Regeneration (Mad Swine Book 3) (9 page)

From the corner of my eye, I saw my
brother start to move forward. I reached out a hand toward my
brother, staying him. I was beginning to realize this had the
potential to get serious in a hurry. These folks had obviously been
through an experience that robbed them of their trust of others. I
certainly couldn’t blame them. I saw firsthand with Providence how
survivors could turn on each other.

Right now, I needed to know what
happened to our people, but these men and women weren’t going to
give us answers; they didn’t know who we were. I contemplated
identifying ourselves, but without knowing who they were, and what
they’d done with our people, I didn’t want to risk giving any
information.

For a moment, I stared down at the
man, the friendly look sliding away from my face. Finally, I said,
“Yes, we’re alone. Why don’t you tell me who you are and what you
want.”

The man did not reply, but instead
whistled and twirled his index finger in the air, a signal to his
group, one that I recognized. The other members of his group come
forward now. One of the women and another man held thin rope in
their hands.

Brian and I both watched the pair as
they approached, wary of the rope. Bound, our options for
counterattack or escape would be severely limited.

“You’re not tying me up,” Brian said,
turning around to face them. “I’ll go wherever you’re taking us,
but I won’t be bound.”

“You don’t have a choice,” the man in
charge said and made another signal with his hand. Immediately, two
of the men came forward and tried to take hold of Brian. The first
took a shot to the jaw that knocked him back several steps, while
the second took a boot to the abdomen for his troubles. He doubled
over, trying to suck in air. The young man who patted me down just
moments ago now raised his gun, pointing it at my brother’s
chest.

Unimpressed by the brandishing of the
weapon, Brian started to walk toward him.

“
Stop there or I
will
shoot,” the
young man said. “I swear I will, please don’t make me.”

Meanwhile, several of the other men
who had kept their distance to keep us covered with rifles now
surged forward and grabbed my brother. He struggled with them,
striking them with elbows and knees, even head butting the woman
when she got too close.

“Get a hold of him!” the man in
charged shouted.

Everything happened so quickly, it
took me a few seconds to react. I finally moved my ass to
intervene. I pulled one of the men away, shoving him to the ground,
making room for me in the tangled mass. I grabbed my brother in a
bear hug and put my lips close to his ear so he could hear me.

“
Just let this happen. Let them
take us
inside
. You understand?”

He continued to struggle for a
moment, then finally subsided. He nodded his head; he would comply.
I felt his body go limp and he stopped struggling. Raising my hands
above my head, showing my intention to submit, I shouted, “Okay,
we’ll cooperate. Everybody just calm down. We’ll cooperate.”

We were both shoved roughly up
against the trailer again. I couldn’t see who was behind me, but
both of my arms were pulled up and my wrists were roughly bound. My
arms immediately began to ache and my wrists burned.

The man who seemed to be the leader
spun me around so that we were face to face. “I don’t call this
cooperation,” he said, pointing to his right cheek where a small
welt already arose and blood trickled down from a small open
wound.

“My bad,” Brian said. “That’s on
me.”

The woman who Brian head butted spit
in his face. “This asshole broke my nose,” she said.

“That’s my bad, too,” Brian said.

The woman grabbed a handful of
Brian’s jacket and cocked a fist, but she paused before throwing
the punch.

“Donna, that’s enough!” the man in
charge said. To me he said, “Anymore of that type of cooperation
won’t be tolerated. Right now we are being nice, but we can also be
not so nice. You dig?”

I nodded my head. “We dig. What about
our horses?”

He looked at them for a moment, then
turned to the young kid. “You and John get those horses detached
and bring them inside. Do it quickly before the dead things show
up, got it?”

“I got it, Randy,” the kid said.

“And get whatever gear they have and
bring it,” Randy said. To me he asked, “Satisfied?”

“Yes, thank you,” I said.

“
That
is cooperation,” Randy said.

They led us to one of the containers
that blocked the right side of the road. It was one of those ship
cargo containers and it faced perpendicular to the others so that
its doors on either end were accessible from either side of the
road. We exited the container and came face to face with the front
gates of Randall Oaks. We were home.

But home was very different than we
last remembered; the gates which had been damaged by Providence
during the war are now completely ruined. The northeast corner of
the wall that surrounded and protected the community caved in and
one of the green containers now blocked the gap in the wall, the
loose bricks of the old wall lay in jumbled piles against the metal
container.

The fields to the north from which
Providence rained hell on them with snipers flanked by makeshift
walls made from pieces of old chain link fence, corrugated metal,
wood and other materials to create the barriers. As we looked upon
this changed landscape, I couldn’t help but think I’d truly stepped
into the apocalyptic landscape of a Mad Max movie.

For the first time since we saw the
barriers and were ambushed by these strangers, my heart lept into
my throat as slick coils of fear gripped me. I feared what happened
here and what had become of our friends we’d left behind. Had they
been taken, held captive by this group? Were they even alive?

We entered Randall Oaks, bound by
thin coils of paracord. My arms continued to ache and my wrists
felt chaffed. I couldn’t help but look toward Harper’s Knoll, the
place where we’d buried our dead family and friends. There are more
graves than I remembered. My eyes then followed the sloping
landscape to my house on the hill, overlooking the knoll. From this
distance, it looked empty and abandoned. The spiky stems of the
rose bushes beneath where my wife was buried brought a flood of
emotions I struggled to bury.

A white panel truck with a bakery
logo emblazoned on its side dissected the interior road that lead
into the community. On the flanks of the truck were two of the
upended cargo containers, serving as guard or observation towers.
These twenty-foot containers extended twice as high as the
community walls, providing good sight lines outside the confines.
Two women wearing parkas, with thick scarves protecting their necks
from the wind, stood perched upon each tower respectively, armed
with rifles.

The man in front signaled to one of
the women and she nodded her head. I saw relief on the face of the
woman closest to us. I was reminded of Lara, and how that same look
would spread across her face whenever I returned from a patrol. I
couldn’t help but wonder if these two were together, a couple.

Instead of being led further into the
community, to our command post or one of the other homes as I
expected, we were taken to a trailer on the east lawn. A set of
wooden steps led into the trailer. Inside stood a wood table and a
few chairs of the IKEA variety. The roof of the trailer was cut
with a torch and the metal removed. It was replaced with some sort
of plastic or plexi that allowed natural light inside, but keep
them dry from rain and snow.

Brian and I were seated in two of the
three chairs while Randy whispered into the ear of one of his men
who nodded and left to complete his orders. Now left alone with us,
he moved to the door of the trailer creating distance between
himself and us. His gun, although not pointed directly at us, could
be at the ready in a moment’s notice if we decided to rush him.
With our hands still bound, that was unlikely.

Finally, I had a moment to exchange
looks with my brother. I could tell anger smoldered dangerously
below the surface of his cool exterior. I winked at my older
brother letting him know we were going to be fine. We were going to
find out what happened here, and we were going to get our people
and be back on the farm before nightfall.

The problem was, I didn’t believe any
of that and my brother could see right through me.

We waited in silence for whatever
would come next. More than likely an interrogation, perhaps some
mild torture, depending on what kind of people they were. I looked
around, taking in my surroundings, looking for weakness or anything
I could use to my advantage. But the place was barren save for the
table and chairs.

On one of the white walls was a
hand-drawn map, probably done with Sharpie markers. The map was
about six feet high by ten feet wide, a well-done representation of
Randall Oaks, Providence, and the main Route 20 corridor, including
the thin arteries of smaller interior roads. The map boundaries,
drawn in black, was dotted with small X marks circled in red. Many
of the other details were not as clear from where I sat. Something
about the map did not bode well.

I used my knee to nudge my brother’s
leg. When he looked at me, I nodded my head in the direction of the
map. Randy left his post at the door and came forward, placing his
body in front of the map. He and Brian locked eyes as if in a
staring competition, a show of bravado from two men who are so much
alike but fail to see the similarities in each other.

Just when I thought I could not stand
the bravado any longer, the door opened and a man and woman entered
the room. I immediately recognized the man and a pit dropped in my
stomach and my spit turned into acid. Phil stood before us, the
third in command at Providence, at least he was before the fighting
when both sides took heavy casualties. Now, he was the man in
charge.

Shocked, our worst fears realized, we
both stood from our chairs. Brian said, “You son of a bitch,” and
started forward toward Phil before Randy stepped in front and
shoved him backward where he landed in the chair, but could not
keep his balance and toppled over.

Head down, I charged Randy. With my
hands tied behind my back, I dipped my shoulder and rammed the
bastard in the stomach, pushing him back where he slammed against
the wall of the container. Using all of my weight and my low center
of gravity, I tried to pin him against the wall. However, his hands
were free and before I could reposition myself to use my knees to
assault his groin, I felt the butt of his rifle against one of my
kidneys. The pain was immediate and I fell to my one knee.

Behind, Phil called out, “Stop!”

With some effort, I got my feet under
me and stood to face Randy. Now it was my turn at staring him down.
Instead of playing the game, Randy slid around me, his hands now
raised in a passive manner. I turned to watch him and from the
corner of my eye I saw the woman approach.

Suddenly, my knees felt week as a
rush of relief overwhelmed me. “Sam! Thank God.”

She embraced me tightly, almost
knocking me off my feet. “I knew you would come,” Sam said,
planting kisses on my cheeks and hugging my neck.

“I’d hug you back if I could,” I
said. As hard as she was squeezing my neck I was surprised I could
still talk.

Realizing that my hands were bound
behind me, Sam turned to Randy and ordered him to cut the ropes. He
looked to Phil for permission but Sam said, “You don’t need his
permission, cut the damn ropes right now!”

After a brief moment of hesitation,
Randy slung his rifle over his shoulder and came forward. When he
cut the ropes, freeing my hands, I used the opportunity to pull Sam
into a bear hug and kiss her cheeks. “I’m so happy to see you.”

“Excuse me,” Brian said. We both
turned to him now. He managed to push himself up from the floor and
now stood leaning back against the trailer wall. “Can I get in on
some of this?”

Now Sam lept at him, smothering him
in both hugs and kisses. This time, Randy came forward and removed
Brian’s bonds without being ordered.

“Thank you, Randy,” Sam said. “Can
you please find Kat and bring her here? But don’t you dare tell her
who is here. I want it to be a surprise.”

“I can’t believe—” I started.

“You are really—” Sam started.

“—you’re here—”

“—here in front—”

“—I thought we lost you,” I
finished.

“—of me, I don’t believe it,” she
said and we both started laughing. We were both so excited we were
talking over each other.

“What is going on, Sam?” Brian tried
to ask while he could finally get a word in.

“I’ll tell you in a minute,” Sam
said. “But right now I just want to hug my favorite brothers.”

She put one arm around my waist, and
one around Brian’s. Even he couldn’t resist breaking down a moment.
He finally committed and wrapped his arms around me and Sam. For a
moment, we were just a tangle of crying, happy people.

* * *

After a few minutes of getting
reacquainted, Sam told us about how she, Kat, Ravi and the others
had a rough time during the winter. Things had gotten very bad for
them. Food supplies went quicker than expected. Even with the solar
panels, keeping the place warm enough throughout the day required
them to have fires. Paul and Ravi had moved into the Command Post
because it became too difficult to keep two places going.

During their darkest hour, though, a
miracle. They survived the winter by joining forces with the enemy,
with those who remained from Providence. The former leadership was
gone, most dead from the war between our two communities. Phil was
in charge now and he extended an olive branch and made an offer
that Sam and Kat could not refuse.