CHAPTER TWENTY
Jackson
“I had my doubts at first, Martell. You came highly recommended, though, and I have to say I’m quite pleased.”
I pull in a deep breath. “Thank you, sir.”
“That diary you found led us to fifteen cannibal settlements. That’s four hundred thirty-eight confirmed kills.”
Amelia all but drew them a map. We should have gotten more.
“What about the, um, others, sir? The ones that aren’t cannibals.”
“The author can’t really know that.”
“The author left a ton of notes on how to figure out which ones are the taints and which ones aren’t.”
He cocks his head. “Look, Sergeant, we’re not completely stupid. Believe it or not, we have noted that some scraps are well fed where others scurry around like rats. The diary just confirms our observations. Well documented, by the way. Almost like instructions.”
“Well, I know if it was me, I’d document everything. Not just to get it out of my head, but to organize my thoughts.”
He nods. “I suppose you’re right.”
“We’ve been concentrating, as you said, on the cannibal encampments. What happens if we come across the untainted?” Amelia’s made me soft, but I have to admit killing some kid’s dad makes my stomach turn.
“That’s another reason I called you here. The counsel was very interested in your diary, Sergeant. It’s been the topic of some heated discussion over the last weeks.”
He looks at me like I’m supposed to say something. “Oh yeah?”
“For reasons I can’t go into now, we can’t afford to let even the untainted go free. It didn’t matter before if they were cannibals or not; we needed the city swept clean. The same is true for Atlanta, but things are escalating in the territories faster than we thought they would, and the Arc wants to speed up the reclamation.”
“Escalating, sir?”
“That’s all you need to know, Sargent.”
“Yes, sir.” Interesting. What has the Arc changing its long-range vision? This business of not letting anyone who survived Charlotte or Atlanta go free… troubling. Amelia might be onto something.
“Your crew’s new instructions are to capture any suspected non-cannibal survivors and bring them in. We’ll isolate them in an internment camp for now. After we put them all through a screening process, we’ll farm them out on work detail clearing and repairing rail lines. Using the scraps will allow the Arc to move its schedule forward as much as two years.”
Internment camp sounds like concentration camp. It leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Who are these people? “That’s interesting news, sir. What happens when the work is done?”
“I don’t think the work will be completed in my lifetime or in yours, Sergeant. Initially we’re focusing our attention on the areas between Jacksonville, Nashville, Roanoke, and all down the eastern seaboard. We also need laborers to clean up the debris in Charlotte and Atlanta. We had planned to use citizens from the territories for this, but they’re still civilized. We can keep much of the infrastructure in place if we keep the citizens where they are. The new plan is to separate out the scraps and use them for the hard labor.”
“I see.” Well, at least I don’t have to shoot them anymore.
“They’re wild, Sergeant. They’re no longer fit to mix with the general population, but they’re no threat to us if we keep them isolated from everyone else. We’ll give them food, provide them with jobs, and let them live out their life spans. I thought I’d let you know that since you seem very interested in the plight of the survivors.”
“Thank you, sir. I don’t like killing innocent people.”
“A conscience is not a good thing for man in your position.”
“With all due respect, sir, a conscience is a sign of a civilized man. Without it we’re just barbarians.”
“I see.” He presses his lips together and notes something in his folder.
Shit. “With respect, sir.”
“Yes, yes. Of course.”
I’ve got a pain in the back of my head, and it’s about to eat through my eyes. “Will that be all, Commander?”
The commander ignores me. After jotting down some more notes, he flips that file closed and shifts another in front of him.
“That place where you found the diary. There were bodies there,” he says after scanning the first page.
“Yes, sir. A man and a woman.”
“Why didn’t you report this?”
“We see a lot of bodies, sir. It hasn’t warmed above freezing in years.” It’s actually a mystery to me why the cannibals haven’t gone after the dead. It’s not like the meat would have spoiled.
The commander rests his forearms on the desk and peers up at me. “You didn’t tell us about the letters.”
“It’s just some girl grieving over her dead mother. I saw nothing in them that could be of use to us. Quite frankly, just touching them, I felt like I was desecrating a grave.”
“You’re crossing a line, Sergeant. You’re a soldier. You’re not supposed to think.”
“I am a soldier and a man. I apologize if I neglected anything important.” Let’s you and I take an IQ test and see who’s smarter.
“Well, Sergeant, since you’re such a thinker, who do you think this girl is?”
"I didn’t see any names, sir.” ALW. It was on her last letter. I never did ask her what the LW was for. I’ve been balls-deep in the girl for months, and I don’t even know her last name.
“Any idea where she might be?”
“There's no name in the diaries either, sir. The last letter said she was leaving Charlotte.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
I tense. “What’s that, sir?”
He flips that folder closed and slides it under the first one. “You’re off sniper duty, Sergeant. From now on, I’m assigning you to find and bring me this girl.”
Fuck! “Find the girl?”
“Let’s just say she’s of interest.”
“Why this girl? Couldn’t anyone—”
“Just follow orders, Sergeant.”
This isn’t a bark; it’s a bite. I recalculate. “Any suggestions where I should start, sir?”
“Just a thought, Sergeant, but what about that neighborhood where you found the grave?”
I grit my teeth as heat flushes through my body. You can’t punch your commanding officer. You can’t even look like you want to.
“We want this girl, Martell. You get her for us, and I can all but promise you that promotion. Second lieutenant. Think about it.”
I suck in a breath. Second lieutenant. “Yes, sir.”
“That will be all, Sergeant.”
I stride out of the administrative building and head for the NCO lounge. I’ll need to give my men their new orders. Then what? Son of a bitch. I can have everything I want. All I have to do is turn over Amelia. It’s been long enough, right? Almost three months. Hell, that’s a record for me. She’s a cooperative little thing, and I like the way she depends on me. She’s an absolute whore in the bedroom, but I can’t afford to get sentimental.
Really, there’s no other way, and it’s not like they’re going to kill her. They’re putting the survivors to work. Not an ideal situation, but it has to be better than living off rats in the basement of a church. I’m doing her a favor.
So why do I have this pain in the back of my throat?
Every night when I get home, Amelia greets me at the door like a goddamn dog. She throws her arms around me and bends her knees, and it’s my job to swing her around until we’re both dizzy. I swallow and choke on my own spit.
Internment camp. Segregation. I almost picture the scraps as Jews enslaved by Nazis. I’m sure it won’t be like that, though. They just need laborers. They’ve always been decent to me, and I’m just some grunt.
Shit. I can’t think this way. I never meant for this to be permanent. She knows that. I’ll have a last night with her, and then I’ll turn her over. One last night. I’m a sick fuck; she’s better off with them than she is held captive as my own personal sex slave.
I spend the day with Holub and another guy, Corporal Bruce, supposedly looking for the mysterious writer of the diaries. By the time I get home, I’m practically sick. It’s our last night. How can I tell her that?
I walk through the door and spot Amelia on the couch. She’s naked, her legs are spread, and she’s masturbating. It’s raw as fuck.
“Jesus Christ.”
“I couldn’t wait,” she pants.
I shove the rifle in the corner and fling my helmet aside. My clothes are already halfway off by the time I get to her. Now that she’s used to sex, she’s become even more sensitive. I’ve had to get pretty creative, figuring out ways to make her come enough times to leave her satisfied. I swear she’s getting worse. Not that I’m complaining, of course. Tonight she gets me to stop just before I come, like four times. When I finally blow my load, her cunt milks my dick like a machine. Mind-blowing, and by the time we’re done, I’m literally exhausted. Cooking is beyond me, so Amelia slinks off to the kitchen and returns with a bowl of strawberries.
She presses her hand lightly to my chest. “Lie back.”
I couldn’t get it up right now if there were a thousand Amelias, but my heart flutters. I settle myself back against the arm of the couch, cushioning my head with my forearm.
She selects a small strawberry from the bowl and holds it up to my lips.
“Are you feeding me?”
“Yes.” She dimples.
I take a bite and find it sweet and juicy, just like her.
“When you were in college, what kind of classes did you take?” She dangles another strawberry over my lips.
I reach up and grab it with my teeth, and she presses her lips to mine.
“I was a freshman so most of it was the required stuff. A couple biology classes, calculus, statistics, English, psychology.”
“Psychology. Now that sounds interesting.”
“It was, actually. I—”
We both jump as a sharp knock sounds at my door.
She turns wide eyes to me. Shit.
“Go hide in the closet,” I whisper, struggling to put on my sweats. “Don’t come out until I say it’s ok.”
She’s just closed the closet door when the second knock sounds. I open it to find my upstairs neighbor, a thirty-something blond guy who can’t be more than five-ten. I’ve seen him before, but we’ve never spoken.
“S’up?” I ask.
He shoots a glance over his shoulder and shakes his head. “Look, man, I know you been banging a chick in there. Just thought you should know, I think they’re onto you. They’re coming for her.”
My breath stops, and the muscles in my legs tense.
“Right. Thanks, man. Now get out before they catch you here.”
“Good luck, bro.” He nods once and ambles off with all the confidence of a man who still has a future.
I clap the door closed as vomit kicks the back of my throat. They knew all along I had her. All I had to do was give her over, but no. I had to go back and get laid. Jesus, how could I have fucked up this bad? She fucked me up. Shit, this whole thing is fucked up.
“Amelia, get out here.”
The door opens, and she peeks out. “What’s happening?”
In a flash I’m by her side. “We don’t have much time. They’re coming for you.”
Her face goes absolutely white as she claps a hand over her mouth.
What do I do? Fuck!
My hands shake as I rip a T-shirt off its hanger, another one, and fling them at her. “Here, put these on. Hurry!” I grab a couple more shirts and sweatshirts and fling them at her.
“What are we going to do?” She asks as she pulls a sweatshirt over her head.
“You’re getting out of here, that’s what.” I’m screwed, completely screwed, but she doesn’t have to be. No one puts my girl in a concentration camp. I grab a pair of long johns and my second-favorite sweatpants.
She trembles as she stabs her feet into them. Everything’s enormous on her, and she looks completely ridiculous.
Suddenly she throws her arms around my neck. “I don’t want to go.”
I peel her arms away and give her a shake. “You have to. They’re setting up concentration camps for the survivors. You do not want to go there.”
She bursts into tears.
There’s no time for that. “Listen to me.”
I drag a box off the top shelf and shove it in her hands. “Put these on.”
She tosses the lid aside and gasps. “My boots!”
“I went back for them.”
Her forehead creases, and there they are, the tears. “Come with me!”
“I can’t. I have my career to think of. You know that.” It’s a lie. My career is fucked. If I tell her the truth, she'll stay. I know she will.
“But I love you!”
My lungs cramp up, and it’s difficult to breathe. I try to say something, but she’s stolen all my words.
I shake my head, grab a knapsack, and begin shoving food inside. “Go straight to Ashville and tell them you have news of Charlotte. Ask for their leader.”
“No. Wait, please, Jackson.”
I shove several boxes of ammo into her bag and hand her my sidearm.
“There’s a compass and a topographical map in here. Tell them you won’t talk to anyone else because it’s too important. Then spill everything you know about what’s going on here and about the Arc. You have to do this, Amelia. Tell them they’re planning reconstruction of Charlotte and Atlanta first, and then they’re spreading out. The Arc have all the assets of a Pre-Ash world, and they plan on eliminating the leaders and replacing them with their own rule.”
My little dancer cries as she shoves her feet into her boots.
I can’t look at her. How can I do this? If I send her out there alone, anything could happen to her. But if I go, they’ll find us. Like all of the other Arc soldiers, I have chip in the back of my neck that’ll lead them right to me. And to her, if we’re together.
Anyway, who knows? If I stay, I might be able to salvage something of my life. I threw all her clothes away, and she literally has no possessions. If she gets out before they come, they won’t be able to prove she was ever here. No chip to signal, no clothes, no girl.
I wipe my hand over my forehead. What kind of a shit bag lets her go out there alone?
I’m just shoving a hat on her head when the door flies open.
Amelia grabs a kitchen knife, and with a flick of her wrist, it’s embedded in the first soldier’s chest.
Holy fuck! What other skills does she have?
He falls, and the soldier behind him draws his weapon and aims right at her.
My little dancer.
I have just enough time to shove her out of the way before he pulls the trigger.
At first I feel nothing but a blunt force to the chest. Then it hits me, bad, like someone’s knifed me open and they’re ripping out my lungs. Holy shit, I’ve been shot. The guards seize Amelia. She’s screaming and kicking, and she manages to get one of them in the balls before breaking free and falling to my side. I want to say something to her, anything. Help me, I don’t want to die being the main one. Then things start fading away. I put my head down and close my eyes, and damn, it feels good.