William Weber - Surviving America's Collapse

The exchange had also shown John that when push came to shove, his deputies had performed better than expected. Of course, the mission wasn’t a complete success. They’d gone out with a laundry list of meds to retrieve and come back with less than half of what they needed. That would mean they’d need to make another trip and bring more men along with them when they did.

Diane had been using the pressure canner to sterilize tshirts for cloth bandages when she heard what was happening and came running to greet the men as they returned. Gregory and Emma were there too along with many of the other residents. The men were greeted as heroes, but the expression on Diane’s face was something else entirely. She hadn’t wanted him to go out in the first place. Let someone else’s husband risk his life.

But that wasn’t the kind of man John was. In combat, he never asked his men to do something he wasn’t willing to do himself.

Patty Long had also been in the crowd, gawking along with everyone else at the bloodied prisoner they brought back with them. To the gathering crowd, these were the drug dealers who had kidnapped the Applebys and nearly killed the Hectors. A taste for revenge was in the air and John was sure a few among them would love to finish the man off. But John needed him alive, at least for now. Even when Patty told him they should organize another committee meeting to discuss what had happened, John told her it would have to wait. He had some questions of his own he needed answered first.

Not long after, they set up in Dr. Wilson’s empty basement. The wounded man’s jeans had been cut off at the knee, revealing the extent of his injuries. It seemed a tragedy to use the fresh bandages Diane and Patty Long’s medical crew had been making since yesterday, but John hoped the intel would be worth the price.

Patty and her assistant worked for an hour stemming the bleeding and sewing his wounds. The bullets had gone straight through the soft part of the man’s calf, which was lucky for him since it meant no broken bones or lead fragments that needed to be removed with tweezers. Painkillers were the one thing John had refused to give him.

Peter and Frank were both there as Patty and the others shuffled out.

The man wore loose baggy clothes similar to how Cain had been dressed. His hair was dark, greasy and hung in his face. A scar ran across his right temple. In spite of his injuries, his arms and legs were bound with paracord.

“What’s your name?” John asked, pacing before him.

The man winced with pain. The wound in his leg was clearly starting to throb. “Why should I tell you anything? You’re just gonna kill me.”

“You’ll die for sure if you don’t talk,” Frank shot from behind them. “That’s a promise.”

“Your name. What is it?”

“Your mother, that’s my name.”

John kicked the man’s bound legs and the man let out a screech of pain.

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I already have. Answer our questions and we’ll see to it you’re treated fairly.”

His eyes were welded shut in agony. “James. My name is James.”

“Thank you, James,” John said cordially. “What’s your last name?”

James hesitated. John’s eyes dropped to James’ legs and the implied threat of another kick seemed to jog his memory.

“Clay. My name’s James Clay.”

“You’re one of Cain’s men.” John stated it as a matter of fact.

James nodded. “Guess you could say that. I’m part of his crew.”

“Crew?”

“Meth. Cain has labs all over the city. Mobile homes, basements, you name it.”

“You’re drug dealers.”

“We’re businessmen. We’re venture capitalists. We can sniff out an opportunity and that’s exactly what Cain saw when the lights all went out. But if you think we’re the only ones you’re fooling yourself. This whole city’s being carved up as we speak. Big fish eating little fish and getting fatter and fatter.”

It was sounding to John like Mogadishu, where local warlords effectively controlled the city with an iron fist, keeping its citizens in a perpetual state of fear and panic.

“What does Cain want with us? We haven’t done a thing to him.”

James snickered. “You’re still not getting it. Sequoyah Hills is Cain’s turf, his fiefdom. You and everything you own belong to him.”

“The hell we do,” Peter cried, coming forward.

John and Frank held him back.

“How many men does he have?” John asked after they’d managed to calm Peter down.

“Couple hundred. But more are coming in everyday. Cain has a real knack for making people do what he wants.”

There was a scar along James’ neck, as though someone had held a knife there and pushed until the blade broke the skin.

“That how he convinced you?”

“Maybe. But that’s ancient history. I been working for Cain for almost five years.”

“Does he have any other vehicles?”

“Cain gets whatever he wants. You steal one of his trucks, he’ll find ten to replace it. You people can’t win.”

“We’ll see about that,” John replied. “Where’s he headquartered?”

James scoffed. “I ain’t telling you that. I’m already dead if he finds out I said a word to you people.”

John knelt down and grabbed the meat of James’ wounded calf. “I’m gonna ask you one more time.”

“I told you—”

Closing his fingers tight, John listened to the man howl in pain. He hated having to resort to such barbaric methods, but when it came to protecting his family and by extension the people of Willow Creek, he was willing to do whatever was needed.

“He’s on Towanda Trail. 552 Towanda Trail. Please just stop. Please.”

John let go.

“He’s over by the interstate,” Frank said.

“Makes sense,” John replied. “That way he can control the flow of human traffic in and out of Sequoyah Hills. Maybe even raid the highway from time to time and nab survivors to satisfy his perverted pleasures.”

John was heading for the door when Peter said: “What do we do with him?” He was pointing at James who was doubled over in pain.

“Keep him here and make sure a deputy’s watching him at all times. We may have some more questions for him.”

The committee meeting which followed was frantic. The entire community was justifiably frightened and John felt a need to balance telling them the dire truth of their situation with the risk of inciting panic. Luckily, Susan Wheeler, perhaps the most excitable of the bunch, was off with her team restocking the water supply.

The most important facts were that Cain was a dangerous man and that he meant business.

“He’s a local drug dealer who’s using his street thugs to claim Sequoyah Hills as his own,” John explained.

Al looked positively beside himself. “I’d really hoped he was just bluffing this whole time.”

“Where’s the National Guard?” Arnold moaned, his mouth locked in an expression of disbelief.

“I’m sorry to say we’re on our own here,” John told them starkly. “If the Guard or even the army still exists, I’m sure they’ve got bigger fish to fry. And that’s exactly why a lowlife like Cain is taking advantage of the situation. We got four more weapons from his men. Two Chinese AK-47s and two Beretta 9mm pistols. They’ll come in handy, but each of us needs to be extra vigilant. I suggest everyone who has a weapon in their home for self-protection keep it on their person at all times.” John wasn’t done yet. “If we’d taken in those refugees earlier, not only would they still be alive, but we’d have a larger defense force to draw on.”

“I hope you’re not holding us responsible for the deaths of those people,” Curtis exclaimed. “We weren’t the ones who pulled the trigger. How were we supposed to know that would happen?”