From Within (7 page)

Alejandro was staring straight into the strange man’s eyes. He still had the shotgun held low but was ready to bring it up quickly. He wasn’t sure, but he thought the man couldn’t see the gun in his hands.

“What kind of supplies do you have in here?” the man asked in a demanding tone. “It looks like you are packed pretty full.”

“It’s no concern of yours,” Alejandro answered.

The man chuckled and opened Juana’s door and she gasped. Alejandro quickly raised the shotgun in response and pointed the barrel directly at the man’s face. His face quickly morphed from a look of controlled calm into a look of wide-eyed surprise and rage.

“You don’t want to do that,” the man said. He lifted his chin in the direction of the group of vehicles on the opposite side of the parking lot. “We have quite a bit more than one shotgun.”

“I think they are a bit occupied at the moment to come to your rescue,” Alejandro quickly said back. The man narrowed his eyes. He was obviously becoming angrier and was trying to find a way to gain control of the interaction. “Just step back,” Alejandro said.

He kept the shotgun steady. He felt nervous and had expected to be shaky but he knew the stakes could be his wife’s life. Adrenaline flowed through him, heightening his senses. The man didn’t move back. The man started glancing down at Juana and then back at him. Alejandro was sure the man would be able to see the shotgun that Juana had sitting on her left side. He was hoping the man wouldn’t drop down behind the car. If he did, then Alejandro would no longer have a clear shot at the man. Juana would be in between them and there was no way he would shoot in that situation.

Just as Alejandro was contemplating the scenario, his fears unfolded before him. The man dropped to his knees and yanked Juana out of the car and held her in front of himself. Juana screamed and the man held his knife in front of her face and told her to be quiet.

“Alright, this is how this is going to go now,” the man said as he slowly rose from his knees, pulling Juana up with him. He had his right arm up to Juana’s neck with his forearm tucked under her chin now. The knife was in his right hand which put it next to the left side of her face. His other arm was placed across her middle, holding down both of her arms. He held tightly to her right wrist. “You are going to lay down that twelve gauge. Put it on the hood of the car and then you walk back by the trunk. I think it’s obvious what will happen if you don’t do everything I say.” He briefly moved the knife to her throat and then repositioned his forearm back under her chin.

Alejandro still held the shotgun steady at the man’s head. The man was a least a whole head taller than Juana and there wasn’t much he could do to hide completely behind her. Alejandro’s mind was racing. He wasn’t sure how much time he had before the man went through with his threat. Although he could aim clearly at his head, he still didn’t like the fact that the spray from the shotgun could still easily hit Juana. How he wished for slug shells to be in the gun rather than the buckshot he knew was in it. He thought he might aim high. However, if he missed, it could be all over for Juana as well, and it would be by his hand.

Alejandro was beginning to feel defeated and slowly began to lower the gun. It had only been seconds, ten at the most, that had passed since he lost the upper hand on the situation. He wished he would’ve pulled the trigger the second the man went for Juana’s door. He wished Juana had the other shotgun ready in her hands while she sat in the car. Why did she dislike holding guns? He had taught her plenty about use and safety. He wished he had a pistol or a high caliber hunting rifle. He wished too much. Wishes weren’t going to do anything for them now.

“DO IT NOW OR SHE GETS HER THROAT CUT!” the man shouted at him. Juana had tears continuously flowing down her cheeks.

Alejandro’s arms hung low now. All of the adrenaline and confidence had drained from him. He moved towards the front of the car. He dragged his feet, never lifting them a single millimeter. He lifted the shotgun with both hands and set it on the hood, keeping both hands on it. He stared into Juana’s eyes, tears forming in his. He shifted his eyes to the man. He lowered his brow as his face shifted from sadness to pure rage. Before letting go, an idea sparked into his mind. A plan was forming. He needed to get the other shotgun. The man had not seen it when he grabbed Juana. He slightly lifted and rapidly pumped the shotgun until all the shells were expended. The few red cartridges were rolling across the hood and falling to the ground. The man chuckled at Alejandro’s actions.

“Now move away from it. Get back by the trunk,” the man said, no longer shouting.

Alejandro lifted his hands from the shotgun and said, “let her go now.”

“MOVE,” he shouted. “I’ll let her go when I want to let her go. Maybe I take her with me. She feels pretty nice against me. Get away from the gun. I will cut her throat,” the man raised his voice with the threat.

Alejandro stepped backward. He hadn’t anticipated the man taking Juana as he formulated his plan moments ago. He would have to be fluid in his actions, conforming to whatever happened as this continued forward. He moved around his open driver’s door as he stepped towards the rear of the car, never taking his eyes off of the man and Juana. He slowed as he was abeam the open door. He wanted the man to let go of Juana and make a move for the empty shotgun on the hood. He also thought this would be a good time for Will and his sidearm to return. He contemplated that if he made a move for the shotgun in the car, it might prompt the man to let go of Juana and scramble to get the shotgun on the hood and then have to crawl around on the ground to get the shells to load it. He would regain the advantage then. The worst case scenario would be that he does something to Juana first before getting the gun. He had to do something.

To Alejandro’s surprise, the man pushed Juana away from himself. He still held on to her wrist firmly, but she was no longer his shield. This was Alejandro’s opportunity. If he didn’t act now the man would soon have a loaded shotgun and would still have Juana and Alejandro assumed he’d be dead. Juana might die too but Alejandro feared more horrors would come to Juana if she wasn’t immediately killed in this situation. The man bent down and picked up a shell that had rolled near him and then moved towards the hood of the car. Alejandro lunged onto the driver’s seat of the car and quickly pulled the shotgun from the passenger side. This move made the man panic. It was clear he wanted to pull Juana in front of him again but he also wanted to get the shotgun and load it. Still holding Juana’s wrist, he yanked her downwards and she tumbled onto the pavement. He now had the shotgun and was loading the single shell. His left hand was holding his knife up against the fore-end of the gun so he could still hold both weapons. His right hand was pushing the shell in.

Alejandro rocketed back out of the car. He swung the barrel up. The man had fumbled only for a moment while loading the shell. He was now bringing his barrel up towards Alejandro. Then came a loud boom. No, it was two loud booms. The report of both shotguns going off nearly simultaneously. Alejandro dropped to his knees. The adrenaline and shock of what just happened caused a feeling of numbness in his fingers. He had a continuous ringing in his head probably due to the same reason.  The man across from him now lay on his back, gripping one of his shoulders. The shotgun and knife he had held were now laying next to him. Alejandro was starting to regain his senses and could hear the man grunting in pain through the ringing in his head. He patted himself as he still knelt on the ground. It appeared he was uninjured.

There was still a lingering numbness about his body from the shock of the intense situation that just played out. He couldn’t comprehend how he was not hit. The spray of the other shotgun must have gone over his head by only a couple of centimeters. He thought if he was any taller, the spray of metal would have scalped him. It had looked like he was staring down the other barrel just moments ago. The sound of Juana crying refocused his attention. He set down his shotgun as he stood to check on her.

“Juana! Are you okay?”

As soon as Alejandro asked the question the man sat up. Blood dripped from his shoulder wound. He was no longer holding the wound because he had his knife again. The wounded arm lay slumped in his lap. Without warning, he raised the arm with the knife and quickly sliced downwards toward Juana. The knife sliced a large gash across her forearm and she screamed in pain. Alejandro had wished he never set his gun down. In less than a second, he made the decision to lunge at the man rather than return to his shotgun a few steps back. He figured a return to the gun could mean more time for the man to continue slicing at Juana with his knife. Alejandro brought his foot up. With all the force he could bring together he slammed it against the man’s face. His head whipped back and blood spewed out of his mouth. The knife flew from his hand and slid away. The man’s head cracked against the concrete.

The man quickly rolled over and pushed himself up. He swayed slightly from side to side, dazed from the shot and the kick to his face. Alejandro could see blood dripping from the man’s nose. His teeth were red and his bloody mouth dripped down the front of his lip. The man must have realized he would never regain any control in his attempted theft and he bolted towards the back of parking lot where the convoy of trucks were parked. Alejandro grabbed his shotgun and started to lift it to aim. He stopped part way, realizing the shot would be wasted. The man was too far out of range for a shotgun. He was going in between cars, bumping into them in a delirium-like state as he made his getaway.

Alejandro returned to Juana. He set the gun within arms reach as he knelt by her. He carefully lifted her hand from her bloody forearm. She was bleeding, but not to the amount that would make him worry that she might bleed out quickly. She immediately replaced her hand over the laceration.

“I’m going to get something from the car to wrap around the cut,” Alejandro said.

Only a moan came in reply as Juana continued to cry. She sniffled several times as the tears flowed. Alejandro went to the car and quickly returned with a t-shirt he pulled from a suitcase. He folded the shirt a few times, making sure the folded amount would be large enough to cover the whole cut. He wrapped her forearm with the shirt and tied it tightly, leaving just enough give in the shirt for her arm to not go completely numb.

As he helped her stand, Alejandro was surprised to see his neighbor, Mike, approach them. He was holding a baseball bat and his eyes seemed stuck wide open as they darted between the pool of blood on the ground and Juana’s arm.

“Al! What’s happened?” Mike questioned, still with the look of shock covering his face.

“We were attacked by one of the group from the back of the parking lot,” Alejandro pointed to the convoy of vehicles. “I need to get her to the emergency center right now. Lea will be coming out of the store soon. Can you tell her where we went?”

“Yes, of course,” Mike answered as he helped Alejandro get Juana into the passenger seat of their car.

*****

Juana had mostly calmed as they began their drive. She had not spoken much during the whole event. She lifted the shirt from her arm as much as she could to look and it turned out to be a mistake. Seeing the severed flesh and the oozing blood caused her to panic again.

“Juana! Juana! Just keep putting pressure on it. We’re almost to the doctor,” Alejandro yelled over his wife’s crying and moaning as he tried to focus on the road.

He was driving as fast as he ever had through the small town. The car bounced and creaked. The tires squealed as he turned corners too quickly. Alejandro was inexperienced in the race car style driving and ended up in the opposite lane a few times. Fortunately, there weren’t any other cars driving in the opposite direction and the drive to the emergency care center was only a few minutes through the town. Juana continued to wail in pain as she held the now blood-soaked shirt tightly against her forearm.

Thick pine forest peppered with leafless maple trees passed below. Marcus stared down out of the helicopter. He could see a road a few miles to the north that their flight seemed to be paralleling. Patches of snow from a storm that had passed the area about a week earlier could be seen through the trees on the forest floor. There seemed to be a haziness blanketing the land. Marcus wondered if there were fires from rioting somewhere near the area they were over. The monotony of the flight paired with the constant hum of the helicopter’s engine caused Marcus to doze off every once in a while for a few minutes. The seats were a cushy leather and they seemed to pull Marcus closer as if in a giant bear hug. He had slept for around six hours or so before having to ready himself for another long day. Six hours seemed sufficient for him to last another day. He had been a little annoyed at the hurry up and wait situation of the morning. They had all arrived on time, yet they all sat around for an hour and a half before their flight began.

He awoke after one of his couple minute long naps and looked away from the window towards his cameraman, Blake. He was across from Marcus and sunken low in his chair in a deep sleep, mouth hanging open. Blake was Marcus’s usual cameraman when he did on-location interviews or stories. He wasn’t much for conversation, though. Blake was all business. He would typically only speak to Marcus about work related items such as camera placement for an interview. To Marcus’s left sat two CMA employees. One in a suit and the other in a military or SWAT-like uniform. It was mostly black with some blue and white decorations. Marcus took note of the CMA uniform and patch. He thought it was another interesting fact that Thomas would like to know. The suit’s name was Anthony. He had told Marcus that he would be accompanying him anytime he would be doing stories on the Central Management Authority and their operations. Another tidbit for Thomas. Marcus thought Anthony looked like the kind of guy that would push you into the tiger pad at the zoo for his own entertainment. Maybe it was his disdain for the CMA that made him immediately dislike him, however, Marcus did think Anthony had a constant evil grin pasted on his face.

Marcus turned back to the window on his right. He figured they were in far north-eastern Pennsylvania. The suit had told him they’d be a little ways northwest of Manhattan. This particular CMA refugee camp wouldn’t be ready for a couple of days. Anthony wanted to cover this one first because it would be mostly quiet. Marcus was to leave the location out of the story since it wasn’t ready yet. Next, they would fly to a regional supply depot for all the area camps. They would round out their day covering CMA buses gathering people in Philadelphia and then the camp west of Philadelphia that would be accepting all the new refugees. Marcus could see the good in having camps to relieve rural areas from being flooded with refugees. At the same time, he thought of it all as a self-fulfilling prophecy. Take away the people’s government and the complex system the country lived on and then, of course, you would need somebody like the CMA to swoop in and save the day.

The thick forest stopped abruptly and fields of tan dormant grass began to fill Marcus’s window. Marcus straightened himself in his seat as the outer portions of the camp came into view. There was row after row of large white tents. They almost looked like the type that people rent for weddings. Each tent had a large black sign with a letter and number painted in white hung above the tent’s opening.

“Pretty impressive isn’t it?” Anthony yelled over the engine noise.

“How is this already set up?” Marcus ignored the question and asked his own.

Blake awoke from the yelling and was now looking out of his window down at the camp. He quickly reached into his backpack that sat in between his legs and produced a small camcorder. He started filming the camp from the air as they arrived.

“Some of our country’s leadership had anticipated the government failing and disintegrating so they put the whole work in motion,” Anthony twirled his finger in the air as he yelled in reply.

Marcus nodded his head in response and turned back to the window.  They were descending quickly now and he reached down and tightened his seatbelt. He could see crews of workers putting up fencing and others still erecting tents. He thought the camp looked mostly complete other than a little bit more perimeter fencing. It made Marcus wonder if the fencing was to keep out or keep in. There was no telling how many more tents were going to be put up. He saw a dozen or so eighteen wheeler semi-trucks that workers were entering and leaving carrying supplies. He figured some could still be completely full.

A few minutes later they all ducked out of the helicopter and regrouped in front of a tent about fifty yards away. The whine of the helicopter’s turbine engine winding down along with the whump whump whump of the slowing blades could be heard as they all stretched their arms and legs by the tent.

“Most of the construction should be complete by day’s end,” Anthony said as if he read Marcus’s thoughts. “Tomorrow the staff will be here unloading more trucks with supplies to run the camp. After the camp is supplied, probably next day, this camp will be ready to accept people and be fully operational.”

“Well,” Marcus said and then paused for a moment, “...things sure do move fast with you guys.”

“When plans are made and set in motion, there’s no stopping us,” Anthony said, widening the permanent grin on his face. “You two should start getting some basic footage of the camp and workers finishing up things. I’ll find you two in a little bit and we’ll go over what should go in the newscast.”

“Go over?” Marcus asked. “You don’t want us to do our thing? We are pretty good at it.”

“We can compare notes. No offense. I know you are professionals, but WWNL is now technically a subsidiary of the CMA. As a public relations matter, coverage of the CMA needs to be monitored. You understand, I’m sure. I guarantee WWNL wouldn’t want any unfavorable publicity without a fine tooth comb meticulously analyzing everything possible to make them appear in the best light possible.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow. “Are you anticipating these refugee camps will give the CMA bad publicity?”

“Oh, no. Of course not,” Anthony quickly answered. “I was just saying as an example. Anyways, like I said, I’ll find you in a little bit.” Anthony turned and went inside the tent. Marcus could tell that he seemed a bit annoyed.

Marcus and Blake spent the better part of the next hour walking around the camp recording footage of people working on tents and fencing. They went in the tents as well to record sleeping areas, bathroom facilities, and kitchen and dining. Marcus was quite impressed with how nice everything seemed. Everything was brand new. He had pictured in his mind old tattered military materials. A government that couldn’t even support to maintain its’ own military and many agencies and programs could somehow afford to build brand new miniature cities all over the U.S.

“This is just all too weird,” Marcus said to Blake.

“How so?” Blake asked.

“Just a week ago I never would have pictured refugee camps being built everywhere across the country. Now we are walking around one. It’s surreal. Why did the government...rather, a government corporation, have all of this stuff?” Marcus asked as he looked around shaking his head.

“I always figured the government always had this stuff on hand,” Blake answered. “Maybe it was all FEMA equipment.”

Marcus and Blake were several tents down from the tent that Anthony had disappeared into earlier. They saw him walk out of the tent and look around while putting a phone to his ear. A moment later Marcus felt the CMA phone in his pocket vibrate. They began walking towards Anthony as he answered it. Anthony spotted them and they both hung up.

“Where would be best to do the story portion of this?” Anthony asked as they approached each other.

Blake answered before Marcus could, “Back at the studio would be ideal since we aren’t doing this live. But, we could film in one of these tents. Either way, the editing will be done back at the studio. I assume this won’t be airing tonight?”

“It could if we get done quickly enough,” Anthony said. “We can film in one of these tents. I have a couple of the staff to film too. PR stuff. You can’t edit here?”

“We could,” Blake said. “It would just be a lot more difficult for a story of this length. We have much better equipment at the studio. All we have here is a laptop. Most of the time we have a van full of equipment when we do off-site work and that equipment isn’t the most fun to work with.”

Anthony looked towards the ground and nodded his head.  “Fair enough. I’ll be heading back with you to the WWNL offices anyways. I’ll sit in on the editing to make sure everything is in the CMA guidelines. Once we are done with that, I’ll need to see Kenneth.”

Anthony turned around and motioned for the two of them to follow him into the tent. Marcus and Blake both looked at each other with questioning looks on their faces. Blake shrugged his shoulders and then headed for the tent and Marcus followed. As he ducked through the door flaps, he was taken aback by what he saw inside. Two large box trailers from semi-trucks were parked inside. Sets of stairs had been placed at the back opening. The inside of the trailers were lined with computers and other equipment. Large bunches of cables packed with ethernet and power cables were run out of the back of the trailers and then back towards the opposite side of the tent. Marcus assumed they went to generators and probably satellite equipment for communications. Sitting at the workstations that lined the inside of the trailers were military personnel. At least Marcus assumed they were military. They weren’t wearing the black SWAT-like uniform that he saw on the man earlier in the helicopter. They had regular camouflage fatigues. As Marcus focused a little more on the people in the trailer, he could see the blue and white CMA patches on their arms. All of them had sidearms on their waist.

“Marcus, come with me for a moment,” Anthony said and gestured over to the side of the trailer. “

They walked over beside the trailer. Marcus was surprised to see that there was no one else there. He wasn’t sure why, but he had expected others to be there. He was beginning to feel nervous and like his jokes to Kenneth about being held prisoner at a camp were about to come true. Anthony turned around and clasped his hands together.

“Marcus, we need to get some things straight and make sure we are on the same page,” Anthony said as he started to pace a few steps back and forth. “You’ve been very vocal on the show about your opinions. WWNL has given you quite a bit of leeway.”

“Not to brag,” Marcus began, “but I’m a bit of a household name when it comes to news. There’s some freedom that comes with the popularity of the show. Some of that popularity comes from people that want to hear my opinion.”

“Right,” Anthony answered. “However, you now work for the Central Management Authority.” He emphasized the name as if it were the most important title known to man. “We aren’t exactly going to be running things the same way WWNL did. Like I told you earlier, we are going to want things to go through our filter before it’s broadcast across the nation. Times are different now. The country is in a state of emergency. There will be a process that needs to take place to get the country on track. We don’t need a population of opposing views hindering that process. Do you understand?” Anthony didn’t leave any time to answer before asking another question. “The CMA’s process of doing business isn’t going to be a problem for you, is it? Don’t get us wrong, we want you to be involved. You are a voice and face people trust. But, a voice that causes problems for us will need to be replaced.”

Marcus’s mind was racing through the whole conversation and now he needed to answer. He had figured something like this would come up. It was obvious that he had some level of distrust of Anthony. It was obvious what his opinion had been because he had been spouting it on the show for years. He was surprised they even wanted to attempt using him over someone else who didn’t have a publicly established position with an opposing stance. He thought of Thomas and what he had said.
We think you can be a key element to fighting this
. Whatever Thomas had meant in saying that, he was pretty sure he shouldn’t stand his ground to Anthony and the CMA at this first opportunity and blow whatever the plan was. He had to fight his own strong, instinctual desire to open his mouth and blurt out his opinion.

“Oh, I’m on board with you. The opinion portion of my news program is just all part of the show.” Marcus felt a little nervous. He hoped it didn’t show. “We’ve got a country to get on track and I think we should all work together to get it done.”

Marcus must have pulled off the lie. It was revealed when Anthony’s face transformed from the permanent evil grin into what looked like a genuine smile. Marcus smiled along with him and nodded his head.

“That’s great to hear, Marcus. You are going to make my job a lot easier. Things will be much smoother this way.”

Marcus continued to smile as Anthony guided him back to where Blake was still waiting. Blake raised an eyebrow at Marcus and lifted a palm upwards in a questioning gesture. Marcus waved him off as if there was nothing to talk about.

“We have a couple people for you to interview,” Anthony said as he handed Marcus a piece of paper. “These are the questions we’d like you to cover. They are grouped together for each person.”

Marcus could see three groups of several questions each. “Are these people familiar with these questions. It’s always nice for the interviewee to not be surprised. People are usually more well spoken and professional when it’s done that way.”