Condemn (BUNKER 12 Book 2) (23 page)

Finn got slowly to his feet.
Crouching, he slid his feet forward until he came to the wall, then
followed it until he came to the steps. By touch, he could tell
that it was all made of wood. He felt for the edges of the
boards.

"What are you doing?"

"We need weapons, some way to defend
ourselves. If I can pry some of these steps off—"

"I already tried that. They're screwed
in, and there's no way to pry them off, believe me. My fingers are
bloody from trying."

"Anything in your pockets? Did you
have anything with you when they put you down here?"

"Emptied us out."

"Bix?"

"I've got a couple nails from the
barn."

"That's a start. Let me have one." He
went back over, more confident in the pitch dark, now that he had a
better sense of the room's layout. "Check the other guy's
pockets."

"Aw, dude. Why me?"

"Just do it."

There was some shuffling, then:
"Nothing."

"Check the shoes."

"No good. Just your standard sneakers.
Not much tread left."

"Thanks, that's helpful."

"Hey, you said check his
shoes."

"To use, not to steal."

Finn returned to the steps, mounted
them, then felt around the door at the top. It was smooth and cool
to the touch. Knocking on it produced a solid sound. There was no
handle, no way to pull it open. He tried digging the nail head into
the space around the edge and pulling, but the thing was sturdily
mounted in a metal frame and the door didn't yield even in the
slightest.

He ran his fingers all the way around
it, found three hinges, and pressed his fingertip against each of
the mounting screws in turn. There was no give to them.

"I might be able to unscrew the
hinges," he said. "But it'll take a while, and we may not have the
time."

After only a few minutes working on it
Finn's fingers were growing numb. He felt the area around the screw
and frowned. There were barely any scratches from the nail. "It's
not going to work."

"Let me have a go," Bix
said.

"Hold on." He ran his fingers over the
middle hinge, wondering why it was easier to picture something when
he had his eyes closed, even in the dark. "I've got another idea."
He pressed the tip of the nail against the bottom of the hinge and
pushed.

"What're you doing?"

"Checking if I can remove the pins
from the hinges. There's three."

"Is it working?"

Finn pressed harder, but the pin
wouldn't budge. "I need a hammer or something to hit it
with."

He felt something press against the
back of his leg and heard Byron say, "Here, try this. Place it flat
against your palm."

"What is it?"

"Belt buckle. The boys gave it to me
for my last birthday . . . before."

Finn did as he suggested and tried to
hammer at the nail, checking every few hits to see if the pin was
moving.

"Is it working?"

Finn tried to hammer harder. So far,
the pin hadn't budged, and he feared it might not be possible to
remove it. But his heart nearly skipped when he found a tiny gap
between the pin head and the hinge body. "Maybe."

A couple minutes later, the pin was
halfway out. "There's a problem," he said, breathing heavily. The
room seemed to have grown hot and stuffy. Sweat poured down his
face. "The nail's not long enough. And now it's stuck. I can't get
it out."

His fingers were sore, but he refused
to give up. He pulled on the pin with all his strength, wriggling
it. It still wouldn't release.

"Want me to try?" Bix
asked.

"No. Give me another nail."

Bix handed it over, and Finn
positioned it under the pin head and began to hammer up on it.
"It's working!"

The pin popped free after a few more
minutes and rolled down the steps.

"One down, two to go!" Bix
cheered.

"Yeah, but unless I can get the first
nail out, it's not going to do us much good."

He handed the nail and buckle over to
Bix, who worked the bottom hinge for a while before taking a break.
"I can feel it starting to—"

Above them, they heard the outer door
open and keys being shaken out on a ring.

"Get down here!"
Finn hissed.

The door flew open just as Bix stepped
away from the bottom step. After hours in the pitch black, the
light was blinding.

"You boys!" Luke shouted down at them.
"Git on up here!"

"No!" Byron cried. He
charged clumsily up the stairs shouting that they couldn't take his
children. There was a
snap!
and several rapid clicks and he fell back into the
room writhing on the ground. The kids tried to scramble toward
their father, but Bix and Finn pulled them back, yelling at them
not to touch.

"I didn't mean the little ones!"
Adrian yelled from behind. He pushed Luke to the side and pointed
at Bix and Finn with a rifle. "I meant you two. One at a time. And
no funny business or I'll shoot ya fer real. And as far as I know,
there ain't no comin back from a shotgun blast to the
head."

* * *

"What are you going to do with us?" Finn demanded. He stumbled over
the rough ground just outside the shack, unable to see the
groundhog mounds in the dark. He thought about shouting at Bix to
run, but he knew it wouldn't work. They'd probably just get shot in
the back.

"Time for yer first lesson in
humility, boys," Adrian told them, and placed a lariat over each of
their heads and tightened it. "Now march!"

He didn't have to tell them where they
were going. They knew. They could see the flood lamps through the
trees. Twenty minutes later, they emerged into the clearing.
Several people were already gathered inside the barn. They raised a
cheer when they saw Adrian approach.

Inside the cage were two naked
figures. One was the man from the night before, except he wasn't a
man anymore. The other was the second Wraith the boys had seen
inside the animal barn the first night. Both Wraiths now threw
themselves at the wire as the crowd cheered and jeered.

Billy sat on the edge of the cart on
the other side of the barn. He stood up when they entered, a cattle
prod in his hand. Finn noticed that he was limping noticeably from
the wound on his leg, and beads of sweat stood out on his forehead.
He returned Finn's glare with a murderous look.

Adrian shoved them toward the cage so
violently that both boys fell onto their knees in the dirt. The
Wraiths were there in the blink of an eye, hissing at them,
thrusting their arms through the chain link to get at
them.

Both boys recoiled, barely managing to
avoid being touched. Behind them, the crowd roared.

"You sure about this?" Billy asked,
hobbling over to Adrian. "Jennifer won't—"

"Shut up!" His face was red, and his
eyes gleamed with a wicked spark. "Give em the prods," he said.
"Now!"

"No!" Finn yelled and tried to
scramble away.

But Billy was quicker, even with his
injured leg. "Get up," he growled. Grimacing, he pulled the boys to
their feet and removed the ropes from around their
necks.

Finn spun around to lash out, but
Adrian had raised the rifle into his arms and was cradling it in a
threatening manner, a grin smeared across his lips. He looked like
he wanted an excuse to fire it.

"Is this what you've become?" Finn
screamed, addressing the crowd. Bix was shaking like a leaf on a
tree, his face white with terror. "Murdering innocent people?
You're no better than they are!" he said, pointing at the Wraiths
inside the cage.

Several people in the crowd cursed at
him, called him a sinner. "It's time for your judgment!" they
cried.

"No!" Bix yelled. "Please,
no!"

Billy shoved the cattle prod into
Finn's hands, then stepped quickly away. "Use it!"

Finn turned to Bix in confusion. Bix's
eyes widened, and he shook his head at his friend.

"Finn? Please, don't."

Finn looked down at the weight in his
hands, not understanding. Was he supposed to use it on
Bix?

But before he could move, Luke shoved
a second prod into Bix's hands. Like Billy, he stepped swiftly
away.

"Bring out the subjects!" Adrian
cried.

Behind him, the crowd turned and
parted. Adrian never took his gaze — or the rifle — off
the boys. He gestured at Finn to go around to the right side of the
cage. With a rifle now in his own hands, Luke gestured at Bix to go
around to the left. The boys obeyed.

Six men marched through the door into
the barn, two pairs each holding a third man, who was blindfolded.
They passed Adrian, then spread out and turned to face the
crowd.

"You two have been charged with crimes
against yer fellow man," Adrian stated. "How do y'all
plead?"

The crowd hushed in anticipation for
answers that never came.

"Very well. Y'all must be punished.
Fifteen seconds each in the cage. If y'all can put the ferals out
of their misery before then, yer debt'll be repaid."

Bix stared at Finn through the wire
mesh. The Wraiths were prowling inside the cage like animals,
hissing and snapping. One threw itself at the wire and scaled it in
a flash. It crawled across the newly-installed top as easily as if
it were crawling along the floor. Finn shivered and tried to back
away, but someone shoved him forward.

The two men, their heads still covered
with the hoods, were stripped of their clothing. They cried out
weakly, but the fight seemed to have been beaten out of them. One
coughed, his loose skin swinging over his bones. Both were horribly
emaciated and shook visibly.

Adrian turned to the boys. "If'n these
men are gonna have any fightin chance at redemption, you'll shock
the ferals at the same time."

He grinned and the crowd broke out in
laughter.

"Good luck."

Morning was still an hour away, but the clouds above the base
glowed with an eerie fire, reflecting the stray light from the
flood lamps. Jonah had seen the encampment from five miles away,
which was a relief, as the trail of oil droplets and tire tracks
had become harder and harder to follow.

He crept over the packed sands,
scurrying from tumbleweed to rock, running along in the shadows
through the dry gullies, until he was within a hundred yards of the
front gate. Only then did he take a moment to drink some water and
eat the last stale protein bar he'd taken from Vinnie's
pack.

He still felt guilty for what had
happened back there, but what other choice had he? It hadn't taken
them long to realize they'd been betrayed.

The question was, why?

So Jonah told him. He said that he'd
overheard them talking back there in town. He knew what they were
planning on doing with the girls. "Ramsay figured out I
knew."

"It was just Ramsay talking!" Vinnie
had insisted. "We don't do that! I don't!"

And instead of blaming his colleague,
he'd blamed Jonah for putting the sand in the tank.

They'd fought then, exchanging blows.
The man was tough in the way that surviving in a dead world taught
a man how to be tough, but Jonah knew right away that he was no
killer. He'd easily overpowered the older man.

He hadn't wanted to kill
the guy, so he left him in the shade, his hands and feet bound so
that he wouldn't follow.
Someone'll come
after him
, he thought. Sooner or later
someone will come looking for the two of them.

And they had, early the next morning,
passing him but not seeing him. They showed up a little while later
going in the opposite direction, but Vinnie hadn't been with
them.

Jonah hadn't killed the man, but he
sensed that the man was dead anyway.