The Relict (Book 1): Drawing Blood (3 page)

Chapter Five

Matt woke up in the back of a military transport truck: not alone, but surrounded by at least two dozen men and women.

None of them was Jay.

His whole body ached. When he tried to sit up, a whole new level of pain kicked in and he shut his eyes.

When he opened them again, a short, pudgy, balding, middle-aged man was in his face.

“I thought you might sleep through the entire trip.”

Matt tried to look away, but the pudgy, balding man simply took a few steps to his left and was right back in his grill.

“My name is Michael Leahy. You can call me ‘Bunny.’ That’s what everyone called me at the law firm. At least they used to.”

The last thing Matt wanted to do was “bond” with anyone. Certainly there was no advantage to investing in someone that looked like he would die in the first few hours of captivity.

And his military experience taught him to be wary of anyone who made a dramatic overture to become friends. There was always the chance that he was a plant from the other side.

Matt grabbed ahold of the safety net lining the walls of the truck and this time he was able to pull himself up so that he was standing.

“I know what you must be thinking, but trust me, ‘Bunny’ was a term of affection, nothing more.”

Matt just stared at him, hoping his fixed gaze would back the man off. It didn’t work. Bunny just kept talking.

“I know you’re still trying to get your feet planted, but I wanted to be the first to speak to you, perhaps influence the way you’ll be thinking once you start thinking clearly.”

Once again Matt attempted to look past the lawyer. It was the only way to get some clues as to what happened after he and Jay were ambushed in the woods.

“I had the brilliant idea of you becoming our team leader. Think about it. If you decide to go for it, you can count on me seconding the motion. Two reasons I believe this is the right move – number one, look around... do you see any other candidates? Number two, I figure with all those dog tags hanging around your neck, you’re the one with the most experience.”

The dog tags around his neck were from all of the men and women who had died under his watch as an Army Ranger serving in Iraq and Afghanistan. There was a translator in Kabul who nicknamed Matt “the rapper” because of all the chains of metal hanging around his neck.

When Matt heard Bunny say, “dog tags,” it prompted him to look down. Instantly he spotted the new addition to his collection. He read the name…
Jay Granville
.

Jay was dead.

The mystery of how his dog tags were now around Matt’s neck is what prevented him from simply starting to cry. And his concern that Jay was really dead.

Less than a month ago the two of them were in Herndon, Virginia, walking through the burned-out wreckage of the control center of the private security firm which employed them as contracted “mercs.”

Strewn all around the facility were at least fifty dead employees. Some look liked they had put up a fight, but others had self-inflicted bullet holes in their head.

“Heads up,” Jay shouted to Matt before tossing him something.

It was a bullet.

“That’s the one I want you to use on me. I’d tell you to do it right now, but I still believe we can beat these motherfuckers. But if the time comes, I do want you to do it. I’ll feel better and you’ll feel better that I’m dead…
dead
.”

He was still staring at Jay’s dog tags when Bunny spoke again.

“As our team leader candidate, I was hoping you could answer a question,” said the chunky, hairless, weak-chinned lawyer. “Where do you think they’re taking us?”

Matt needed to re-grip the netting behind him, because if he didn’t, in his anger and his still shaky physical state, he would fall over once he attempted to grab Bunny by his throat.

“You need to get the fuck away from me, right now.”

Bunny stumbled back, looked around to see if the others in the truck had heard what Matt had said to him, then made his way over to a corner, where he used the netting to lower himself to the floor of the truck.

The devastation of discovering Jay had died at least cleared the cobwebs in his brain. And though he was tempted to wallow in his misery, he forced himself to take a deep breath and begin thinking about the future.

Matt’s eyes slowly scanned the other occupants in the truck.

There were mostly blank stares and wan faces.

Except for three females, everyone else in the cargo hold was male. The men varied in age from sixteen to senior citizens. Matt picked up enough to deduce that they came from different backgrounds, at least professionally. Executives were sitting next to construction workers. Dress shirts and slacks were side by side with T-shirts and jeans.

Matt’s eyes stopped on what looked like brothers, either twins or barely a year apart. The brothers were zoning out with a single portable music player that they were sharing with two pairs of attached headphones.

He did notice that one of the females, an attractive blonde, was whispering back and forth with the men who sat on either side of her. Matt wondered if perhaps they had some plan up their sleeve.

There was the sound of screeching brakes as the truck began slowing down. In the cargo area, everyone fell into each other.

After the truck came to a complete stop, those that had been sitting used the netting to get to their feet.

Matt listened for any noises or voices coming from the outside. He was hoping to pick up on anything that might give him a clue as to what lay beyond the back of the truck.

The engine shut off.

There was the noise of footsteps running alongside the vehicle.

The military transport’s back gate was unlocked, then lowered.

The canvas tarp was raised, and then thrown over the roof.

“Let’s go, everyone. Double time. File out!”

The light from the setting sun caused them all to squint, but almost everyone in the cargo hold moved to comply with the order shouted out to them.

As it turned out, Matt and Bunny were the two last ones on the truck.

Before they exited, Matt grabbed ahold of Bunny’s arm to get his attention.

“You can’t talk your way out of this. So shut your mouth… or believe me, you’re going to end up dead.” The lawyer nodded his head as if he understood.

Chapter Six

Even as he was hopping off the truck, Matt was focused on taking in his new environment. He was surprised to discover that he knew exactly where they were.

The truck had parked inside the main gate of an old Army training facility near his parents’ farm just outside of Morristown. The place had been closed down even before he was born. He and his brother would sometimes go with their friends and mess around in some of the old buildings.

On the other side of the security checkpoint was a five-acre, fenced compound comprising a dozen 1940-era, one-story buildings. It was obvious that all the buildings had gone through a recent renovation and then splashed with a new coat of paint.

“Okay, juice boxes, immediately form a single-file line...”

The shouted order came from one of the compound guards. There were at least a dozen of them supervising their arrival. None of them looked like vampires; all were outfitted in black jumpsuits and were wielding black riot batons.

It was only after Matt stepped off the truck that he was able to see what appeared to be the only new construction in the compound – a six-story-high building, completely painted in black. It loomed over the rest of the camp like a dark specter.

As Matt moved into the line, he spotted more than a hundred male and female prisoners watching on the other side of the security-checkpoint fence.

“Last chance, juice boxes: form a line now!”

Almost all of the prisoners had originally done what they were told, but there were stragglers, even a few who felt uneasy about the situation and appeared to be making a stand.

Matt felt a whoosh of air behind him, followed by the unmistakable sound of something solid impacting human flesh. He turned to see one of his fellow prisoners had collapsed to the ground.

Standing over him was a bear of a man holding one of the riot batons. He allowed the squeal of pain coming from the prisoner to get everyone’s attention before he addressed the prisoners.

“Welcome to the Coa Concentration Camp. I'm the Superintendent of Security, Ronald Spector. You won’t have any trouble remembering my name because everyone remembers the name of a hero.”

Spector smiled broadly as he started walking up the line of prisoners.

“Yeah, I admit I may not look like one, but believe me, I’m your hero…”

He was barrel-chested, but beyond that, Matt couldn’t tell if his loose-fitting, black jumpsuit hid muscle or fat. Hearing the groans of the guy behind him did not encourage him to clarify the issue by looking directly at Spector as he walked by.

“Here’s why I’m your hero – because I’m the last of the living who stands between you and…,” Spector pointed his baton to the black tower, “… them.”

“Growing up, my father gave me two pieces of advice. Number one – Live your life with a goal. Number two – Do whatever it takes to achieve that goal. For most of my life I ignored my father's advice, until recent worldwide events forced me to reevaluate his wise words.”

Spector walked past Bunny, and the lawyer couldn’t believe his luck – he recognized the head of security as one of his old clients. In fact, before the takeover he had kept his ass out of jail!

“Right now my goal is to stay alive. And I will do whatever it takes... to achieve my goal.”

The head of the CCC facility had arrived right back where he had begun, standing over the prisoner he had assaulted with his baton in the gut.

Spector delivered a jackbooted kick to the prisoner’s ribs. He then turned to finish his address above the moans of pain from the prisoner.

“During your stay with us, your goal is to provide services. Providing services is the only reason all of you are still alive. If you fail to provide services, you will not be achieving your goal. And when you fail to achieve your goal, you will be threatening my goal as well. Let me remind you of my earlier statement – I will do whatever it takes to achieve my goal.”

This time Spector used his black baton to strike the back of the whimpering prisoner lying at his feet.

One of the other prisoners could not stand to hear the screams of pain any longer and made a move to help him.

All it took was for Spector to glare in her direction. Whatever altruistic urge the female prisoner had was squelched and she fell back into line.

“The problem with my father was that he was a… windbag,” said Spector to the prisoners. “It was one of the many reasons we never got along. I heard the same two pieces of advice over and over again. The good news is none of you will have a similar problem. Everything I've just now said I will not… ever… repeat again.”

Matt’s gaze landed on Bunny ahead of him in line. The lawyer had a confident gleam in his eyes, as if he had just found out that he had the honor of arguing in front of the Supreme Court.

“So, let me be your hero. Follow my directions without any questions. Follow the directions of those who work with me. Let us all help you accomplish your goal.”

Spector motioned to one of the compound guards.

“Okay, juice boxes, you heard the chief, proceed forward until we give you the word!”

The line surged forward toward the main camp compound.

Bunny waited until Spector was walking right beside him.

“Ron... Ron... it's me, Bunny.”

At first Spector didn’t seem to hear Bunny.

“Ron… over here… it’s me…”

Spector finally responded, but he spoke under his breath. “Just keep it moving, juice box.”

Bunny heard the words, but completely missed the subtext.

“C'mon, Ron, you gotta remember... three years ago you had that second DUI and I was able to make it go away with you just doing community service...”

Spector interrupted the lawyer with a baton blow to Bunny’s back, which immediately put him down on the ground.

“I know exactly who you are, Michael Leahy, Esquire, but maybe you haven’t been paying attention to who I’ve become...”

A voice inside Matt’s head screamed for him to simply do as the other prisoners were doing ahead of him: simply walk around Bunny as if he was a pothole in the middle of the road.

But he reached down and grabbed one of Bunny’s arms.

Matt glanced over to see how Spector was going to react and was surprised to see the head of security had already moved on.

His recovery took more than a few steps, but Bunny eventually started to walk on his own as they both approached a grey building.

“Thanks for the help…”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut the fuck up? Next time I’ll let you drown in your own vomit…”

The words were loud enough, and alarming enough, that two of the other prisoners marching nearby stepped in to relieve Matt of his burden.

He regretted his words the moment they left his mouth.

And what caused Matt the most shame were the faces of the prisoners who took over helping Bunny. They both looked at him with the same fear in their eyes that just seconds ago had been directed toward Spector.