Desolation (34 page)

 

“Thanks Wes,” Lt. Willow said. “What’s the situation outside?”

“We managed to push back the group who was chasing the girl.
Lee and Travis are watching the jeep outside,” Wes said as he hurried
down the stairs.

Lt. Willow followed close behind with Jerri and the coughing
officer bringing up the rear.

 

“Road clear?” Lt. Willow asked.

“Last I saw,” Wes quickly replied as he reached the bottom of the
staircase and entered the lobby. He quickly ran towards the front door,
gun ready.

“Come on,” Lt. Willow told Jerri. “It isn’t safe to stay here.”
Lt. Willow grabbed Jerri’s elbow with one hand and placed his
other on her lower back as he led her outside.

Jerri stumbled as she ran but allowed herself to be led, trying to
keep hold of the shotgun as it grew increasingly heavy in her arms. She
didn’t want to go with them but she didn’t want to stay inside the
apartment either…

Outside Jerri saw the carnage that had unfolded just moments
earlier. Ten men, two women, and a skeletal young boy lay like broken
dolls across the black pavement near a rickety idling army jeep. Two
heavily armored FEMA officers toting assault rifles stood next to the jeep,
each pointing their weapons down the dark road.

Dark silhouettes stood watch in the shadows across the street and
down the alleys, twitching, trembling, coughing, and waiting…
“Lee! Are we clear?!” Lt. Willow shouted as he kept one arm
around Jerri and one hand wrapped around his pistol.

One of the officers by the jeep, Lee, ran towards Lt. Willow,
breathing frantically. His face was soaked with sweat and the front of his
uniform was covered with blood splatter.

“Lieutenant!” Lee said before lowering his voice to whisper.
“They’ve flanked our position and we don’t have enough ammo to push
them back…”

Before Lt. Willow could respond, a Molotov was hurled out from
the shadows and shattered against the concrete steps just a few feet away
from the group. Lee flailed and collapsed on the ground as the fire ate
through his clothes and burnt his skin to a crisp.

Lt. Willow shoved Jerri out of the way and ushered her towards
the jeep. He practically hurled her inside and then sat next to her.
“Go! Go! GO!” Lt. Willow hoarsely shouted as he motioned for
the others to get inside.

 

Wes and the two remaining officers ran towards the jeep, panting
as they struggled to maneuver in their bulky riot armor.

 

Rocks and glass bottles flew through the air and pelted both the
officers and the jeep.

 

Gunfire erupted.

A small caliber round struck one of the armored officers in the
throat as he ran towards the driver’s seat. He gripped his throat, garbled a
few incoherent words and then collapsed.

Wes bounded over the fallen officer and clamored into the
driver’s seat. He floored the accelerator in a panic.

 

The jeep’s tires squealed as it sped away.

The other armored officer, moments away from getting safely
inside, was left behind. He ran after the vehicle, coughing violently, but
was quickly left behind and was engulfed by the shadows.

Jerri stared at the other apartment buildings as the jeep sped
along the deserted street. The buildings were mostly dark but still had
quite a few people loitering in their courtyards.

One courtyard had a group of sickly people huddled around a
burning trash bin. They stared at the flames in silence, shivering and
picking at their sores. They stared at the vehicle as it rolled past.

“How many people live here?” Jerri asked Lt. Willow as they
drove around a flame-gutted Humvee.

 

He mulled over the question a moment before speaking.

“We don’t really know,” Lt. Willow finally said. “At last census
we were over twenty thousand.” He looked over at her and frowned. “But
that was before the sickness.”

Jerri nodded uncomfortably and sat in silence, wondering how
long until her gracious saviors would wait until they started asking a few
questions of their own.

“What is your title?” Lt. Willow asked as his eyes ran up and
down her body.

She didn’t have to wait long as it turned out.
“My what?” she asked innocently.
Lt. Willow smiled and his voice softened.

“Your title,” he repeated. “You’re not wearing a uniform and I
saw how you handled that shotgun so I know you’re not a soldier… Yet
you rode in on the airplane. Obviously you’re special. What do you do so
special that they sent you here to us?”

Jerri nodded and looked outside as she tapped her fingers against
the shotgun barrel.

 

“I’m in community relations,” she said.

She knew that the counselor title wasn’t factitious; it existed
somewhere in the FEMA hierarchy. In fact she remembered that Camp 6
had a lot of counselors before they started carrying guns and got
augmented into the rest of the security force.

Lt. Willow nodded and sat in silence for a few minutes before
speaking again.

“Community relations. That explains the attire,” Lt. Willow said
with a slight chuckle. “Did you bring your DW-22 at least?” he finally
asked.

Jerri looked over at him and shrugged.

 

“Why would I?” she asked, trying to sound casual.
Lt. Willow pursed his lips and nodded to himself, raising his
eyebrows. He ran his boney fingers through his greasy blonde hair.

“Well,” he said, “I’d like to make sure you are who you say you
are. Showing me your credentials would ease my nerves a little… I’m sure
you can understand.”

Jerri looked back out the window and sighed.

“I do but unfortunately I forgot them in Arizona. We left in a
hurry,” she answered calmly. “You saw me get off of the plane… I don’t
have much proof to offer than that.”

Lt. Willow laughed.

“Well I suppose that will have to do then won’t it?” he said. He
turned and looked out the back of the jeep. “It looks like we don’t have
anybody following us. Go ahead and take us in before they spot our
vehicle,” he told the driver.

“Will we be safe?” Jerri asked.
Lt. Willow nodded.

“They don’t come sniffing around our HQ buildings much,” Lt
Willow said. “I guess they figure we have a stockpile of ammunition to
defend the place with. As soon as they know the truth they’ll overrun the
place just like the rest of the camp.”

Wes turned the jeep around the corner at the next intersection,
turned off the headlights, and drove towards a large warehouse that stood
next to the empty control tower. The warehouse was long, windowless,
and had its front door torn off. A FEMA logo adorned the front of the
warehouse, paint peeling.

“Is that where are we going? An old warehouse?” Jerri asked as
she tightened her grip on the shotgun. “That’s your main HQ?”
Lt. Willow smiled and patted her knee, shaking his head.
“Not exactly… We’re just going somewhere safe where we can
talk openly and honestly,” he assured.

 

The jeep veered off of the road and down the alleyway next to
the warehouse before rolling to a stop.

 

Jerri looked around anxiously.

 

“You know… The funny thing about DW-22s is that they don’t
even exist,” Lt. Willow said.

Jerri quickly tried to point the shotgun towards Lt. WillowLt. Willow snatched the shotgun by the barrel and pulled it from
her grasp with a ferocity that she didn’t think he could muster. He pressed
the shotgun barrel against her chest.

Wes spun around and pointed his pistol at Jerri’s head.
Defeated, Jerri closed her eyes, cursed herself, and shook her
head as she slowly raised her hands over her head.

 

“I’m sorry,” Lt. Willow said with a smile. “This is going to hurt
just a bit.”

 

He slammed the butt of the shotgun against her face.
46
“W
ake up,” Lt. Willow said as he crouched down and slapped

Jerri lightly across her face.
Jerri’s head lolled to the side but she remained unconscious.
Lt. Willow struck her again, harder.

Jerri groaned as her eyes started to open and her head begun to
spin. Disoriented and confused, she lifted her head and stared at Lt.
Willow, her cheeks red and swollen. She found herself sitting in an
uncomfortable metallic chair with her ankles chained together by leg
irons. She tried to move her hands but they were handcuffed behind her
back.

A thin smile formed across Lt. Willow’s dry, cracked lips. He
started to gently stroke Jerri’s cheek as he stared in her eyes.

“Welcome back, Jerri” Lt. Willow said as he continued to caress
her cheek. With his other hand he held up a battered plastic FEMA ID
card with her picture on it. “Found this in your back pocket. Looks like
you didn’t forget everything back there in Arizona after all did you?”

Jerri moved her head away from his hand and struggled to stand.
A chain was fastened to the floor and attached to her handcuffs.

The windowless room was crimp and smelled like stale cigarette
smoke. A single steel door was on one side of the featureless room and a
mirror-tinted window took up the expanse of the opposite wall. An empty
wooden chair sat in front of her.

She knew exactly what went down in these kinds of rooms.

“Don’t bother,” Lt. Willow said as he lowered his hand and
stood. He folded his arms across his chest and stared down at her,
studying her. “I apologize for the restraints but I have a few questions I
want to run by you.”

“Fuck you,” Jerri said in a scornful tone.

 

Lt. Willow sighed and shook his head as he paced in front of the
chair in front of her.

 

“That’s about the response I expected,” Lt. Willow casually said.
Jerri looked up at him, frowning but tight-lipped.

“If you don’t have anything else insightful to add, I’ll start.
Judging by your identification you weren’t fabricating the truth; you do
come from Camp 6,” Lt. Willow said as he slid her ID card back inside
his shirt pocket.

Jerri looked away.
Lt. Willow continued to pace.

“Why did they let you ride in that airplane in the first place?” Lt.
Willow asked nonchalantly. “What makes you so special?”

 

Jerri stared at the floor, quiet. The wooden floor was stained by
old blood and the floorboards appeared warped, soggy, and near decay.
Lt. Willow stopped pacing and looked down at her.

“Look. Are you really going to go this route?” Lt. Willow asked.
“After all of the deprivation you witnessed in this pathetic excuse for an
enclave do you honestly think I won’t resort to torture in order to get
what I want to know out of you?”

Lt. Willow sat down on the chair opposite of her and leaned
towards her, narrowing his eyes as he stared into hers.

“Or are you deluded enough to think you can withstand hours…
days… weeks… or even months of torture and then I’d give up and let
you go after exhausting all of my best efforts?” he asked grimly. “No…
You’re smarter than that. You know that this is going to end only one way
for you.”

Jerri remained silent.

 

“How it ends is entirely your choice,” Lt. Willow said as he
placed his hands on his knees and sat up straight.

 

“Just get it over with,” Jerri muttered as she slouched down in
her chair, staring up into Lt. Willow’s cold, calculating gaze.

Lt. Willow smiled.
“Gladly,” he replied. “But first… how did you get on that plane?”

Jerri sighed and shook her head. She heard stories about the
interrogation procedures inside the camps and she knew that they always
ended at the gallows. Why her savior bothered capturing her at all told her
that he wanted to know about more than what he was letting on.
Unfortunately he was holding all of the cards.

“Do you speak English or would you prefer pliers?” Lt. Willow
asked as he interrupted her internal monologue with a smile.

Jerri narrowed her eyes.
“I’d prefer that we cut the bullshit,” Jerri said sternly.
Lt. Willow lost his smile.
“And what bullshit is that exactly?” Lt. Willow asked calmly.

“Just go ahead and ask me what you really want to know,” Jerri
answered. “I know you don’t care about that plane, or how the people
aboard died, or even what my goddamn name is. Just go ahead and ask
me what you want to ask.”

Lt. Willow leaned close and clasped his hands together
underneath his chin.

“You’re direct and I like that, but if you don’t start answering my
questions I’m going to hurt you,” Lt. Willow said flatly. “How did you get
aboard?”

Jerri closed her eyes and sighed.
“I snuck onto the plane,” she said. “I was a stowaway.”

Lt. Willow sat back in his chair and nodded, accepting her
answer.

 

“I see. What gets me is that the men aboard that plane were
wearing military fatigues,” Lt. Willow said.

 

Jerri opened her eyes and stared at him.

“I saw one of their bodies before…” Lt. Willow said as he spun
his hand in the air as if trying to articulate his thoughts, “…before they
were… well, taken away.”

Jerri looked over at the mirrored window and wondered if
anybody was watching them from the other side; it could complicate
things.

“I suppose you can guess my next question,” Lt. Willow said with
a smirk. “What business did the military have in your camp?”
Jerri looked down.

“About a year,” Jerri said. It sounded plausible. “They helped
quell a small uprising.” She stared daggers at the man sitting in front of
her. “Something you failed to do here.”

Lt. Willow kept smiling as if her spiteful words were
inconsequential. He looked at her as if she were a silly child at his mercy.

Jerri looked down at the rotting floorboards. She pulled the chain
attaching her handcuffs to the floor taut and felt the floor groan; it could
be her way out. Trying not to cause too much rattling, she relaxed her
arms and allowed the chain go slack once again.

“Uprisings can be rough. Fortunately it sounds like they handled
things. Tell me more about your stay in Camp 6. You look healthy and
well-fed. How much food would you say that they have there?”

He casually took a small notepad out of his pocket along with a
ballpoint pen, ready to jot down notes.