Chapter Twenty-Two

Condemned

Badler and Hernandez came down to collect them not long after. Badler went straight for Dez, but Hernandez called out to him in the murk.

“What?” Badler snapped.

“The Hound first,” Hernandez explained.

“What’s the difference?”

Hernandez sighed, strode over and flicked on the lights. Dez blinked in the comparatively blinding glow. “I really need to explain it?”

Badler grunted. “That hairy bastard too much for you? Put your gun to his temple, he’ll do whatever you want.”

“We follow directions,” Hernandez said. To Dez it sounded as if Hernandez had stated this fact a thousand times.

Badler ignored Hernandez, squatted before Dez. If Dez wanted, he could kick the muscular son of a bitch in the balls. The chains would certainly stretch far enough.

Then again, maybe that’s exactly what Badler was inviting him to do. Maybe Badler was goading Dez to attack so he’d have a reason to retaliate. If Badler did unload on Dez, there’d be little hope of survival. The man’s muscles were ludicrously corded, and what was more, Dez was nearly certain both of these goons were cannibals. They weren’t Latents. That much was obvious. Keaton seemed to have little use for Latents. And the virile bodies and gleaming white teeth bespoke of the preternatural good health that marked eaters of human flesh.

To Badler’s back, Hernandez said, “We do the Hound first. Then you can be as rough with the other as you want.”

Badler continued to appraise Dez. Something calculating permeated his face. “You won’t tell Keaton?”

“Long as you cooperate with this one,” was Hernandez’s answer.

At once Badler joined Hernandez, who began to unlock Chaney’s shackles.

Though barred from Chaney’s face by the goons’ broad backs, Dez heard real trepidation in the hairy man’s voice. “What are you two doin’?”

“Now come on, Hound,” Badler said, working open one of the leg cuffs. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what’s going on. You’re dumb, but you’re not that dumb.”

“Don’t rile him up,” Hernandez muttered.

Badler chuckled. “Sometimes I wish the boss would find me a tougher partner, you know that, Hernandez? You look the part, and you can lift a goddamned car, but under all that muscle you’re a bowl of Jell-O.”

“Hey,” Hernandez growled, his hand squeezing the back of Badler’s neck. “Watch your mouth.”

Badler winced but returned Hernandez’s stare with equal animosity. “You better think about touching me. We start something, we’re sure as hell gonna finish it.”

Hernandez didn’t let go. “You better learn when to shut up.”

They’d shifted enough that Dez could see Chaney’s face. The hairy man glanced from one goon to the other, then finally said, “You guys wanna solve this, you should go outside.”

Badler shot him a look. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Hound? Spare your smelly ass, and have us killed by the goddamned vampires?”

Chaney’s eyes went wide. “They’re not out there, are they?”

“Maybe they are,” Badler said, grinning. “Maybe they’re sniffing around for wolf meat. We should string you up out there, let them follow the stench.”

“You done with that cuff yet?” Hernandez asked.

“Keep your panties on,” Badler answered. He unlocked the leg cuff, moved the key toward the cuff on Chaney’s right wrist.

“I don’t wanna go outside,” Chaney whined.

Hernandez tapped his fingers impatiently. “You’re not goin’ outside.”

“What Hernandez says is too true,” Badler said as he unlocked the handcuff. He seized Chaney under the arm and hauled him to his feet. “Though outside would be a hell of a lot better. Least out there you’d have a chance.”

Hernandez gripped Chaney’s other arm, and though Chaney’s muscles were well-defined, his nakedness and weakened state rendered him a pitiful sight. The hairy man swayed on his feet, causing Dez to wonder how long it had been since Chaney had been permitted to stand.

“We ain’t goin’ outside?” Chaney asked.

Hernandez shepherded him toward the stairs. “Uh-uh.”

“Where then?”

“Why, the service,” Badler said brightly. “You’re a guest of honor.”

“Upstairs?” Chaney asked. Dez noted the dried nuggets of shit caught in Chaney’s furry butt crack. How long since the man had been bathed?

“Come on,” Hernandez said, towing Chaney with a bit more force.

“But….” Chaney stumbled, almost went down. “Can’t I…can you give me underpants? If Iris is up there—”

“Jesus H. Christ, Hound!” Badler shouted. “Everything’s coming to an end, and all you can worry about is some barmaid seeing your winky?”

“Up,” Hernandez instructed. Chaney began the long climb up the staircase.

“A pair of drawers?” Chaney asked. “Please, Hernandez?”

“We’ll see,” Hernandez said.

“Motherfucker, this bastard stinks,” Badler said.

“Please gimme some drawers,” Chaney pleaded, this time stopping halfway up the stairs.

Badler spun Chaney around and slammed him against the cinder block wall. “You get what we goddamned give you, you hear that, Hound?”

When Chaney continued to beg, Badler seized him by the shoulders, smashed him against the wall so hard that Chaney’s head bounced. “Never met someone so feebleminded,” Badler said. “I explain it clearly, and you still don’t have a clue.” He rammed Chaney against the wall again to accentuate his point.

“Let’s move,” Hernandez said, taking hold of Chaney’s arm and dragging him up the steps.

Badler cuffed Chaney on the back of the head. “Dumb mutt. Never smelled anything so godawful in my life.”

Hernandez sounded bored. “You wanna bathe him before the service?”

“Rip his head off is what I’ll do,” Badler answered. “Can’t believe all the fuss we’ve made over this bastard. He’s done nothing but blubber and shit all over the floors since we brought him here.”

Chaney moaned, “I don’t want Iris to see—”

“She’s gonna see your little pecker,” Badler teased, “and she’s gonna laugh like hell.”

As they passed out of sight and the lights were extinguished, Chaney began to sob.

In the ensuing silence, Dez strained to listen for a commotion upstairs. He wondered what Chaney’s trigger was. Clearly it wasn’t rage or sorrow. He might never again transform, at least if tonight were to be his execution, as Dez assumed it would be.

And reclining in the dark, Dez wondered what it would be like to die. True, he’d pondered the question hundreds of times since the world changed – he assumed all survivors had pondered that question – but now he was facing execution.

He’d witnessed a couple of them. The most recent, he supposed, had been the reason why he’d ended up with Susan, although it wasn’t until a few weeks after the execution that they’d even kissed.

The man who’d been killed had been caught stealing food.

It was near the end of the colony – looking back, it might have been the reason the colony disbanded – and it had been Jason Oates who’d decided on the death sentence for the condemned. Whenever there was violence, Jason Oates was invariably behind it.

Jason had caught a colonist – a middle-aged man named Suresh Sharma – stealing beef jerky from the storage area. What complicated matters was the fact that Sharma had supplied most of the food they still had from the grocery store he’d run in the pre-bomb world. Sharma had only joined their group a few months prior and had been enthusiastically received due to the supplies he’d ferreted away under his store.

When Sharma’s thieving was discovered – and there was no doubt he’d been taking food on the sly – many colonists had pointed out that it wasn’t really stealing since Sharma had brought the food in the first place. But Jason claimed it was a matter of principle and if they ignored this transgression, it would embolden others.

Jason and those who supported his draconian methods had dragged Sharma to the mouth of the cave, and Jason had drawn the Smith & Wesson with which he claimed to keep peace.

It was Susan who’d nearly saved Sharma’s life.

“You’re turning us into a police state, Jason,” she’d said.

“It needs policing,” had been his answer.

Dez and several others had joined Susan in a semicircle at the mouth of the cave, where Jason and a trio of his followers held Sharma captive. The grocery store owner had looked pathetic standing there by the younger, stouter men. Sharma’s bronze head was nearly bald on top, with a disheveled thatch of black strands hanging loose off to one side, like a graduation tassel. Sharma’s belly was round beneath his faded maroon shirt. On his face were several welts and contusions, a cut lip where Jason had struck him. To Dez, Sharma looked like he wanted to curl up in a ball and go to sleep.

“You’ve made your point, Jason,” one of the colonists said.

“You’re missing the point,” one of Jason’s loyalists shot back. “If Suresh isn’t punished, this will happen again.”

“Let him go,” Dez said.

Something new permeated Jason’s face, like he’d been yearning for Dez’s protest. Later, Dez realized this was the case. The tension between the two had been growing over many months, and at the center of it was Susan. Not only was she the prettiest woman in the colony, she was likely the smartest. When he’d shown up at the colony, Susan had already been with Jason, but increasingly, Dez had come to believe her decision to take up with their leader had as much to do with lack of options as it did any genuine emotion.

Later, after the colony had come to its brutal end, Susan had confirmed this. Though she hated to admit it, she’d chosen Jason by default.

But that chilly October afternoon, just about a year ago, Dez realized, she’d still been with the sadistic son of a bitch.

“Punishing him is one thing,” Susan said. “Killing him would be shameful.”

Jason’s eyebrows had risen at this, giving him a slightly mad look. The expression had surfaced with greater frequency lately and had grown at a rate equal to Susan’s interest in Dez. Somehow, Dez realized as he gazed at Sharma, this had become about Dez and Susan and Jason, and that chilled him to the bone. Because if punishing Sharma became a matter of besting Dez….

“Send him away,” Dez said.

Susan had turned to stare at him in amazement. “That’s a death sentence too.”

Jason spoke with finality, gesticulating with the .38 in a way that made Dez’s guts clench. “We’ve survived this long because we have order. This…” He nodded at Sharma. “…this shit has threatened the order by putting himself ahead of the group.”

“I’m sure he won’t do it again,” Susan said. “Will you, Suresh?”

“I’m very sorry,” the man said quietly.

Dez admired the man’s dignity, but he’d hoped Sharma might utter something a hell of a lot more eloquent. Jason’s loyalists looked like they wanted blood.

“Words,” Jason said. “They’re just words. Don’t you know they don’t mean anything? He gets away with this, he’ll do it again, only worse next time.”

“What about the kids?” one of the loyalists asked. It was a common rallying cry used to justify Jason’s decisions. The truth was that there were only three children left, and one was twelve years old. The other two were infants and only drank breast milk. Neither infant had exhibited signs of changing into a monster.

“Suresh brought the food,” Susan said.

“Not all of it,” one of Jason’s men answered.

“And we gave him protection,” another loyalist said. “He wouldn’t be alive without us.”

“He survived on his own for a year,” Dez pointed out.

“Because he had a fucking treasure trove of food under his store!” a loyalist exclaimed.

“Which he shared with us,” Susan said, stepping forward.

The sight of Susan approaching Jason and his men made Dez’s heart hammer. “Let him go,” Dez heard himself say, and as soon as he’d said it, he knew he’d doomed Sharma.

Jason’s eyes flitted from Susan to Dez and back to Susan.

“Ah, well fuck it,” Jason said, placing the muzzle against Sharma’s temple and squeezing the trigger.

The side of Sharma’s face sprayed in soupy rills; the man teetered away from Jason and slumped on the ground at a loyalist’s feet. Susan screamed, not in fear or sorrow, but in rage. Dez identified with that scream. Jason had killed Sharma because he’d wanted to, not because he was maintaining order. Worse, he’d done it because Dez and Susan had sided against Jason, and this was his method of retaliating.

Susan had turned away from Sharma’s twitching body, and when her eyes had fastened on Dez’s, he’d known she’d made her decision. She was done with Jason. All that was left was for Susan and Dez to figure out how to overthrow Jason and his men.

But Dez’s memories stopped then.

Because Badler and Hernandez were coming down the steps for him.

It was time for his execution.