Chapter five: three questions
Indecision grips her, almost as tightly as her hold on the cans in each hand. Peas… or corn?
"Sorry, but, um, is this really necessary?" Laura interrupts herself almost immediately, fidgeting with her hands in her lap.
"I understand," Prentiss smiles understandably from her spot across the table, gesturing with her hand, "But it is important you tell us every detail, no matter how insignificant it may seem. We may catch some things you yourself may have missed in the moment."
"Alright.." Laura swallows, before continuing. "Um, as I was saying…."
Well, the corn are a few cents cheaper. With one more second of indecision she places the peas back onto the shelf and continues her shopping.
"Oh my," An older woman gasps lowly from in front of her. Laura sends the woman a sparse glance, parking her cart in the line to the register. Laura glances around distractedly, tapping her fingers on the handlebar of the cart. "Nothing like this ever happens here."
"I know." Another woman says, surprised as she turns to speak properly with the other as the kid on the register continues to scan her items. "I was hesitant to believe Bob myself until he told me about the state of the sheriff's office. I'm inclined to just keep Johnny locked in his room until this is all done and dealt with."
"That would be smart," The other readily agrees as Laura notes a sale on KitKat bars. Hmm, well, it wouldn't hurt to have just one would it? "What, with a bunch of blood soaked maniacs running around! I'm tempted to leave town for a week or so!"
Laura nearly drops the KitKat, sending a wide eyed gaze towards the couple of gossiping women, which does not go unnoticed. "You haven't heard the news, have you hun?" The one woman asks, looking almost excited to have such knowledge on this apparent situation.
"Here, you mean? In Senoia?" Laura gains the courage to stutter, grip tight over the KitKat.
"That's right," The woman nods at her, eyes wide, "My husband, Bob, he's a janitor up at the county Sheriff's office. Told me all about it. Nearly lost his lunch when he saw them bringing in the group through the station," The woman shakes her head, appalled as the others intently listen. "Overheard they were caught threatening somebody up on the I-50!"
The older woman shakes her head, tightly gripping her lottery tickets in her between her palms. "That's the road my son takes to get to work, oh I sure hope he's alright."
"Don't worry Darlene, I'm sure he would've called if it was any different."
"They're all in custody though, right?" The cashier suddenly joins the conversation, bagging the rest of the woman's items and looking a bit nervous. "I mean, sorry, it's just.."
"Don't worry at all Hun," The woman reassures, starting to place the bags back into her cart with a comforting wave of her hand. "Bob says they're almost certain they caught 'em all. You know what the crazy thing is though?"
"What's that?"
"Well, when Bob saw them comin' in, he said he saw one of them was real young." The woman nods her chin towards the cashier as she pays for her food. "Not much younger than you, I'd guess."
"What a shame," The older woman shakes her head, placing her scratch tickets onto the conveyor. "That's why you have to stay in school, alright son?"
Laura looks down at her feet, chewing at her thumb with anxiety. Maybe she should head out of town too then… After all, the whole reason she moved to Senoia in the first place was because it was the safest town according to statistics. The last thing she needs right now is a relapse.
"Ma'am?" Laura startles, glancing up, only to realize she's next in line. The cashier blinks at her as the older woman hobbles towards the exit. "You alright?"
"Uh, yeah," Laura glides her cart forward, dropping the semi-melted KitKat bar from her palm onto the conveyor belt. "Sorry."
A sudden, nearby scream sends Laura's heart into overdrive, the shopping cart nearly ramming into the trunk of her car as it jerks to a stop and she flings her head around.
The child screams again in joy, skipping ahead with a laughing father on his heels. Laura's heart rams in her chest as she slowly turns back towards her car, squeezing her eyes shut. Don't be ridiculous Laura. You're fine.. Just breathe. In… out..
It is a paranoid drive home. Breathing exercises can only do so much, and they unfortunately cannot shut off her mind. She looks nervously at each end of the street every chance she gets, glancing in her rear view mirror far too often, as if the blood soaked maniac's would just so happen to be carpooling in the vehicle behind her.
It takes her a few minutes to gain the courage to get out of her parked car in her driveway. After having to practically pry her hands from the steering wheel, she nervously glances about the empty street as she hastily walks towards the trunk to grab her groceries.
She realizes her hands are shaking as she reaches down to unlock the trunk, and forces herself to stop. To just, breathe.
It's not like they'll jump out of the Henderson's hedges or anything right…
"Excuse me. Miss?"
Laura startles, turning on the spot only to freeze. Something hard presses against her throat not a second later and a pair of deep brown, deeply steeled eyes settle on her own from inches away.
"Scream and I'll have to kill you." The man says quietly, blood splatter on his cheek. "Don't make me have to do that."
The scream, her breath, catches in her throat. The world swims and blackens as she faints.
So much for no relapse.
"You have got to be shitting me." Subject six was hardly reluctant in giving away his so-called name, 'Abraham'. Abraham's bushy, ginger eyebrows waggle oddly for a moment before the man breaks out in boisterous laughter, holding onto his chest. "Hoo-wee, that was a good one, I'll give you that!"
Hotch stares back, completely unfazed from his place on the other side of the interrogation table. "Are you vegetarian?" He questions, stone faced.
Abraham snorts, crossing his arms with a chuckle. "You a comedian or what? C'mon, enough with the shit."
Hotch raises an eyebrow. "We've offered everyone in your group the same deal so far."
"Yeah? That right?" Abraham nods patronizingly, almost giggling and wiping at his mustache. A small flake of the dried blood on his face slowly floats down onto the tabletop. "I'd sure as hell love to see what you've got. Oh, and why don't you add a cookie to my happy meal while you're at it?"
Hotch glances towards the corner of the room as the light flashes and the subject peels off into another laughing fit. Hotch stands silently, exiting the room without a glance back.
Morgan doesn't bother to acknowledge subject six other than a disapproving shake of his head as he turns to face Hotch as he enters the observation room. Morgan jerks his chin in the direction towards the front of the station. "Turns out we have another witness. Prentiss is talking to her right now."
Hotch nods with a short sigh. "We figured there could be more of them. I'll tell them to expand the grid searches."
"Nothing found yet?" Morgan raises a curious eyebrow. "You'd figure a camp of some sort with that many people wouldn't be so hard to locate."
"They're crafty, that's for sure." Hotch turns to face Abraham through the one way mirror. The man's chuckles have stopped, a still, almost nonchalant expression replacing the humor like a mask.
"Sir," The door opens, and in walks one of the more iron gutted deputies. He stares at Hotch, hitching his thumb over his shoulder. "Crossbow is demanding our presence."
"Alright, thank you." The deputy nods, shutting the door on his way out. Hotch turns his attention towards Morgan, and without needing to utter a word.
Morgan nods. "Already on it. I'll see what we're working with."
"Thank you." Morgan pats Hotch's back as he passes him on his way out of the room. Just as the door shuts, Hotch's phone buzzes in his breast pocket.
The caller ID is almost a relief. "Any luck?"
"Define luck," The sigh is a mixture between dry humor and disgust. Hotch frowns, turning to stare at the red-headed man in the interrogation room. It takes a lot to get Penelope sounding like that. "The lab results just came in. And all I've got to say is you guys won't be leaving Georgia any time soon."
Hotch's frown deepens. "What did they find?"
When Laura awakes, it's dark.
Not nearly close to pitch black, but notably darker than it should be considering it was mid-day. It takes a few seconds for her eyesight to adjust, and the blur does not help, she must have dropped her glasses... Although it's difficult to tell at first, she realizes she's in her living room with the curtains drawn shut.
"You're awake."
Laura jolts, well, jolts as much as one can while tied down to a dining room chair. Strips of her tablecloth pin her arms and legs down and gag her, muffling her draw of panicked breath. The previous events flicker through her mind like a fast forwarded clip and she can feel her body begin to shake.
"I'm not going to hurt you." The man starts, slowly. He comes to a stop a few feet in front of her, that she can tell despite his features being indistinguishable because of the blur. "I couldn't risk you warning your friends before I get mine, you understand?" His voice is hard, but does not raise above a normal fluctuation. The gravity of her situation begins to settle in her gut like quickly hardening cement, a tangy, acidic feeling rising in her throat.
Laura whimpers, squeezing her eyes shut as tears begin to leak.
"You have a name?" The man questions after a lengthy silence, the light scuffles of his feet indicating his movement. Laura wasn't feeling brave enough to pop open her eyes to check, let alone unclamp her teeth to scream lest she end up just puking all over herself and choking.
The sudden wave of silence prickles her skin like needles, and she blinks her eyes open out of fear a moment later.
"I'm going to remove the gag." The man says sternly, surprising her as he had crouched down in front of her without making a noise. "And when I do, you're not going to scream. You understand? I'm not going to hurt you unless you make me."
It takes her a wild moment, before she jerks her head up and down which can be considered as a poor imitation of nodding. He removes the gag after another quiet, far too long moment, and the finger brushing against her cheek sends her teeth on edge.
"I'm going to ask you some questions, and you're going to answer, and then I'll leave. That sound fair to you?"
Despite the immense confusion, the whirlpool of fear and uncertainty controlling her mind makes her stutter. "O-O-O-kay.."
"Do you have a name?" He starts off again, standing, leaning against something in his grasp. She makes it out to almost be a cane of some sort.
"Um," She licks her lips, blinking, staring sketchily up.
The man raises the cane a tad. "I need you to respond for this to continue peacefully."
"L-Laura." She peeps out, immediately regretting the decision and clamping her mouth shut. She can feel the muscles in her arms and legs clenching and unclenching, a strange buzz covering her skin like peach fuzz.
The man wastes no time in asking his questions at her compliance. "How big is your compound, Laura?"
"C-Compound?"
"Yes."
Laura shakes her head, starting to fear. Fear that this was going to be fruitless. Fear that he was going to ask questions that made no sense, fear that he was going to- to- kill her anyway. Y-you need to b-breath… J-just… "I-I don-don't…"
"I need you to calm down Laura." The man, soothes? Almost sounding regretful. "I swear to you, if you answer my questions I will leave you unharmed."
"O-Okay.."
"Where did they take my people Laura?" He asks a different question, shrouded in the darkened living room. All previous comfort of this being her home has completely vanished, leaving a void, vulnerable feeling. Had safety always been such an illusion?
"Y-Your.." Confusion filters in between the mass of conflicting emotions overwhelming her. "I- don't…"
"A group of yours picked up mine this morning." The man suddenly sounds almost, astonished? Yet that doesn't feel like the right emotion. "In a group of squad cars at that. Am I meant to believe that means you also have a working station?"
"The- the police?" Laura marvels, almost gasping out. "The police…" Picked his friends up…
The already connecting dots solidify and Laura begins to cry.
"Laura?"
"The p-police station!" She shakes, appalled. "I-I heard some um, wo-woman talking about people being brought into the station t-th-this morning!"
The man considers this, turning away slightly before focusing on her once more.
"Laura," Prentiss starts, kindly, quietly. Laura jolts out of her memories, blinking away tears and rubbing at her eyes from under her cracked glasses.
"S-sorry.."
"No, no don't apologize," Prentiss gives the woman a sympathetic smile, sliding over a tissue box across the table. "You've been through a traumatic event. I understand. I hate to have to ask this from you, but it is crucial we get all the details so that we can get him off the streets."
Prentiss pauses as Laura wipes under her nose with the tissue. "Please, will you tell me the rest?"
Laura sucks in a few shaky, deep breaths. She thinks of the overwhelming fear she had felt. Of the other countless people that live in Senoia, unaware of the man with the cane lurking the streets. A part of her hardens, forces herself to stop shaking, and a part of her almost believes it, hiding her shaking hands out of eyesight under the table.
"Well then he, um, ah, asked me three questions."
The man wipes at the lower part of his face. "How many walkers have you killed?"
"W-what?" Laura blurts, startled as a stray tear drips off her chin. It takes her another moment to work up a response, heart beating out of her chest. "I- I've never killed before…"
"Anything?" He questions as if for clarification, sounding a bit.. surprised? "You've never killed any people before?"
These questions set her even further on edge, veins in her neck lurching with each hammer of her heart as her vision narrows dangerously like a pin-prick. "N-no.."
"Why?"
Why..? Laura's mouth drops, open and closed, baffled. "I-I don't…"
The man sighs at her confusion, and it is reluctant and weary. "You're one of the lucky ones then."
The quick succession of thudded footsteps startles her, but not nearly as much as the front door opening and slamming shut.
It takes her a long time to unfreeze. It takes her even longer to attempt to wiggle out of the bonds strapping her to the chair, tears steadily streaming as she sobs.
As she distractedly looks in front of herself she finally notices her glasses, clasped shut and sitting innocently at the base of her feet.
"I was finally making some progress with the kid, what's so important you've dragged us all in here?" Gideon's face is serious, arms crossed as most of the team wait as Hotch shuts the door behind himself inside the conference room. His face is serious as he turns, and they all focus up immediately.
"The lab results just came in," He says, lips pursed into a tight frown. "So far twenty identified individuals in various stages of decomposition have been verified from the blood on the confiscated weapons."
"Shit." Morgan immediately exclaims quietly, forehead creasing.
"So far?" Reid immediately notes.
Hotch nods. "Penelope said they're still reviewing some of the samples, there will be more identifications coming. However for now this is all we need to keep them on indefinite hold."
"That solves our one problem at least," J.J sighs, looking off to the side with a deep frown, thinking of Carl's pale, bandaged face. "Lennox corrections is currently at full capacity."
"That works out perfectly then. None of the subjects are to leave this department," Hotch states, not much to their unfortunate surprise. "This just became a homicide investigation."