Days Since...: Thomas: Day 758

Chapter Five

“…but I don’t get why. It’s like you’re running on borrowed time, man,” Thomas said while peering back occasionally. Each time James’s head sank lower and lower into his chest. He was falling behind—the two of them trudging up the steep incline of Probasco St. “If I can’t trust you to listen or to have some damn patience when it’s needed, I don’t know how the hell we do this.” The thought of leaving him behind kept playing in his head. This idea seemed like the right thing to do. He couldn’t allow James to prevent him from his own goals, even though the two were supposed to be striving for the same thing. “I’m not trying to lecture you man, but damn… What the hell else can I say? You’re too damn impulsive.”

James muttered a response that sounded more like the growling of a hungry dog.

“I don’t get you,” Thomas said. “You’ve always kind of been a free-spirit or whatever, but now your carelessness is getting you hurt. Worse than that, I can’t have you do something stupid again and get someone killed. I think you’re involvement in this is over—”

“Look! So yeah, maybe I was trying to do too much, but…” James trailed off.

“No. Come on. Give me that classic James excuse.”

James sighed. “Maybe I haven’t changed, but neither have you. Still the same Thomas, afraid to make decisions. So yeah, sometimes I make ’em for you. Is that what you want to hear? Sorry. Sorry I saved your life.”

“Don’t have to worry about that anymore. We’re even now after your fuckup in the train yard. Now, I don’t owe you shit—certainly not this mission. If this is so important to you, then suck it up. Act like it!”

They walked in silence through a few more intersections before James switched gears. “My bad, man. I do need this promotion… just like you.”

Thomas could hear James’s rucksack shifting along his back as he picked up his pace, bringing himself shoulder to shoulder with Thomas.

“I’m on board.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Thomas didn’t even bother to look over to him.

“It means we’re a team,” James said.

Thomas broke his stride, stopping to glare at him. “You better promise me more than that.”

“Alright…” James looked him in the eye. He deflated right there as he stood, letting out a long breath of air. “I’ll follow your lead from here on out.”

“We’ll see.” Thomas stepped off again. “If things don’t change, tomorrow you’ll be sitting on the sidelines of this operation.”

All James could manage was to keep his head down and his mouth shut.

Finally.

They crested the hill—an echo of laughter alerted them to the presence of others. Thomas drew his pistol and broke for a row of hedges on the cool side of a large church that overlooked the corner. James, in his newfound obedience, hustled over and crouched down beside him.

Thomas took out his binoculars, holding his pistol between his legs as he knelt, and took a cursory scan of what might be awaiting them. A man pulled a child’s wagon down the street as he chatted loudly with another, both of them seemingly unaware of the fact they were being watched. What the hell? How can these people act out in the open like this? They’re probably not a threat. “When they get out of view we’ll head across the street to that building there.”

“We could set up on the roof and get some good Intel on the park,” James offered.

Thomas nodded, his mind drawn to discovering what had grabbed the two men’s attention as they were now turned, watching another man run toward them—the newcomer yelling, “Hey! Wait up, fellas!” The three of them came together, and a conversation picked up, but what was being said stayed beyond earshot.

It didn’t take long before they began showing off what little they had. A few trades of mostly books and a few cans of food took place between the men. There appeared to be a brief disagreement that dissolved quickly—one of them revealed a pistol hidden within his waistband. That display put an end to the festivities, but no violence erupted, not even a raised voice. What the…?

The man with the gun watched the others intently until they disappeared around the corner. He removed the pistol from under his shirt, took a furtive look around, and ditched it inside a bush. From there, he cut up some stairs that bent their way around the courtyard of the college and toward Burnet Woods.

His actions were those of a guilty man trying to cover up a crime that, from what Thomas saw, never occurred. Places like these were assumed to be a free-for-all, especially this far from Second Alliance occupied territory. Not that it would’ve been right, but that man could have taken all the stuff from their wagon. Perhaps some presence prohibited that sort of action? Is this some kind of neutral zone? Who could enforce something like that? The Butcher?

Thomas and James waited a good ten minutes to ensure the area was clear, then made their move across the street. Before following the man’s path up the stairs, James shook through the bush, eventually finding what he sought and tucked it away into his rucksack. “Why would he ditch it you think?”

“Probably not allowed to have it wherever he’s going,” Thomas said from half-way up the flight of stairs. “Right now we need to figure out how we get on this roof.” They crept up the remaining steps and found themselves overlooking the courtyard at the rear of the college.

“Didn’t you go here?” James asked.

“Yep, for three years I smoked back here in this courtyard. They wouldn’t give us an ash can back here, so we used to just flick them up on the roof over there.” He pointed to where the roofline dropped down. “The maintenance guys would get blamed for it though, because they’d be the ones up there actually smoking all the time.”

“How’d they get up there?”

“There’s a hatch, but it’s nothing that’s going to help us from down here.”

Thomas could tell James was thinking, working to redeem himself with a plan to get up on that roof. His eyes surveyed the roofline, his eyebrows knitted with thought. “There’s where we go up.” James smiled. “It’ll take a little bit of doing, but…” He padded through the overgrown grass, bedding down trails from the sidewalk to the building as he paced.

Great lengths of ivy scaled the retaining wall and had made the transition to the gray stucco that covered most of the college. James pulled a few vines from the wall and cast them into the planter beds ten feet below. It was here, where the retaining wall met the building, that the roofline dropped low enough they’d be able to grab hold and pull themselves up.

“This’ll work.” James removed his equipment, took a deep breath and squatted down, settling his back against the brick wall. “Come on. Let’s get you up there.”

“Seriously? What about the shoulder?” Thomas eyed him.

“It’s good.” James interlocked his fingers and nodded to Thomas. “Seriously, now or never, man.”

“Hold on a sec.” Thomas set his rifle against the building then slipped the ruck from his shoulders. He took pause. “Get a little closer.”

James edged his foot closer to the drop-off. “That’s as much as I’m going to get.”

Thomas placed his hands against the building to steady himself and set his foot within James’s cradled hands. “You sure you got this, man?” He applied some pressure from his enormous boot.

James nodded.

“Here we go.”

Thomas let the full weight of his body into James’s hands. There was an immediate grunt, but he held strong—Thomas doing everything he could to grab hold of the roof’s edge, to help alleviate this burden from James. “Only a little more.” He could feel James’s strength wavering as he worked to straighten his legs—Thomas’s foot swayed. A few more grunts of agony slipped out.

“Almost!” James’s back and legs were almost completely straight.

Thomas could feel the concrete, finally curling his fingers around the ledge. “Got it! Just a bit more.”

“Jesus, man!” A deep breath and James gave him one last exhausted push. “You’re heavy as shit.”

Thomas finally brought his leg over the top and planted his feet firmly on the roof. He looked down over the edge to his partner—James leaned against the wall, hunched over, his palms cupping his knees as he worked to catch his breath.

“Pass the rifles up.” Thomas motioned with his hand.

James raised a finger. “One second,” he puffed while untwisting the bandage wrapping his wounded shoulder. “See, it’s all good.”

Thomas took a breath for himself. “Just let me know when you’re ready. Rifles and packs, then you.”

James chuckled while he shook his head. “You never stop, huh?”

“Can’t afford to waste any more time.” Thomas took a few steps in, gazing out across the tops of the trees beyond the far end of the roof. “So close now, we got to get this done.”

“Here we go.”

Thomas peered back over the edge to James.

“I’m gonna toss these up,” James said while swinging the rifles toward the roof, anticipating the okay.

“Just hand them up.” Thomas lay on his stomach and inched himself over the edge. He tucked his knees into the ledge. The concrete dug into his hip bones as most his torso hung suspended from the top. “Okay, I’m good,” he said, as his hand reached as far as he could manage.

“Here.” James lifted each rifle.

“Rucksacks?”

They too were passed up.

“You’re next.” Thomas took a large breath in, exhaled, and then clapped his hands together. “Shoulder okay?”

“No doubt.” James took several steps back from the building and bounced on the balls of his feet a few times. He bent down, peeling a long, single blade of grass from the trail. Smiling, he dropped it—not a flutter, it just fell. “Good. No wind.”

“Yeah, cause that’s the difference.” Thomas moved just slightly further over the edge with both hands waiting for James to make his move. “Ready?” Thomas clapped his hands together again.

“Yep.” One last bounce and James rushed toward the wall, leapt for Thomas’s hands, scraping the ivy from the building with his boots. Their hands clasped. The two strained—Thomas inched back from the ledge as he pulled James with him. James’s feet continued chopping at the wall. “Come on!” Bit by bit, they grunted through the stress until both of them finally lay in the gravel. “Hell yeah, man.”

Thomas shifted to one knee and grabbed his gear. “Stay low. We’ll move between those A/C units.

James nodded, picked up his rifle and pack then followed Thomas toward the north side of the building. They quietly made their way across the roof, picking spots in between the rocks where the lining was exposed. They settled into position—James watching the rear while Thomas glassed over the southern portion of the densely wooded park.

A small barricade stretched across the service road that led into the park. Two guards, both armed with rifles, held post there. One stayed partially hidden between the wood and flimsy metal. The other patrolled the space in front of the barricade between the sidewalks.

As Thomas took the binoculars along the road, he spotted a rover dressed casually—jeans and a t-shirt—holding his own rifle while he marched along his route. Thomas tapped James on the shoulder and whispered, “Three. All armed with long guns. None of them appear scoped.” He scratched the details in his notepad as he said it. “We should be okay up here.”

“Is it the Butcher’s men?” James scooted toward Thomas and took his own binoculars across the park.

“It’s got to be, right? Who else would be out there?” Thomas continued to eye them, focusing more often on the rover—noting that his patrol ended toward the intersection with the boulevard that separated the woods from the campus. He stood for a moment in the shade of several trees, watching over his surroundings before bending down to tie his shoelaces.

“That’s definitely his people.”

“Positive?”

“Just look. All of them have that scar he puts on them— you know…” James rolled his hand as if to bring Thomas up to speed. “The Butcher. He marks his people across the cheek.” James ran his finger from the corner of his mouth back toward the ear.

“I just thought it was a stupid nickname or maybe his job before Almawt.”

“Nope… Same scar—mouth to ear… Always mouth to ear.”

“Damn,” Thomas said under his breath. He just stared at the Butcher’s men. The rover stood from tying his shoelaces and turned back toward the woods. Why the hell would someone let that happen? You’d have to be desperate to let someone do that to you. Brainwashed… Thomas looked on as the armed stranger disappeared into the park.

James leaned back against an A/C unit, removed a thick, white portion of a deer’s antler from his rucksack and began carving—he started to hum a tune that Thomas couldn’t quite place in his head. “What is that?” Thomas nudged him. “I know I know it.”

“You’ll figure it out.” James looked up for only a moment to give Thomas a teasing grin, then resumed.

He isn’t going to change. It’s probably wrong for me to expect that already…

“We sleeping up here tonight?” James asked.

“No.” Thomas pointed. “That’s the hatch that goes straight down into the maintenance room connected to the library offices. That’ll suffice for the—” Thomas jerked his binoculars to the right. James perked up, setting the antler to the ground.

A lone traveler approached the park on a bicycle that whined with each revolution of its wheels. The small trailer attached to the back teetered from loose books that shifted about as the man squeaked his way from the parking garage adjacent to the college.

This is what they had waited for—someone to interact with the camp—someone to give them an idea of how they ran shop. Thomas was certain the men from earlier had made their way into the camp, but they didn’t observe the process.

“What’s tha—“

“Shush.”

The man approached—the guards patted him down—he was allowed to enter. Not a lot to that, huh?

A few hours passed. James had prepared food from some cans (which consisted of opening them and putting a fork in each.) He set two aside for Thomas, but the spectacle of arrival after arrival had kept him away from his meal. The scattered caravan of strangers didn’t stop. After a slow start, now, they were in business, managing to spot them from all over—men, different in appearance, but similar in this strange, menacing eagerness by which they came.

Each traveler arrived as peasants with a tribute for a king or simply payment. It didn’t matter. They came and left—most of them with much less than when they arrived—only one case broke the pattern. A woman, tethered, she trudged alongside a man and child. After an hour or so, only the man and child left, pulling a bounty of food and ammunition in a cart they hadn’t arrived with.

The occasional shadow of clouds that cooled them throughout the day became lost in the slow descent into night. It seemed to signal the end of the Butcher’s operations for the evening. A parade of men filed out of the park, many of them Thomas couldn’t recall seeing. He set his binoculars and notepad down. The watch was over. In the early evening light, he was unable to make out the details needed to justify this any longer.

He took the cans James had prepared and began to eat.

“What’s the plan?” James asked.

“We have to hit them at night.” Thomas took a bite and chewed as he reflected on their next move. We really need more time to properly scout these guys. I’m going to have to get in there and get some better details. I can’t think of any other way to do it. “There’s just too much foot traffic during the day. We don’t need extra enemies. Even if they don’t want to fight, these people will be in the way.”

“What’s the count?”

“Of civilians or guards?”

“Civilians.”

“Sixteen men that I saw come and go, but maybe twenty more just now that I had no idea were in there. Tomorrow after the meet up I’m going in.”

“By yourself?” James’s eyebrows knitted with disbelief.

“We aren’t going to learn enough from the outside. The bulk of their forces have to be on the inside if that many people are coming and going. That’s where all their valuables are—everything they want to protect. We could sit out here for weeks, and we aren’t going to know anything.”

“I’m going with you,” James insisted. “If things go bad, you aren’t going to want to be by yourself, especially with the one guard patting everyone down.” James locked eyes with Thomas. “You’ll never get a weapon in there.”

He’s right, but… Am I going to be able to trust him? Thomas couldn’t risk going it alone among these fanatics—these people willing to disfigure themselves for some unknown purpose. He could possibly meet the same fate or worse if he were found out. He drew in a hard breath, looking straight at James. Damn it, I don’t have a choice.

“I…” James threw his hands up and shook his head. “I get it, man, but I’m owning it. I’m not gonna do anything stupid. You have to give me a chance to prove it.”

Thomas lifted his eyes toward the fading sky, unable to immediately agree to this. Not knowing how sincere this plea was is what turned his stomach. He knew he might not have a choice but to give into James—their trials ultimately tied together. I was told I’m in charge… But even then… I can’t to do that to him even though I probably should. I’ll let him stew a bit. See how that sits with him. See how he reacts to that. Then… Then I’ll make the choice.

“I know.” A lump cleared James’s throat. “I got you, man.” James nodded swiftly. “I know I messed up before, but like I said, I’m following your lead now. I need this too.”

“Let me sleep on it.”

The two men gathered their belongings and scurried toward the hatch. Their bodies hunched over as they moved, doing their best to remain undetected. James took hold of the hatch’s wheel and began to turn. A clunking noise prevented it from moving beyond a quarter turn. Thomas took hold, but it gave no more than James’s attempt. He took his rifle and lodged it in between the spokes of the wheel and cranked. The wheel started to give—the metal squealing for him to stop. A sharp crack. The momentum took Thomas forward and on top of the hatch as it finally gave. Several bangs followed as whatever had held the wheel in place fell to the ground.

“Damn.” Thomas gave a half-hearted laugh. “I guess we’re good to go.”

Thomas lifted the door. Inside was black. Absolute. The sun was past the point of helping—only an hour or so until it gave way to the moon. He took his flashlight and pistol and cleared what he could see, working his angle around the different sides of the opening. Nothing, only more unknown.

“Down the rabbit hole?” James joked.

Thomas found the first rung of the ladder, then one after the other, he continued his descent—his eyes caught between what waited below and James peering over the edge. He found the bottom and quickly cleared the maintenance room, a large supply closet, and the library office of any threats. “It’s clear!”

The office was orderly—everything in its place as if tomorrow someone would hit the light switch, plop down with a coffee, and begin doing whatever it was they did for a living. A collection of candles burying a computer desk caught his eye. He clicked his flashlight off, retrieved his Zippo, and lit a few of them. He cleared some papers and coffee mugs from a ledge and spaced the candles evenly across it.

“Setting the mood, huh?”

Thomas didn’t respond—his attention now completely affixed to what lay beyond the three large windows that separated the office and the library’s stacks. He moved past a couple of computer desks and a large conference table to get a better look. James followed. The two of them stood only inches away from the glass—just staring. James’s flashlight barely penetrated the glass as it reflected most of it back upon them.

“Cut your light, man,” Thomas said.

James slowly turned his head toward him and spoke, “Doesn’t this seem odd?”

“Come on, man.” Thomas took the flashlight from James’s hand and switched it off—James clearly lost between thought and reality.

“You’d think someone would have grabbed all this up. I mean… Why haven’t we?”

Thomas thought the same thing upon seeing the collection of books. It had become common practice to hoard them—every book had a use, even if for some it was simply burning. But with the good ones, the information was priceless. The Second Alliance had gone through great lengths to secure more and more literature throughout the region. This would be huge. This find alone might secure their promotions.

“How many of these libraries do you think still sit stacked like this?” Thomas could feel the smile stretching across his face, his imagination lumping all the pages together. He was on the verge of salivating. “Seriously, every one of the colleges on campus has its own library, and the university itself has one huge one. We’ll have to let them know about this tomorrow at the rendezvous.”

“We could use this for the Butcher’s tribute, right?”

“Probably, but I’m not looking right now. I need some damn sleep, man. I’m beat.” Thomas started pulling the seats out from the conference table. “What do you think?”

“You sleeping under there?”

“Yep.” Thomas crawled underneath the table and lay on his back. “Make sure to blow out the candles.”

James faced two chairs together, adjusting the distance for his impromptu bed. “This’ll work for me.” He went to blow out the candles, and the office fell back into darkness.

“Tommy, slow down, bud. You’re losing it.”

“I’m—I’m fine.”

“The hell if you are. Sit down. Take a drink.”

“Nothing left. I—I gave the last bit to her.”

“What! You gave her all your water?”

“Had to.”

“Look at her! She’s already fucking dead, man! Look at her!”

“No—No she’s not. She’ll make it.”

“The hell if she will. If we don’t make it, she don’t make it. Tommy, we gotta leave her, man.”

“I got her.”

“Leave her.”

“I have her, damn it!”

“Sit down! You’re a damn mess.”

“Okay, let’s figure this out. Which way do we go? James… I don’t recognize this.”

“What do you mean, ‘you don’t recognize shit’? It’s the damn desert.”

“How long do you think we’ve been walking?”

“Long enough. Focus, Tommy. We leave her here or we die.”

“I won’t leave her!”

“Give her here, Ricard!”

“No! Get the fuck off her!”

“Get over here! Now! Get over here!”

“Give her back!”

“Look that way, girl. That’s right.”

“James, no!”

“Just walk that way. Go!”

“Don’t shoot her! Run!”

“Run, little girl! Run! Run!

“No! We can still save her.”

“Shut up, Tommy! I’m getting us the fuck out of here.”

“No, please come back! Quit pointing it at her!”

“Stay here. Take my water. I’m finding us what we need to get out of here.”

“Fuck you. Now, she’s definitely dead. You can’t take that back. What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“Someday you’ll appreciate this when we’re back home. Away from Almawt. Away from all this war.

“Thomas…” James shook him. “Wake up. Someone’s here.”

“What?” Thomas pushed his hand away. “Get off me.”

James shushed him, then whispered, “Someone’s in the library.”

“What?” Thomas’s frustration rose, clearly disoriented, unable to process what was really happening.

James spoke slower, firm, but low. “There is somebody in the library with us. I don’t know who it is, but they might be here to kill us.”

The words finally sank in, and Thomas snapped to, but a feeling of dread passed through his body. Shit! His instincts took over. He rolled from under the table, withdrew his pistol from its holster, and took a position of concealment next to James. “How many did you see?”

“Don’t know. I heard some glass break and a few books fall out there, but haven’t heard anything else.” James took hold of Thomas’s arm and helped to orient him within the room. “There’s a light.”

Thomas could see it in between the bookcases toward the front of the library. A dim light, probably a lantern, swung as it floated down the aisles like an apparition. Slowly. Calm. Unfortunately, it provided very little information other than that someone was there. The shadow was ambiguous as to who held it—the projection against the wall cast the person as a giant.

“I would think it’s only one, right?” Thomas leaned in toward James, leaving the words only to his ears. “What do you think?”

“That’s all I’ve seen. No other shadows. What do we do?”

“We’ll take him. If it’s one of the Butcher’s men, the Intel will be worth it.”

“If it’s not one his?”

“We’ll figure it out—can’t let this opportunity slip away. Stay close. No lights from us.” Thomas moved toward the door to the stacks and could feel James at his six. “We’ll use his light against him. That guy can’t point it, so we should be able to sneak up on him, but remember“—Thomas swallowed—“unless we have to, don’t use your gun. We don’t want to alert the camp.”

James tapped him on the shoulder, acknowledging his statement and letting him know he was ready. Thomas unlocked the door and slowly pulled it inward. He stood and moved into a corner to their left. From there, he could see the lantern shining periodically between the spaces in the shelving as it moved. Thud! Another book fell. This guy’s not being too careful. No idea we’re here. Thomas closed his eyes and tried to recreate the layout of the library in his mind. Of course it had been years since he was last here, but the state of the office left little doubt that the main portion of the library sat unaltered.

He moved through it in his head. Round tables and single work stations in the middle. Most of the bookshelves run parallel to the wall… maybe four deep? Where he is runs the opposite way. “This way.” He tugged James toward the outside wall, leading them down that last row of bookshelves.

They monitored the lantern as it continued its way along the front wall opposite the office they had exited. Thomas could feel James’s hand at his back as they moved—Thomas forward, James watching behind—both of their pistols drawn.

The two moved through the darkness as one, working as this single entity ready to neutralize an intruder. Along the perimeter, they proceeded with light, quick steps. Closer and closer to the lantern they came. They crouched down at the cap to the aisle, ready to turn the corner and engage the man with the light. Just a quick glance—Damn!—Thomas stumbled back into James.

The lantern sat unattended. In his haste, Thomas failed to realize the light stopped moving. He grabbed James and forced him to look then bolted round the next bookcase. Doing their best to keep from the light, they took to the opposite side of the stacks, taking a defensive posture as they assessed the situation.

“What do we do now?” James forced a whisper.

Thomas responded by pulling James with him toward the back of the library. If only they could get back to the office and regroup—disengage from this mistake, make a plan then follow through. Even if it meant retreating back up through the hatch, it wasn’t worth getting ambushed in the dark. They had lost the advantage. It was time to acknowledge that and respond.

They retreated with tails tucked between their legs, breaking as quickly as possible toward the office—in need of a lock to help secure their position. Another thud, followed by a low muttering. Maybe they hadn’t been found out. No matter, they still pushed their way quietly into the office and locked the door.

“What the— what the hell happened?”

Thomas took his time responding. The adrenaline had gotten the better of him, and his voice might carry further than he intended. “Just a—Just a second.” He rested his hand on James’s back.

Another thud from the other room.

“This guy doesn’t know what— the hell’s going on.” James’s breathing labored through his quiet words. “We’ll need— We need to go and get him.” He began to rise from his crouched position.

“Just wait a—”

An eruption of broken glass interrupted him. A wooden chair bounced against the conference table, crashed to the floor, and came to rest among the shards. Without hesitating, Thomas grabbed the legs of the wooden chair and flung it back into the library to distract their assailant as he drew his pistol to retaliate. His flashlight followed the muzzle as he scanned the stacks, but there was no one—nothing. What the hell?

James scurried toward the door and pressed himself against the jamb, using it and the heavy door as cover for what might be waiting. Thomas’s eyes met with James who began nodding to him. The look told him he was about to open that door—that he was ready to move.

Thomas affirmed with a quick nod. It was ten paces to the ladder and the same to that locked door. The choice had been made. There would be no rush to the ladder. No escape through the hatch. They had been found. It was time to take control of the situation.

James switched the door’s lock while Thomas stared obsessively at him, waiting like a caged animal. He rushed the door as James pulled it, but was knocked off his intended path. His pistol clattered to the floor, and the flashlight tumbled, whipping light across the walls until coming to a rest toward the center of the room.

A set of hands slid past Thomas’s head, wrapping his neck into the crook of an elbow. He tried to drop his chin to prevent the rear choke, but it was too late. James rushed to help, but Thomas spun away, collapsing onto the floor, knocking a sharp gasp from his attacker as the full weight of Thomas’s frame crushed him.

James drew his pistol.

“Have to shoot him to get me!” the attacker cackled from the floor, hiding behind Thomas while he gripped his neck tighter and tighter from behind.

James tried for a clear shot only a moment longer before holstering his pistol and working to free Thomas from the chokehold. The man wasn’t letting go, and James’s attempts to pull the grip apart proved insufficient. Thomas wanted to tell James to just shoot him, but the words couldn’t pass his throat. Thomas began to feel light-headed—his consciousness slipping.

In a last ditch attempt, Thomas threw his elbow several times into the man’s ribs, finally breaking the hold. The blood rushed back into his head. A flurry of strikes against his back had little effect other than to annoy Thomas as he rolled over to face his adversary.

Thomas straddled him, took hold of his shirt, and slammed his head against the floor several times. The man’s eyes began to flutter and roll back into his head. “Are you fucking done!?” Thomas yelled.

“Yes, damn it,” the man cried out. “Get off!” Thomas hurried to get back to his feet, but the man was able to connect with several strikes to the inside of his knee, causing Thomas to buckle. Relentless little fuck! The attacker attempted to pass under Thomas, trying to improve his position, but it was no use. Thomas heard a loud crack as his fist connected with what he believed was a nose. A bestial howl of pain. “Stop! Stop! Stop!” the man begged.

“Roll him over!” James called out.

Thomas backed off the man, taking control of his shoulder, and pressing his face into the carpet. They worked to get his arms behind him. Thomas held them in place, and soon James secured a line of parachute cord around his wrists.

“Got him?” Thomas asked.

James slapped Thomas across the back. “Hell yeah, man.”

Thomas’s head snapped back toward James, his chest heaving. “Really, man?” He exhaled. “Just— make sure he’s the only one in here. I got this one.”

James gave him a look.

“Go, damn it!”

James slid through the entrance to the stacks once again.

A large lump squeezed through Thomas’s throat as he swallowed hard. “Damn!” His neck felt tight. “Little bastard.” Thomas crouched down behind a desk with his pistol drawn, bouncing his attention between the prisoner and James’s search of the stacks—it wasn’t long before he returned.

“All clear.”

James shifted their prisoner into a seated position and dragged him back against the wall. The flashlight caught a portion of the man’s face, his nose crooked and flowing red. James grabbed some tissue from a nearby desk, rolled it, and stuffed a piece in each nostril.

“Damn,” the man puffed, “ya didn’t have to do all that.” The man nuzzled his face against his shoulder, streaking blood across his face and clothing. “I was giving up, honest as ever.” The man’s eyes lacked any sign of sincerity. There was an eerie smile resting behind his fake words. Thomas had seen this before—a man surrendering while in the back of his mind planning how he would end you.

“Who are you?” James demanded.

“David. Nice to meet you.”

“You little shit.” James slapped him across the face. “Damn it!” He wiped blood across the front of his pants. “You’re one of the Butcher’s men aren’t you?”

“Hell if I am.” His answer was quick. “I just use the services when they’re in town.”

James took his flashlight more deliberately across the man’s face. There wasn’t a scar, not even an attempt at giving him one.

Thomas rocked forward in the chair. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

“Finding books to get some time with the girls.”

“James, mask him, and we’ll lock him in the supply closet until tomorrow.”