100-Days-in-Deadland(73)

As the Humvee curved around the Camp’s winding roads, people milled around, some worked the gardens while others carried loads. Two young children played with a ball. Several looked up as we passed. Many smiled and waved as though these men were their saviors, which I supposed was true.

Seeing so many people in one place, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of hope. Maybe Jase would be safer here than alone at the farm, for at least now. Maybe Tyler was right. Maybe Camp Fox could recreate civilization. Maybe, just maybe, they could withstand zeds.

We continued past several barracks, all of which had people in regular clothes walking nearby. After another few blocks, Nick pulled to a stop outside a square brick building with a sign that read Camp Fox HQ outside.

Griz and Tack climbed out back before Tyler opened his door. Each man grabbed my arms and pulled me across the seat. With my wrists tied, I nearly stumbled climbing down from the Humvee.

As soon as Tack shut the door, the Humvee drove off, leaving the four of us standing alone in the small parking lot. The sun had already begun to set, casting a warm orange glow onto the red bricks. Clutch was in the direction of the falling sun. What would he be doing now? Would he be tied up like I was, or was he playing along with Doyle?

Tyler tugged me along and I had to hurry to keep up with his longer strides. Griz and Tack followed us up the steps and through the double doors.

Inside, the building seemed innocuous. With the exception of military insignias, the main area could’ve passed for any town hall. Tyler stopped us at the front desk, where a man and woman sat. He was in uniform, while she wore jeans. “Is the Colonel available?” Tyler asked.

The woman spoke first. “He is. Shall I let him know you’re coming?”

“Yes, thank you,” Tyler nodded and then turned to me. A pained look flashed across his face before he turned to the two soldiers with us. “Escort the prisoner to interrogation room one.” He gave me a final, almost-pained glance before turning on his heel and hurrying down a hallway.

Tension grew in my muscles.

“This way, sugar,” Griz said.

With one man on either side, they walked me down a hallway, stopping when we came to an opened door.

Tack flipped a switch, and light flooded the room. The room sat empty except for a table and two chairs.

Griz nudged me inside, and I winced at the sudden brightness. With his rifle, he motioned to a chair. “Take a seat.”

I swallowed and obeyed and was somewhat surprised that they didn’t restrain me to the chair, not that I was an expert on interrogations. The sum of my experience came from what I’d seen on TV. They left me alone, closing the door behind them. I suspected at least one of them remained just outside the door, but I could neither see nor hear them.

The room was small, maybe eight-by-eight, without any windows. No one-way mirror covered the wall, though I supposed video cameras had long since replaced one-way mirrors.

I closed my eyes. Focused on my breathing. Silently repeated my mantra to soothe my nerves until I realized there was no way to get the upper hand in this situation.

I was at their mercy, plain and simple.

Long after my butt had gone numb in the cold metal chair, the door opened, and I started.

A man I didn’t recognize walked in first, followed by Tyler. The newcomer was tall, his face craggy, and looked to be in his late forties. He took the other chair, while Tyler stood off to the side.

“I’m Lieutenant Colonel John Lendt.” The man sitting across from me looked every bit the leader Tyler had made him out to be. A piercing, sharp gaze, hard jaw, and strong shoulders hinted that this man was confident in both his intelligence and strength. He was downright intimidating without even trying.

“I’m Cash. I’d shake your hand, but my hands are preoccupied.”

“Just Cash?” He raised a brow.

I shrugged. “I’m no longer who I was before.”

One corner of his mouth rose. “I disagree. Who we were shapes us into who we are, and who we are shapes us into who we’ll become.” He leaned back. “But we’re not here to talk philosophy, are we. Captain Masden witnessed you shooting an unarmed man without provocation today. What do you have to say to that charge?”

A thousand different responses shot through my brain. I settled on simple honesty. “Yes, I shot him, but I had provocation.”

His brows tightened. “You realize that under military law the punishment for murder is death.”

I looked down at the table and swallowed.