Chương 48

Louis woke to the sound of a safety clicking off. He opened his eyes. A rifle muzzle pointed at his face in the dim gray light. A broad-shouldered man stood just outside the open side of the shed. He wore a matte black rain shell with no insignia Louis could see. He was not alone. Two more men stood among the wet pines beyond him. Their rifles covered the opening from different directions. Louis did not move. Sleep left him immediately.

Gladice drew a sharp breath to his left, and Angelique shifted against him on the other side.

"Hands where I can see them," said the man with the rifle. Louis lifted his hands slowly. Beside him, Angelique raised hers as well. Gladice started to reach for her pistol but stopped before touching it. She looked past the armed men toward the black vehicles parked beyond the shed.

"Well," she said, voice rough from sleep.

"If it isn't the Lord's chosen welcoming party."

"I hope you rested well," said one of the men outside.

"You walked a long way." The man stepped into clearer view. He was older than the others, perhaps fifty. He wore a dark coat and trousers without visible insignia. His short hair was silver at the temples, and he held a folded pair of leather gloves in one hand.

"Good morning," he said.

"No one here is interested in making this uglier than it already is. Miss Simington, ease your hand away from the pistol." Gladice looked at him for a second, then moved her hand away. The older man stepped forward and took the pistol from her waist. He removed the magazine, racked the slide to clear the chamber, and tucked the pistol and magazine under his coat. While he cleared it, another man searched the three of them. He took the pistol from Louis's waistband and the knife from Gladice's side.

Only then did the older man turn his attention to Louis's leg.

"You can stand?"

"Maybe." The man gave a short nod.

"Fair enough." He looked over one shoulder.

"Marlow." One of the other men came forward with a compact black medical case. He was already wearing black medical gloves. He set the case on the ground and took out antiseptic, bandages, and a folded splint.

"Lift the leg," he said. Louis looked at the man who seemed to be in charge. The older man said nothing. Louis lifted his right leg and tried to straighten it. Pain tightened around the swollen knee, but he kept quiet. The medic crouched and examined the swelling. He pressed along both sides of the joint, checked the kneecap, then guided the leg through a limited bend. Louis pulled back when the medic reached the outside of the knee.

"No obvious fracture," the medic said.

"Likely a sprain, but there may be ligament or meniscus damage. You'll need imaging. A brace for now." He began to clean the cuts on Louis's face and hands with an antiseptic wipe. It stung. Louis did not move. Behind him, Angelique and Gladice were also being checked by the other guards, hands still raised. Louis kept his eyes on the lead man while the medic worked.

"You're not from the train," Louis said.

"No," the older man answered.

"But we know what happened on it. You put up such a fight." The medic finished cleaning Louis's cuts and turned to his knee. He wrapped it firmly with a compression bandage, checked the circulation in Louis's foot, and strapped a padded splint along the leg. The knee felt more stable. The splint held it in a slight bend. It stopped the joint from shifting, but putting weight on the leg would still hurt. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Louis said, "Who are you?"

"You can call me Marshal Graves." He gestured toward one of the vehicles beyond the shed.

"We are here to bring you in."

"Where?"

"A place you will find a great deal more comfortable than this shed." Graves looked at Angelique.

"All three of you." Angelique looked back at him without answering.

"Let's not make this difficult. You are exhausted, injured, and far from any allies. There is no game left to play here. Come with us. Cooperate. Let the doctors see to you properly. There will be a chance to speak later." Gladice kept her hands raised and stared at Graves. Louis glanced at Angelique and Gladice before turning back to him.

"We won't be handed over," he said.

"You are already being handed over."

"Not to your people." Graves sighed and stepped closer.

"Look at me, Mr. Collins. You are in the Holy States of Dixie. You are on a road in Alabama with three men holding rifles on you. Your leg is half useless and your friends are half dead on their feet. You will get in that car and sit where you are told. You will behave with dignity and gratitude. Am I clear?" Louis said nothing. Graves nodded.

"Good. Let's go." Louis tried to stand first, but his right knee gave way. Graves motioned to Marlow. The medic caught Louis under the right arm before he fell against the wall. Another man returned from the nearest vehicle with a black telescoping cane. He extended it and placed it in Louis's left hand. Angelique rose without help, keeping her left arm close to her ribs. Gladice also stood on her own. She paused after straightening and took a shallow breath.

The bruise at the base of her throat had darkened overnight, and her lips were pale with exhaustion. The armed men escorted them from the shed with their rifles held low but ready. Three black vehicles were parked on the gravel lane. They were unmarked civilian models with tinted windows, the kind built to carry important people without attracting attention. The men directed all three of them into the middle vehicle. Angelique climbed in first. Marlow helped Louis in with the cane, and Gladice followed last.

One man took the wheel. Another sat beside him with a tablet and an earpiece. Marlow sat facing them on a fold-down jump seat with the medical case on his knees. Graves entered last, closed the door, and sat in the far rear corner opposite them. The engine started, and the convoy pulled away. Only after the vehicle began moving did Louis realize that none of them had been restrained. He looked down at his wrists. Being left unbound did not make him feel any less captive. Graves noticed.

"You'll remain unbound," he said.

"Provided you do not make it necessary to reconsider." Gladice leaned her head against the leather seat and looked at him.

"How generous of you." Graves smiled.

"I am a generous man, Miss Simington. When generosity is convenient." He took three bottles of water from a cooler beneath the jump seat and passed one to each of them. Louis took his without speaking. Angelique drank in short sips while watching the road through the window. Gladice drank half the bottle in several swallows, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and set it at her feet. Graves took a phone from his coat, read a message, and spoke to the driver.

"East route holds. No stops." The driver nodded. The man in the front passenger seat answered a call through his earpiece and listened before responding.

"Copy. We're mobile now. Three recovered. Condition fair. Yes, all together." Angelique looked at Graves.

"Who are you reporting to?" Graves put his phone back inside his coat before answering.

"You'll meet him soon enough."

"My father will know we were taken," Louis said.

"I would be surprised if he did not."

"Then he will come for us."

"I expect he will try. He won't succeed." Louis could not dismiss it as a bluff. He looked through the window at the trees beside the road. The road climbed out of the creek-bottom flats. The ground became drier, and larger fields appeared beyond the trees, divided into cultivated plots.

"Where are we going?" Gladice asked. Graves folded his hands in his lap.

"East."

"Be specific."

"Montgomery." Beside Louis, Angelique stopped moving.

"I fucking knew it!" Gladice said.

"Of course it was the fucking Dixie capital." Louis looked back at Graves.

"Why?" Graves looked at each of them before answering.

"Because you are important enough to be brought to the center of things," he said.

"And because someone is very interested in meeting you." The medic opened a backpack and took out several energy bars. He passed one to each of them. No one refused. They ate without speaking.

"Do you have anything else to eat?" Louis asked after finishing his bar.

"I have a sandwich in the bag," Graves said.

"My wife made it last night." He handed it to Louis. It was turkey and Swiss on wheat, wrapped in wax paper, cold and a little squashed. Louis took a bite and offered it to Angelique. Angelique took a bite and passed it to Gladice. It was gone in three mouthfuls. The convoy left the gravel lane, accelerated onto a wider road, and passed between pines and flat fields. The sky lightened from gray to white. Louis leaned back carefully with the cane beside his injured leg. Angelique remained pressed against his side.

He could feel the cold of her wet sleeve through his own. Across from them, Graves sat with his hands folded and said nothing. Their real destination was still ahead.