Redemption (11 page)

“Hello there!  I apologize for all the theatrics, not really my style.  Such a racket!  Bullets whizzing everywhere, car crashes, far too much excitement for this old man.”  The old man took off his sunglasses and knelt down.  “Oh my!  Look at you!  Are you on your way to a sanatorium?”

Richard stared up at the man in bewilderment.

“The looney bin?  I must admit I can’t recall the last time I saw a straightjacket.  Looks to be quite effective.”

Richard was still speechless.

“Where are my manners?  Goodness!  My name is Charles.  I trust you are Richard Dupree?”

Richard managed to nod his head.

“Are you injured, sir?  Can you speak?”  Charles smiled and showed genuine concern, which troubled Richard.

“I think I’m okay.”

“Good!  Let’s get some of the formalities out of the way.  Is it ‘Mr. Dupree,’ or ‘General Dupree?’”

“I really don’t care.”

“Call that motherfucker ‘General.’  He needs to own the horrible shit he did,” said Ben.

“Let’s not be crude, sir.  And who might you be?”

“Fuck you.”

Charles frowned and nodded.  One of the men restraining Ben drove his fist down on Ben’s mouth.  Charles held up his hand.  “Your name, sir.”

“Benjamin Black!”

The smile quickly returned to Charles’ face.  “Are you
the
Benjamin Black?  The one that ran that fabulous little compound at Disney World?”

Ben glared at Charles and rolled his eyes.

“A real pleasure, sir.  I never thought I’d actually get the chance to meet you!  What a small world!  Isn’t this fun?”

“Do I know you?” asked Ben.

“No, I’m afraid not.  I am very familiar with you, however.  I was kind enough to deliver Jackson Butler to you on a silver platter.”

“Is that a fact?”

“It is indeed.”

“Is that supposed to make us friends?”

“I wish it did, Mr. Black, I really do.  Such a shame we had to meet this way.  The world needs men like you, now more than ever.”  Charles stood and calmly produced the same icepick that had scrambled Willie McCallon’s brains.

“Stop!” screamed Richard. 

Ben said, “Cut the shit, Richard, it’s pathetic.  I knew I was dead the second your friends attacked us.”

“Ben, I swear to you I had nothing to do with this!  They’re not my friends!”

“He’s right, Mr. Black.  General Dupree had no prior knowledge of this encounter.”  Charles held up the icepick signaling for his men to hold Ben down.  “General, please observe, I want you to witness this.  I was having a friendly chat a dear friend you will soon meet.  You only need watch.”

Charles thrust the icepick into Ben’s ear and quickly pulled it out.  Ben twitched for a few seconds and then his eyes rolled back in his head.  A few drops of blood slowly trickled out of his ear and ran down his cheek.

“Oh dear, this is rather embarrassing.  For some reason I remember this being much messier.  I told the good doctor that blood would spurt out of the ear.  On second thought, General, I’d appreciate if you didn’t mention this to Dr. Biggs.  I’m afraid I’d just look downright silly.”

Richard closed his eyes, a single tear streaked down his cheek.  Once again, a good man had died because of him.

“General, you surprise me!  I just liberated you from your captor.  I thought you’d be grateful.”

“He was a good man!  He didn’t deserve to die like that!  The least you could have done was let the man keep an ounce of dignity, you’re a monster!”

“Dignity is never found in death, General Dupree.  The end result is always the same no matter how it is done.  Proud and resolute or crying and whimpering, death doesn’t discriminate.”

“Just before I kill you, I think you’ll change your mind.”

Charles put his sunglasses back on and smiled.  “General, I’m seventy-four years old.  I’ve escaped death more times than I can remember but I do know that each time dignity was the furthest thing from my mind.  Dignity is for the benefit of the murderer, not the victim.”

“We’ll see.”

“General, let’s put all this nastiness behind us think of more pleasant things.  We have a grand reception planned for you in St. Louis.  You will be my honored guest.  I pride myself on being a hospitable host.  We’ll get you cleaned up, nice shave and a haircut, you’ll be a new man!”

Richard glared at Charles with intense hatred and talked through gritted teeth.  “I like my hair, thank you very much.”

“Whatever suits you, General.  I must insist, however, that at the very least we wash it.  We have some fabulous girls that can elevate your current level of hygiene to acceptable standards.”

“You mean slaves?”

“By definition, yes, but I don’t think they object to their station in life.  They are treated quite well.”

“People tend to take care of their property, of course they’re treated well.  Mind telling me what this is all about?”

“In due time, General, in due time.  Just know that you and your friends are going to help me save the world.”

“I don’t have any friends.”

“Of course you do, General, I’ve already arranged a pleasant little dinner party.  While you are getting cleaned up, I’ll be collecting the final guest.  I just love reuniting old friends!”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Maxwell Harris was in a losing battle with his ego.  For many years he had told himself that submitting to a wheelchair meant the end of his miserable life was near.  Sheer defiance was the only thing that kept him out of the chair.  The decaying world around him was not handicap accessible.  He couldn’t enjoy the convenience of a blue placard hanging from the rear-view mirror.  A wheelchair meant he had to depend on others and Max had a difficult time making such a concession.  Being a leader and delegating tasks was one thing, but relying on others to care for you like a parent cares for an infant was a concept Max was not willing to adopt.  The wheelchair would be discarded as soon as it was practical to do so.

Max was currently seated in the wheelchair Elizabeth had managed to smuggle along for the trip.  Three of his men were currently carrying Max over a ten yard stretch of inhospitable terrain.  Max tried to dismiss the thought that his group would already be at the train wreckage if he wasn’t slowing them down.

“Okay, put me down,” said Max.  The three men carefully set the wheelchair on the ground and Elizabeth instinctively took her place behind Max and pushed him forward.

Elizabeth leaned forward and whispered, “Sweetie, you need to stop pouting.”

“I’m not pouting.”

“Yes, you are.  You’re acting like a child.”

“I feel like a child in this thing.”

“Stop it!  You need to accept the fact that you can’t get around on your own.  You of all people should know that in this terrible world we live in you have to be willing to adapt to survive.  Why are you so against a wheelchair?  What’s really going on?”

“It makes me look weak and vulnerable.  What good am I if I can’t stand on my own two feet?”

“Hate to break it to you, sweetie, you’ve never been a kick ass and take names kind of guy.  What makes you strong is what’s in here.”  Elizabeth playfully slapped her husband’s head.

“Ouch!  Knock it off!”

“Shut up or I’ll push you over a cliff.”

Max smiled at the thought of how much he loved his wife.  She had a way of putting things in perspective and didn't hesitate to call him out when he was being stubborn and stupid.  He’d be lost without her.  They continued on for another thirty minutes.  Along the way, they had to stop two more times and carry Max as they did before.  Each time, Max felt humiliated and angry for being a burden.  He tempered the strain on his ego by reflecting on what his wife had said to him.  His strength resided in his ability to be an intelligent leader.  As much as he hated to admit it, he could accomplish the task from a wheelchair.

They stopped about a hundred feet from the derailed train.  Everyone was silently waiting for instructions from Max.  Everyone thought Max was quietly contemplating the wreckage in front of them.  Elizabeth knew better, her husband was in horrible pain.  She could see the vacant stare in his eyes.  The only reality he was experiencing was agony.  Max was alone in his own world.  She and every member of their party had been stripped away.  The sun beating down on his face did not register in his senses.  The tons of twisted steel in front of him had vanished.  Pain was the only thing that existed for him, nothing else.  She had seen this many times and from horrible experience knew the only thing to do was wait.  He would fight his way back and rejoin them.

Isaac was the first to speak.  “Boss, I count eighteen cars that survived the crash.  The front car looks to be demolished on the other side of the crater, not much we can do about that.  What are your orders?”

Elizabeth looked at Max, hoping he would reply.  His eyes were still vacant.  She put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed.  “Honey?”

Max flinched and blinked his eyes.  “What?”

“Sweetheart, Isaac is talking to you.”

Max closed his eyes and cleared his throat.  “What was that, Isaac?”

Isaac gave Elizabeth a concerned look.  “Eighteen cars intact.  What do you want us to do?”

“Elizabeth will stay here with me.  Isaac, pick one person and scout ahead for reliable transportation so we can get the hell out of here.  The rest of you, divide up in teams of two and start searching.  Anything that gives us an idea what happened here I want to know it.  Take any supplies you find useful.  If you find any large stockpiles, let me know and we’ll figure out a way to get what we can out of here when we leave.  Let’s go, get to work.”

Everyone set about their task and Elizabeth waited for them to get out of earshot so she could speak privately with Max.  “How bad is it?”

“I told you not to bring this damned thing.”

“What’s done is done.  How bad is it?”

“My back feels like it’s been hit repeatedly with a sledgehammer and the bones in my legs feel like they’re on fire.  You know, a typical day.”

“Got any candy on you?”

Max reached in his vest pocket and pulled out a bottle.  “Never leave home without it.”

“You take any today?”

“Well, I was waiting ‘till it got bad enough.  Now seems as good a time as any.”  Max took two pills out of the bottle, popped them in his mouth, and gulped them down with the whiskey in his flask.

“Sweetie, you really think those expired meds do any good?”

“It loses some of its kick, but it still works.  Even if it’s just a placebo effect, I’ll take it.”  Max gulped down the rest of the whiskey.  “No placebo effect here, that’s for damned sure.”

Elizabeth frowned.  “Good.”

“What?”

“You finished your booze.”

Max thought of the bottle of vodka in his pack and decided to keep his mouth shut.  It was the same argument they’d had for years.  Max sincerely believed that alcohol was the best painkiller he had at his disposal and getting drunk was just a beneficial side effect.  Elizabeth, on the other hand, didn’t subscribe to this theory and branded her husband a full-blown alcoholic who made the conscious choice to stay drunk as much as possible.

“What’s your plan if Isaac can’t find us a ride?”

Max was glad the subject had changed.  “The only thing we can do, turn around and go back to our vehicles and find another way to St. Louis.”

“I don’t think you’re up to that.”

“Whether or not I’m up to it doesn’t matter.  Why don’t you do a quick search out here for supplies.  Lot’s of military vehicles, bound to be weapons and ammo.  Maybe some MREs if we’re lucky.”

“Good idea, I’m on it.”  Elizabeth took off her backpack and emptied the contents in a pile next to Max.  “If we’re lucky, I can fill this baby up with some goodies.”

Elizabeth set about her task and went vehicle to vehicle searching for anything useful.  She managed to find a few pistols, a tool kit, and two cases of MREs that could feed their team for an extra couple of days.  While she was searching, Max managed to drink a quarter of the bottle of vodka.  When the vodka managed to induce a wave of relaxation, Max put the bottle away just in time before he saw Elizabeth running towards him.  She was smiling and very excited.

“Baby, you’re not gonna believe what I found!”

“What?”

“A truck filled with medical supplies!  I was digging around and hit the jackpot!  I found a footlocker filled with those little morphine packs they give to combat medics!  I can’t believe it!” 

Elizabeth emptied out her backpack next to Max and did the same with his.  Max had wrapped the bottle of vodka in a shirt so thankfully Elizabeth didn’t see it.  He had never felt so happy in his entire life.  Max had accepted the fact that he would never be able to manage the chronic pain that tormented him every second of every day.  He could stop drinking and regain the sobriety that had been missing for years.

Elizabeth returned a few minutes later with two very full backpacks and dumped them in a pile close to Max.  “I took the vials out of the packaging and got all of it.  When we get a chance, we can inventory it and come up with a schedule and ration it out so it will last as long as possible.”

“Thinking the same thing.  Good idea.”

“Want some now?”

“No, the pills I took are kicking in.  I’ll take some when I need it.”

“Anybody checked in yet?  They find anything?”

“No, haven’t seen anybody moving around for quite a while.”

“Want me to go check on them?”

“Let’s give them a little while longer.”

“Okay, still got some searching to do in that medical truck.  Might find some more treasure.”

“Yeah, no telling what’s in there.”

Elizabeth had been gone a few minutes when Max heard footsteps to his right.  The sun was directly in his eyes so he couldn’t make out who was coming toward him.  “Hanson?  Is that you?”

“No, Mr. Harris, I’m afraid Mr. Hanson and the rest of your team will not be joining us.”

Upon hearing an unfamiliar voice making such a claim, Max instinctively grabbed his pistol.  Before he could raise his sidearm, a bullet tore through the armrest of his wheelchair.  A split second later, another bullet kicked up dirt directly in front of him.  Max let go of his pistol and slowly raised his hands.  He did not dare move another inch.