Chapter 51
Vance grabbed Peter’s arm and walked him toward the stockade.
Peter didn’t fight it. With his hands cuffed in front, he felt better about his chances, but he’d have Hollis to deal with, too.
Vance didn’t appear to be armed, but Peter had seen the bulge of a pistol on Hollis’s hip.
Not to mention all the other people in the compound who bought into the Messenger’s lunacy.
Even if he managed to escape, they would only increase their security as they tried to find him.
That would just make things harder for Lewis and Manny.
At the small block building, Hollis told Vance to stand guard.
“I’ll send someone to relieve you when the time comes.
” A barred window opening faced the punishment wall, as if to provide a preview of what was coming.
The heavy steel door faced the armory. Beside it was another barred opening.
Hollis unlocked the door with a key on a ring.
Vance pushed it open and shoved a stumbling Peter inside.
The static flared at the size of the cell, plain cinder-block walls maybe eight feet square.
There was no heat, no light except what shone through the two small windows.
In a corner, a stinking black five-gallon bucket served as the toilet.
A dark shadow resolved itself into Carlotta and Ellie huddled together on a cinder-block bench built into the wall.
“Hey, guys,” Peter said, putting on a smile. “Nice place you’ve got here.”
“Meatball!” Ellie jumped up, her face bright as a candle flame. She came to give him a hug, then stopped abruptly when she saw the handcuffs. “What the hell? You were supposed to rescue us.”
“I traded myself for you. They’re going to let you go in the morning.”
“What about Ma—”
Peter put his finger to his lips, then pointed to the window opening, where the edge of Vance’s broad shoulder was visible, and gave her a wink. “Nobody else is coming. They have no idea where we are.”
Now Carlotta stood and hugged him. The human contact eased the static a little. In the dim glow of the dying day through the barred window, Peter could see that she had a black eye. “They’re not letting us go,” she said in his ear. “They already told us that.”
“I know,” he whispered back. “They’re planning to execute me at midnight. At least the French Foreign Legion waited until dawn.”
Ellie sat slumped on the cinder-block bench. “Dude, this rescue sucks. Did you get the speech from that freak show who calls himself the Messenger? That dude is bananapants.”
Peter took a seat beside her, pulling Carlotta closer. “Manny and Lewis are coming for us. I’m not sure when, but it will be tonight. We need to be ready. Get some sleep while you can.”
He tried to project confidence. But he was having trouble feeling it.
Even if June could locate the compound, then find the stockade in the heart of it, almost everyone he’d seen was carrying a firearm.
Manny and Lewis and June weren’t going to bring this place down by themselves.
That would take a Marine battalion. Breaking them out was the only option.
But it had to be before midnight, when he was scheduled to die.
And if they somehow managed that?
They’d still have to figure out what the Messenger was planning.
Then figure out how to stop it before the shit hit the fan.
Thinking, hoping, he sat with Ellie and Carlotta on the bench in the dark, the three of them huddled close for warmth. The cell grew colder. The night deepened. Outside, the wet snow pattered down.
—
After a while, Vance unlocked the door to admit a young woman with a dirty face and plastic plates.
White bread sandwiches with American cheese and mustard, congealed mac and cheese, carrot sticks.
No utensils. The young woman was silent as a mouse and kept her eyes on the floor.
She filled paper cups with water from a plastic jug, then took the jug with her when she left.
Vance stood in the doorway for a moment, eyeballing Peter as if daring him to try something. He didn’t.
Ellie looked skeptically at her plastic plate. “If this is dinner after the apocalypse, I don’t know if I want to survive it.”
Carlotta looked at Peter. He shook his head. He didn’t trust the Messenger or his people. The food might be drugged. Carlotta took their plates and dumped everything in the toilet bucket so they wouldn’t be tempted to eat it. Ellie scowled.
Peter went to the window. The big man stood before the door, arms crossed. “Hey, Vance.”
The big man didn’t turn. “Shut up.”
“Come on, Vance. I’m a condemned man, talk to me. You really believe the Messenger’s bullshit?”
Vance turned to face him with a cruel smile. “The man is a visionary. You have no idea how many people think the way we do. We shipped those black-tips all over the country. The Messenger has contacts all over the world. Once we get things started, the others will join in.”
Peter felt his heart sink. “The Messenger said something about the lights going out. All that talk about the Dark Time. He means it literally, doesn’t he?
You’re taking down the electrical grid. But it’s all controlled by computer, so that must mean you have a hacker. Is he already inside the system?”
Vance’s face went blank. “That’s enough talking. Shut your mouth or I’ll come in there and shut it for you.”
Peter had hit a nerve. “Just tell me the fucking plan. I’m locked in a cell. You’re going to kill me at midnight. What can I possibly do?”
Quick as a snake, Vance reached through the bars and tried to grab him by the neck.
Peter danced back, feeling those thick fingers brush his skin, then caught Vance’s wrist with his cuffed hands and pulled the big man hard against the rebar, torquing the elbow.
For a moment he imagined breaking the arm.
But that would get him nothing but a quick jolt of satisfaction and maybe an early death.
He let go. Vance pulled his arm back, rubbing the strained joint. “Midnight can’t come soon enough,” he growled.