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

“Help me out here, you two,” the son begged. “This guy can’t steal from us. It’s my dad’s final wish. We can’t let him get away with this.”

Thomas felt no sympathy for the man whining about the theft of a small pill. A small pill that would allow his old man to defile the life of a woman—to take from her—steal a small piece of her soul each time.

As the man continued to beg, a rage built inside Thomas, his ears turning red. It was the audacity of this hypocrite, this whiner, this individual unable to see his own horribleness. He was only focused on a minor theft, but acted as an enabler for the rape of another, possibly several others. A complicit rapist, but a crusader against petty theft? The man’s moral compass proved laughable.

Thomas shifted his weight toward the men, but felt an arm across his chest. It was James, taking on the unfamiliar role of peacemaker, casting aside his natural inclination toward instigator. “Let it go,” he whispered while pointing to the Butcher’s guard approaching from the post.

“Hey! Everyone! Shut the fuck up!” The guard set his hand upon the pistol against his hip.

“But he—” the son started.

“I don’t give two shits about any ‘but he.’ You idiots won’t be allowed in here if you don’t end this now. This is a no bullshit zone.” The guard stared pointedly down the line at each of their faces. “Anyone have a problem with that?”

James spoke up, stepping slowly away from their bickering while grabbing hold of Thomas’s arm. “We have nothing to do with them, not going to have them ruin this opportunity for us.”

Thomas took the cue. “Check us over and what we brought. Let these idiots decide what’s more important to them by themselves. We’re going in.”

They walked up the service road toward the barricade.

“You’re here with me,” the guard said, stopping James in the middle of the street. “Only one at a time, fellas.” Thomas slowed his steps. “Bill! Look alive!”

“I hear ya!” Bill stepped out from behind the barricade and brushed something from his pants. Thomas took a quick glance back at James, who had already taken it upon himself to strike up a conversation with the guard. The apprehension Thomas held going into this faded.

James seemed born for this situation. A natural liar—he seemed to have the ability to move from one character to the next, feeding into whatever line the next person they encountered needed to hear. They were just two guys looking for a good time—nothing more, nothing less.

“Quit your staring,” the guard said, pausing from his conversation with James. “Get your ass on up there.”

“Let’s go! We ain’t got all day here.” Bill pointed to Thomas. “Step this way and spread ’em.”

Thomas did what he was told—a slight hesitation to his movement. A little nervous touch to his “character” in this mission would carry well. Even the old pervert in all his excitement seemed to hold a little uncertainty in his words. No one seemed completely comfortable here.

“You don’t have anything on you that’s gonna hurt me, right?” Bill asked.

“Nope.” Thomas slid the book bag from his shoulder and let it drop to the ground.

“What’s in there?” Bill nudged the bag with his foot. “Feels heavy.”

“Just a bag of books,” he said, making a point not to reveal the source.

As Bill moved into position behind him, Thomas spread his legs even with his shoulders and raised his hands above his head. “You think those books will get us what we need?”

“Depends on what you’re looking to do.”

That comment made Thomas shudder. Of course he missed the touch, the softness of a woman, but these circumstances made his skin crawl.

Get into the role. “As far as I can get?” Thomas realized it came out as a question. Real smooth, damn it! “I’m just looking for some quick action, man.”

The words pained him to say it. He couldn’t remember if his eyes closed while the words crept from his lips. Either way, the guard hadn’t heard or noticed, he was too focused on exposing any contraband.

He knelt by Thomas’s legs, his hands sliding along, grasping for anything that might be hidden. Thomas looked down upon the guard—the man that had sold a portion of his soul, bore the scar of a mad man, devoted his life to enslaving others. “What won’t these women do?” He tried again to get a reaction out of the man.

Bill’s laugh said it all. The filth attached to each pronounced “Ha!” left little doubt that these women had no choice—no say in how their bodies were used.

Thomas’s faith in humanity beyond the Second Alliance continued to plummet. It had only been two years, but for some people it hadn’t come soon enough. The decline only worked to reaffirm his desire to carry out the mission—to strengthen their influence over the region.

“What are we laughing about? It’s gotta be good if he’s in on it.” James winked to Thomas as he broke into the conversation, moving into the position where Thomas had just been cleared. “So… do we just give the women the books or how’s that work?”

“You’ll have to go to the money booth. Just take the crap over that you want to sell, and they’ll figure out what it’s worth.” Bill began searching James. “Once you get your chits, then you’ll have a better idea of what you can get. There’s food and stuff too, but most people come for the women.” He motioned for Thomas to come closer and lowered his voice for both him and James. “Use them like you want to. Depends on the one you get, but if you seek out the right ones there ain’t nothin’ they won’t let you do. Nobody’ll judge you neither. Costs a bit more, but where the hell else you gonna get this done for yourself.” Bill chuckled in his throat. “Hit ‘em, Choke ‘em. Whatever. Doesn’t matter—they’re owned property.” He patted James on the back and began with their bags.

Thomas’s heart dropped. He just stared blankly, frozen within this surreal moment. His hands pulsed, desiring to shred this man to pieces as he continued to speak. Thomas’s hearing diminished into a persistent tone that blocked the rest of what poured from Bill’s mouth. A large portion of Thomas was relieved that he couldn’t make out what was being said. These poor women.

He could feel a great pleasure rising within his body as the thought of capturing, maiming, and killing the Butcher began to overwhelm him. To butcher the Butcher was all he could imagine.

Thomas waited patiently, letting his senses normalize as Bill finished searching through their bags. “Last thing—take these.” Bill pinned two badges onto their shirts. “Let’s us know who’s been through a checkpoint. Don’t lose these. If we find someone without it, then they’re gone, no questions asked. Any blowback and we’ll just kill ’em.” Thomas looked to James. “Not to end on a sour note, so… Make sure you get your fill.”

Thomas smiled at the man. There’s a special place in hell for you.

“Sounds like we’ll get our fill on whatever we need,” James said. “Let’s roll, Tommy. We got a nice vacation ahead of us.”

“Just follow the sidewalk in,”—Bill snaked his hand toward the woods—“and it’ll curve around through a little dip with a stream rolling by. Once you start up the hill, you might have a quarter mile or so. Your first stop should be to get some chits, so you don’t have to lug those books around.”

Thomas and James stuffed the books back into their bags before stepping off. “We need to burn this place to the ground,” Thomas muttered.

All James could manage was a nod.

Thomas counted the joints in the sidewalk as he walked—anything to try and keep his mind clear. If he allowed the weight of these circumstances to crush him, he knew he might not be able to effectively complete this mission. A personal rage would not be a successful plan. It may push him through pain, but acting on raw emotion would not suffice. The knowledge of the impending freedom of those captive within the camp would have to suppress this hatred—this desire to free them immediately. They’ll have their turn. There’s not a chance in hell they escape what they’ve been doing to these girls. Just give it time.