Chapter 9: Holly
NOTHING MONUMENTAL happened when they reached shore. Holly wasn’t sure what she expected, but she had been braced for capture the second they landed. Then, nothing. It had been four days wandering around on dry land, and still nothing. They had not come across a single other soul. The team was getting bored and frustrated. There were signs of where these others had been, but not where they currently were. Holly and the rest of Branson’s team had formed a truce, solid ground to work with. Along with Branson, Jax, and Lucky, she had gotten to know the rest of the unit: Oliver, Willie, Zach, Dean and Styler, who fancied himself quite the ladies’ man as she tried not to let his inappropriate advances get to her.
Since the challenge on the boat, no one dared cross her again. Her tracking, hunting, and foraging skills had proven far superior to their own and they were grateful to eat something other than the MRE’s provided on the ship.
The first night they set up camp, Holly had been surprised when they grabbed their nasty food bars and started eating. There were rabbit tracks all over; she quickly made a few traps and within minutes snared two large rabbits. She could easily tell no one had been hunting in the area, so wildlife was plentiful.
Branson had fussed when she started a fire to cook her catch, but she quickly reminded them that they needed to be found if they were to get to Gunny. He conceded and there had not been a complaint again since the moment they all smelled the mouthwatering succulence of fresh cooked meat.
This group proved to be quite different than Holly’s Squad. She knew that was to be expected. But she had trackers and hunters and cooks, and everyone pitched in to help in all areas. They had a sharp shooter and a bunch of security guards, best she could tell. It felt to her like she was doing everything, and they were just sitting back and enjoying the vacation from ship life.
By the fourth day, she was getting a little fed up with the lot of them. She had woken early with another upset stomach. After emptying the contents of her dinner the previous night, she made her way down to the water and washed up. Feeling cruddy first thing in the morning was an awful way to start the day, and a feeling of doom immediately washed over her.
“Get down!” Jesse said in an urgent whisper.
Lucky and Jax where armed and at the ready, sweeping the area.
“Darkie to your 3 o’clock,” Lucky said to Jax.
“‘Darkie’?” Holly asked.
“Stay down,” Jax said, ignoring her question.
“‘Darkie’?” she asked Jesse, her constant shadow.
He pointed in the direction the others were headed, and she squinted to see against the rising son as an African American man made a rush towards them to no avail. They must have radioed in to the rest of the unit, because Dean and Oliver, two more of their unit, circled around behind and captured the man. They had him on his knees with a gun pointed at his head when Holly reached them. She was furious.
“‘Darkie’?” she yelled, pointing to the man on the ground. He was old and his skin weathered, but he had crinkly lines around his eyes that looked like laugh lines. There was something so intriguing and unique about his face. It was warm and welcoming, and she could not stomach the disrespect these men were showing him, prisoner or not. “You seriously called him a darkie? What is wrong with you? Do you know how degrading that it is? He’s an African American.”
“Are you done, yet?” Branson asked sounding impatient with her outburst. “Look around then, Princess, there is no American anything.”
The captive spit at his feet and Willie slammed the butt of his rifle into the back of his head. The man tumbled forward and Willie stepped on the guy’s back to hold him to the ground.
“That ain’t too nice to spit, darkie.”
Holly grit her teeth. “Back off him, Willie, right now. Show a little respect. And stop calling him darkie!”
She had heard about the race battles during the war. She knew it had turned into a color war for a while, but she hadn’t been raised that way. The Sawyers were family to her, and she would hurt anyone who dared call them such an awful and degrading name.
“You don’t want to refer to him as an African American, fine. Call him a black, a brother, or ethnic, or how about just a man?”
“I don’t give a shit what you call him, Princess, just back off and let us do our job.” He leaned down and grabbed the man by the face. “Now look at me dar …”—he hesitated, looked at the scowl on Holly’s face and sighed, “man. Are you with Gunny’s group?” The man’s eyes gave him away. “Ah yeah, we got us one of Gunny’s men right here, don’t we now, boy?”
The man on the ground said nothing. He stared straight ahead and tried not to make eye contact.
“What’s a matter? Cat got your tongue, dar …” Branson cleared his throat and nodded to a defiant Holly, ready to take them all on over semantics of what to call a man of color. “Sorry, Holly,” Willie said, genuinely.
They tied the stranger up and dragged him to camp.
“Holly, I could use some help fishing this morning,” Oliver said. She found him to be the nicest of all the unit.
“You know I can’t fish, Oliver.” It was true. Holly had excelled in all areas of survival, except fishing. She hated even trying. It seemed pointless to her.
“Come on, I’ll teach you.”
She knew they were trying to lure her away to interrogate the man, but she went anyway. Patience wasn’t her virtue either, probably ranked just below fishing on the ‘What Holly Sucks At’ list, but she knew she had to give a little as she started formulating a plan. If this man was truly one of John “Gunny” Jackson’s men, then she needed to befriend him and get him to take her to his leader. She’d read the reports and understood the level of loyalty his men showed. Interrogating him would result in nothing but frustration.
Holly left them and followed Oliver down to the river.
“They’re going to try and torture it out of him, aren’t they?”
He just shrugged. “We have to get the location of General Jackson, Holly, by any means necessary.”
“I was brought out here for a reason, you know? This isn’t how I operate. You guys aren’t really going to give me a chance to even try, though, are you?”
Oliver looked at her sadly. “You’re the Major’s girl. Anything happens to you, he’ll have our heads for it. All of us.”
“I’m not Griffon’s anything,” she said obstinately.
He shrugged again, “I don’t know much about much, but I know that man went to a hell of a lot of trouble to get you out here.”
It irritated her more than ever that the others thought there could possibly be anything between her and Griffon Maynor. He killed her husband. Jared was gone and she wasn’t even given the time to grieve him. She would never forgive Griffon for his part in it. Never.
“Here, let me teach you the trick of fishing,” Oliver said, trying to change the subject.
She snorted, “Good luck. It’s not like plenty of others haven’t tried. I just don’t have the patience for it.”
“No, that’s not it. I see the scheming in your eyes, Red. I know you’re going to try and cut that dar … that man up there free, first chance you get. And I suspect you have all the patience in the world waiting for just that one opportune moment.”
“You gonna try and stop me?”
“You’re not going to deny it?”
She stared at him. “Don’t see the point.”
“Humor me here.” He produced a handful of fat, juicy worms and showed her how to skew one onto the hook. “Trick is to leave enough of him to wiggle. That hook won’t kill him right away.”
“Ew,” she said. “That’s downright barbaric.”
He laughed. “You’ve killed rabbits every night for our dinner, and this is barbaric to you?”
“I’m not opposed to killing for purpose, but you are essentially torturing that poor worm. For what?”
“For the greater good. The fish like them fresh. He suffers so we live.”
A scream broke through the air, coming from the campsite, and Holly knew Oliver had been trying to portray more than just a lesson in fishing. She didn’t and couldn’t believe it. That moment resolved her intentions to free the man and convince him to take her back to his camp, and hopefully back to General John “Gunny” Jackson.
When they returned with eight large fish, all of which Oliver had caught, the unit was ecstatic and happy not to be eating rabbit again.
“You keep making fun of my rabbits. Any of you bother to taste another bite of those nasty food bars? You’ll be wishing for my rabbits once back on the ship.”
Branson looked over at the man whose arms and side were coated in blood and whose left eye was significantly swollen, then back to Holly. “Want to try and not give away our location and details to the enemy, Princess?”
Holly laughed, “If this guy is truly one of Gunny’s men, as you suspect he is, and Gunny is truly as resourceful as you make him out to be, then there is no way he doesn’t already know exactly who you are, where you are staying, and your exact location.”
The captive made brief eye contact with her, and curiosity flared in his eyes. She smiled at him, and it seemed to throw him off-guard. Then she watched his defenses go back up.
“So, what’s the plan here, anyway?” she asked, trying to change the subject.
“We get him to talk, tell us where Gunny’s holed up, and we go there,” Zach said as if it were truly that simple.
Holly got up and walked over to the dark-skinned man. She looked deep into his eyes, while he tried not to squirm under her scrutiny. She lifted his chin and examined his facial injuries as he flinched away from her touch.
“He’s never going to give you that information.” She told them matter-of-factly. Holly got up and went to her pack. She ripped off a piece of a dirty shirt and walked back to the water, soaking the strips in the salty water, before returning to the prisoner. She gently wiped the dried blood that had trickled down his cheek from a cut just above his left eye. Careful not to get it in his eye. She used two other strips to carefully clean and wrap the broken skin on his arm, and what looked like a knife puncture on his leg just missing his femoral artery.
“You really shouldn’t bother wasting your time with that thing,” Branson assured her.
“That thing? That thing? That thing is a person, Branson. A person with feelings and probably a family. People who care about him. Maybe being in the armed militia has made you forget such things, but out here in the real world, they still very much exist.”
He laughed at her and several of the others joined him. “Little girl, you have no idea what it’s like out here in the real world. We know all about you, little princess. About how you were raised in a shelter. Didn’t even know the war had happened. You’re as naive as they come. I didn’t even think people like you even existed anymore.”
His words were meant to be harsh, but she didn’t take them to heart. She knew this world. She still saw the good in people. The things the AMAN fought to destroy. She knew it was still alive and well, and she knew that that was the real reason Griffon had sent her out there. Her job wasn’t to make peace and get intel from these people. Her job was a much more sinister one. He wanted to use her to get close them, so they could torture and torment the info from them. It all seemed so clear to her suddenly, and she would die before letting it happen.
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