At any given time multiple countries face civil war. The great nation of America has never been divided.
—American Gazette
The walk continued. Andrew was happy to have his vision back, but it didn’t give him much relief. He and Carter were led into a large building made of clay bricks, which apparently kept the inside cool. A door was pushed open, and Andrew and Carter were thrown against a wall. Their handcuffs were undone.
“Strip,” a voice said.
Neither Andrew nor Carter moved.
“Fine, have it your way.”
Then a blast of icy water came at them. It was powerful and almost knocked Andrew over. He turned around, trying to make his back take most of the force. The temperature started to change and it didn’t feel so bad anymore. Then the spray was shut off. Two of the men who had escorted them had buckets now. They flung the contents onto Andrew and Carter. Andrew tried to wipe his eyes; it was soap.
Without the handcuffs Andrew looked for the door. Before he could take a step the blast of the hose came back home, washing away the soapy residue. Andrew had to gasp for breath as the water fired toward his face.
“We’re giving you some trust here,” the man with the hose yelled. “If you break it the cuffs go back on.”
The water was shut off again. A towel was thrown at Andrew. He took off his soaking-wet shirt and sweatpants and patted himself dry. Once he was dry enough a new outfit was tossed toward him. He pulled on the white scrubs. He hadn’t seen anyone in these since his days in the orphanage.
Andrew had been getting close to thirteen, about to get tossed out into the real world. All the boys in his group were taken to a clinic where men dressed in these outfits gave them their last round of vaccines. The shots were supposed to keep them free of transmittable illness until it was enlistment time. They’d worked too. Andrew wondered now if the doses were no longer effective and he was susceptible to illness again, having missed his enlistment date and the boosters.
“Face the wall,” the man said.
Andrew did as instructed. Carter did the same. When Andrew and Mia had first met Carter he’d been bold and outspoken, but he wasn’t in this place. Someone grabbed Andrew’s wrist and pulled it behind his back. It wasn’t time to make a move yet. The image of those men training outside was too fresh. Even if Andrew did make it out of this room he’d never get past them.
The cuffs clicked back on. Andrew kept his face blank. It was a skill he’d mastered over the years. He glanced toward Carter, whose face was emotionless. Andrew was grateful Carter wasn’t speaking out or mentioning Mia, but this behavior was too unsettling.
They were spun back around. Andrew wouldn’t break. He didn’t want to speak or let these men know what he was thinking. Show no fear. Carter didn’t look fearless; he looked like a shell. A new man had entered the room. He was pushing a small table with four syringes laid out on it.
“What is that?” Carter asked.
Don’t speak, Andrew said in his head. He didn’t know if he was reminding himself or trying to magically communicate with Carter.
“Boosters,” the man said. He was American. “You missed your enlistment date and we can’t have the two of you getting sick now. Are either of you injured?”
Andrew kept his eyes glued to the wall. His leg bothered him from the accident. When Grant ran them off the road, Andrew had been flipped from the bed of the truck. His pain was not enough that it needed medical attention, and even if it had needed it, he wasn’t about to let this man help him.
“I’ll take that as a no,” the man said.
Andrew felt the cotton swab on his arm. He didn’t flinch when the needles entered his skin. The doctor did Carter, who was less composed, next. He rolled his arm away.
“Don’t touch me,” Carter said.
The empty shell of Carter was getting filled with rage. Andrew wanted to calm him down; this wasn’t the time for fighting back. The doctor didn’t seem bothered. He reached out and yanked Carter’s arm toward him. Andrew expected a blowback, but this time Carter didn’t protest. The emptiness returned to his face.
The doctor wheeled his table out. Two men walked over and grabbed Andrew’s arms. The remaining two did the same to Carter. They were escorted out of the room and back into the hallway. Andrew was leading the way.
Andrew didn’t stop walking or try to fight the men guiding him. He kept his stone face as he heard Carter struggle.
“Stop,” Carter said. “You can’t do this to us.”
Carter’s protests faded away. They were getting split up now. Andrew never looked back. He felt bad for Carter; he had a father who had trained him to act proud and strong. Carter never learned the lesson about getting in line and shutting up. Andrew knew they could make it out of here, but they needed a plan first. Screaming and fighting at this stage would only make it worse.
The escorts stopped moving and unlocked a heavy wooden door. It led into a small room. The floor was made of dirt. There was a table and two chairs. The men walked Andrew to the table and unlocked his cuffs. Andrew didn’t turn around when they closed the door. He heard the lock snap into place.
Andrew rubbed his wrists where the handcuffs had been. He did a quick inventory of the room. The chairs and table were metal and none budged when he tried to move them. Andrew didn’t understand how they were stuck to the ground. That was it.
There were no windows in the clay room. A single light hung from the ceiling; it was too high up to reach, even when Andrew stood on the table.
Andrew tried to keep calm and focused. He thought over the path here. They were driving fast, over sixty miles per hour, but the ride couldn’t have been longer than ten minutes. Mia wasn’t that far away. She was resourceful. Andrew was certain she’d made her way off the rocky beach before the tide came in. He wouldn’t allow himself to think otherwise. Then she would have stayed close to that spot, knowing he’d come back for her. It would take a day or two, tops, for him to get out of this place. The best way to accomplish that was to not draw attention. Remain quiet, take in the surroundings, and form an escape plan.
He was trying hard to reassure himself, but guilt kept peeking through. He had led Mia out of America and into danger, then abandoned her on a beach. Andrew felt his heart rate increase and tried to calm himself down. She was fine. She would be fine. He told this to himself over and over, hoping he could convince himself it was true.
Andrew’s thoughts were getting to be too much. He had no clue how long he’d been in the room. He was guessing at least three hours. He was growing restless. They didn’t pay any attention to him. They were letting him sit here alone in a cell. Were they trying to break him? This was slow torture.
“Hello?” Andrew called out.
He felt stupid for trying to reach out. As time wore on only one thing remained true: Andrew was certain he had made the right choice leaving Mia on the beach—at least he kept telling himself that.