“Kyle, are you there?” moaned Robert.
“Yeah, they got me too. I screwed up.”
“You were right. They followed us. Who are they?”
“I don’t know. I have a bag over my head, but—” Kyle was abruptly cut off by a deep voice.
“Shut up or we’ll gag you. Both of you,” said the deep voice. “Alright men, let’s get out of here. Stand these two pieces of shit up and let’s get going.”
“Who are you? What are you doing?” asked Robert.
The deep voiced man pressed the end of his shotgun against Robert’s neck and said, “We can do this the easy way, or we can do this my way. If it was up to me, I’d let you rot out here, but there are some people that want information out of you. That’s the only thing keeping you alive right now.”
“We don’t know anything.”
The deep voice replied, “That’s what the last guy said… before he died.” Robert felt the barrel of the shotgun press harder on his neck. “Both of you get up, and shut up. We’re moving out now.”
The men walked blind for several miles toward an unknown destination. Their captors were silent with the exception of a few whispers, occasionally prodding the captives with a rifle or shotgun to correct their direction. The only explanation Robert could surmise was that the gang with red armbands had connected them with what they did earlier at the railroad hub, when they met Dorothy and her son. Was it possible that Dorothy had let the two men go? They could have gone back to their gang and organized a search party.
Finally, the familiar deep voice sternly said, “Hold it, we’re here.” They all stopped walking and the two men were pushed next to each other. They were positioned shoulder to shoulder, and heard the faint voices of their captors talking to one another. Then they heard more voices, and the murmur became a growing crowd of voices.
“Just shoot them,” was said in the distance.
“We should hang them,” was yelled from the crowd.
The captors grabbed the men by their arms and led them away. “We’re going inside. Start walking.”
As the crowd grew louder, they forced Robert and Kyle to walk faster. When they finally stopped, they heard creaking hinges that indicated that they were going through a door. The door shut behind them, and seconds later, they could see the flickering of an electric light filtering through the bags that still covered their heads. They were shoved into chairs, and their arms and legs were strapped down.
Robert and Kyle were sitting next to each other when the man with a deep voice pulled the bags off their heads simultaneously. He was a large man with a scar on his face. A thick scar ran across his left cheek, and appeared to be from a deep knife wound. His eyes were hollow and absolutely void of emotion.
They were on a concrete floor in an unfinished room. The studs were visible in the walls and the construction looked unprofessional and haphazard. Both Robert and Kyle stared at the glowing light bulb in amazement. It had been months since the grid went down, and they had often wondered if they would ever see anything like that again. It was only a single light bulb, just enough to barely illuminate the room. There were several wooden chairs, a few cots, and boxes of medical supplies stacked around the walls.
Robert caught himself in a trance, staring at the electric light, and shook his head. He turned to look at his abductor and asked again, “Who are you?”
“Your worst nightmare. Don’t piss me off.”
Robert turned his head and looked at Kyle. He slowly shook his head with a defeated look on his face. Kyle nodded his head. When Robert looked back at where the man had been standing, he had moved. The big man had the door open, and was waving toward someone in the distance. The two captives noticed that their backpack, pistol, and rifle were set against the far wall, partially concealed in the dimness.
The door creaked open and a small man stepped into the room. “Good evening, Bull,” said the frail man, as he pushed his thick eyeglasses back up the bridge of his nose.
“Evening, Doc,” replied Bull, as he nodded his head. He then put a black leather glove on his right hand. Bull pulled the glove on tightly and made a fist. He rapped the back of his fist against the table and it made a hard thump on the tabletop. The glove was filled with lead pellets.
“Are you ready, Bull?” asked Doc, looking over the top of his glasses and lifting an eyebrow.
“I’m ready. Let’s get this over with.” Bull repeatedly made a fist to feel the leather stretch snugly around his hand. When the leather felt right on his hand, he wrapped the red bandana around the glove to make it tighter. He did this as he continued to stare at the captives tied to the chairs.
Doc pulled up a chair and sat down in front of Robert and Kyle. He pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose again. “I will ask you some questions, and if you do not cooperate, Bull will administer discipline. All I need is some simple information. For example, tell me how many of you are there now, where your gang is staying, and if you are all armed this nicely?” Doc pointed to the rifle and duffle bag. They had also found the hand grenades.
“What are you talking about? We’re not in a gang,” said Kyle.
“Really?” said Doc with a smirk, as he looked at Bull and rolled his eyes. Doc stood up and walked over to Kyle’s backpack. He put his hand in the backpack and pulled out the red bandana Kyle had placed in it before he left his apartment. He held the bandana by pinching it with two fingers. With a disgusted look on his face, he waved the red cloth in front of Kyle. Kyle felt the anger rising up inside him.
“There you go. You can have your colors back,” said Doc, as he dropped the bandana on Kyle’s lap.
“That’s not his,” said Robert.
Bull stepped forward and leaned into Robert’s face.
“I’m not stupid. We saw you coming from the direction of the railroad hub. We followed you, and both of you were wearing these,” Bull said, as he held his fist, wrapped in the bandana that he had taken from Robert, close to Robert’s face.
Doc motioned with his hand for Bull to step back.
“You should understand something immediately. Bull would prefer to kill you right now. I would prefer to get information from you. Bull doesn’t care for people like you, and I understand that. The fact that both of you are still alive tells me he has exercised some considerable restraint in this matter. But every man has his limitations, so don’t test our patience.”
Kyle turned to Robert and said, “They think we’re in that gang, with Cyrus.”
“Cyrus! Now you’re talking. Tell me more about your leader,” spat Doc.
Neither man replied.
“I need answers. Start talking. Don’t you understand?” Doc demanded impatiently.
“No, I don’t understand,” said Kyle.
“Wrong answer,” said Doc, as he motioned for Bull and pointed a wagging finger at Kyle.
Bull had taken only a step toward Kyle, his clenched fist raised, when there was a knock on the door.
Doc gestured toward the door and Bull turned away to see who was knocking.
“We are trying to tell you that we’re not mixed up with Cyrus’s gang,” said Robert.
“It’s not working.”
Bull yelled toward Doc from the open door, “We’ve got a gunshot wound. They need you.”
Doc stood up and tied the red bandana around Kyle’s arm and said sarcastically, “Don’t go anywhere.”
Doc pushed his glasses up again and cast them a final glance before he left the room with Bull. After the door shut, Kyle looked at the red bandana tied to his arm. His anger turned to rage. He began to pull at the ligatures on his arms and legs by twisting his body. The chair began to move. It was an old wooden chair and he could feel the weakness in the chair’s wooden joints.