Rage Within (18 page)

Even monsters can sometimes hide what they are.

The man walked over toward the desk and pulled out the chair there. He sat down and leaned back casually as if settling in for a nice chat with a good friend. Mason half expected him to put his feet up on the wooden surface. Maybe kick off his shoes and offer him a cup of coffee or a glass of something old and expensive.

The man motioned toward the remaining chair across from the desk. “Have a seat. No?”

Mason didn’t move.

“This isn’t a choice,” the man said. “Either sit down of your own free will, or I’ll call in a few of those nice boys to forcibly bend you into it.”

It wasn’t worth the fight and they both knew it. Slowly Mason walked over to the desk and eased his way into the chair. It took him a few seconds longer than normal to get situated because his balance was off. He ended up with his hands pinned uncomfortably between the metal and his back. Leaning forward, he tried his best to look like he wasn’t feeling the handcuffs biting deeply into his wrists.

The man nodded approvingly.

“Hello, Mason.” The man studied Mason’s expression for a few seconds and smiled, showing a row of fresh, white teeth. “You can call me Mr. Leon. You’re perplexed that I know your name?” He folded his hands across his lap and smiled politely. He waited for Mason to speak.

The room was deadly silent. If there had been a clock, it would have been ticking insanely loud. The man continued to smile, but as the seconds wore on, the grin stopped looking friendly.

Finally Mason opened his mouth. “You have my wallet. My ID’s in there.”

The man laughed. His chest rose and fell. His cheeks flushed and his eyes sparkled. “Very good. Very, very good. You’re a clever boy.”

“I tie my own shoelaces and everything.”

“I doubt you would have survived this long if you couldn’t.” Mr. Leon continued his never-ending grin. Mason could just see the black veins twisting around the edges of his irises. They made his expression darker somehow. “But that’s not the right answer. You’ve been on our radar for a while now. We know you’ve traveled a long ways to come to Vancouver. We know that you had some interesting run-ins along the way too.”

Mason shrugged.

“You’re not surprised we know all that?”

He was but he’d never admit it. He thought it over for a moment before coming up with an answer. “You’ve got my ID,” he finally said. “You know where I’m from. The rest is all a guessing game. It would be impossible to make it halfway across the country without having to deal with one or two of you idiots.” He pictured Twiggy, the one-legged Bagger who had tried to kill him back in Calgary. There was also the redneck in Hope who had bothered him when he was trying to dig Chickadee’s grave.

The Bagger laughed long and hard. It was a forced laugh, and Mason knew he was doing it to try and get under his skin. He was determined not to let this jerk Bagger get away
with it. He would maintain his cool and not give anything up. Aries and the others were depending on it whether they knew it or not.

“How’s Chickadee?”

Mason jerked up in his chair. The man leaned forward, his brown eyes focused intently on Mason.

“We know all about you, Mr. Dowell,” Leon said. “We know about your mother and your friends. It was a car accident that killed your mother, right? What a shame, but probably for the best. And the school bombing that you luckily avoided. We especially know about Chickadee and that she’s buried in a shallow grave out by Hope. Diabetes took her, right? You have no secrets you can keep from us.”

Mason’s heart banged against his chest and he could feel his pulse beating rapidly in his temple. All thoughts of remaining calm were washed out the window. “How?” he finally asked.

The man smiled. “Isn’t it obvious? We hear your thoughts. They come across to us in the night like radio waves flying through the atmosphere.”

No. It wasn’t possible. He had chosen his own path. There was no way these creatures were inside his head. That would make him one of them, and he wasn’t.

He couldn’t be.

He’d know if he was. Right?

Suddenly he found himself trying desperately to wipe all thought of Aries and the others from his mind. If the Baggers were in his head, he wouldn’t make it easy for them.

Mr. Leon stood up and neatly placed his chair back under the desk. He walked around the room until he was standing right behind Mason. Placing his hands on Mason’s shoulders, he dug in deeply with his fingers.

“She was a very special girl, wasn’t she?” The fingers
tightened, digging into his nerves, sending shooting pain along his arms and into his neck. “I’m sure you did everything you could to save her. Such a shame? We knew there would be accidental deaths like this. It was impossible to fix them all. A small price to pay for the great future of mankind. A world in which the strong will prevail and the weak will perish. There is no humanity to be found in prolonging the lives of those who weaken the gene pool.”

Chickadee with her diabetes. Weak genetics. Mason closed his eyes and tried to block out the voice in his ear.

“You must understand that we wouldn’t want to lose someone we felt had potential. Especially if that person could help us sway the opinions of someone like you. I do wish she had lived. Even with her damaged genes, she would have been a great team member. We need new recruits. People like yourself that will offer something to the new world.”

“She never would have helped you.”

Mr. Leon paused his weird, painful massage. “You’d be amazed what people will do when they’re given the right opportunity.”

“Then what are you offering me?” Mason asked, trying to keep his voice from cracking. “Because there isn’t a single thing in the world that I want. There’s nothing you can give me that would make me join your . . . team.”

Mr. Leon leaned in until his mouth was right against Mason’s ear. “And that’s exactly what I want to hear. Do you really think I expect you to be willing? Oh no. That would be too easy.” He paused, his breath hot against Mason’s cheek. “It would be disappointing. I expect more from you. And you will give it to me.”

Mason yanked forward in his seat, but the man tightened his grasp again and pulled him back. If only he didn’t have
the cuffs on. He’d at least have a chance to pop the guy one in the mouth.

“Let go of me,” Mason growled.

“Not until I’m finished,” Mr. Leon said.

He yanked again, twisting Mason’s body until Mason bit down on his lip to keep from yelling out. It was as if his arms were being pulled right out of their sockets.

“There is darkness inside you, boy,” Leon said. “There’s no disputing it. It oozes out of your pores. The interesting thing is, we’re not sure whose darkness it is.”

“You’re lying,” Mason said through clenched teeth.

“Am I? Are you denying the dark thoughts inside your mind? Don’t bother lying. I can read them, remember. All that hate has so much potential. Either way, we’ve got plenty of time to figure this out. You’re not going anywhere. And we will be talking about your friends, too. I’m most curious to know more about the girl named Aries. You’ll be telling me all about her.”

Mason worked hard to keep his face empty of emotion. “I don’t know anyone named Aries.”

“Oh, come now, you’re just embarrassing yourself.” Mr. Leon leaned in. “We can play this game, but you’re going to lose. We know everything. This is our world now, so you’d better get used to it. All you have to do is look out the window to see the greatness we’ve accomplished. There is no way that you or your petty little friends can change this. You’ll do what we ask and you won’t complain. Don’t worry about resisting. You will. But it won’t last long. We have ways of bringing you around.”

“Go ahead and try.”

“We’ve already begun.” He reached out and brought his thumbs up to Mason’s face, resting his fingers on Mason’s
temples. Pausing, he waited, his grip tight and unmoving. Then he brought his thumbs down until they were less than an inch from Mason’s eyelashes. “All I have to do is give a small push. It’s about pressure, not strength. How much pressure would it take to pop your eyes like balloons?”

Mason held his breath and waited for the pain. He wouldn’t scream. No matter how much they tortured him, he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. At least he hoped he’d be as strong as necessary.

Mr. Leon suddenly let go of Mason, chuckling to himself, and then headed to the door and opened it. Another Bagger handed something over to him. He sauntered back to Mason.

“This, my friend, is an ankle monitor,” he said as he held up the small device. “Fantastic little gem. It will tell us where you are at all times.” Bending down, he pulled off Mason’s shoe and sock in quick, jerking movements.

It took all the willpower in the world to keep Mason from kicking him in the face. The other Bagger stood in the doorway and his expression suggested he’d love it if Mason tried pulling something.

“You can’t tamper with it,” the head Bagger said. “You can’t remove it. And if you try to escape, we’ll know exactly where you are. We’ll come and retrieve you, along with anyone else you contact. See? You’re that special to us.”

The small bracelet clicked into place. It felt heavy against Mason’s skin.

“There. I do hope you try to run. You’ll make it so much easier for us if you do.” Mr. Leon stood up and readjusted his tie. “Someone will come and lead you to the yard. They’ll tell you what to do. I suggest you follow their orders.” He went back to the door and paused. “I must admit I’m disappointed. I expected so much more of you.”

It was Mason’s turn to smile. “Sorry.”

“I’m just surprised you haven’t figured it out,” the man said. “But you’re a clever boy. I’m sure you’ll get it eventually.”

“Get what?” Mason’s arms were burning and he shifted in his seat to try and ease the pain.

“Ask your friend Daniel. He knows all about it.”

The door closed behind him, leaving Mason to try and think above his pain.

*   *   *

A short while later he was uncuffed and shoved unceremoniously into the yard.

An extension of the casino, the yard was a large area that used to be an outdoor theater for the Plaza of Nations. Now it was nothing but a pile of garbage surrounded by more chain-link fencing with coils of barbed wire to keep everyone in. Just like a real prison, there were poorly constructed towers in each corner, and Baggers stood guard with automatic weapons.

The theater was off to the side. Once it had been a great place for bands. Smashed stage lights and twisted metal covered the stage.

A few weeks ago, Mason and Aries had gone over to the Army and Navy on Hastings to try and rummage through the camping goods for supplies. It had been a wasted trip. They’d found the shelves mysteriously empty. Now he knew why. The camp was literally that, a collection of dozens of tents and canvases to provide shelter from the constant rain that Vancouver seemed to love so much. There were several communal spots where giant umbrellas were set up around dirty plastic lawn chairs. In another area were portable outhouses and basins for people to wash with. Over in the corner, freshly washed clothing swayed gently on lines. There
was even a tent with a red cross painted over the canvas.

There were prisoners everywhere. They were crouched around small fires, warming their hands. They huddled in the entrances to their tents, kneeling on the hard cement. In the middle of the camp, a few women were surrounded by a group of children, all seemingly under or around the age of ten. The children didn’t run or play. They sat somber in a circle and stared at each other. They didn’t even dare to cry.

The number of rounded-up survivors was overwhelming. Mason guessed there had to be at least two hundred. They all looked exhausted. Dozens of people sat in the dirty lawn chairs or on the ground and talked quietly with one another, their eyes occasionally darting in the direction of the armed Baggers. He noticed that some of them were looking in his direction too. No one spoke to him.

Mason didn’t know what to do. He stood where he’d been dropped off, unsure of where to go. He moved a few steps and then paused, wondering if he should wait and see if anyone came to talk to him. There had to be somebody leading this group. They would tell him where to go. Let him know which tent would be his.

Finally he decided to approach the closest gathering. Several men were sitting around a small fire by the stage, mumbling to one another. Some of them were covered in bruises, dark black and yellow marks on their skin. A few had their hands wrapped in dirty, bloodstained cloth. One of the men closest to Mason looked like his fingers had been broken in several places. His eye was swollen shut and there was a huge scab on his face. But as Mason moved closer to them, they broke up, scattering in different directions, refusing to look his way.

“They don’t trust you.”

“Huh?” Mason looked at the man who had mysteriously
appeared by his side: a muscular guy in his late thirties wearing a baseball hat and one of those blue Gore-Tex jackets that cyclists often wore.

“The people,” the man said. He had a friendly face and he gave Mason a weak smile. “They don’t know what to make of you and that other fellow you came in with. This is a small place and lots of gossip goes round. They’ve heard you are both bad news, and that sort of thing only causes trouble here.”

“How are we bad news?”

The man shrugged. “I ain’t one for gossip, so I try to close my ears to the negativity. I’d ban it straight out if I could. But I’ll say this: There’s some questionable talk about which side you’re on, you and your friend. Someone said you killed a girl. Of course, some of the Baggers said you’ve been killing them, too. No one knows who to believe. It’s not the first time they’ve planted spies. People get weird. Don’t know who to trust.”

Mason shrugged. “I’m not one of them and I never killed a girl.” It didn’t sound as positively reaffirming as he wished. “Neither is Daniel.” He quickly scanned the grounds. “Is he here?”

The man shook his head. “Nada. He’s still locked away inside. But if they brought you out, I’m sure it’s just a matter of time for him.”