"There's someone out there, pretending to be a soldier.
.
.
.
They're killing our brothers and sisters and putting this project in jeopardy.
.
.
.
I want this coward to know that they have my attention.
.
.
.
My hunters are coming for you…. There's nowhere you can run…"
.
.
.
The mangled driver door was shot up, no longer able to latch closed. Turning around a tight corner, the door swung open, colliding against a tree, and ripping violently away from the hinges. Avery clung to the steering wheel, because it was the only thing keeping her from flying out of the driver seat.
The land cruiser roared across the uneven terrain, and she didn't take her foot off the accelerator. They hit bumps and large rocks with reckless abandon, sending the vehicle into the air in giant plumes of dust and rattling the shocks so hard it felt like they didn't exist.
The Deputy ramped over a small hill, felt the SUV go airborne, and heard her companion scream from the passenger seat. Her own body lifted from the driver's seat for a moment of weightlessness, then hit the ground on the other side with a bone-jarring crunch.
"You okay?" Avery yelled and hazarded a glance across her shoulder.
The rebel fighter, Anthony, clung to the seatbelt and door handle, his mouth gaped open.
Before she could press further, a second vehicle followed over the hill, getting just as much air, if not more, before landing with grinding metal and compressing tires. Avery jerked the wheel, skidding the land cruiser out of the path of a tree, opting for a combination of dirt roads and woods. A strategy of gaining speed and dodging obstacles. The move choked Anthony against the locked seatbelt.
"Slow down!" he shouted.
"No! Get the gun! The gun in the back!"
"I can't reach it!"
"Take the seatbelt off!"
"No! I could fall out!"
Avery let loose with the vilest insult to Anthony's manhood that she could come up with in that moment. Almost immediately, she found a section between some trees to access the pothole-riddled road. There wasn't anything she could do about the rattling of the ride, but she could hold the vehicle straight.
"Get the gun, or we're going to get shot!"
Cringing in terror, Anthony released the seatbelt after fighting for it to ease its hold. He cast a look behind them and spotted four vehicles roaring in their direction out of the dense green foliage. The hunters were closing in.
He seized the moment.
Anthony lurched off the passenger seat and into the back, his fingers fumbling with the rifle and shuffled to the window.
More potholes hit, making the car buck like a raging bull and causing him to slam his head onto the ceiling and back down into the seat, rifle crashing to the floor. "Shit!"
He reached down for the rifle—
BOOM!
The SUV lurched, fire washing over the rear of the vehicle.
"They're trying to kill us!"
"No shit!" Avery answered. She was just as aware that the Peggies were using lethal methods with RPGs. "Hold on!"
Anthony grabbed the 'oh-shit' handle above the window and pulled the rifle close, not a second too soon. The vehicle hit rough terrain again, and Avery refused to let up on the accelerator.
The car hit something on the right side and nearly flipped, riding on two wheels and so close to tipping. In that moment, Avery could only be thankful that she left Boomer at the Lumber Mill in exchange for Anthony's help. Consequently, the man obviously regretted his decision in tagging along.
The land cruiser crashed back into the ground. As soon as all four tires landed, Avery yanked the wheel hard to the left. Anthony slid across the back seat, slamming into the opposite door.
Earth erupted into a cloud of soil, grass, and splinters pelting the side of the car.
Anthony coughed, trying to get air in his lungs which seemed determined to stay deflated. Rolling down the window, he hauled the rifle muzzle out and let loose a string of lead and fire at the pursuing vehicles. The peggies swerved, spreading out across the landscape and weaving to avoid being hit. One was too slow, a bullet hitting the driver which forced them to swerve into a tree. The remaining three didn't slow.
"Did you see that?" Anthony yelled. "I nailed them!"
Avery twisted in her seat, but she wasn't looking at him. Something soared through the air, small, narrow. It hit the passenger mirror, a vapor of grey exploding and disappearing in the wind simultaneously. But the cloud hit Anthony in the face full force.
Sputtering and choking, he fell back into the seat, struggling to sit up like a newborn fawn.
"Sh-shit…. De-Depu..ty," Anthony heaved between breaths.
"Hold on!" Avery couldn't restrain herself; she spun back to face the front and attempted a few maneuvers to put more distance between them and the hunters. "Put your seatbelt on!"
She wanted to roll up his window, whatever the meager piece of glass could offer as protection, but her door was gone, and Anthony was in no condition to do it himself.
Anthony clambered. Arms barely functioning and pulling the seat belt over his chest. The clack-clack-clack was heard of the metal clasp hitting plastic as he continued to miss attaching the buckle.
"Hurry!"
"I'm-I'm…try-ing."
"Anthony!"
Glancing at the rearview, she saw him sway, trying to gain balance fleetingly, then falling across the seat unconscious.
It was down to her.
She could get them out. She could do it.
Gritting her teeth and full attention on the terrain, Avery jerked the wheel around a tree, the trailing car closest to her clipping the fender and pushing the vehicle to a spin. Any triumph she wanted to feel was abruptly ended as a torrent of fire spewed in front of the land cruiser, instinctively making her flinch to avoid it.
The wheels lifted; this time too lopsided to recover. The trees in the window were suddenly upside down and everything was abruptly weightless as if swallowed by seething current waters. Panic engulfed all thoughts as a timeless decent in that small, insignificant corner of the earth slowed; everything in focus and yet hard to fully grasp. It was like watching a film instead of living the event… until reality spewed around her in a mix of crushing metal, shattering glass, and jarring pain. The land cruiser rolled for seconds, minutes, hours…. She couldn't tell. Everything around her was just chaos and noise with glass flying wildly, until it all slammed to a halt.
Blackness drowned her vision. Senses dulling to a high pitch ringing in her ears before the world peppered back into focus; colors returning as she blinked away the splotches that threatened to return.
Something was wrong.
She was just in a car chase.
Why was she sprawled out on her stomach?
Shock scrambled her thoughts and dulled the adrenaline until it was a throb in the background.
Her mind struggled to compartmentalize her situation, sensing she was still in danger.
Shifting, Avery planted her hands to the ground, or better yet, the roof of the car. Broken glass bit through layers of skin and into the meat of her palm, but she paid little attention. Blood streaked down her brow and into her left eye, the salt burning.
Bending to the side as much as her body could, Anthony's silhouette beside her became visible. She couldn't make out if he was alive. Not that she was granted the luxury to check.
Hunters.
They're still out there.
Avery heaved herself to her knees and crawled from the wreckage of the cruiser, her shirt catching on a mangled piece of framing that tore the fabric cleanly. But her focus was elsewhere, noticing that cars were pulling up to the scene from uphill.
Did they just roll down the mountain?
No time—just go!
Avery sucked wind and scrambled down the precipitous rocky slope. She had the presence of mind to grab Anthony's arm in hopes to rouse him, but the hunters were twenty yards back and there was no way in hell she was going back for someone she didn't know was alive or dead.
She was fifty yards from the wreckage when something zipped by her nose and smashed into a rock to her left. A cloud of vapor swelled into the air, instantly making her tuck her face into the crook of her elbow to avoid inhaling it. Jumping down behind a larger boulder, she staggered to a halt and glanced to her right, where the arrow had come from.
A hunter leaned out from behind a rock, maybe twenty-five yards uphill. Avery dove for cover, misjudging her distance, and lost her footing. The sole of her boot slid down the side, her body following over rocky ground along her back, then stomach, and skinning her elbows and knees. After the short but painful stumble, Avery's feet landed on a jagged boulder that she crouched around. The near edge of the stone erupted in a clatter of bullet strikes, the heavy peltings that hinted it wasn't common lead-filled ammo being used.
Miniature bursts of clouds splotched the air above her, forcing her to move.
Unfortunately, the crook of her elbow was not enough to keep all the bliss from entering her respiratory system. Dizziness feathered her senses, making her decent sloppy and treacherous in her haste.
At that rate, she was going to get captured and everything was for nothing…
Glancing over her shoulder, she could make out the movement of the hunters closing the distance. The rocky outcropping was almost over, giving way to gradual terrain scattered with forest vegetation. Her options were dwindling, the hunters in a relentless pursuit…
"Oh, fuck it," she growled, turning away from the hill, letting her arms fall out to her side.
And she jumped.
Boots landed hard on a smaller rock before launching to the next, taking a page out of a mountain goat's book and hopping down precariously from ledge to ledge. On the fourth rock, she missed, hip crashing down and bouncing her back against another boulder before she spun and twisted down the hill. When she finally rolled to a stop, in a heap with a pulsing ache rattling her spine, Avery noted that she only fell maybe 40 feet. Not enough to put distance between her and the unimpeded hunters.
Bullets and arrows rained down in sporadic patterns. Flinching and bringing arms up, Avery sprinted toward the cover of nearby pines, hoping for any blessed break to come her way.
Just as she ducked behind some lower shrubs, an arrow carved into her leg, instantly hitting her senses with a wave of vertigo and intensity blurring her vision. The world tilted. Straightened back up. No, it was still tilting…
Stumbling drunkenly, she dove deeper into the forest and out of view from the hunters. Avery lurched forward to her hands and knees, landing harshly to the ground. Fingers curled into the earth, gripping poky forbs, and feeling the granules of soil penetrate under her fingernails. It was a desperate attempt to find stability by holding something solid and still. Anything to keep her present in the situation as she tried to hide from Jacob's men. If the earth didn't ground her at that point, nothing would.
In the shades of the thickets, she could almost feel the targets lock, zeroing in on her, scanning her. The rise of fear urged her to creep closer to the undergrowth brush at the base of a white pine.
A shudder worked up her back. The unexplainable feeling that the rabbit gets when it knows it's being watched by something in the tall grass.
Instinct screamed to keep running, to put distance between her and the predators. But that was the same instinct that whispered to the pheasant to flee its nest, just as the hunter was within reach. A suicide choice. No matter which way she looked at it, her situation was not promising.
Options, options… what were her damn options?!
She couldn't outrun them. There were too many. They were clearly competent, pursued and shot with expert precision. And they were not injured or slowly plummeting under the effects of bliss.
To test her capability, Avery attempted to plant her boots under her to stand up, but she swayed, falling back onto her butt hard.
That was as far as she was going.
Weaponless and sinking further under the twinkling fog of bliss, Avery scooted back until her spine was against the trunk of the tree.
Would the hunters find her? It was a sure bet. Right now, she could imagine them spreading out across the hillside, circling, and flanking in case she made a mad dash out of hiding at any moment.
But there was only one race occurring then. Would the hunters get her before she fell unconscious from the bliss?
Avery's eyes dropped, her head lulling until her chin just hovered over her chest. What she wouldn't give for a knife…
A dark leathered boot tapped her knee, stirring enough energy for the Deputy to blink the dense haze from view and recognize an arrow pointed at her shoulder. She hadn't even heard the man approach.
Tracing the wooden shaft to the fletching and finally to the man holding the weapon at a low ready, Avery felt her blood go bitter at her circumstance.
Jacob was prepared.
She underestimated his ruthlessness. The hunters were on her and Anthony in seconds from the call and she never had an inkling that they were being followed to begin with.
Internally seething, Avery raised her right hand with an obscene gesture to the hunter; she was instantly reward with a boot to the face, sending her tumbling into blackness.
8)8)9)909090
A piercing, desperate scream collapsed the subdued calm Avery floated in. With a start, she pitched forward, eyes wide, hand searching for a gun. It took nearly four heartbeats for Avery to take account of her surrounds, realizing she wasn't in some tent in arid lands, but in the states as a Deputy.
Montana to be exact.
But not in the wilderness.
Avery brought a hand to her temple feeling the pressure behind her eye, throbbing just beneath the skin. There was a crusty layer of blood beneath her fingers, flaking away from the closed wound. Was that from the kick or the car crash?
Does it really matter? I'm here now…
As if the thought grounded her from trailing reflections, the brunette lifted her gaze to take in her surroundings. Rays of sunlight painted dark rows across the concrete she sat on. Steel bars surrounded her in every direction with an empty cell next to her. A faded white line stretched parallel with her from one end of the prison to the other; the cell she was in almost centered on two forgotten parking spots. The bars behind her bumped flush against a curb with maple trees providing little offerings of canopy over the roof.
Letting her hand fall into her lap, Avery took stock of her situation, surprised she wasn't tied up with a line of torture devices splayed across a table, waiting to be utilized.
Instead, she was weaponless, but unbound. Not a good position, though better than the alternative.
A pair of guards stood at the entrance, no more than 10 feet away, chatting and unaware of her observations. Across the parking lot (although, it was hard to distinguish the concrete structure now through overgrown weeds and dried leaves) was two rows of cages: six cells each side. They were filled with two or more poor souls, some sitting with shoulders hunched as if the weight of the world was crushing their spines slowly. Others were laying down, few were pacing, and even fewer were groaning pleas to anyone who would listen.
Furrowing her brows, Avery tried to swallow but her mouth was dry, throat burning. Jacob was nowhere to be seen. In fact, the lack of attention directed towards her was unexpected. Coupled with why she was alone in one of two cells situated away from the crowded others was curious.
And not in a good way.
Deciding attention would be on her eventually, Avery stood to her feet, ready to distract the guards from their conversation. It worked. Instantly, the two Peggies turned their gazes on her, one of the men having a hand hover over their holster.
Standing was, perhaps, the wrong way to go about getting their attention. The slice in her calf, from the arrow that injected the bliss, was clean but left a serious laceration. A lightning bolt of agony cramped her leg, her balance suffering as a result. A hand lashed out to grab the nearest bar for support as her face twisted in a grimace. Limping to reestablish her stance was a process, though after some work, allowed her to get acclimatized to the discomfort.
Seeing her struggle earned a chuckle from the guards. As the men relaxed their posture and returned to their conversation, the Deputy could feel her face redden from humiliation.
Instead of voicing her defense, she glowered, not accustomed to being brushed off so easily.
What was going on?
In John's region, there was an intense amount of distrust, as was evident in the number of times she was manhandled and bound. Faith offered her zero opportunity to be sane and cognizant, instead always doped up and losing her mind.
But here, she was just some simple prisoner that they had to babysit. It must have been overconfidence that gave the Peggies a sense of ease. Afterall, how would she break out of the prison?
She couldn't squeeze through the bars or climb out the top. Digging her way free was out of the question unless she had a jackhammer in her back pocket. The weakest chink in their defense was the guards at the door. And they were more than happy to keep distant from the bars or avoid offering her their ear.
Doesn't make them any less of a weakness, she mused, tucking that focus to the side.
Blowing out her nose slowly, the Deputy opted to walk around in hopes that getting the blood pumping would lubricate her joints. Possibly even offer an optimistic outlook on the dreary situation. Pacing offered little relief, but the throbbing at her temple was still present. As she wandered around the front of the cage, the view of a green garden hose curled lazily at the guards' feet reminded her of how thirsty she was.
"Hey," she interrupted as casually as she could. Preparing to ask for a favor meant to avoid any rude demands.
The sentence between their conversation was cut short by the men, each turning to observe the Deputy with a hefty mix of disdain and hesitancy. When she didn't get an answer, aside from the unamused scowls, Avery decided to press.
"Sorry to interrupt, but could I get a drink from the hose?" Her finger pointed to their feet. "I'm just thirsty."
The man closest to her, and most eager to rest his hand on his pistol, dropped his eyes to the messy hose before retuning his gaze to her. A sly grin curled his lips.
"No."
Avery blinked, not expecting such a callous answer. The man turned his back to her. The second man's gaze lingered, letting his distrust hang in her direction before continuing with the conversation where they left off.
A frown pulled at the corners of her mouth, eyes narrowing.
Instead of pursuing it, she dropped the subject and walked to the back of her cage. Settling down on the concrete, she curled her injured right leg to the side to evaluate the gash.
The torn fabric of her pants resembled a coffee stain from the dried blood turned brown. Pieces of fibers were stuck together and beneath the material was crusty remains from the injury. The crimson blood was now darkened to garnet in hue. The gash itself was not deep, surprisingly. She half expected the skin of her calf to be filleted back cleanly based on the pain.
I'm just being a wimp, she berated.
Again, her attention drifted to the hose, wishing she could wash off her leg, at the very least. Yet, she refused to give the guards the opportunity or satisfaction of declining another reasonable request. Petty stubbornness wasn't something below her moral code or pride.
Poking the tender, pink skin of her leg, Avery could see it was scabbed over and attempting to heal despite not being cleaned. There didn't look like there was much dirt around the gash, and she hoped that whatever did get into her wound wouldn't cause an infection.
Sighing heavily, Avery glimpsed back at the guards, finding it odd that neither had left to inform their boss that she was awake. They really weren't in any rush to deal with her.
Was she truly regarded so little by Jacob's men? Was it arrogance or was she truly unmatched?
She scoffed bitterly to herself. No way was she unmatched. They just underestimated her. Their overconfidence would be their weakness that she would exploit.5
"Shut up, already!"
The voice broke her musings, causing her to turn to the source of the commotion. Across the parking lot, a guard was yelling at three men cramped in a cage, one of which flinched away from the bars at the guard's outburst. The other two prisoners stared dismayed at the frustrated guard, not having the energy or care to stir a reaction from their weary bones.
"Haven't you figured it out? You're not getting out of here unless you pass the trials. So, stop pissing a fit and begging me to let you go! I'm fucking tired of listening to it."
"B-but I should-shouldn't be here, sir… I'll do whatever Jacob wants—I don't need to go through the trials—"
"You're going through them, mate. Whether you swear allegiance beforehand or not. It's the way it is."
"I'll stay loyal to him-to the cause. I'll serve the Father—"
"Shut up! Fuck!" The man clenched his fists, ignoring the chuckles from the other guards that watched their co-worker struggle to deal with the pleading man. "I swear, if you don't fucking shut your mouth, I do it for you! That's the last warning you're getting."
The prisoner had enough sense to keep silent, but his pleading stare said all that he dared not in the face of the threat. Finally, one of the prisoners sitting near him grabbed at the man's sleeve and pulled him down to the ground with them. Dropping to his butt, the man slouched forward and shook his head hopelessly. From where Avery sat, she couldn't tell for sure, but the way the man's shoulders shook, she guessed he was silently weeping.
It felt strange that she wasn't sharing in the distraught wallow of her situation. She wasn't safe. If anything, she was at more of a risk than these men and, yet, she sat calmly in her cell. Ignored and left alone.
Was she wrong to not be as concerned? Didn't it make sense that she should be bothered that she was captured, caged, and in line for these trials? And what exactly did these trials entail?
A tight apprehension swelled in her chest. Something that told her she was underestimating her situation. Odd that moments ago, she had internally boasted that it would be the guards' downfall to underestimate her.
I'm not in a position to feel confident, she reminded herself.
Inhaling deeply, Avery once again took note of her surroundings, evaluating the cage, the fact she was separated from the other prisoners, had guards who ignored her so blatantly. Not only did she consider her current predicament, but also the events leading to her imprisonment.
When Jacob called over the radio for her, he threatened hunters would bring her in. Minutes-not hours—later, herself and Anthony were in a car chase across the mountain roads, evading capture.
They were under observation the entire time. It was the only way for the hunters to be on them so quickly after Jacob's evocative message.
She never noticed the tail. Not once. Was that because she dropped her guard or were these hunters that good?
Retracing her steps after leaving the Lumber Mill did little to answer that question. Nor did it change her situation.
But the trials. That's what the other prisoner was so anxious about. Fearful and begging loyalty in exchange for not being put through the tests.
What did Dutch warn about with the trials?
Avery wracked her brain, trying to remember what it was that she knew about them, but all she got was a retaliated throbbing at her temple.
Well, it was safe to assume it wasn't good. All the warnings from Whitehorse, Pastor Jerome, and Dutch screamed that she fucked up. She landed herself right where they told her to avoid.
"Jacob will capture you…" John's words echoed, as clear as if she was standing in his study with the Baptist. "And when he does, you will never be yourself again. You'll change and just become a hollow shell of what you once were. If you survive, that is."
The reality of the situation began to settle across her shoulders, the weight causing them to droop a little lower.
Ok-ok…. I'm going to be subjected to trials… I've been through SERE training. It won't be much different than that. A bit of torture, sure... It's all about resilience of the mind. If I can compartmentalize everything, I can get through the trials.
Avery blew out a breath, hoping to reassure herself.
Until she was subjected to the famed trials, she needed to keep her mind occupied. Something productive, like find where Pratt was located.
Again, her attention returned to the prisoners in the farther cages. Each face and figure she evaluated with a refocused scrutiny. The few females were glanced over, as were the men that were easily dismissed based on characteristics not matching Staci's physique. The remaining that shared traits were marked off her list one by one until the hollowing conclusion that Pratt was not locked away remained.
Scowling, Avery tried to piece together where her companion would be located. There had to be more than one compound in the Whitetail Mountains. The landscape was vast and from what Dutch had mentioned, Jacob's main outpost was a mystery.
What were the odds that she was at the same location that so many had tried to find? Probably not as steep as one would initially assume, depending on the reason the Project favored in her capture. It would make sense to hide her at the elusive compound to avoid any rescue efforts coming to her aid. On the other hand, they may avoid taking her to the main compound at the risk that she did escape and reveal its location to the rebels.
From the looks of it, the place she was at now was smaller, with a singular structure in the heart of the parking lot. Near the road, just outside of the newly erected chain link fence was an old fire station sign announcing the station number with seafoam green letters. Next to it was a vertical billboard with faded white paint peeling off the plywood and a dial in the center that would have been moved to show the fire danger in the area. Next to the dial was a dark Smokey Bear holding a shovel, the details faded from weathering, making it look a brown silhouette than a treasured icon.
She doubt Jacob would call the old fire station his castle. It was small, with little defense from rebels, and in a landscape that was flatter and easier to access. He would require something grander, with higher safeguards. If Pratt was anywhere, it would likely be at the mysterious compound Jacob called home.
Leaning back against the steel bars, she stretched her legs out and settled her hands in her lap. The deputy wasn't sure what would happen next or what her subsequent move would be. But she was content to wait it out, if only to learn more about what the Project did in the mysterious mountains.
8-8-8-8-88-8-88-8-
An hour or so later, just before the sun reached its peak in the sky, did the guards finally give Avery their undivided attention. She had taken to tying some fallen leaves together, pealing the veins from one and stringing it through the other. It was a silly way to pass the time, but pacing was doing nothing more than make her thirstier.
Not amused by the deputy's little art project, the irked guard unlocked the cage door and stepped in.
"Let's go. Get up."
Avery fixed him with a withering glare, already impatient with his discourtesy. Not moving from her location at the back of the cage, the deputy assessed the man before her, noting the pistol and his fit build. The man's partner couldn't muster anything more than a bored stare in her direction, which she found just as annoying as the bossy demands.
"Can I get a please?" Avery retorted dismissively, twirling the dissected leaves between her fingers.
The guard stepped further into the cage, his face scrunching into a snarl. "Fuck no. Get up or we'll drag you out of here by your hair. Don't make the mistake in thinking I'm above that."
Begrudgingly, the deputy heaved a sigh, and hauled herself to her feet, making a point to do so without any haste. The slow movement only seemed to infuriate the man further, but he refrained from lashing out. That was surprising to the woman, who half expected him to drag her out. Once she was within reach, he pulled out two zip-ties and bound her wrists together. Stepping to the side, he cocked his head toward the door.
A restrained follower, for once.
Taking the hint, Avery walked out of the cage where the second man began to take the lead. The walk to the fire station was quiet, but the heavy gazes from the prisoners clustered in cages across from the entrance pressed on Avery's awareness. It took great willpower to not meet their eyes as she, instead, focused on the man's back before her. Hiding any trepidation behind indifference, the Deputy scaled the front steps behind the guard, and entered the reception area of the station.
The dim lighting took only a second for Avery's eyes to adjust to, and the cool air that surrounded her made clear that the station had functioning air conditioning. But the lobby she found herself in was not empty as she expected.
A woman with curled, golden locks glanced at their arrival from across the desk. Her painted ruby lips curled as she rested her chin on her hand.
"Hey, Zack. Eric… You're looking fine today," she purred.
"You too, Jean. Fierce as always," complimented the man behind Avery, a complete change from his colder, affronted behavior towards the deputy.
"Aw, you're sweet." The blonde, Jean, let her bright blue eyes look Avery up and down as the group walked past, not trying to hide her appraisal. "This little bird is the Deputy?"
Avery never put much effort into disliking someone who didn't mean anything to her. Well, aside from Chuck in John's region. She made an exception for that vile neanderthal. But this woman-this Jean-was another she found a fond dislike for. The woman was gorgeous and knew it. But the way she looked down at Avery, like she was a patch of dirt on her favorite pair of heels, instantly placed her into Avery's shit-list.
"Yup. The famed troublemaker," Eric dismissively, affirming to Avery that they did know who she was and still treated her with indifference.
"Well, good luck in there, Officer," Jean smiled sweetly to Avery. "I'll be interested to see what remains of you."
Avery wanted to come up with a sharp retort, something witty to shut the woman up. But she didn't have material to pull from. In all honesty, she didn't know what was in store for her. And any insult to Jean's looks would look like she was jealous. Not to mention it was a weak comeback. So, she opted for a muted glare as the first man guided her into the back garage.
As the three of them entered the, otherwise, empty maintenance bay, Avery began to question the Project's use of the facilities. A few vehicles with the cross-logo spray painted on the hoods were parked inside, but there were no workers. The only Peggies she had seen were all outside, guarding the prisoners.
John's ranch had a few barns and a bunkhouse where his followers stayed. She doubt that the Peggies at this compound all bunked in the fire station.
Perhaps, there's another structure on the other side of the building, she pondered as she was steered up the stairs. The other possibility was that the followers lived nearby and commuted to the station for work.
That seemed more likely than them staying on the grounds. Any wildland fire station she had seen before was always outside or in a small rural town, so there had to be a place nearby where the followers lived. Before she could contemplate further on where that could be on her apprehended map, she was shoved into a dark room abruptly.
Blindsided by the unexpected roughness, her eyes widened as she tried to adjust to the shadow ladened room that consumed her senses. The windows were drawn so tightly that she wondered if there were any windows at all. The door behind her shut, taking with it any light and cool air. Thick fingers wrapped around her bicep, guiding her to a lone chair that she could barely make out in the darkness.
"Alright, easy," she demanded haughtily, tugging her arm against Eric's hold. But the man didn't say anything and shoved her into the seat.
Avery had a feeling of what came next, even as Eric cut the zip-tie, somehow managing to see well enough to not cut her. Maybe he didn't care if he did and she got lucky. Either way, once her hands were free—and the fleeting thought of punching him in the throat entered her head— both men grabbed each arm and pinned them to the arms of the chair, lashing the leather straps across her wrist before she could retaliate.
So. They were expecting her to fight back. The thought was supposed to be a mere observation, but it stoked a fire in her stomach. Picking out a weakness from the guards was going to be more difficult than she originally thought. They knew who she was, what she was capable of, and acted accordingly. They kept distance from the bars of her cage, avoided conversations with her, and refused to allowing any opening for her to exploit.
Their preparedness shouldn't have surprised her. Jacob would have briefed them to avoid any unnecessary repeats of her escape.
Once her arms were secured, followed by her ankles, Avery had assumed the men would be finished and on their way. That was, until Eric rammed a sweaty palm onto her forehead and pushed her head to the back of the chair. The throbbing in her temple flared and she grimaced against his hold.
"Fuck-" she growled, but any other insult died in her throat as thick, leather straps were buckled around her throat. When the men finally finished, Eric took a step back and smiled cruelly.
"Collared and bound. Like a good dog."
A snarl curled her lips and she fixed him with a glower that promised retribution. Eric's smile only grew to the challenge.
"Hey," Zach interjected as he put a hand on Eric's shoulder. "We're done. Let's go."
"Yeah, alright," Eric conceited. "Have fun, Deputy. We'll see you later."
To add insult to injury, he patted her head as he walked by, as if to rub in the degrading dog insult further.
The door behind her opened and shut softly, drowning the room in a blanket of silence and darkness once more.
Swallowing against the binding, she tried to push her head away from the chair, only managing a mere inch or two. At least, they didn't tighten it too much to make it difficult to breath. Still, it was excessive. It was one thing for her hands and ankles to be tied, but her neck too? How did they expect her to use her neck, of all things, to escape?
She wasn't Houdini, for fuck's sake.
To test a theory, she rocked her weight forward and back, testing the chair she was in. It confirmed her suspicions. The legs were bolted to the ground. She was, in every sense of the word, stuck.
Taking a long, deep breath, Avery tried to settle into the reality of her situation. Cursing and panicking wasn't going to stop her from being anymore bound. It was obvious that once the hunters had captured her, she would be at the mercy of the Project until she found a way out. And she eventually would.
She had before.
All the weeks that her team had been fractured across the county had reaffirmed her skills of evading and escaping. No one's prison was 100% escape proof. There was always a weakness, whether structurally or human error, something could be exploited. Eventually.
So, until she found that niche, Avery needed to keep a clear head and play the game. Find all the information she could on the new location and its constituencies to use against her opponent.
Yeah, cute ideas and all, that realistic, callous voice reminded herself, but you're about to find out what these trials are all about. Don't be too optimistic before you see what lies ahead of you.
Avery swallowed and tried to steel her nerves before they buzzed out of control, the small anodes sending flurries to stoke fear and adrenaline. Instead, she latched onto her anger to ground her instinctual tendencies. The hot temperament she felt by the disrespect towards her, the way people underestimated her and thought her a silly excuse for an Officer. These people that saw a small, thin, tired woman, and ignored the fact that she had traveled the world and had blood on her hands.
It was becoming slightly alarming that she found herself falling back onto her anger more than not to keep her grounded. Somewhere in her memory, she could recall her therapist warn that it was a dangerous road to tread down by relying on rage. But she suspected her therapist wouldn't have any useful advice if he knew the situation that Avery found herself in these past few weeks.
Healthy or not, it stabilized her and overpowered any fear that threatened to debilitate her reasoning.
The sound of a door opening behind her broke her silent seething session as a pool of light washed over her, casting the deputy's shadow in a swathe across the floor. Avery stiffened, feeling the edge of her anger dull slightly at the prospect that she would be meeting Jacob Seed face-to-face once again. It was then that she felt she failed to mentally prepare for the reunion.
There was a massive list of things she had been fretting over; from the hunters, being locked in a cage, to where Pratt was located, and then the trial. All of it seemed to pale in comparison to meeting Jacob on his home turf. How had she failed to consider the weight of her situation to include the Seed sibling?
Joining her shadow was one, and then another shadow as two men walked in and shut the door behind them. It wasn't Eric and Zach. She knew better than to assume they were back so soon.
Her assumption was confirmed when a man stepped into her line of sight and switched on a projector sitting on a small table near her chair. The white brightness stung her eyes, causing her to blink to adjust to the sudden intrusion.
The man before her did not sport the red beard, or broad shoulders she expected. Instead the stranger had smooth, olive complexion and neatly trimmed facial hair that was as dark as ebony. He was lean build and regarded her with neither disdain nor indifference.
"Avery Mason. It's a pleasure to have you join us."
The deputy didn't reply, instead, scowled at the stranger.
The man didn't take offense as he crossed his arms and dropped his gaze to the projector, as if waiting. Neither said anything further, the silence filled with the hum of the fan from the small machine.
Remembering that he wasn't alone, Avery made a feeble attempt to glance behind her, but whoever lingered by the door remained in her blind spot. She was about to ask the man who he was, and who was hiding in the back of the room when a knock interrupted her.
The dark-skinned man called for the other person to enter and once again the light draped the room in a warm glow.
The man who entered this time was pushing a cart that he parked against the wall to her right, opposite of the projector and first man. No greetings, or exchanges were made between the men and Avery got the distinct feeling she was in the heart of an operating room. The atmosphere was serious, with no room for pleasantries or small talk. As if all the other inhabitants were zeroed in on their tasks, their roles, for what they would enact on her.
The only difference was she knew she wouldn't be leaving the room in better condition than she entered.
"So, are you going to tell me what's going on? Or who you people are?" Avery queried with a forced cock of her brow. The question was supposed to come out pointed but fell flat. At least, the inquest came out calmer than she internally felt, masking her hesitancy.
"Just be patient. The projector is about warmed up."
"That has nothing to do with what I asked."
"You think I would just tell you everything before you see for yourself? Just wait."
"I'm only asking you to introduce yourself, not spill your secrets. Didn't know basic manners was asking so much…," she grumbled under her breath, still aware he could hear her.
But the man didn't pay her any mind and began to fiddle with the machine while the most recent stranger stood unmoving against the wall with the cart.
In an attempt to get a better view of the items on the cart, Avery twisted her head as far as she could. Through the dim room, she could make out a boxy machine and small items on the top, but nothing more.
Don't tell me its another tattoo gun, her mood dimmed.
"Alright, pay attention, woman," the first man interrupted as he snapped his fingers to get her attention back on him. It was then she noticed that the projector had tossed up a claret image of a diseased deer across the wall.
Taken aback by the gruesome image, Avery momentarily forgot about the others in the room, too focused on the grotesque scene, a macabre nature documentary.
The deer, emaciated, tick-infested, and mangy, leaked blood from its mouth and nostrils.
Click.
Roll.
Photo change.
A buck, sprawled across the snow. Crimson splattered in abstract art over pristine, virgin white. The fur from shoulder to hip was shredded open, revealing ivory ribs, bare of any muscle or tendons, encaging cherry, fleshy organs beneath the bones.
Thick saliva filled her mouth at the sight, but Avery swallowed the nauseating urge. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of being affected.
Just what sort of meeting was this? Was she really being subjected to photos of tormented wildlife as a way to scare her?
"The world is weak. Soft." The man stood off to the side as he presented the images to his audience of one.
Click.
Roll.
Photo.
A wolf, blood-stained muzzle, shredded into the meat of an indistinguishable animal.
Avery didn't know if this was a joke. While she would admit, the images were grotesque and made her stomach somersault a bit, it wasn't anything overly shocking to her. Accustomed to blood and violence tended to desensitize a person, even if she did get a bit squeamish at times.
"Did you know our heroes used to be Gods?" the man stated firmly, not expecting an answer as he raised his hand up to the air. "And now our heroes are Godless."
His fist clenched tighter than need be, as if he captured an insignificant insect and willed it to evaporated into nothing between his fingers. After a dragged out second, he let his hand fall to his side while fixing her with a resolute stare, one that a person would pin another with who was guilty of said act.
The recital of the speech was purposeful, direct. The script memorized and, yet, the tone sounded familiar to Avery. The speech from the Lumber Mill came to mind and Avery could only imagine that the stranger before her was regurgitating the same spill that Jacob used on his victims.
Too bad for the man before her lacked the same intimidating presence as the elder Seed brother. As the initial shock from the photos wore off, Avery could feel an inkling of mischievousness creep on her.
"Weak. Feeble. Diseased."
Click.
Roll.
The photo before her was of another deer, standing alert with half its body meat and skeletal while the other half still fed its organs with enough energy to limp on in its tormented existence.
Blame it on her dark humor acquired by the military, but she couldn't keep that switch in her brain from clicking into place.
It was almost a sense of mocking that she withheld, just barely, behind tight lips. This slideshow was like a poorly structured haunted house, set to scare children and unnerve the most sheltered of adults. It was almost laughable.
In fact, she would have laughed had she not suspected that they were leading to something more than a macabre presentation. Even John's unhinged presence was more intimidating than the photo reel.
Oh, for fuck's sake…. She couldn't keep it in any longer.
"We let the weak dictate to the powerful and then we are shocked to—"
"Er…Sorry to interrupt."
The man visibly faltered, and it took more self-control than she wanted to admit in hiding the smirk that threatened to curl.
"But I just asked who you were. I don't need your life story, or… whatever this is…" Her fingers spread out at the word 'this' as the only way to reference the images staining the wall.
A frown twisted his features as the presenter fixed her with an impatient glower.
Click.
Roll.
But… he still said nothing. There was no responding to her sarcasm, no threat to pay attention. Rather, he turned back to the slides and began his speech once more.
"We let the weak dictate to the powerful…"
So, he was really going to ignore her.
Maybe she should have taken that as a blessing in disguise. The more they overlooked her, the less she would be tormented.
"…and then we are shocked to find ourselves adrift."
Even as the small voice cautioned against causing trouble, warned that the snide treatment wouldn't last forever, promised that it was better than the alternative…. Avery disregarded it.
Because that anger was bottling up in her chest. The longer she remained in the care of the Seed siblings and their followers, the more misdeeds she tallied against her and her friends.
Click.
Roll.
The next image was another gruesome view of a pack of wolves dismembering a carcass.
Her patience was becoming a scarcity. With no reprieve to recharge her moral, any positive outlook was beginning to dry up, replaced by bitterness and exasperation. Avery Mason was getting fed up.
If they wanted to be disrespectful to her, she'd be more than happy to return the favor.
"But history knows the value of—"
Avery rolled her eyes and tossed her head back as much as the collar would allow. For good measure, she groaned loudly, embellishing boredom to its fullest.
The man stopped in midsentence, frowning at the childish woman.
"Ugh… I never thought this was how it would end," she grumbled irritably. "Death by PowerPoint…."
Tilting her head back to see his reaction, she was pleased to find a lack of humor. She, on the other hand, found it mildly hilarious. Again, it took immense control to not smirk. She shouldn't be having this much distorted fun in her situation.
"You know, Mr. Stranger, I had supervisors who'd love to do what you're doing now. Just capturing and tying down victims and forcing them to listen to their dreary presentations, because everyone knows that they wouldn't come willingly—" Instantly, a hand firmly slapped the back of her head. "-Ow!"
The unexpected contact startled her more than hurt. Avery tried to look behind her for the one responsible with little luck. Pursing her lips, she gave up and met the angry presenter's gaze as it was washed in darkness from the slideshow changing and a new photo splashed across the wall.
"But history knows the value of sacrifice. Of culling the herd, so that it stays strong."
Click.
Roll.
A wolf covered the wall, its lips curled back in a snarl, crimson staining its fur from its muzzle to its neck as it stared right at the camera.
"Over and over, the lives of the many have outweighed the lives of the few. This is how we survived."
Avery was beginning to get antsy, still finding the images disturbing along with the script. If they thought she was going to obediently listen to the lecture, they had another thing coming. Slap to the back of the head, rude glares, or blatant snubbing. She wasn't going to make it easy on them, any more than they were for the deputy.
Click.
Roll.
"We've forgotten this lesson… and now the bill has come due—"
"Those are some up close photos of wolves," she casually interjected once again.
The impatience of the man in front of her was rolling in waves as he spun to face her, dissatisfaction clear in the stiffened stance and clenched fists
But Avery pretended to be oblivious as she continued will cool indifference.
"That must be some expensive camera you have to get such detailed shots, unless… did you get permission to use those from the internet?" Split second pause as the man didn't answer. "Oh, no. Don't tell me you took those without approval… Do you want my advice? You may want to be careful using photos without artist permission or John will be forced to take you to court. And I heard he's a hell of a lawyer—"
Another slap to the back of the head, this time harder, stopped her disruption.
"Who the fuck keeps hitting me?!"
Ignoring the brunette's outburst, the man glanced behind woman's chair. The look didn't go unnoticed to the deputy who wondered if the man was trying to contain his irritation or sending a warning look to the person behind her.
"Fine, woman." He heaved a sigh and waved over the man leaning against the wall on her right. "If you can't behave like an adult, we'll have the doctor help."
At the motion to interfere, the man pushed from the wall and rolled his trusty cart over to Avery's chair.
Doctor? Avery blinked.
The man approaching was dressed in normal clothes, but the stethoscope that she failed to notice before gave him away.
Maybe, I took this too far. The swell of alarm snuffed out any prior amusement she felt with her antics. Her previous anger dampening.
"Er-I don't need a health exam. I've had plenty of those to last a lifetime, thanks..."
The doctor didn't seem to hear or even care to listen to her excuse. Parking the cart next to her, he pulled out a familiar black fabric cuff and wrapped it around her bicep to take her blood pressure. The pump began to grow, pinching her arm while the doctor placed a temperature device on her index finger. Once the blood pressure machine beeped and the cuff deflated, the doctor scribbled the notes onto a chart and unwrapped her from the devices.
"Well, am I going to pull through, Doc?" she asked, keeping her nervousness behind the façade of irritating calm. "How long do I have?"
The man said nothing, not even offered to glance at her. Avery's brows knitted together at the strangeness. Something told her that what was happening was not routine or remotely good for her.
The instinct was further confirmed when the 'doctor', as she was starting to doubt he was a true doctor, began to clip a metal device attached to a wire to her boot lace and another to her belt loop.
A frown pulled the corner of her lips, sensing the familiarity of the device he was affixing.
As a, possibly too late, attempt at preservation, Avery turned back to the first man who watched next to the projection, the slides still cycling through unbroken.
"…You know what? I was being rude. You made all these slides to show me, and I keep interrupting. I won't do that anymore, so feel free to continue. I'll pay attention."
The room fell silent as none of the men acknowledged her weak apology. Insincere as it was, she still felt it warranted some sort of response.
She'd even take some mocking "too late for that" snide remark over the silence.
Opening her mouth to try again, her retort died in her throat when the doctor straightened beside her and gave the man a firm nod that clearly was a sign to go-ahead.
Avery's gaze redirected to the man she had obviously insulted to see him walking towards her with a small object pulled from his pocket. It was no larger than the size of his palm with rosewood craftsmanship and a lever he cranked as he approached.
She recognized the childlike toy to be a music box.
Why a music box of, all things? Not a knife or bindings. A music box.
This was…wrong.
The blood pressure check, the toy, the grotesque wildlife photos.
Something was about to happen and no matter how much Avery tried to compartmentalize her emotions, they badgered against the walls.
It was then that movement to her right split her attention back to the doctor who pulled out a syringe that held an all too familiar milky, white substance from the cart. She knew just what was in the heart of the nozzle.
A handful of hopeless ideas shuttered across her mind like passing car lights, all leaving her with the reality of her harrowing situation. And all she could say was:
"Fuck."
A broad palm wrapped across her forehead from behind and pulled head back against the headrest of the chair, keeping her still as the needle punctured the side of her neck, just below her leathered collar.
The deputy grimaced as the cold, thick liquid entered her system, initially feeling zero effects. Until the heaviness spread, making her head feel weighted and stuffed with cotton. A shimmering aura started to fill her vision of the man in front of her who opened the music box. A soft tune crooned and filled the pounding in her ears, a lovely melody in her inebriated state. And if that wasn't enough to drown her senses, the click of a machine turning on, welcomed a whole new sensation to her as electric currents wracked through her battered body.
A piercing scream wanted to rip through her throat, but her jaw and muscles were clamped in an unyielding clench, completely and utterly out of her control. Time became non-existent. Everything seemed to slow down around her, or maybe speed up. The world was a blur.
The red from the projector photos-the gruesome characters-still filled her vision of the world she desperately tried to stay grounded in. But the details were fading. And continued to fade until only the color crimson made sense through the onslaught on her consciousness. The thick wool feeling in her head and the agony shooting through, locking her body into a rigor mortis state and the music echoing louder than before.
It all blurred together and yet each was its own torment.
Just when she thought she couldn't take anymore, that she would truly lose her mind, the pain stopped, the music ended.
But the effects of the bliss remained.
Avery's head dropped, her chin hovering over her chest as the neck restraint prevented her from falling forward. Each muscle slumped in the chair as the electricity left the body to collapse the mere inches that was allowed. Panting offered her lungs mild comfort as air filled her chest that had been robbed of the barest needs.
Through all of it, Avery barely noticed the doctor's hand on her wrist, counting her pulse and breaths per minute. It wasn't until he pulled her eyelid back to shine a flashlight into her pained ashen irises that she registered what he was doing.
"Bliss is still well in her system. We can safely attempt two more sessions, sir."
"How unfortunate for you, Ms. Mason," the man said simply. He began to crank the music box once again.
Click.
Roll.
The room was washed in darkness then enflamed in red.
A light, twinkling tune sang through the room.
Click.
Instantly, Avery fell back into agony once again, with no hope to escape her bindings until her captors saw fit.
Hello, my lovely readers! I had fun putting this chapter together and I'm excited to write the next bit! Hehe. I know Jacob wasn't in much of this chapter. I mean, whose to say he wasn't?
Anyway, thanks for all the support and the reviews! It means a lot to me that others enjoy what I write.
Hope everyone had wonderful holidays!