Chapter 12
Five watched Sam on the monitor. He looked small, collapsed in on himself. He was tied to a chair, head down. Hands in back. Feet bound. Barely moving.
“Come on, Sam. Twitch or something.” Five whispered. “He’s not moving.” She felt a hand on her shoulder. It felt like Peter.
The Abel-wide PA system screeched again. Five reached up to grab the hand. Definitely Peter.
They watched in silence as Ian advanced on Sam. He grinned, pulled his fist back, and connected with the side of Sam’s head.
The following scream would haunt Five’s dreams for months.
“How’d you like that, Yao?” Ian was practically drooling. “How do you like that?” He kicked at Sam, probably aiming for his knee but missing. He connected somewhere along his shin. Sam let out a cry that reverberated through the speakers. “Oh, you don’t like it? I can try it again.” It was hard to tell from the camera angle where that kick landed.
Wherever it ended up was painful. Sam screamed again, losing all resolve.
“Oh, God! I don’t know what to do. I can’t bear that sound.” Jody’s voice was shaking. “He’s in there with Sam and I don’t know what to do! Tom, we need Janine. Now! Have you got her on the radio?”
“Not yet. I’ll keep trying.”
“I’ve picked up your signal, though.” Nobody had noticed Amelia walk through the door. “It sounds like you need some real leadership. I’ve come to help.”
Jody looked over at her, jaw clenched. There was no time to start a fight.
“Oh, this is grim. Even for Ian.” Amelia pushed her way through the crowd to examine the monitor. “He’s covered that whole training ground with zombie blood and parts making it impossible to get to him or Sam without becoming infected. Clever.”
“We’re running out of time. Ian’s going to kill Sam.” Maxine interrupted.
“I vote one of you heroes goes in and stops him from doing that. Preferably, someone who can’t get infected by the zombie virus. In case none of you have noticed, this is me looking meaningfully at Paula.”
“Yes. I know it’s me. I’m happy to do it. Unless Ian shoots me, which I’m not immune to.” Paula shrugged.
“Okay. We can do this. We can rescue Sam. The best way would be a two person team.” Jody said.
“I’m going.” Five interrupted. Nobody seemed to hear.
“Getting into the training ground via the farmhouse and keeping to the cover on the side of the trees could work. See? You could help each other climb over the obstacles, but he wouldn’t spot two people coming in that way. A larger team would be more obvious.”
“We have another problem.” Tom sighed, looking at a different monitor. “He’s opened all the sewer outflows into the farmhouse basement.”
“That’s disgusting but not really-” Jody began, but Peter interrupted, seeing what Tom was seeing.
“Look, the prisoners are in the basement. They’ll drown. Cameo’s in there. Kytan’s in there. Our friends are down there!”
“Look at this. He’s set up automatic machine guns to fire on anyone who tries to climb down into the basement. Walking down there is instant death.”
“I’ll do it.” Peter stated firmly.
“You might die.” Jody whispered. Five sighed and squeezed his hand as Peter laughed and said,
“I should be so lucky.”
“Well, that leaves you with a problem, doesn’t it, Colonel Marsh?” Amelia looked at Jody, grinning. As much as Five was learning to admire Amelia, she sure did have a way of making you want to kick her perfect teeth in.
“Don’t call me that,” warned Jody.
“But I like it.” Amelia pouted, running a hand through Jody’s hair. Jody shook her off.
“We have a three person set of suicide missions here. Sam’s immune to zombie virus but he can’t rescue himself!”
“Aww, you’re going to ask me for it, aren’t you? If you want it-” she brushed an invisible something off Jody’s shoulder. “-you only have to ask me for it.”
“We have no idea what you’re talking about, Amelia!” Maxine spat. “You’re getting on my last fricking nerve, so if you don’t just tell us now, I’ll push you into that zombie pit myself!”
Amelia chuckled.
“Oh, feisty. I like it. Fine. Five, I’ll just take your arm and-”
Five felt Amelia grab her.
Frustrated, scared, annoyed as hell - she tried to pull her arm back.
But Amelia had a remarkably strong grip. Her manicured nails dug into her wrist. Amelia yanked Five’s arm straight.
Five felt a pinch.
Horrified, she let her gaze meet Amelia’s eyes. They were full of sparkle and mischief. In her hand was a syringe.
“Shit, Amelia! What - what did you just do?”
“Baby anti-zom serum. Don’t look at me like that, you were all thinking it. I’ve translated all the writing on the box. Sigrid hasn’t perfected this thing. It’ll give you temporary immunity to zombie bites, Five. Not more than an hour, could be shorter. There’s a little test kit here in the lid. If I just drop some of your blood on it, just a little thumb prick.” Five willingly gave her thumb over to Amelia. There was a sharp pinch and a burst of red. Amelia smeared it onto a test stick. Everyone was silent. All eyes were on that stick.
Five felt Peter pull her in ever so slightly.
“This is good. You’ll go get him.” He whispered in her ear. Five nodded, unable to speak.
“See? Immune. Why are you still standing here? Save your friend and yourself from becoming a zombie - limited time only. Go. Peter - you go to the basement. Five and Paula - to the testing ground.”
Everyone looked at Amelia.
“Go!”
It was all they needed to hear. Five’s shoulder felt the comforting weight of Peter’s hand leave her shoulder as he took off. She locked eyes with Paula, nodded, and the two of them raced to the training grounds.
There were gunshots around them.
It was hard to say if they were being aimed at Five and Paula. It could have been Peter. It could have been at Sigrid’s office.
It didn’t matter.
Five was focused. Get Sam.
“Five?” Tom was on comms. “It’s going to be painful to hear but we’re patching you into Ian’s speaker feed. He’s taken it off the public PA but…well…he’s left it open for us to hear.”
There was a crack of static.
And then Ian’s voice.
“Now, let me see. What else have I got that you might enjoy?” Five could hear objects being picked up and tossed aside. Her imagination went wild with what he could be looking through. She remembered his gun (the one that got Owen). She remembered the brick (the one that got Steve). She remembered his taser (the one that got me).
She remembered his hands.
His large hands, fingers like tree branches, curling around weapons. Curling into fists. Striking. Squeezing. Holding.
Sam screamed.
Five tripped. She braced her fall with her hands, which immediately began to bleed. She wasn’t two minutes into this mission and she already made a mistake. Focus, Five. Please.
Paula grabbed Five by the arm and pulled her up.
“Come on, Five. He needs you..”
Five nodded and ran.
Ian was cackling. The worst part of it was that it wasn’t even that fake, evil villain laughter. It was real, joyful. And sick.
And then Five heard Sam’s voice.
It was weak, shaky. Raspy from screaming.
“Is this it for you, Ian? Is this what you’ve been building up to? Mad megalomaniac torture scenes?”
***
Sam looked down at the ground. He was tired of looking into Ian’s eyes, sparkling with glee. He was having fun. What could ever stop that level of madness?
He was losing hope.
He had told Five and the entire team not to come. He wasn’t sure if he hoped they had listened or not. If they weren’t coming, he was dead. If they were coming, they would all be dead.
If he was going to die anyway, he might as well find out why.
“Is this it for you, Ian?” His throat hurt, but he pressed on. “Is this what you’ve been building up to? Mad megalomaniac torture scenes?”
“Don’t you understand?” Ian sneered. “This is entertainment! This is the media! Why just report the stories, Sam, when you could be the story? You were the one who made me understand that.”
Sam didn’t think anything else could surprise him, but that sure did. His eyes darted back up. Ian was still in front of him. Still holding the long handle of his gardening spade. There were red dots painted on it that weren’t there before. Probably not paint, Sam.
“Me? I was?”
“You. Look at you. Just a radio operator, but you got involved. You made a difference, and now you’re a hero. I always wanted to be like that. We’re the same really, aren’t we?”
For a moment, Sam was speechless. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he finally said,
“I think I literally don’t know what to say to that. You think this - this - is making a difference?”
“The rules have changed, Sam. You have to be strong. You have to do what’s necessary.” He was holding the spade in the air, almost triumphantly. Pacing back and forth.
Sam braced himself. He had been the object of Ian’s anger so many times now, he knew when the next hit was coming. It was usually after he started overemphasizing words. It was a sign he was losing control.
“Ian, whatever you’re about to do, just do it.” He hadn’t expected to say that. But he was tired.
For days, Sam had been strapped to a chair in Ian’s cabin. He hadn’t slept. Food was thrown at him. Literally. Ian would toss something in the air, making Sam catch it in his mouth. At first, Sam refused. It was too humiliating. Shameful. But after - he didn’t even know how long - his stomach was growling so painfully that he opened his mouth and caught what he could. Water was given from a dropper. Just a few drops here and there. Ian took disgusting delight in using basic needs to control Sam.
And the gardening tools. Sam had his nails clipped with pruning shears. Ian’s chilling laugh, telling him he was going to put the ‘man’ in ‘manicure.’ Nicking the tips of his fingers. He still had the trails of garden forks up and down his back. Ian untying the top half of his body, making sure he was too weak to fight back. Bending him forward, almost in half. Raking back and forth. Rivulettes of blood reaching the ground. It was all Sam could see until Ian pushed him back up and re-tied his bindings.
There wasn’t one place on his body that wasn’t experiencing some form of pain. Sam had always been happy, hopeful. Optimism in a sea of dread. One time - in a drunken, poetic moment - Five had once called him the beacon of light on the tower. The shining light of hope guiding them home.
He never once had any desire to leave this beautiful world.
Until now.
Please just let this end.
He closed his eyes and prayed for a death blow.
Ian was still pacing. He could hear the steps. Ten paces to the right. Turn. Ten paces to the left. Turn. Please. Walk forward. Just…
No.
No.
Suppose Five was coming? Suppose she found him and he’d given up? Let Ian win?
No.
Sam Yao isn’t a lot of things. He’s not an athletic runner. He’s not a self-assured leader. He’s not quick with self defense moves. He’s not a crazed lunatic with a garden spade.
And he’s not a quitter.
“Ian, come on. Just stop. Stop all of this.” He made his voice sound as strong as he possibly could. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
Ian curled his lip in a contemptuous smile.
“Nah. That’s not how this story goes.”
“Then how does it go?” Sam asked, a little more pleadingly than he’d have liked. He’d like to have one of those voices, like Tom’s, that always sounds deep and strong under pressure. “What are you even doing this for?”
“Don’t you know?” Ian finally stopped pacing. “Don’t you understand?”
“Honestly, I really don’t. You were always kind of a nice guy, I thought. Silly, maybe. But basically decent.”
“Haven’t you worked it out?” Ian was close enough now for Sam to smell the sweat. Sam growled in frustration.
“What? What? Is there a secret?” He would use the last of his strength to get Ian to talk. If his friends were listening in, if they heard his inevitable death, at least they would know why. “Some big secret that would explain why you’re clearly one step away from…” Sam struggled to think of a stereotypical villain thing. “...sitting on a throne made of, like, crushed up other thrones?” Nailed it.
Ian leaned in closer. So close his nose was almost touching Sam’s.
“I suppose there is, in a way, a secret. I hate you. It’s so simple. Now that I’ve said it, I wonder why I didn’t say it before. I hate you. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. With your stupid happiness, and your ridiculous loyalty, and your optimism, and all the love – why does everyone love you? You self-righteous smug-faced git!” He dropped the spade and took Sam’s face in his hands. He pressed them together tightly. Sam was sure Ian could crush his skull with just the slightest increase in pressure.
“You hate me because people like me?” He muttered, unable to open his mouth all the way. Ian was squeezing, pushing down on his jaw.
“Yes.”
Ian pushed Sam’s head back as he let go. Sam took in a deep breath, held it for a moment, and let it out slowly.
“Well then. All right. On with the torture, I suppose.”
Ian laughed as he turned his back to Sam. He started fiddling with…something. Honestly, I don’t want to know. Sam took this brief pause to let his eyes close. His body began to fall asleep. Sam tried not to give in but he was exhausted. His head began to nod. His breath flowing even and light.
Five was waking him up. “Come on, Sam. Let’s go home.” She took his hand. He brought it up to his mouth for a kiss. He closed his eyes, felt her soft skin touch his lips. When his eyes opened, he saw Ian. “Where is Five? Wasn’t she here?”
Sam was awoken by a sharp pain in his leg. Ian had kicked him again. Damnit.
“What I’m wondering, Ian…” He began. He had to pause to readjust himself, though his bindings made that nearly impossible. His arms were falling asleep. His shoulders cramping.
“What? What is it?” Ian blurted, impatient.
“What’s your plan here, Ian? Well, the Minister’s abandoned you. The soldiers have been picked off. The last of her Wakened Land are leaving. You know we’re taking Abel back.” We are, right? “So what’s your plan? You going to just live in your… zombie-covered palace in the middle of Abel…like the world’s worst lodger?” His words were slurred. If they’re listening, they need to know.
“What? They’re not leaving.”
“Oh? What do you think the chopper sound was?”
“Okay. Maybe they’re leaving. But she promised me. She promised me she’d stay. She said we would make the new world together.” Ian picked the spade up again and held it tightly in both hands. He returned to his pacing. “Oh, you can’t understand it. It’s going to be glorious! You don’t know the half of it. We’re going to remake the world better than it was before, more perfect. There’ll be armies of our soldiers, all immune, completely immune. You can’t imagine what she’s done. She can’t leave me! She hasn’t!” He was now holding the spade above Sam’s head. Ready to strike. Ready to bring it down and crush him.
But for some reason, he didn’t do it.
He hesitated just long enough.
Sam saw a flash out of the corner of his eye.
Just behind the trees.
He dissolved into a fit of laughter.