Days Since...: Xavier: Day 853

Chapter Eleven

It had been six meals, more than likely three days since he first lay on that cot. It was impossible to know for sure. The hunger between each bowl of soup seemed to suggest it was much longer. Those hours stretched, distorting any sense of reality that he hung on to as he remained there without conversation.

Xavier curled into a position he discovered was the most comfortable available to him on a stiff canvas cot with one hand locked in place. His wrist felt numb—his limbs rigid, unused, useless to any other task beyond sleeping.

He now understood why Grant had appeared as he did when he emerged from this tomb. His twisted clothing. The dribbles of food. And that was only one day of living in this absolute darkness. Xavier could only imagine his own appearance—one of dirt and filth.

He could feel his hair matted to his forehead from sweat and the inability to clean himself. Stripped down to his underwear from his own doing. The clothing ripped into tattered strips using the head of a screw on the cot. He wiped himself like he had before in that house on his old street. The waste and makeshift bathroom tissue filled the bucket, filling the room with a fetor that Xavier now felt as a film covering his skin.

He slipped in and out of sleep—only meals and the use of the bucket interrupted his dreaming. It was difficult to maintain whether his eyes were opened or closed. It truly didn’t matter, being unable to tell the difference would never stand in the way of sleep. His body now craved it. The darkness, the ennui of nothingness made it that way. With nothing to stimulate himself, it was a matter of survival to simply sleep through this ordeal before his mind deteriorated from the isolation.

With the body gone, it was just Xavier in the room. Sam was never truly present—only his breathing from a comatose state—only the extra stench of blood and waste. But it was still company. Company that Xavier sorely missed. A reminder, a glimmer of hope that he hadn’t made this choice for nothing. That Sam would pull through. That the eventual leader of the revolution would rise up.

Now, the only hope was soon something, anything would change Haverty’s mind. Xavier had proposed a meeting with Haverty several meals ago, but nothing ever came to fruition. Perhaps something was said during Grant’s second interrogation that made Haverty reconsider Xavier’s worth. Realizing now if the letter was hidden, then no one would find it. Realizing the letter was no threat at all to stability. Haverty thought by eliminating Xavier that the letter went with him.

Grant had not returned, but the thought of his condition remained with Xavier. Is Grant dead? Xavier’s anger had subsided. Grant was a good man. He had cared for Xavier as his own child, pushing him to be his best. I should have stayed with him.

Now seeing what Grant had certainly known from the beginning, Xavier understood why he thought it best to choose that path. He was now free while Xavier was not. Grant recognized the situation, understanding that the Second Alliance was a giant, and feeble chops to its knees would not bring the beast down. River’s Edge was going to be a slight hiccup in their plan or an easy assimilation. Grant made it obvious that assimilation made the most sense, and now Xavier regretted not seeing it.

A scuffle, quick footsteps and thuds against the wall—a bark of orders and expletives just as Xavier was about to doze off again. He lay still, not moving even slightly, he peeked through his eyelashes, waiting for whoever shuffled his way.

A muffled scream of pain bounced along the tiled walls. A hard-hitting crack in response. More screaming. The sterile light, beyond any natural white existing in nature, crept around the corner. It moved across the wall, sporadic, highlighting the locker room in a panicked manner. Low grunts. Thuds. A stifled murmur. Xavier didn’t move. His heart beat faster. He attempted to hide his quickened breaths, tightening his core, restricting it just enough so it appeared normal. The light continued to grow. His eyes shuddered.

A prisoner stumbled forward, pushed from behind—his bucket tumbling across the porcelain floor. His head moved frantically around the room, lost, unable to see through the black hood that hid his face. A man? Maybe a teenager. His build very similar to Xavier’s own.

The prisoner turned to leave, his body jolted, recoiling from the broad chest of the Guard that brought him—another one standing just outside the threshold. The hood was pulled from over his face. Brown hair, the dirt bunching it into short locks. He was easily, fifteen or sixteen years old. Xavier peeked again through his lashes. Who in the world is that? Blood ran from his lip. A bruised cheek. His eyes wide with panic. A cloth gag in his mouth prevented him from saying anything intelligible. He made another attempt to leave. Useless.

“Sit!” The Guard ordered and pressed him down onto Sam’s cot still stained with blood.

The prisoner mumbled, panicked, shaking his head in absolute protest to being forced into what was obviously someone’s death. Murder perhaps, from what he could figure. A swift kick to the inside of the knee and one of the Guards buckled to the floor, signaling the other to step in. The much bigger companion lifted the prisoner by the front of his shirt and pinned him to the wall.

“Stop!”

Xavier was sitting up by this point. There was no sense in acting as if he would be able to sleep through the commotion. The prisoner’s eyes met Xavier’s as he hung there, perched above the cot, begging for answers—for help. Xavier tugged at the handcuff in response. What does he expect?

One could see the disappointment flood the prisoner’s face. He threw his elbow several times into the Guard’s grip, finally breaking free but falling onto the cot. A harsh grunt. The metal rail against his back. Both Guards grabbed the desperate prisoner—one by the arms, the other by his feet. Taken to the opposite side, the prisoner continued fighting, flailing about, screaming—their shadows crawling like frenetic spiders across the walls. Xavier could do nothing but watch as the Guards attempted to handcuff him to the cot. The scuffle ended with the Guards standing over the prisoner now in full compliance—fully secured.

“Decent fight, kiddo. Damn shame it’s over.”

One of the Guards winked at the prisoner and took out a knife while smiling, sliding it between the gag and the prisoner’s skin. The cheek creased as the blade turned toward the fabric. It tore and was spit to the ground. The prisoner gave the Guards an exaggerated, menacing grin, pulling at his handcuff as if to strike them again. He began laughing and grabbed for the Guard’s shirt, but was promptly swiped away.

“You two get along now.”

The lantern was lifted from the floor and carried off—full darkness once again. All Xavier heard was panting and anxious movements coming from the prisoner’s cot. Grunts, clanging, scoffs of anger. The excitement was over and Xavier resigned himself back to his situation. He had already gone through the motion of trying. He considered telling the prisoner there was no use, but figured it would at least pass some time for both of them.

Who is that guy? Xavier had never seen him. Not even a vague familiarity that ate at an individual as they tried to place them in their memory. Even with the Second Alliance moving in new troops, he felt as though he had seen most everyone in the town, but he couldn’t be certain. It was possible this was a trap. Someone sent in to gain his trust. Someone to pry out the location of the letter. Maybe Haverty hadn’t given up on it. Xavier couldn’t be entirely certain.

The metal creaked as the prisoner leaned back into his cot. “So what you in for?” he asked.

“A misunderstanding. What about you?”

“Same I guess, if we’re both being careful about what we say.”

A measured response followed by silence. He too could be thinking the same thing as Xavier. Who could blame him? There was no telling what he was in for either. The same kind of charge of conspiracy against the Second Alliance. It would be the perfect plan to pose an interrogator as another prisoner. Someone to confide in. Someone who would understand.

“Feeding you?”

“Yeah,” Xavier said. “Barely, but yeah.”

The mere mention of food was enough to make Xavier’s stomach begin churning. A diet of soup simply wasn’t cutting it. He wanted more—needed more. Through that short scuffle, the light had revealed his physical state. Knowing he had lost weight, but unaware to what extent, the glimpse left him without question. His ribs appeared ready to snap from the tautness of his skin. Hip bones, pointed and peeking above the waistline of his loose underwear. He was nothing but a wireframe.

“What they got?”

“Mostly soup.”

“How long until next meal?” he begged. His voice was eager as if he had been starved up to this point, although he appeared to be in relatively good shape other than the few minor injuries.

“I don’t know. Before I was in here, the town switched to two meals a day, so I think that’s what’s going on, but I’m not really sure. You’ll lose track of time in here, but I’ve been trying to keep count of my meals.”

“How many you had?”

“Six, I think.”

“Maybe three or four days here?”

“Seems so, but like I said, I’m not really sure. I can’t be positive.” Xavier thought backwards, confirming for his own sake. “They’ve taken some of my bowls, but three or four days seems right.”

“Seem to be taking good care of you.” A slight hint of mistrust in his voice. “Barely a scratch on you as far as I could tell.”

The comment gave him pause. Why had they been so rough with this prisoner but given him a pass? Not even a scratch. The only physical confrontation was Haverty searching his belongings. And that was certainly nothing in comparison to this guy’s bloody lip and bruises.

“I didn’t fight back.” That’s the reason. You battled back and probably have been since you were first taken. “There’s no point in it. These people are monsters. I don’t stand a chance alone. No point in making it harder on myself.”

“How’s that?” The prisoner laughed through the question. “Got nothing to lose at this point. What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m going to find a way through this,” Xavier’s tone wavered, uncertainty plaguing the belief that his statement was true. The isolation wore on his spirit. He tried to hide it. “This isn’t the end for me.”

“That blood on the cot. A friend of yours?”

Xavier didn’t reply—he understood the point of the statement.

“I figured as much. Guessing this is where they bring people to die. This is the end. Delusional if you think otherwise.”

“Maybe for you,” Xavier said, “but I still have something they want.” A confidence began to build within him. This guy doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He’s clearly expendable being beaten up like that. The S.A. doesn’t need him. I still have what they want. That letter is what kept him alive. Kept him from the same fate as this stranger. “I have something they don’t want to get out. It could shatter the whole game they’ve been playing. They like to make you think they’re here to help, but it’s a joke.”

“Oh, yeah?” the prisoner asked. “Here to help?” Xavier had heard that tone before. The words matched with a pair of rolling eyes. “Been nothing but horrible. Not an ounce of good in them. They don’t care what you got.”

“You haven’t seen the act then. When they come to your group, they play nice, but they don’t mean it. They’re going to take you over by force, but they hide it. They make you think you need them. Then they just walk in.” Xavier took a deep breath. “Is that not what they did to your group?”

“Never seen these people before. Don’t know anything about them.”

“How can that be? Aren’t they all over the place?”

“Not where I’m from.”

“Seriously, who are you? You said it yourself that you have nothing to lose. I’ve told you a lot. A lot more than I probably should have.”

The prisoner descended into a silence that grew from seconds into minutes. What was this guy hiding? He already said he had nothing to lose. Out with it! “Whenever you’re ready.”

“I’m tired.”

“Whatever.” Xavier gave up. It’s been a long day for him. I’ll let him sleep for now, but later, he has some questions to answer. Xavier’s head hit the pillow, and he closed his eyes.

“Something doesn’t feel right about them.”

“What do you think they want, Dad?”

“I’m not really sure yet. It’s hard to know. There’s a difference in what people say and what they mean.”

“What are they saying?”

“I can’t tell you everything, but mostly they’re offering protection for food and supplies. And, they want to station some of their men here to use the school as an outpost.”

“That sounds like a pretty good deal, right?”

“Sounds good, yeah, but you just never know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you ever heard of the Trojan War?”

“The Trojan Horse thing?”

“Yeah, do you know the story?”

“Not really.”

“It’s a tale from Greek Mythology. There was a battle between the Greeks and Trojans. They were at a standstill. The Greeks wanted the city of Troy, but the Trojans wouldn’t give up. So the Greeks came up with a way to trick the Trojans into letting them in.

“The Greeks constructed a large wooden horse to give to them as a gift—something to show them they wanted peace. The Trojans accepted the gift, but things aren’t always as they seem. The humongous wooden horse was filled with Greek soldiers who snuck out that night and quickly took control of the city walls. They let the remainder of the army in, ultimately, taking over the city.”

“So they’re the Greeks?”

“Maybe.”

“You don’t trust them, huh?”

“I’m not sure yet. I need more information. We’ve built a great thing here, and people have come to take it before. No one has succeeded. The great thing about defending is that you only have to hold your ground. You don’t have to conquer. I fear that this group is the conquering type. I feel like they want peace, but only on their terms. If you won’t give that to them, then they’ll take the peace.”

“They haven’t attacked us yet. Maybe they just want peace. No fake gifts. Just cooperation.”

“I don’t know, Xavier. I just don’t know.”

Xavier opened his eyes. Dad knew. He just knew. He’s always right. Dad… You have to make it back. We need you. I need you.

He pressed his chest against the edge of the cot and patted along the floor searching for food. Not asleep long enough for a meal. Slowly, he shifted to the foot of his cot—half asleep—the handcuff scraping along the frame as he reached for the bucket.

“Awake? Good.” An eagerness in the prisoner’s voice. The silence may have already begun to wear down his nerves.

The bucket began to fill. “Did you sleep at all?”

“Maybe a little bit. Weren’t kidding about this place. Really lose yourself in the dark here.”

“How long was I out?” Xavier asked, as he finished with the bucket and pushed it from his cot.

“Wouldn’t guess too long after me. Guards woke me up. Two of them came through and went out a door down here. Didn’t come back.”

“Did they say anything? Leave anything?”

“Weren’t down here for us. Whispered back and forth, but couldn’t tell what they were saying. All I could make out was a loud choking noise.” The prisoner imitated the Guard, forcing out a disgusting rasp that caused Xavier to cringe. “Then the other one laughed all loud, and they walked out.”

Xavier rubbed along his jaw. There was nothing to say. The reality of his demise was beginning to take focus. There would be no denying it any longer. The picture was becoming clear—two prisoners awaiting their deaths, talked about by others as if they were already gone. This was the end.

“We’re going to die aren’t we?” Tears formed in the corners of Xavier’s eye. He wiped them with his fingers, but more began to pool. A silent cry.

“Your friend, what’d he think while he was down here? He know?”

“He never saw it coming. Sam was unconscious when he died.”

“Sam…” The prisoner’s voice trailed off as if he were thinking of someone he knew.

“He didn’t even know he was down here,” Xavier said. “Probably never had another thought after he was hit. Killed for no reason.” Xavier ran a hand through his hair, grabbing hold of a bit before letting go. “He was a good guy. He did a lot around here. Him and Grant were unstoppable.”

“Name’s David.” No hesitation in the prisoner’s voice. Xavier almost startled by the statement. It came from nowhere. “Figure since we’re both about to go we may as well know each other, right?”

Xavier couldn’t argue with the well-placed point. “Xavier. I work maintenance here.” He scoffed and corrected himself, “I did maintenance here.”

“Was a scavenger with a group in the Nor—” David coughed. “Was a scavenger.”

“Where?”

“Sorry.” Obviously, he was upset with himself for even coming that close to letting it go. “Can’t say.”

“Who would I tell?”

Xavier closed his eyes, dumbfounded that he had actually uttered those words—foolish. Of course something like that could be used as a way out. A simple way to avoid what seemed to be the inevitable. It had been done to him. Rupert used knowledge of the letter to help his own situation. Why would Xavier not do the same?

David was right to be careful. Neither of them owed the other a thing. No trust. No goodwill built between the two. If his group was worth taking, if what they had built was valuable, then the Second Alliance would be on their doorstep in an instant. He was right to protect it. David’s loyalty was refreshing.

“Can’t let you know that. Even if I did fully trust you, I couldn’t. Can’t have them coming after my friends… my family.”

“You still have family…” Xavier said under his breath, “they must be worried sick.” My dad has no idea what’s happening.

The thought of his dad returning empty-handed, unable to find his wife, and then finding out about his son—it would crush him. The guilt he would feel. I begged for him to let me come. Too dangerous? Now look at me.

“I get it,” Xavier said. “I wish I’d been more careful with information.”

“What you mean?”

“I…” Xavier started. What could it hurt to let him know?

Xavier could let him know the circumstances of his own imprisonment. If David was with the Second Alliance, he already knew the details. There was nothing new he would share with this acquaintance cellmate. Only the location of the letter mattered anymore, and he wouldn’t let that go—not for anything. Haverty would have made peace with Xavier by now if it was coming at all.

“I found a letter that shows what they do to people. It told everything. Showed they killed our people. That they manipulated us. They wanted us to agree to have them here—to have them protect us. But we didn’t know it was them that we needed protection from.

“I hid the letter and told another guy about it. I thought he’d help me because of what they did to Sam.”

“Sam’s the guy over there?”

“Yeah,” Xavier continued. “The other guy turned me in. That’s why I’m here. I hate these people. Before any of this happened, my dad knew there was more to them—more to what they wanted. And with the letter, everyone can know. That’s what they’re afraid of. They don’t want it to get out. But… I wouldn’t give it to them. I’ll never let them know.”

“What good is the letter if it’s hiding?”

“I’m hoping someone will find it and take up the cause.”

“How they going to do that?”

Xavier shrugged his shoulders out of habit. The darkness concealed it. Even his smile went unnoticed as he thought of Matt and Jenny. “Someone will if they really want to.”

“Take some luck, don’t you think?” David asked.

Luck… “You really believe in that? Even as we sit down here waiting to die?”

“World can be strange like that. Luck’s the only explanation I have for when things turn out crazy. Bad or good, it’s there.”

“A friend of mine talks like that. I’ve never really thought much of it,” Xavier said.

“Say luck hit and got you out of this. What would you do?”

“Find my parents,” Xavier said it without hesitation. The thought of them gave instant comfort. He sighed. “Just my parents. My dad would know what to do. He always does.”

A long silence came from the other side of the room. Xavier let it happen, allowing David to reflect on his own situation. There was nothing to do but reflect. Think of what could have been done differently. A curse of time—the constant reflection of where you went wrong—sometimes foolishly imagining the world on a separate timeline where nothing bad happened. So many forks in the road. How many times had Xavier taken the wrong way? Could he even pinpoint one particular decision or action that cuffed him to this cot? Life was just one large chain reaction. No one’s fault. Life was just that way.

David broke the silence, “We get out of here, you can come with me. Take you home, then we find your parents.”

“I appreciate that, but I have no idea where they are or if they’re even alive anymore.” Xavier lowered his head. “We were talking about luck. Not much of a real chance I find them or that we get out of here. All I can hope is that someone, someday, will figure this out and crush the Second Alliance.”

“Second Alliance?”

“That’s what they call themselves.”

“Why?”

“I have no idea.”

“You think they’ll find my people.”

“It’s possible,” Xavier said, “if they keep pushing further out like this, I would think so.”

The back door from the basement opened. Quick footsteps. Several sets. “Time’s up!” The words were loud and harsh. The light blinded Xavier as he blinked rapidly through the chaos. Four Guards or so it seemed. A tangle of arms, hands—each worked frantically to uncuff the two but maintain control of them to prevent any escape.

Xavier looked to David, expressions of horror flashing through the melee as David fought back, screaming, “Fight! Fight! Fi—” A hand. He bit down upon it, and the Guard screamed in response. “Fight!”

Xavier reared his head back and drove it forward into a Guard’s face. The nose exploded with redness as Xavier’s forehead smashed through it. The Guard howled with pain, falling forward onto the cot. The weight of Xavier and the Guard broke it free from the wall.

Xavier tried to get up but was still secured to the cot which lay under the injured Guard. He pushed at him—an exercise in futility—the man simply weighed too much. Another Guard moved over him, pinning him to the ground. All Xavier could do was work his head from side to side yelling obscenities at the Guards, cheering David on.

The Guard’s stance slipped, and Xavier saw the opportunity. His foot met squarely with the crotch of the man standing over him. He too filled the room with shouts of pain, falling over to his side, struggling to compose himself. “Get them!” Xavier screamed. David was still fighting with one of them. The other turned to Xavier and struck him in the head—his body went limp.

“It’s time Xavier. I’ve arranged for you to work with Grant. He’s a good man. He’ll keep watch over you and make sure you learn a good trade.”

“I barely know him.”

“It’ll be fine. Just listen to him. He won’t lead you astray.”

“Let me come with you, that way we know I’ll be fine. And that way, I can help you find her.”

“You’ll be safe here. Just trust me. Outside the walls is too dangerous.”

“If it’s so dangerous, then having me with you only makes it safer.”

“I couldn’t deal with something happening to you. I’d be without you and your mother then. I can’t have that. You’ll be safer here.”

“But if something happens to you, then I’ll be without both of you. There’s nothing you can say that will change how I feel.”

“Xavier, damn it, this isn’t something I want to do without you. It just has to be this way. I’m not risking you too. I’ll be back. It won’t take long.”

“How can you say that? We don’t even know where she is.”

“I know where to start, and from there… I’ll find her and bring her back.”

“You know that sounds crazy.”

“Xavier, stop. I need you to keep a watch over River’s Edge for me. With you around, people will remember me and what I made this place to be. It won’t escape them. It’s your duty to keep people to their promises. Remind people that we built this place to be greater than what exists outside of it. You understand?”

“Dad. I need to—”

“Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Then make sure it’s done. Don’t let anyone forget their promise.”

“Okay.”

“Mind Grant too. He’ll teach you a lot. Maybe you’ll be able to teach me a thing or two when I get back.”

“You won’t be gone long enough, right?”

“Yeah. Right.”

“I love you, Dad.”

“I love you.”

Xavier woke in a daze, his head throbbing—the blurred lines of his surroundings began to sharpen. As he came to, one of the Guards noticed and shifted his attention back to him.

All he could do was watch as the Guard crept forward. He pulled weakly at the cuff. Damn! Still stunned while lying against the broken cot, he could do nothing but submit. He could offer no defense. Xavier looked on as David was carried out, a hood wrapped around his face. “David! No! Please, no!” Xavier tried to stand but couldn’t. His head wobbled, but a firm hand steadied it. He felt the cloth in between his teeth, and the light became dull, filtered by a black hood. The shrieks of both prisoners vanished, replaced by muted cries.