Chapter 4

Unfriendly Faces

"Here he is, boss," Willard growled, throwing Riley to the dirt. Dazed, he look up. Looking down upon him were a man and a woman. The woman had short brown hair and a petite frame, but her unthreatening looks were offset by the stained, torn camouflage fatigues she was wearing. They reminded Riley of the uniforms Conner and Farley wore. Did that mean she was ex-military?

The man reached down and grabbed Riley by the drawstrings of his hoodie and pulled him up. The man was intimidating, with a rough face and gray hair marking the temples in an otherwise uniform head of black hair. His face was sharp but shaven, casting off an aura of dark, aristocratic sophistication aided by his pale blue eyes. "Where's Jack." It wasn't a question.

"W-who?" Riley stammered. The man sighed, looked down, and brought his fist up and into Riley's chin. The teenager's teeth made a loud clack in his mouth.

"I'll ask again," he said, voice low. "Where's Jack?"

"I don't even know who that is!"

"Well, your loss. Take him, Willard. See what he knows."

Willard's voice floated across the clearing with barely contained glee. "Can I use Charlene?"

"Knock yourself out big guy. Josh, I want you and Harold on perimeter duty for Willard. Me and Amy are taking everyone else out for some recon."

"Wait wait wait," Riley gasped, "You're not leaving me with this guy, are you?!"

"You made your choice kid. Now you'll have to live with it. If you can, I mean."

Willard was wearing a massive grin as he grabbed Riley again. "Let's go someplace private," the titan said, and for the second time that day began dragging Riley into the woods.


Riley's hands were bound behind his back. He sat in the middle of a small, run down campsite. The tents had been destroyed long ago, and the fire pit was half buried in debris. An overturned RV rested on its side about 30 feet away, windows smashed and the once stainless white exterior covered in grime. A skeleton hung halfway out the front windshield, thrown through the glass at the long past moment of impact.

Willard was pacing back and forth, snickering to himself as Riley's eyes tracked him. The big guy was clearly on the unstable side of the spectrum, but Riley kept his mouth shut. Willard came over to his frightened captive and plopped to the dirt next to him, concealing something behind his back. Riley didn't dare turn to catch a glimpse, afraid of angering the brute.

"What's your name, kid?"

"R-Riley."

"Ah. Good name. I like it. I'm Willard," he said, extending his hand, "And you and me are about to become close friends." He looked expectantly at Riley, then to his outstretched hand. Riley shrugged, moving his bound hands behind him. Willard realized his mistake, and took his hand back. "Sorry about that. I forgot. I tend to forget things once in a while, you know?" Riley nodded, simply for the sake of agreeing.

"You like comic books, Riley?"

"I'm more of a… video game guy…"

Willard's expression dropped in disappointment. "Oh. Well, everyone has their own thing I guess. Me, I like gambling, and thanks to you I owe Harold the next pack of cigarettes I find. Thanks for that." He put his hand to his forehead as he realized he was going off track, then returned to the subject. "That part ain't important, anyway. I like booze, hunting too, but most of all…" His grin returned, bigger than before as he unveiled the object behind his back and stood up.

In his hand he held a machete. "This is Charlene. She's got a black carbon blade, 22 inches from hilt to tip and sharpened with my own personal tools. A synthetic handle guaranteed to never wear come rain, sleet, snow, or the end of the world. I can crack a head open in four whacks with the handle." Recoiling, Riley tried to stand but ended up falling over. Willard hauled him up by his hoodie, tsking all the while.

"Get that thing away from me! I'm just a fucking kid!"

Ignoring him, Willard continued on what was surely a memorized speech. "Blade like this takes some fine control. If I slip up, you might lose an ear, your nose, maybe even your jaw if I'm in the middle of my finisher. Happened to a guy once, and after that he didn't feel much like talking so Charlene and I had to finish up early that day." He sighed longingly to himself. "Memories. Lucky for you, I'm a professional. Practice makes perfect, as they say, and I've had my fair share of practice."

He rested the tip of the blade on Riley's forehead but didn't pierce flesh. "You'll talk, kid. They all do. Lynch'll get the info he wants, and I'll stop once he gets back and asks for it. But I ain't doing this for information. The truth is, Riley, I'm doing this just because I like cuttin' on folks. Me and Charlene. It's a hobby, kind of. I've always found cuttin' to be an interesting thing. It's a sort of… transformation. Of the flesh, of the mind, a good blade can change just about anythingif it's applied correctly." He looked from the blade to Riley. "If there's somethin' you wanna say before we start, say it. After a few minutes, most folks can't do much but scream."

Riley was beginning to break up, but tried to hold it back. "P-please. I never did anything to you. I'm just a kid…"

Once again, Willard paid him no mind. "Riley, you like that woman? The lady with the six gun that shot my buddy Lewis? I mean really like her, like you want her, know what I mean?"

Hyperventilating, the teenager was nearly incoherent. "Y-yeah… sure…" Just tell him what he wants to hear.

"Good, that's good." He squatted next to Riley again and put a slight pressure on the blade. A droplet of blood traced its way down Riley's forehead. "I'm gonna let you in on a secret, Riley. Wanna know what it is?"

"I'll do anything… just let me go, and you'll never see me again, I promise."

Willard's unbridled joy turned into a sinister gaze as he locked eyes with Riley, and softly muttered the secret to the young man.

"Women love scars."

Riley screamed and tried to pull away again, but Willard grabbed him and forced him face first to the ground. He turned the boy over so he was lying on his back, and once again rested Charlene on the petrified kid's face. "Let's turn you into a ladies' man, Riley."


"We'll, that should do it. I think we're done here." Willard was talking more to himself than Riley. The teenager was laying on huge ground, unconscious, as Willard slung him over his shoulder like a sack of flour and began carrying him back to Lynch. Josh, still on perimeter duty, jogged up to the man.

Josh took a single look at Riley and forced himself to keep from gagging. He looked away almost immediately. "You're fucking sick, Willard." Willard ignored him.

"I got what Lynch wanted me to get out of him. Turns out that we've finally caught up with our old friend Jack, and this kid knew exactly where to find him. Get Harold so we can go back and get ready for our little reunion. Lynch said we'd do it tomorrow if the kid talked."

"How can you justify any of that?" Josh asked, pointing at the unconscious teenager.

"I don't do this because I think it's right," Willard smirked, "I know who I am, Josh, and I'm someone who does this because it's fun." As Willard pulled ahead of him, Josh began to think that maybe following Jack's example wouldn't have been such a bad idea after all.