Chapter Seventeen

Drew and Doc visit New Danville and nothing seems right.

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Some of this podcast has been recorded on equipment from the Billings Public Library Co+Lab. Thanks to Renee Barratt of The Cover Counts for the cover design. Music by Mikhail Smusev from Pixabay.

Transcript

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Welcome back to the serialized podcast production of The Scarring Underneath, written and performed by T. S. Dickerson. Chapter 17. Drew and Doc were ushered toward a tent the moment they dismounted. They'd stopped at the edge of the encampment, which provided Drew no opportunity to get a good look at the scale of the place. It seemed larger than expected, given their claim it was used only for meetings and emergencies. He'd gotten the impression no one lived here, but the noise of voices and the people milling about seemed to indicate a settlement. Unease followed him as he passed through a tent flap, noting the ground beneath his feet was well worn with deep tracks from a time when people had walked in the mud, and the sun had dried the imprints. Grass was growing up around the wooden tent supports. As Drew's eyes adjusted to the lower light inside the tent, he saw large tables laid out cafeteria style. It looked like a mess hall in a war movie from before. Several tables had been pushed aside to allow for the cots, which lined one side of the tent. There were grooves worn into the ground where the tables had been. Drew schooled his face into a less conspicuous expression and nodded at the guard who was staring him down. The burly man held a rifle easy in his arms, and he turned and continued his slow circuit of the large tent without nodding back. Doc had already run to the cots. Most were empty. Doc spoke in soft, urgent tones to a man who had been appointed to help familiarize him with the injuries of those people they'd pulled from stronghold. Those five people. Just five. On one cot, two women sat on either side of a young boy, huddled together as if they meant to cocoon him with their bodies. A couple of bags and a stuffed bear waited on the cot next to them. Across the way, a head with blood caked brunette hair jutted out above a ratty blanket. The head shook. The whole cot shook. Doc knelt beside a third cot, holding a man's hand lightly in his own, checking a pulse. No, he was checking for a pulse. He lowered the hand and moved to the neck. After several seconds of breathless watching, Doc shook his head. Four survivors. Doc's voice grew louder, and the man he was speaking to frowned, his face reddening. Drew crossed over to them, the foot of the woman nearest him jerking away as he passed. Both women watched him warily. He put a hand on Doc's shoulder and felt it shudder. What? Doc said. Drew leaned down and spoke into Doc's ear. A moment? I need to see the other patients, Doc said, teeth gritted behind his lips. Thirty seconds, Doc. The grey head nodded, and the man stood. Drew led him a few feet away as the red faced man pulled the blanket up over the head of the dead body. The guards' stare followed their movements as Drew whispered. Tread carefully. This isn't on the up and up. Five people, Drew, Doc said. You're telling me there were only five survivors. Help as much as you can, as quick as you can, and don't let on that anything bothers you about any of this. Let's just get out of here, okay? Doc nodded, and brushed past Drew on his way to the cot where the shaking woman lay. Drew stretched and turned. The guard was still watching him, so he faked a yawn, and pretended to check his shirt buttons and his belt. His hand brushed across his gun, and he could see the bulges of the knives in his jeans pocket and his boot. He was only minorly reassured. He knew the guard was still watching him, having lost all interest in the grey haired and apparently unarmed Doc. Drew crossed over to one of the tables, making more of his limp than necessary. He let out a groan as he sat, and finally the guard looked away. He wrapped his fingers against the table, yawned, and alternated between watching Doc work and scuffing his boot in the dirt. After a few minutes the guard grew bored and stepped out through the tent flap. Drew could see his legs there still, just outside the doorway. The man with Doc seemed to have grown helpful. He ran back and forth to a collection of first aid kits, bringing gauze and alcohol. One of the women had stretched out on the cot with the boy beside her. The other moved to sit on the cot next to the injured woman's and watched Doc's ministrations. Drew stood and crossed the tent to a place where a decent sized hole had worn in the canvas. He bent and peered through. The rest of the camp was down a slight grade from here, and it was quite large. There were a few permanent buildings, including what seemed to be a stable. Beside it was a paddock, where there grazed maybe twice as many horses as their group had brought. One building was a large steel garage or workshop set on a concrete foundation. An armed guard stood outside. What used to be a barn seemed to be some type of supply building with people passing in and out, and there were tents. A lot of tents. Drew paced, regretting his decision to come here more every minute they stayed. When they'd been there for an hour, the child began to cry. Doc spoke to one of the women and she whispered back. Drew, Doc called over to him, could you find some drinking water? Drew nodded and started toward the tent flap. The guard's bulk appeared in the doorway. We need water for the survivors, Doc's helper said. I could get it if you just point me the right way, Drew said, trying to keep his tone light. I need to take a leak anyhow. The guard stayed planted where he stood, forcing Drew to come to a stop. Drew met the guard's eyes and remembered what Cass had told him when she'd been teaching him to defend himself years ago. The ones that are bigger than you will always underestimate you. When you see them doing that, you've got them. The guard's eyes panned briefly up and down Drew's frame. Come with me, he said. I know how to find a bush on my own, Drew said. The guard laughed. We have outhouses. The guard indicated a row of man sized wooden boxes before leaving to get water. Drew jogged down the hill, observing as much as he could about the camp. The first outhouse was occupied, so he stepped into the second, realizing it was not a pleasant place to stay if one didn't actually need to be there. He stood awkwardly for a minute, listening for the person in the first outhouse to leave. The only noises coming from the box indicated that the occupant wasn't finished, so Drew opened the door on his own box and glanced around, looking for the guard. He was hopeful that he might get a few more minutes to snoop, and he slipped between two outhouses for a better view. That's when the glint of metal caught his eye. His heart juddered and restarted when he saw the bicycle leaning against the back of the outhouse. He'd almost knocked the thing over. He was supposed to be paying attention and keeping himself and Doc alive, and he'd let an inanimate object sneak up on him. He was cursing himself and turning away when something lying in the grass next to the bike caught his eye. He glanced around for witnesses. Seeing none, he knelt in the tall grass and retrieved a plastic miniature vanity plate. He turned it over and over in his hand, wishing it didn't say what it did, wondering if maybe he'd misremembered the one he'd seen on that first day of their journey. No matter how he stared, it still featured the graphic silhouette of a nude bicycler with the words keep Portland Weird underneath. He quickly tucked the plate into his boot and pulled his pant leg back down. As he stood up he saw the guard returning, carrying a plastic gallon jug. He walked up and raised a hand in greeting. A lump caught in his throat as he realized the large man was frowning at him. Where were you? The guard asked. Uh in the toilet? You came from behind the outhouse. I just wanted to have a look at the camp, Drew said, slowly starting to walk back up toward the tent. Your setup is impressive. Drew grinned. I mean, I gotta say, maybe we should have been coming to join you guys in the first place. Not to be disrespectful to those lost, of course. The guard's face softened and he shrugged, an awkward gesture for a bulky person with a rifle strap over his shoulder and a gallon jug in one hand. I didn't know anyone there, he said. Drew held the tent flap for the guard, but before he could follow him through he heard hoofbeats trotting up. He turned to look at the horse and rider and did a double take as he saw a grey cat perched half on the back of the man's saddle, its claws dug into the saddle pad where the material extended beyond the leather. It would have been funny if he'd seen it anywhere else. Something tickled in his memory, chilling him as he watched the pair move down the hill, but the guard was waiting, so he ducked into the tent. Doc made eye contact as they approached, and Drew widened his eyes and mouthed the word hurry. He sat at the table he'd occupied earlier for an uncomfortable wait. They'd been at the camp for only a few hours and were returning mid afternoon, the sun hot in the sky. Drew's stress level had been ratcheting up bit by bit the entire time. John and two other men were accompanying him and Doc home. As they left the encampment, a man rode up to John and whispered with him for a moment. The news he delivered seemed to please John, whose shoulders visibly lifted after the encounter, but Drew's were drawn down by his horrible realization. As if the bike and the vanity license plate hadn't been enough, he now remembered hearing Adam drunk on wine, telling some story about a cat that rode horseback with its owner. It seemed too strange a coincidence. Drew's tension and the resultant exhausting effort of hiding it didn't start to ease until he caught sight of the campground and the people moving about by the lake. One of the distant figures froze in place for a moment, and then let out a shout and ran deeper into the camp toward the tents. He let out a grateful breath. Glad to be back, huh? John's voice startled Drew. He hadn't realized the other man had ridden up so close. The ordeal was far from over, and he was caught distracted again. Drew glanced at the other man and shrugged. It's okay if you are, John continued, resting his rein hand lazily on the saddle horn before him. We're intimidating, we mean to be. There was no bad blood between us and stronghold in the end, but those that left were mostly men and all armed, so Hey, that's the kind of protection we need, right? John nodded and looked Drew over. Drew faced forward, pretending not to notice the scrutinizing stare of the man beside him. The group by the lake expanded. They were close enough now he could pick out individuals. There's always room in the upper ranks of our group, John said. The man's tone suggested he was offering the donkey the carrot he'd be led by. For you, or maybe your friend, Cass. An election might be just the thing we'd need after you got settled with us. Drew forced a smile and hoped it looked genuine. A very generous idea. I'll be sure to remember it when we're deciding. As they closed in on the group, Drew scanned the crowd looking for Cass. She wasn't there. When John halted his horse, Drew stopped beside him, and the two escorts came to a stop a horse length behind. Doc, however, who'd been silent the whole return journey, weaved through the stopped horses and continued forward. Thank you for your services, Doc, John called out as the gray horse passed his own. Doc waved a hand. John looked down at Cam and Derrick, who had stepped forward. Cam held Cowboy's reins and eyed Drew's face briefly before turning to acknowledge John. Of course we have no plans to send all you fine people back into the cold, John said. We'd love to have you join us. A kind offer, John, Derrick said. But we aren't exactly one group here. We'll have to discuss it amongst ourselves. John nodded, turning a smile and a nod to Cam and Hank in turn. We'll stop back tomorrow afternoon, he said, for your decision. Drew watched Cam open his mouth and then close it. John turned his horse and headed off at a trot, the other men falling into ranks behind him as he left. For a long moment no one said anything as they watched the riders leave. There was a current of tension running through the group. That current seemed to spike when Adam turned to Drew with a blank smile. They were welcoming? he asked. Drew let out a sigh and dismounted. He glanced back at the riders who had disappeared behind a bend in the road, leaving a low hanging puff of dust behind them. Drew? Cam asked. If you call having an armed guard follow me around and yell at me when I dared to look at their campsite welcoming, then yes, they were welcoming. What? Derek asked. Cam just lowered his gaze. He looked older, jaded even. Drew bent to pull the license plate from his boot. The group of people waiting for his statement shifted, and Cass rushed through. Her hair dripped with water as if she had splashed it over her head, but it didn't hide the puffiness of her eyes. She stopped between Hank and Derek, running her gaze over Drew as if to ensure he was intact. Now that Cass had appeared, Drew felt the need to purge himself of the story. He described New Danville's camp in as much detail as he could remember. He answered questions from both Cass and Derek, but kept a steady pace. When the moment was right, he produced the license plate. As if all that weren't enough, he said. There was a bike there, and this was on the ground beside it. He held it out to Hank. Frowning, Hank stepped forward. A second before he grabbed it, Drew saw him recognize the plate. He stopped, hesitant to take it. Instead, Cam pulled it from Drew's hand and held it up for Hank and Derek to see. He raised it higher so the group at large could look. The crowd began to rumble with conversation, and Drew took the opportunity to glance at Adam with fresh eyes. Could he be working with John? They might have, Hank began, but he trailed off. He had accepted the plate from Cam and was studying it. In the following pause, Doc's voice sounded from somewhere buried in the crowd. The women with the boy, he said. One was his mother and one was his aunt. They were terrified of the men from New Danville. The mother begged me to get them out of there, and when I said I couldn't, she asked me to take her son. They also told me that Stronghold hadn't been expecting any new recruits. The last recruiters they sent never returned. Drew met Cass's eyes and willed her to feel his urgency. He saw a restless energy take hold of her. She glanced over her shoulder for a moment and said, Cam, we need to leave today.com for direct links.