Роберт Уилсон - Days Since... - Thomas - Day 758

“Did you torture him?” Thomas eyed Blaine’s injuries once more.

“I’m going to hold off on that. I don’t want to shut him down. If I can convince him cleanly to reconsider his allegiances, we will get the truth. Torture can be tricky as you know—sometimes you get the truth, sometimes it’s what they think you want to hear.”

“So what do we do with him?”

“Me and one of the Soldiers will continue to monitor them.”

“Him and the girl?”

“Yes. First, we need you to complete your scouting endeavor.” He motioned for Thomas to follow him as he stepped off toward the office. “When we confirm the information offered by the woman, we can consider that her first step toward assimilation. The kid…” Blaine slowed his steps as he worked through his thoughts. “We’ll initiate conditioning once we get him back. I hope he’ll break down, eventually. Most do, especially when they see how far along we are—when they see how much easier life can be.”

“Is that it then?” Thomas opened the door to the office for Blaine. “Just waiting on me and James?”

“It needs to be sooner than later. We’ll need time to prepare with what additional Intelligence you’re able to collect from the camp, and depending on that, we need to aim for hitting them tonight. Not that they’re showing signs of leaving, but things might begin to unravel the longer he is in the area.”

Thomas called for James, expecting him to emerge from the back of the office. A moment passed and he was greeted with a loud bang against one of the tables behind him. “We’ll pick the best from these to make sure we don’t have any problems getting in,” James said.

“You got that then?” Thomas asked

James nodded as he sorted through the books.

Thomas turned to Blaine. “You have anything more to tell us before we head out?”

“Don’t blow it.”

Only six lanes of boulevard separated the two of them from the Butcher’s checkpoint into Burnet Woods. They had wrapped back around the parking garage and presented themselves into the open from a two-lane street that bisected the university’s grounds. Out of habit, Thomas looked both ways before squeezing between a couple of parked cars—both with at least one flat tire and clear indications they had been ransacked long ago. Thomas adjusted the straps of a book bag he found within the library’s office. It was now filled with a bounty of books, and James carried the same—each of them nervous and eager to present their tribute and be granted access into the camp.

There were only three men in front of them as they approached from the sidewalk. It appeared as though they had been waiting a while—their faces stamped with impatient frowns as they stood in line. The arrival of Thomas and James interrupted their complaining for only a moment. All of their eyes met for a quick assessment of each other. The three strangers must have been satisfied with the newcomers’ demeanor as their conversation fired up again, and although none of the strangers made any attempt to include them, Thomas ensured he kept track of their words and took notice of what they had.

One of the men brought with him a small pallet of canned foods within a wagon and another had two packs of bottled water at his own feet. The last of the three didn’t appear to have anything and remained the least talkative. Most of his answers came in one-word varieties. The others spoke. He listened, then agreed. It seemed as though they could have said anything, and he would have played along, affirming whatever nonsense the other two came up with. He must have something valuable. He’s too quiet. Thomas steadied his eyes upon the man, scanning his figure, looking for any bulges that might indicate a firearm. The aloof stranger raised a few hairs on Thomas’s neck.

“First time?” James broke into the stream of conversation, trying to engage the man—to see what he was about.

“Sure is!” One of the other stranger’s spoke up, misinterpreting the intention of James’s words. He smiled as he said it though, his teeth showing through a graying beard. “They call me Martin, and this here’s my son, Mitch.” The two of them offered their hands, and James took their palms into his own. “Wanted to come by here last time, but wasn’t able. Would’ve taken too long from where I was at the time. I’m getting too old for any long treks across this town.” He stood while steadying himself by the handle of the wagon—a sharp bend to his back. “This’ll be my last ride before I go.” He held up a clasped hand. “Got my magic bean, and these women should knock the last couple things off my bucket list.”

“You have a bucket list?” James seemed completely enthralled with the idea.

“Not so much worried about living anymore. This whole virus thing made living mostly unenjoyable, but made it easier to do some of the things I’ve wanted to do but never could.” The hairs of his beard parted again around a wide grin. Thomas swore he could see a twinkle in the old man’s eye. “Some things my wife wouldn’t do, some things the law wouldn’t let me do. Neither of those around, so I says to myself… It’s time to just have fun before the cancer tears me apart completely.”

His son, looking on just over his shoulder, shook his head. “Dad, come on.” He tugged at the old pervert’s shoulder. “You still got your pill?”

“My last huzzah!” Martin presented a small blue pill to the sky between his thumb and forefinger. He took it down and bobbled it within his palm. “This baby’s gonna bring me lot’s to remember when I’m in the ground”

“Quit talking like that,” his son pleaded with him, “and quit rolling that damn thing around like that. You’re going to drop—”

But it was too late. The pill slipped from his hand and found its way into a patch of decaying matter pressed against the curb. As the two men fumbled for Martin’s dying wish, the quiet stranger dove in to assist.

“Lemme help you guys out here,” he said while scavenging through the mess. “Is that it there?” He pointed down toward a clump of leaves by the old man’s foot, diverting their attention from where Thomas caught glimpse of the pill, but as he went to retrieve it, the quiet stranger plucked it from the pile and into his pocket. “Any luck?” The stranger continued feigning assistance. “I thought I just saw it.”

“It’s got to be here, damn it.” The son desperately scraping everything away. He practically ripped his father’s foot from the gutter as he worked to get it from the spot he wished to search.

“Be careful with this old man.” Martin slowly bent down to sit on the curb.

“Damn it, dad!” He was tossing the excess junk out behind him and into the street. “Anyone seen it?”

Thomas glared at the stranger, contemplating whether or not to inject the truth into this charade as they picked through the mess, sifting the loose filth through their parted fingers. Of course, there was nothing to find. Not a sliver of blue within that disgusting slew of brown and black.

The son turned to the stranger, scowling at him, most likely thinking what Thomas already knew to be the truth. “Give it here.” A slow and deliberate statement. “Now!”

“Don’t have it.” The man stepped back.

“Empty out your pockets.”

“Who the hell do you think you are? I don’t answer to you, and besides”—he patted along the outside of his pants pockets—“I ain’t got your shit, man. I don’t need no stinkin’ pill to get it up.”

“It’s worth a ton, and you know it. It didn’t just disappear! I know you have the damn thing, just give it up!” The son took very little time encroaching into the quiet stranger’s space. Thomas and James simply stood there, watching the event unravel in front of them. Although they could have easily intervened, retrieved the pill, and given it back, the role for which they came was not that. They stayed mum.