Copperheads - 12 (30 page)

“And if they don’t show up?” asked one of the deputies.

“Oh, they’ll be here,” Grim answered with confidence. “Of that, you can be sure. What we can’t count on is that they’ll be bringing help.”

“What are going to do if they don’t have the military with them?” asked another driver.

“Then we’re going to head home emptyhanded and pray that we don’t have too many flat tires from driving over the piles of scrap metal that used to be armored vehicles.”

Grim’s bravado drew a round of laughter from the gathered men, the seasoned warrior’s self-confidence and experience making them all feel better.

Deep inside, however, Grim was full of doubt. He had a couple of belt-fed weapons, a few carbines in the hands of experienced men, and a bunch of shotguns wielded by out of shape civilians who may or may not be able to fight.

He and Kevin had counted just over 600 men in the surrounding hills, as well as 6 heavy machine gun emplacements and 2 APCs. Not all of those gun barrels were pointed at the Texans, however. It was clear that many of the garrison surrounding them were facing north, almost as if they expected an invasion.

The Mexican forces appeared to be reasonably well disciplined, but already Grim had found several weaknesses with their deployment, positioning, and leadership.

Their patrols were as predictable as the rest of their schedule. The hill to the north always enjoyed lunch first, followed by the men to their south. Both groups changed their sentries and the men staffing the cannons on top of the APCs at the exact same time every day.

While all of these observations were the sign of an inexperienced military unit, it was what they did with their best weapon system that gave Grim a badly-need boost of optimism. They did not move their armor from position to position, instead choosing to sandbag the two tracked machines into a fixed emplacement. “That is one of the stupidest things I’ve ever seen,” Grim told Kevin as he watched a platoon of men filling hundreds of bags. “Those are tracked units. They are designed to move … and move quickly while spitting death. Why on earth would anyone anchor them down? It doesn’t make any sense. They should be keeping us guessing, wonder where their big guns are going to be next.”

Kevin had to agree. While the Mexican forces had selected an excellent tactical location for the heavy units, he was going to give their crews hell with his sniper rifle if it came to a fight. He already had the range zeroed in.

Grim continued to tour Freightliner Square, cracking a joke here, thanking someone for their extra effort there, and once stopping to make a suggestion. As he watched his boss move from group to group, Kevin was amazed at the transition. Who knew the always-griping, stubborn old-timer had such leadership capabilities?

It was inspiring, Kevin decided. “And we’re going to need every ounce of it if we are going to get out of here alive.”

Castro was at his desk, using some foul smelling liquid while cleaning a weapon on the scarred wooden surface.

“A trophy,” he announced after looking up to see April passing through the threshold. “This is a fine carbine with an unusual design and excellent optics. It belonged to the Alliance prisoner, but now it’s mine,” he boasted.

“I didn’t think firearms were allowed near the Castle?” she asked innocently. “Is the threat from the Alliance so dire that the law has been changed?”

“Only for a select few,” he responded. “Even the emperor had his well-armed, private guard. Our leader is showing good judgement by allowing a few loyal servants access to superior firepower.”

April started to question him further but then reconsidered. According to what she had been told, Bella Dona had long ago outlawed any armed security forces within five kilometers of the Castle. “It is like Rome,” the matriarch was quoted as saying. “No Roman general would ever bring his forces into the capital city. It was a sign of disrespect, or worse, treason. We shall model our operation here at the plantation just like the longest lasting empire the world has ever seen. It worked for nearly 1500 hundred years for them. Why would we change a thing?”

Now, here in Castro’s office, Rome had evidently fallen to the barbarians.

“Let me see inside your basket,” Castro ordered. “You know the drill. I must perform a detailed search before anyone is allowed access to the prisoner.”

Detailed search, my foot,
April thought.
You just want to feel my boobs and ass.

Castro began by opening the small basket hooked on April’s arm. After finding nothing but food inside, he then reached to search her person.

The young woman suffered through the indignity as his hands explored and groped her body. Long ago, she had realized that Castro’s acts had nothing to do with sexual gratification. No, like so many sexual sadists, he merely used violation as a weapon to leverage his power over her. If he wanted, he could have commanded her to undress and submit on the spot, but he didn’t. There was, however, no lust or need for a physical release within the man, only a sickening hunger for dominance and submission. 

Today, Castro finished quickly, waving her through the door leading to the cells after only a brief pat down. Obviously, he wanted to return to his newest plaything, the black parts of the rifle still lying disassembled on his desk.

Another guard was inside, marching up and down the short hall lined with heavy cell doors. It was a dark, evil place, fouled by the stench of human body odor, aged urine, and pungent feces. April often thought she could feel pain emanating from the walls as if the rough planks had absorbed the agony of the prisoners.

The inner sentry recognized her and knew exactly which cell she intended to visit. Reaching for a key that would open the heavy padlock securing the door, he said, “For the past few days, I thought you were wasting all of that food on this prisoner. I guess it pays to have the inside scoop.”

April didn’t understand, her brow wrinkling in question.

“I hope she ends up a breeder,” he grinned. “I’ll have to visit her and see if Castro’s claims about gringo lovers are true.”

Ignoring the man’s sneer and the fact that Castro had been bragging again, April asked, “What are you talking about? Isn’t this woman going to be executed with the giant man?”

The guard shook his head, “Not any more. And the boss told me today that Lady Bella Dona no longer desires to sell her at auction tomorrow either. She is young and firm. She’ll be a pleasure bitch or a breeder. Whatever her classification, I’m going to be the first in line.”

Stunned, April just stood there, trying to comprehend what it all meant. If what the enforcer said was true, May wasn’t going to hang. That, however, wasn’t exactly good news.

Being assigned to the Pleasure House meant being a whore, a sexual plaything for any man on the plantation who was being rewarded. From what April had garnered, it was mostly Castro’s security forces who were allowed to frequent the den of debauchery.

Officially dubbed the “Nursery” or “Vivero,” the Breeder House was a recent addition to the rapidly expanding plantation infrastructure.

Originally, the Breeder House was supposed to be a facility for young women who were pregnant out of wedlock. With a workforce well over 100,000 strong, such occurrences were inevitable. From April’s point of view, its creation had been one of the few uplifting developments and a sure sign that Lady Bella Dona did indeed care about her workers.

Within a few months, however, the schoolteacher’s perspective changed.

In reality, the Nursery was nothing more than a higher quality bordello, a step up from the common man’s Pleasure House. Women of childbearing age and exceptional beauty were assigned there. Their “contribution” to the community was to satisfy the plantation’s upper management while supplying a future labor force. The concept disgusted April, reminding her of the NAZI Lebensborn program during WWII.

While the guard fumbled for the right key, April considered her sister’s new fate. May was from a different world, and because of that, she wouldn’t last long at either facility.

Before the collapse, in an environment that fostered such progressive concepts as social justice, wealth redistribution, and equal rights, facilities like the Nursery and the Pleasure House would have generated outrage and protest.

How many nights had the two siblings debated into the wee hours, the younger sister staunch and unmoving in her conservative beliefs? May believed everyone should carry a gun, hated government social agendas, and thought those who utilized safety-net programs were nothing but a bunch of lazy freeloaders who wanted to live off the hard labor and achievement of others.

April supported strict controls on firearms, a free college education for all, government-provided healthcare, and tolerance.

The guard managed the door just then, a small corridor of light flooding the otherwise dark confines. Her sister was exactly where April expected her to be, lying on the soiled mattress with eyes closed.

“Hello, April,” the younger girl whispered.

“Hi, May. How are you feeling?”

May ignored the question, unmoving on the filthy bed.

“I brought you food,” April offered, holding out the basket as the sentry closed and locked the door. “Why don’t you sit up and eat a little? It will make you feel better.”

“They’re not going to hang me, April,” May’s monotone, robotic voice responded from the darkness.

“I know. I just heard. My prayers have been answered, sis. And I was praying hard.”

May moved then, managing to lift herself and lean on one arm. Her eyes were hollow and empty, “Why, April? Why did you ask God to torture me even further? I wanted to die tomorrow. Now I’m going to be stuck in a living hell, day after day of some sweaty, fat bastard violating me hour after hour. Why do you hate me so? Will you enjoy my suffering?”

April was shocked, her sister’s words stabbing like a knife, “I don’t understand, sis. You want to die? Why would I pray for you to be killed? Things will get better. Each day that you’re alive is another chance that your life will improve!”

Rolling back to her prone position, May stared blankly at the ceiling. “Give me liberty or give me death. I would rather die than live in slavery like you.”

April studied her sister, taking in the bruising, lacerations, and filth that covered May. For a moment, she attributed the younger woman’s attitude to the treatment she had suffered after capture. No doubt, Castro and his goons had roughed her up pretty badly.

Yet, May wasn’t one for theatrics. There had been no malice or emotion in her voice, the words coming from her sister’s throat almost mechanical.

“I’m so sorry, May. You have to believe me, I didn’t ask anyone but God to intercede or show you mercy. I had no part in this last minute change of plans,” April pleaded.

“I believe you,” the weak sister answered from the dark. “I don’t hate you. I’m sorry that I said those mean things.”

“Why don’t you eat something? You’ll feel better with something in your stomach; I promise.”

“No. I want to die. I’m not going to eat. I want the end to come as soon as possible.”

It was then that April noticed the bowl of jailhouse gruel lying near the door. It was untouched. “Really, sis, you’re going on a hunger strike? If anyone knows how horrible that is, it should be us. After what we went through.…”

“No, I wanted them to hang me ... I prayed for my suffering to end. It doesn’t matter, though, the end will come – maybe slower, but one way or the other, I will escape. I bet not even these Mexican bastards enjoy fucking skin and bones.”         

“May,” her sister began to protest, but the already-dead voice from the mattress interrupted. “Don’t bother bringing any more food, sis. Don’t bother coming back. I love you, and I don’t want you to see me like this. Always remember, mom and I both love you more than anyone. Now go … please.”

Again, April started to speak, but the prisoner stopped her. “Go! Please! Now!”

Sitting in silence, the bastion of April’s soul was slammed by waves of guilt and remorse. She knew her sister better than anyone, was certain she wasn’t playing any sort of head game or putting on an act. Her sister preferred death over life, and that was the saddest thing she had ever felt.

It is all my fault
, April thought.
This is my doing. I should have left with her the other night. I should have gotten word back to my family so they wouldn’t worry about me. I shouldn’t have been so selfish.