So Max didn’t know what would happen to him.
From the looks of it, the man and woman next to him against the fence had been in here for quite a while.
The fact that Max and these two other prisoners were alive didn’t mean much. Max wanted to believe it meant that the militia wasn’t killing people, that instead it was just imprisoning them. Besides, Max was sure that were plenty of other militia groups who would have just shot him, rather than going to the trouble of incarcerating him.
After all, having prisoners meant feeding them, giving them water, possibly treating their medical issues.
Having prisoners was a good sign, in that sense. It meant a high level of organization. A high level of control over the population of the camp.
But Max knew that for each prisoner in the stockade, there might well have been ten corpses out in a ditch somewhere. Maybe they were planning on killing Max after interrogating him in a couple hours. Or maybe there was some other reason to keep him alive for now. Maybe others had not been so lucky.
Max’s mind was strategic. He couldn’t help it. He was always analyzing, always coming up with plans.
If it came to escaping, Max doubted he’d be able to go out the way he came in. He’d either need a key or he’d have to pick or break the lock.
While Max understood the fundamentals of lock picking, and had practiced before on a couple, he doubted he’d be able to pull it off in this situation. Max knew that realistically appraising his own abilities was important. Without the proper tools and plenty of time, he likely wouldn’t be able to pick the lock.
Getting the key itself was an option. Most likely, the guard had it.
But the guard was armed. And he wouldn’t want to just hand over the key.
Attacking the guard was a possibility. After all, Max might be able to reach through the fencing to strangle the guard or incapacitate him in some other way. Then he could remove the key and open the gate.
But attacking the guard was a long shot. It sounded more like something that might work on a television show than in real life. After all, the guard would surely fight back.
Max figured that his best chance was also the simplest. His idea was to just wait until no one was looking and then climb over the fence.
Sure, there was barbed wire at the top. And it would cut him up to hell. And he’d bleed plenty, the blood trickling back down the fence. But he could deal with it. He’d dealt with worse. If he was really lucky, he could find something to blunt the barbed wire with a little. Throw a blanket over it or something.
Not that there were any blankets around. The best he’d be able to manage would be some article of clothing.
It was likely that the guards had already thought about people climbing over the fence. Unless they didn’t mind people escaping. Surely, they’d have something in place to prevent it. After all, barbed wire was extremely inconvenient and painful, but it didn’t stop everyone. Especially not the most determined people.
Maybe there was another guard out of sight, waiting to shoot anyone at the top of the fence.
Or maybe there was something else. Something Max couldn’t think of at the moment.
So maybe that wasn’t the best plan after all. It was too easy. And the militia seemed too organized to overlook something so obvious. So tempting.
Max frowned slightly as his mind kept churning, looking for another plan.
He didn’t come up with much. Except that he’d wait and see how the food was delivered. If someone came in through that gate, maybe there’d be an opportunity there somewhere.
Max’s gaze shifted away from the men laboring with the wheelbarrows to the fencing itself.
If only he had some wire cutters, he could cut right through that fencing.
Then he thought of it.
Digging.
He could dig under the fence.
The dirt was loose. A little damp. Perfect for digging at with his hands.
Sure, he wouldn’t be able to dig very far. But he didn’t need to.
He just needed to dig a little shallow patch beneath the fencing. The way a dog would. He was thin enough that he could squeeze himself under it, provided that he could bend the fencing a little.
But surely, the militia guard would have thought of this possibility too.
Max was getting exhausted, thinking through all the possibilities.
And he didn’t yet even know if he needed to escape or not.
Would it be better to wait and see what happened? Wait to see whether they would give him a second chance, some kind of audience.
No, probably not. It seemed just as likely they’d kill him.
Max didn’t want to take any chances.
He wanted to live. He wanted to survive. It was just a drive he had. An intense one, like some little motor that kept on chugging and chugging, deep in his body, no matter what happened.
There was no point in thinking about his crushed dreams of restored order.
He just needed to live.
He could think about it all later.
Suddenly, after over an hour of silence, the woman next to him stirred. She shifted her position, and in doing so, turned to face Max.
For the first time, Max saw her face.
She was a young woman. Early twenties, probably.
But she looked old. Ancient, even.
Her face looked haggard. Lines everywhere. Gaunt, as if all the fat had been stripped from her body. And not in a good way. More like an unhealthy, starvation kind of way.
She looked old beyond her years.
But her eyes were still young. That’s how he knew her real age.
There was pain in her expression.
She spoke with care, as if the words themselves caused her pain.
“They’ll keep us in here until we die,” she said.
“Why?” said Max. “What do they have to gain?”
“They take us,” she said. “And they do experiments on us.”
A chill ran up Max’s spine.
“Experiments?” he said. “What kind of experiments?”
The woman didn’t answer. She just stared at him.
It was a horrible stare. There was something in those young eyes of hers that said something. Something that couldn’t be put into words.
The chill didn’t leave Max’s spine. And he knew that he wasn’t going to wait around to see what happened. He was going to try to escape. Tonight, if at all possible.
“And don’t think about escaping,” she said, her hoarse voice continuing, almost as a coda to Max’s thoughts. “They’re harder on you when you try to escape.”
That wasn’t good to hear.
But Max wasn’t going to give up easily either.
He’d gotten himself into all this. Walked right into a trap. Fallen for tales of a charismatic leader. Marched right on in. Foolish.
Well, he wasn’t going to stay anyone’s fool.
6
Sadie had been walking through the woods next to the road. She didn’t want to walk on the road since it would increase her chances of running into someone. Even though she was feeling rebellious, she didn’t want to throw caution to the wind.
Which is why she walked with her handgun at the ready. Finger right on the trigger guard.
Suddenly, up ahead, a man popped up.
Had he been lying in wait? Lying in hiding?
He stuck both of his hands into the air immediately.
Sadie’s finger went to the trigger.
He was a little too far away for a clean shot, judging by what she’d learned from her mother during target practice.
But she might be able to make it.
She got ready to shoot. Legs apart. Arms outstretched. Both hands on the gun.
Slow, steady breaths. Her adrenaline was already spiking. She didn’t want to let it interfere if she had to shoot.
As far as she could tell, the man’s hands were empty. He turned them now, making a point of showing her his empty palms.