Commodity (23 page)

I close my eyes and shake.  I can take the two guys at the door, guns or not.  Once I get inside and get my hands on Brett, I’d rip his dick off and shove it down his throat.  I could grab Hannah, and then…

…and then I’d be surrounded by a hundred other men.

I squeeze my eyes shut and grind down on my teeth.  I can’t go after her—not now.  There are too many of them, and they’d be on me in a heartbeat.  I’d never get her out alive.  I’d be dead, and she would be dragged right back and likely punished for the effort.

I have to wait.

Brett places the bottle back in the cabinet, steps up to Hannah, and runs his hand over her shoulder.  She sits stiffly, looking off to the side until he grabs her chin and turns her to face him.

“I’ve got a couple more things to get done,” he says, “but I’m gonna be back for ya later, darling.  You just hang out, bent over that table with your legs spread until I get back.”

He gives her chin a twist, laughs, and struts out.

I can’t see straight.

I want nothing more than to yell out, letting Hannah know that I’m here and that I’m coming back for her, but I can’t.  I know I can’t do that.  Anything she said or did later could alert Brett to my presence, and I’d never get her out.

I have to wait.

I have to wait while they keep fucking her.

Pushing away from the wall, I stumble slightly before shoving myself back behind the building, next to the rubble.  I make my way back to the other side, check around me quickly, and then head back to the storehouse.

There’s someone inside, and I have to loiter around the outside for a few minutes, trying not to look conspicuous at all.  No one seems to pay any attention to me, though.  As far as they know, I’m just another of the many men at the camp.

As soon as the man exits the storehouse, I duck inside and head straight for the opening behind the crates.  Shoving myself into the space behind them, I crawl into the tunnel and pull my knees up to keep myself hidden.  I tuck my forehead down against my thighs and wrap my arms around my head.  I can’t keep the images out of my brain.

She’s been here all this time.  The guys here clean out latrines and divvy up cans of beans for a chance to rape her.  How many times?  How many times over the last seven months have they taken her?  How is she even still alive?

My vision blurs, and the pressure behind my eyes becomes pain.  I can’t stop the tears.  It’s all my fault she’s here.  If I had insisted she stay with me, they never would have gotten her.  She wouldn’t be here now, preparing for another night of abuse.

I feel like I’m choking.  I wipe my nose with the back of my hand and try to get my thoughts composed.  I have to push all this aside.  I can’t think about it.  If I do, I’m going to rush in there and seal her fate.  If I can keep myself together, I can make a plan that will work, a plan that will get her far away from here.

When I look up, another man has entered the storehouse.  He’s an older man with a bit of a gut hanging over his jeans, a bald head, and a long, grey goatee.  I hold my breath, waiting for him to get whatever he’s come for and get out, but he takes a seat at a small table and opens up a large ledger book.  I can see him fairly clearly through the cracks, but I don’t recognize him.  He jots down a few lines in the book, and then the door opens again, and two others approach him.

“Got a newbie for ya, Gary.”

The man looks up from his ledger and eyes the scrawny, wide-eyed kid in front of him.

“What’s your name?”

“Mike.”

“Let me explain to you how our system works around here,” Gary says.  “Every three days, we get together at Kessler—”

“Kessler?” Mike asks.

“It’s the fountain in the middle,” Gary explains.  “It used to be a big bell tower called Kessler Campanile, but that collapsed in the attacks.  There’s only the fountain now.”

“Got it.”

“We meet at Kessler, and everyone chooses a bracelet out of the pot.”  He holds up his wrist for Mike to see.

I have to shift to one side to get a look at it, but he’s wearing one of those rubber bracelets around his wrist—the same kind people used to wear for various causes.  The one on his wrist is red.

“People with red bracelets are the bosses, and we always have the same jobs.”  He speaks fluidly, as if he’s made the same speech many times.  “I’m in charge of work details and any labor disputes.  Wayne and Ryan are responsible for supplies; Brian takes care of the kitchen; Brett’s in charge of the whores, and Caesar’s in charge of everything.”

“Tomorrow is choosing day,” Gary continues.  “If you get a yellow bracelet, you work for Wayne and help get everything inventoried and figure out what we’re getting low on.  That info goes to Ryan, and he figures out what we’re willing to trade.  Black means border patrol and guard duty; green bracelets are camp cleanup, and brown ones mean you’re on the latrines.  There ain’t no trading, either.  You get whatever you get.”

“Okay.”  Mike nods.  “And then after I do the work?”

“Every day, you’ll get a voucher from your boss, based on what you get done.  If you do your work, it’s enough to keep you fed and provide you with whatever other necessities.  If you do really well at your job—go the extra mile—you’ll have enough left over at the end of the week.  You can spend that on whiskey and whores or whatever else floats your boat.”

“Okay,” Mike says, “I’ll be there.  Where do I sleep?”

“There’s a barracks set up on the northeast side,” Gary says.  “There are always a few cots available.  If you do well, you move up in the ranks, and you could end up with a better place.  Just put some effort into it.”

“I will,” Mike says.  “Anything’s better than being out there.”

“Good attitude.”  Gary shakes Mike’s hand and closes his ledger.  “Meet by the fountain first thing in the morning.  You’ll meet Caesar and the other bosses then.  Be patient—drawing the bracelets can take a little while.  Some people like to complain, but don’t be one of them.  It takes long enough to get everyone their assignments anyway.”

They’ll all be in one place tomorrow morning, including Caesar and Brett.

That will be when I make my move.  That’s when I will get Hannah back.

Outside of the rubble-enclosed compound, I fight with my desire to march right back in and drag Hannah out.  I have to remind myself over and over again that it won’t work—I’d be dead, and she’d be in the same situation.

Tomorrow morning.

One more night.

One more night of them doing God-knows-what to her.

My stomach heaves, and I swallow back bile.  I need to focus, get my plan together, and get us both out of there alive.  I only have a vague time frame—first thing in the morning.  I’ll have to be prepared before then, and that doesn’t give me a lot of time.

It physically hurts to walk away from the compound.  Hannah is closer now than she has been since she was taken from me, and I don’t even want to leave the area, but I have to prepare.  I need supplies, ammo, and an actual plan.  I run back to the camp, formulating a plan as I go.  Chuck greets me immediately.

“Any luck?”

“Yes,” I say, panting as I try to recover from the journey.  “She’s there.  They have her at Georgia Tech surrounded by walls of rubble from the buildings.  They’ve built a whole fort there.”

“Shit!  How are you going to get her out?”

“I’ve got an idea,” I tell him, “but I’m not sure if I can pull it off.”

I explain my idea to Chuck, and he stares at me wide-eyed.

“Dude,” he says, “that’s like, right out of
The Hobbit
!”

“The what?”

“
The Hobbit
!  J.R.R. Tolkien. 
Lord of the Rings
and all that shit.  Didn’t you ever watch movies?”

“Not a lot, no.”

“Shit, bro!”  Chuck scratches his chin and shakes his head at me.  “It’s a classic!  How could you not know about
The Hobbit
?”

I shake my head.  It does sound a little familiar, but I have never been one for movies.  When I watched television, I tended to fall asleep in front of it.

“You missed out on a lot,” Chuck informs me.

“So, are you saying it will work or it won’t?”

“It might.  It worked for Bilbo, anyway.”

“I have no idea what that means.” I’m getting more than a little frustrated.  I don’t have time for this.

“It means that I don’t have a better idea,” Chuck says.  “If you already got in there once without being noticed, you should be able to do it again.  As long as no one sees you leaving with her, it should work.”

“I hope so.  I’m not sure there is another option.”

Hearing Chuck’s opinion makes me feel a little better.  Maybe I have a chance of getting her out without Caesar or Brett catching on.  If anything goes wrong, I’m going to be in a lot of trouble, but I can’t think that way.  I have to keep my mind focused on the goal.

“What are you going to do once you get her out?” Chuck asks.

“I’ve been taking refuge in bomb shelters over the past few months,” I told him.  “They’re underground and I can use light without worrying about the fliers going overhead.  When I found the first one, there was a map of other bomb shelters in the Atlanta area.  I don’t know if the original owner had a group of buddies or not, but I’ve found several of them.  If you don’t know what you’re looking for, they are almost impossible to see.  I actually fell over the ventilation shaft for the first one.  Otherwise, I might have gone right past it.  There is one less than two miles from here, and it would be the closest safe place to take Hannah.”

“Who do you think built them?”

“No idea,” I say.  “Definitely people with some military knowledge, but there’s no indication of who they might have been.  I haven’t run into anyone else inside any of the shelters, so whoever it was either didn’t make it or wasn’t in the area at the time of the attack.”

“Keeping Hannah underground for a while is a good idea,” Chuck says, nodding.  “Safer if she’s completely out of sight.”

“It might not be a bad idea for you guys to think about moving farther away,” I tell him.  “Once they figure out she’s gone, they may come looking for you.”

“You ain’t going at this alone,” Chuck says.  “I’m in it, too.”

“Whoa!” I call out.  “Wait a minute!  This is my fight, not yours.”

“Says who?” Chuck stands up straight and crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“Me,” I respond.  “You don’t have to get involved.  Hannah is my responsibility, not yours.  You don’t need to give those guys a reason to come after you.”

“You think I don’t already have a reason?”  Chuck looks pointedly in Christine’s direction.  “You don’t think it’s a matter of time before they come after her, not to mention this girl you found?”

“That’s not the point.”

“That is
exactly
the point.”

I try to form some kind of valid argument in my head, but I honestly don’t have one.  I hadn’t even considered the idea of help from anyone and wouldn’t dream of putting another soul in the crossfire.  As I’m about to completely refuse the offer, the rest of them gather around me.

“I want to help,” Marco says.  “So does Sam.”

Sam nods in agreement.

“I’m going to help, too,” Katrina adds.  “Don’t even try to stop me.”

“We’re all in it,” Christine tells me.  “Hannah is one of us, and we’ll all help get her out of there.”

“I can’t ask you all to do that.”

“Who’s asking?”  Chuck claps his hand against my shoulder and gives me a big grin.  “One for all and all for one!”

I can’t come up with a viable argument.  I need to save Hannah.  The more help I have, the greater the chances of success.  My initial plan had been me alone, but if I have help, my odds of succeeding are much better.

“All right,” I say as I let out a long breath.  “We’ll do it together.”

*****

“You sure you got this?”

“I’ve got it, hon,” Christine says.  “Don’t you worry about me.”

I’m trying hard to believe her, and I have to admit her aim is pretty good, but I’m not used to handing my sniper rifle over to someone else to use.

“Just stay out of sight, and only use it if you have to.”

“If I get a chance to nail one of those assholes after you are away, I might just have to take it.”  Christine smiles and winks at me.

“No,” I say as I shake my head.  “There are too many of them.  There isn’t that much ammo.  You would just be putting yourself at risk.”

“I’ll keep her covered,” Marco says.

“I can’t have any of you getting trigger happy,” I remind them.  “This should be a quick in-and-out operation.  Hopefully, no one will even know what’s happened until it’s too late.  No shots fired, no bloodshed.”

“Do you think that’s likely?” Chuck asks.

“I think we’re outnumbered,” I say.  “We have a serious disadvantage if we’re discovered.  Everyone will hear a shot fired in that area.  They have two exits they use plus the one I found.  We only have enough people and weapons to cover two of them.  I’m still not sure I like the idea of any of you being involved.”

“Cope.”  Christine looks at me pointedly, and I sigh.

“If you come with me, and something happens, you won’t be able to come back here.  They almost certainly know where you are.”

“Sam and Katrina can get everything moved to another location,” Marco says.  “Just the essential stuff.  If something goes wrong, we’ll meet there.”

“We can go to the house I was staying in with my brothers,” Katrina says.  “I don’t know those guys, and they obviously don’t know about me, or they would have grabbed me, right?”

I can’t argue with her logic.  Katrina gives detailed directions on finding the house—I don’t want any of it written down to be found by someone else.  Everyone seems clear on where to go if we’re separated.

“The two of you move the essentials,” I say, “and then meet up with the rest of the group only if there is time.”

Katrina and Sam agree though Katrina’s not happy about it.  She seems to want to be in the potential thick of it.

“We’ll meet up with everyone else before daybreak,” she says with determination.

“Just be careful,” I warn.  “Don’t be seen.”

She salutes me with a grin.

“We’re wasting time,” Chuck says.  “Let’s get going.”

*****

Christine, Chuck, and Marco take their positions around the camp.  Christine has the high ground on the far side of Ferst Drive on top of a semi-truck trailer abandoned in the street, and Chuck is close to her on the ground.  Marco is two hundred feet away, under cover of rubble and facing the main entrance.  If I’m discovered, it’s the most likely place people will exit, and it won’t take Chuck long to join Marco if needed.

I take inventory of everything I’m carrying: two handguns, extra clips, a small crowbar, and my knives.  Satisfied, I look to Chuck.

“Good luck,” he says quietly.

“Thanks.”  I give him a grim smile.  “I appreciate this—more than you know.”

“Go get her,” he says as he grins back at me.  “I’ll get Christine to cook those rabbits in celebration when it’s all over.”

“Like hell,” she calls down from on top of the trailer.

“I’ll cook them myself,” I tell him.

“Deal!”

It’s still dark as I approach the former fast-food place and duck inside.  I have to walk carefully to avoid tripping over the debris on the floor as I make my way to the hole in the wall and the tunnel beyond.   There’s no one in the storeroom when I get to the other side, and I slip between the crates and make my way into the compound without anyone taking notice.

There are only a few people milling about outside.  The water station I had seen the previous day now holds large percolators of coffee.  At first, I think they have somehow managed to get a generator running, but then I realize the pots aren’t plugged in.  Someone is filling them from smaller pots heated on a cooking fire.

I keep close to one of the buildings between the Kessler and the shack where they’re keeping Hannah.  I can’t see the front of the latter, but I assume the guards are still posted out front.  As the sun breaks over the wall of garbage, more people enter the common area.

I pull the ball cap down a little, shielding my face.  I haven’t seen any sign of Caesar or Brett, but I don’t want to be recognized if they enter the area, and I don’t see them first.  I scan the faces of the men as they pass me, recognizing only the two men who came to trade last night and the young man who had just shown up to join the camp.

“Come on.  It’s time for the drawing.”

I take a deep breath and push off from the side of the building where I’m standing and walk at a steady pace against the crowd heading for the Kessler.  No one seems to be paying attention to me as I make my way to my destination.

To Hannah.

Hold on a little longer.  I’m coming.

There is only one guard at the door.  I wasn’t sure if these assholes would be included in the drawing or not, but one is better than two.  He’s sitting near the door, propped up against one of the support beams holding the shelter roof in place.  He’s smoking a cigarette and picking at dirt under his nails.

I walk past, not looking at him, and twirl the small, yellow bracelet around my fingers.  He glances in my direction and then goes back to picking at his fingernails.  When I step off to the side and around the back of the building, he stays in the same position.

Perfect.

I close my eyes briefly as I center myself.  I ignore the fact that Hannah is just inside, only a few feet from me, and concentrate.

With one swift motion, I grab his head, pulling it back as I wrap my fingers around his neck and plunge the knife into his back.  I turn and twist it, making sure the artery is severed.  The rush of blood over my arm and his quick collapse tell me I’m successful.

Propping him up against the support post, I try to make him look as lively as possible before I jump back to the side of the building.  I look around quickly to see if anyone has noticed, but everyone is still focused on the drawing and not looking in this direction.

Moving quickly, I pull the gutter away from the rain barrel and tip it to dump out the small amount of water at the bottom.  I glance inside the container.  It’s smooth enough and shouldn’t cause undue injury.  There are rails on each side where Hannah will be able to brace herself.  It will be a tight fit for her, but it’s the best way to get her out unnoticed.  Even if her absence is discovered before I’m out of the compound, no one will suspect she’s inside the barrel.

Again, I check the group in the distance.  A few of them are starting to move about, their tasks for the next few days determined, but none of them seems to be in any hurry.  I pull the barrel back into the cover of the shrubs beside the building and peek through the crack in the wall.

There’s no one visible inside the main room.

Quietly and quickly, I pull the small crowbar from my belt and slide it into the crack, wedging it securely before pulling back.  The plywood is thin and cracks easily under the pressure.  I pause a moment, making sure no one has heard the sound, but everyone is still far off at Kessler.