of sleep tightening its grip on his consciousness, pulling him closer toward rest. Thomas gave in. There was no use in denying the sleep any longer, not even the laughter from the office could keep him in this world.
“Dad… Dad… How you feeling today?”
“Hey, Tommy boy.”
“You feeling better?”
“Better… maybe… If I could just get a decent meal, I could get my strength back. The food here’s disgusting.”
“What do you expect?”
“For how much this is going to cost in medical bills? Something better than this slop.”
“Alright, Dad. I didn’t mean to get you all fired up. Did Mom come by today?”
“She left maybe an hour ago.”
“The doctors—did they tell you guys anything yet?”
“No. If they know anything, they aren’t sharing much. All they keep saying is that it’s some sort of flu. Doesn’t seem like they know what they’re doing—keep saying they’ve never seen it before—keep running tests on me. I feel like a damn lab rat in here. Look at how many tubes they have running into me.”