“You’re the boss,” Thomas said.
“You ain’t movin’ fast enough.” The kid jabbed Thomas in the back with the muzzle—a quick sharp pain. Thomas winced, but tucked the pain away. “Git! Come on!” The kid’s voice rose with confidence as Thomas seemed unwilling to challenge him. Again, he jabbed him, and Thomas spun on the boy.
“Don’t do that again!”
The kid’s feet scrambled away from Thomas, but the rifle remained level with his gut.
“I’m listening to you,” Thomas said, “but don’t push your luck with me. Under any other circumstances, I’d be carrying your little ass around on the end of that rifle.”
The boy seemed unsure of the threat, his eyes and lips narrowing, his feet planted firmly on the concrete. Although nervous, he acted as if he had heard something very similar to that before. “Let’s go!” He tried to firm his voice up with some authority. “I’m not kiddin’ around!”
“That man givin’ you trouble there, Scotty?” Thomas looked to his left—another guard, another rifle. He appeared from behind a fallen tree, moss-covered with chunks of decaying bark below it. The man’s foot struck the ground, pelting Thomas in the face with debris. “You better listen to him, boy.”
These mother… Thomas wiped the sludge from his face. “I hear you.” Only a matter of time now. Thomas stared down the path. It doglegged to the right and disappeared.
“You sure you can handle this one?”
Scotty nodded. “It’s nothin’ at all.”
“Just make sure he gets his stuff and leaves. I’m headin’ back to my post. Next time, if you don’t need help, don’t start yellin’ like you’re dyin’.”
“Gotcha,” Scotty answered. “Either you or your partner need me to take your spot?”
“Naw, we’re good, I ain’t been there but a couple hours. I’ll let you know when you can come and wipe my ass, kid.” The guard barked out a harsh laugh, plunging his lungs into a deep cough as he walked off. “Now get that piece of shit outta here!”
“Yeah, okay…” Scotty’s voice trailed off. “Let’s go, man,” he spoke to Thomas, his spirit broken.
Thomas eyed his escort from over his shoulder. The embarrassment had hit the kid hard. His shoulders slumped—the rifle drooped, but still remained pointed at Thomas. Poor kid. The boy must have been thinking the same thing. His steps were lazy. There had to be something that kept him here. Something beneficial to him. “Why do you put up with that?”
“You don’t need to talk anymore.” His voice cracked when he said it. “You’re leavin’!”
I need to get him out of here. This isn’t for him. Thomas picked up the pace as the two wound their way along the road and back into the heart of the camp. I know I would have noticed this kid walking around with an AK. This other guy could’ve been from the post down the hill, or… I don’t know, somewhere else.
They overtook the last hill—the view of the gazebo and stragglers reappeared. The kid seemed winded from the hike. He was choking down air by the time they reached the first row of tents. “Hey John!” He gasped, waving the guard with the AK-47 over from the gazebo.
John seemed way too eager to speak with Thomas again. As he strutted over to them, he patted the side of his rifle. “What’s up, Scotty?”
“Caught him creepin’ ’round the woods.” His tone was firm again. The walk had given him the chance to harden his demeanor. “Says he was peein’ out there.”
“That so?” John looked Thomas up and down then scoffed. “You’re startin’ to be quite the problem.”
More than you know.
“If I had my way, you’d already be dead—snoopin’ around and shit.”
“You got me all wro—”
“Let’s see what the boss wants.” The guard backtracked toward the gazebo. “Hey, boss! Gotta a troublemaker here.”
The crowd became silent—all of their faces turned toward the outburst. Any women that were mingling within the center of camp retreated to their tents. James appeared in the front row and took a couple steps forward, separating himself from the others.
The Butcher popped his head from his quarters but disappeared for several minutes before reemerging, straightening his tie, adjusting his sleeves as if he were attending a business meeting. As the two men came together, John leaned into the Butcher’s ear, pointing toward Thomas while he spoke. The Butcher began shaking his head and placed his hand on John’s shoulder—he mouthed the word “no,” and John returned to Thomas, disappointed.
“The boss said you and your friend need to leave. You’ve worn out your welcome, so better not come back, or you’ll end up hangin’ from a tree next to your friend.” He snatched the badge from Thomas’s shirt. “Grab any shit you’ve got and go.”
Chapter Ten
The plan was set, rehearsed, and nearing perfection as the fall of darkness banished any natural light from within the library. Several hours had passed as Thomas and the others on his team maneuvered colored pushpins and paperclips across the map of Burnet Woods. Balled up paper represented the tents—pieces of a broken ruler into barricades.
Nothing was held back. Thomas encouraged participation, and any concern or what-if scenario was addressed. He noticed their eyes tracing the projected movements, following along as he touched on the finer details in one last go-round.
“Again, from this position here”—Thomas amassed the majority of the pushpins into positions encircling the gazebo—“we end it. This is it. We hit them hard, and we hit them fast.”
No reply—each face illuminated by the soft glow of the candlelight was frozen deep in thought. Everyone remained focused on the importance of eliminating another evil from the region. Everyone in the room knew the stakes. With humanity’s fragile society constantly on the verge of further collapse, the potential these women held was wasted. Not enough people existed in the world for this to continue.
“Are there any questions?” Thomas asked, as he scanned the room, looking to each man that stood around the map—not the slightest hint of uncertainty upon the Soldiers’ faces.
Blaine broke their silence. “I’m confident we’ve produced the best plan possible for this encounter. We’ve acquired as much intelligence as we can at this point and can’t run the risk of him slipping away again. Tonight’s the night, gentlemen.” A round of nods circled the table. “All watches are synced, correct?”
Thomas tilted his wrist. “Should be 21:35 and 10… 11… 12,” he said. “Bravo, Charlie, Delta teams?”
“21:35 and 15… 16… 17,” the team leaders confirmed.
“Synced to perfection. Excellent.” Blaine gave Thomas a stiff pat on the back. “They’re all yours. Get everyone back safely.” He clasped Thomas’s elbow as the two shook hands. “22:30, right? I’ll be listening.”
“What about the woman and kid?” Thomas asked in a hushed tone for only Blaine to hear.
“We got it. You need not worry about me and my obligations.” Blaine raised his eyebrows and smirked while looking down at his watch. “You have your own operation to handle now.”
“I just don’t want anything to go wrong.”
“The kid’s handcuffed and masked, and the woman is still resting. It’s not your concern, and so there aren’t any misunderstandings, nothing I do will ever be the cause for anything to go wrong.”
Thomas waited for Blaine to crack—Come on—but his expression was steadfast, serious in what he had presented as fact. “I trust you.” It was all Thomas could muster together as an appropriate response.