A Pound of Cure (American Wasteland Book 2) Read online

  She had no idea how long she’d been in the tub. She ran her fingers of one hand over the fingers of the other. She could feel the wrinkled, waterlogged skin. She was tired. She wanted to go back to sleep. But if she did, Jennifer knew she might never wake up.

  Jennifer tried everything to keep herself awake. Yet, once more, she drifted off. In the brief moment that she slept, she dreamed of her father’s small farm. A giant snake was in the barn. It was wrapped around one of the goats and trying to swallow it. She searched frantically through the house for a weapon to kill it. She found a shotgun and ran back to the barn. She aimed and pulled the trigger. It did not go off. She ran toward the snake and attempted to club it to death with the non-functioning firearm. She couldn’t breathe.

  Jennifer regained consciousness. Her lungs were filling with water. She coughed violently. She soon lost control of the coughing fit. Her stomach cramped and she vomited. She panted to regain her breath. She cried, hating her situation. This torment went on for what seemed like an eternity.

  ***

  She had no sense of time when the board finally came off of the tub.

  “Good morning sunshine.” Kravitz laughed. “Looks like you had a good night’s sleep. That’s great because we have a full day planned for you.”

  The light hurt her eyes. She was exhausted. She felt sure she could not endure another day of torture.

  “Get her up. Spray the vomit off of her before you bring her into the room. I don’t want it tracked all over the floor.” Kravitz left Smith and Bowles to do the dirty work.

  Once they’d hosed her off, the two gorillas dragged her by the arms into the motel room. She saw a large cage, like something used for crate-training a really big dog. Only this cage had plastic panels on the sides. She also saw two aquariums on the dresser. One held large, hairy spiders. The other was filled with snakes. The snakes were balled up on top of one another. The aquarium was much too small for so many snakes. She shivered with fear.

  “Do you have a preference?” Kravitz asked. “Snakes or spiders? Of course, you could tell me what I want to know.”

  “No, please! Don’t do this!” Jennifer pleaded with Smith and Bowles as they opened the top of the cage and forced her into the tiny space.

  Kravitz crossed his arms. “Only you can make this stop, Ms. Martin.”

  He waited for a moment. “No? Okay, then. Let’s start with the spiders. The good news is, if you’re arachnophobic, the snakes will eventually eat the spiders. However, if you’re ophidiophobic, I’m afraid you’re out of luck.”

  Jennifer closed her eyes and sobbed as Smith used a pair of tongs to extract a large spider from the aquarium. “No, no, no, please!”

  A knock sounded at the door. She heard Kravitz step outside. She opened her eyes to see that Smith was still holding the spider. He seemed to be waiting for Kravitz to return. She felt sure that Kravitz enjoyed his work. He reminded her of a demon incarnate.

  Kravitz stayed outside for several minutes. When he returned, his instructions were sharp. “Get her out of the cage.”

  Jennifer was even more frightened. She thought, Helena must have broken. She must have told them what they wanted. They’re taking me to prison. She felt hopeless. They probably pulled the same thing on her. I can’t blame her. I certainly considered giving up more than once.

  Bowles held Jennifer by the arm. He hurried her out of the motel and to an armored vehicle. He shoved her into the backseat and closed the door. Smith got in next to her. “Go.”

  Bowles started the engine and drove out of the parking lot of the dilapidated motel.

  “Where are you taking me?” She figured her situation could not be made worse by asking.

  “Home,” said Bowles.

  “Home? Is my time up? It’s been forty-eight hours?”

  This time, it was Bowles’ and Smith’s turn to play the quiet game. Neither of them said anything.

  “Where is Helena?”

  They remained silent.

  “Where is she?”

  Smith finally spoke. “As far as your friends are concerned, you ratted her out to save your own skin. Now you’re going home and she’s not.”

  “That’s a lie!” Jennifer was more infuriated over this statement than all of the torture she’d endured. “You know it’s a lie!”

  “Truth doesn’t matter,” said Bowles. “Only perception. And the perception of everyone you know is going to be that you’re a rat. Enjoy your life.”

  “You killed her! You monsters killed her with your medieval tactics! Helena is dead and her blood is on your hands! You could have killed me. You almost did. She drowned, or had a heart attack, or something. I know it. Truth does matter! You people are going to pay for this!”

  Bowles hit the brakes and brought the vehicle to a halt. “Is that a threat? Because threatening a federal agent is a serious crime. We may put you in a hole to rot yet!”

  Jennifer fumed but kept her mouth shut.

  Bowles resumed driving. They took Jennifer to her father’s farmhouse. Smith removed the handcuffs and pushed her out of the vehicle. Bowles sped away.

  Jennifer was weak. She struggled to stand. The front door opened and Francesca yelled, “Jennifer! You’re back!” Francesca rushed out toward the road to help Jennifer.

  “Where is Helena?” Francesca asked.

  Jennifer began bawling. Through her tears, she tried to explain the lie that the Federal Emergency Security agents were threatening to spread. She struggled past her double breathing, feeling guilty she’d returned home and Helena had not.

  “Shhhh, it’s okay.” Francesca escorted her back into the house. “Let’s get you cleaned up and fix you something to eat. Okay?”

  Jennifer nodded as she sobbed. “Where’s my dad?” Jennifer recalled Kravitz’s threat. “Did they take him?” She was frantic. “Did those monsters take him?”

  “No, no, no,” said Francesca in a calm voice. “He’s upstairs. He’s resting. Jarod came over. He gave your dad something to help him sleep. He was pretty worked up about you being taken. Plus, he has some broken ribs. He needs to recuperate for a while.”

  Knowing Bob was alive and at home had a great calming effect on Jennifer. She wiped the tears from her eyes. “Okay.”

  Bob came to the door of his bedroom. “Jenny, is that you? Are you home?”

  His left eye was swollen shut. His lips were cracked and scabby. His cheeks were black and blue. She barely recognized him. “Oh, Daddy!” She went to him.

  He embraced her. She hugged him but felt him wince from the pain. She loosened her grip and held him tenderly. The two of them cried in one another’s arms for a good long while.

  ***

  Later that evening, Francesca brought bowls of soup to the table for Jennifer, Bob, and herself. She’d warmed the canned soup on the gas stove top. She brought a kerosene lantern to the table and lit it as the light from the sun was fading. Bob said a short prayer through his busted lips and the three of them began eating.

  Jennifer stirred her soup. “Thanks, Francesca—for taking care of us. No one would blame you if you wanted to go stay with your parents.”

  She took a spoonful of soup. “I will if you want me to, but I’d rather stay here. They aren’t nearly so prepared as you are, Bob.”

  “I’m happy to have you,” Bob replied. “I appreciate your help around the farm. Especially since I got all busted up.”

  Jennifer watched the steam rise from her bowl. “I want to build another memorial tomorrow—for Helena.”

  “You don’t know she’s dead,” said Francesca. “They could be messing with you, trying to get you to do something to get yourself in trouble.”

  Jennifer gazed at the wooden tabletop. “She’s gone. I know it. We can’t let them get away with this—kicking in our door in the middle of the night, beating up my dad, killing Helena, torturing me. It’s not right.”

  “I know,” said Francesca. “But what can we do about it?”

  “We can fight back,” Jennifer declared. “If we don’t, it will only get worse.”

  “The US government has the most powerful military force on the planet. We can’t fight them. They’ll crush us like ants,” Francesca said dismissively.

  “It’s a good thing our founding fathers didn’t think the way you do,” Jennifer rebutted.

  “I understand that you’re angry and your emotions are raw, but be sensible, Jen.” Francesca turned to Bob. “Are you going to help me out here?”

  Bob sipped the soup carefully, as if trying to avoid getting any of it on his scabby lips. “She’s right. If we stand by and take this kind of abuse, it will get worse. We’re pretty far down the rat hole as it is. The America I thought I knew is gone. This is a totalitarian nightmare. It’s as bad as anything the Nazis or the Chinese have ever dished out.”

  “Maybe so,” Francesca conceded. “But we have zero chance at standing up against them.”

  “I don’t know about that,” said Bob.

  “How can you say that?” Francesca asked. “Think about all the technology, the drones, the limitless supply of weapons, supplies, and money. It’s impossible.”

  “The Taliban did it,” said Bob. “I’m no fan of their religion or their culture of oppression. But you have to give it to them. They managed to survive long enough for America to give up. Then, twenty years later, they took back all the territory they lost. You’re talking about a people armed with out-of-the-box AK-47s, cheap Chinese radios, and flip-flops. More than half the country is illiterate.”

  Jennifer thought about the pictures she’d seen after the fall of Kabul. “They got some good gear after we left. Now they have helmet-mounted night vision, laser sights, and ACOGs.”

  Bob winced from pain as he tried to smile. “It was all I could do to bribe you into doing target practice with me back before you moved to Atlanta. What do you know about ACOGs?”

  “A lot more than I did back then,” said Jennifer.

  Francesca elaborated, “Lucas put us through boot camp before we left Atlanta. It’s a good thing he did, or none of us would have made it home alive.”

  Jennifer remembered Cameron’s last moments. She felt sad. “I wish I had learned more from you, Daddy. Maybe things would have been different. Maybe Cameron would still be alive.”

  He reached across the table and took her hand. “Ain’t none of this your fault. You did the best you could. Cameron would be at peace knowing you made it home.”

  Francesca finished her soup. “But if anything happens to the FESA outpost in Clayton, you’ll be the first person they come looking for.”

  “She’s right,” said Bob. “We’d have to find somewhere else to hang our hats for a while.”

  “We can’t all go to Tater’s,” said Jennifer. “He’s a borderline hoarder. His little trailer was cramped before Lucas moved in there.”

  Jennifer felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. “Has anyone heard from Lucas since Commander Kravitz came to visit?”

  “No,” said Francesca.

  Bob added, “I was afraid they might be watching us. I know they’re monitoring our phone calls and texts.”

  “We have to get in touch with him somehow,” said Jennifer.

  “I’ll figure out a way to get a hold of Barrett,” Bob said. “I’ll send him over to Tater’s place. He can fill them in on what happened.”

  “Okay.” Jennifer recalled the face that accompanied the name. “Barrett the big burly sales guy from the dealership. How will you get in contact with him?”

  “Email, maybe.”

  She shook her head. “They could be watching that, too.”

  Francesca said, “What about the dark net?”

  “The dark net?” Jennifer lowered her brows.

  Francesca rolled her eyes. “That guy, Paul, I used to date. He bought pain medication on the dark net.”

  “Paul the drug addict?” Jennifer quizzed.

  “He said he had chronic back pain.” Francesca frowned. “I didn’t know he was an addict.”

  “But how would the dark net help us send an email without being detected?” Bob asked.

  “Well,” Francesca explained. “As long as FESA isn’t watching Barrett’s email, you could download the Tor browser, then open an email account on one of those encrypted providers.”

  “Encrypted providers?” Bob seemed curious.

  Jennifer nodded. “Yeah. Like Tutanota!”

  Bob got up and went to his computer. “My laptop is charged, but the WiFi is out.”

  Jennifer looked around. “You have a power outlet on your truck. Can’t you run an extension cord to the router?”

  “I suppose,” said Bob. “If they haven’t shut off the satellite.”

  Jennifer shook her head. “They’ll keep the internet running at all costs. It’s their primary means of disseminating propaganda. Where’s the extension cord?”

  “I’ve got a few of them down in the basement.” Bob turned toward the basement stairs.

  “No, Daddy! You rest. I’ll hook it up.” Jennifer hurried to get the cord, start her father’s pickup, and run the power supply from the truck to the router. Once finished, she brought Bob’s laptop to the table.

  He opened the machine. “But Barrett won’t recognize the email address it’s coming from.”

  Jennifer watched as he searched for the Tor browser download. “Put something like Clayton Dealership Sales Team in the subject line. Then put something in the body of the email so he’ll know it’s from you.”

  The process for loading Tor and signing up for the encrypted mail service was painfully slow over the satellite internet connection, but it was a necessary step for security’s sake.

  While they waited, Jennifer found a power strip in the basement so they could start charging the laptop, phone, and various other devices. “We still need to think of somewhere to hide out.”

  “What about my grandmother’s old place?” Francesca asked.

  “Up in Otto?” Jennifer asked. “Your parents never sold it?”

  “My dad wanted to. But my mom kept saying she wasn’t ready.”

  Jennifer returned to her seat at the table. “She died ten years ago.”

  “I know. Mom would probably sell it now, but I think my dad gave up trying. Anyway, they keep paying the taxes. Dad used to go up there and kinda keep the place up, but he hasn’t bothered for a few years. It’s probably sort of musty, but it has furniture and everything. We’d need to bring food—and maybe some paint.”

  “Paint?” Jennifer found the suggestion odd.

  “Yeah. It’s wallpapered with roses all over. Everything is roses: the couch, curtains, the bedspreads, tablecloths.”

  Jennifer waved her hand dismissively. “This is about survival. That stuff doesn’t matter.”

  “You say that now,” Francesca retorted. “But just you wait. It’s like a bad dream.”

  “Okay,” said Bob. “The email has been sent.”

  Jennifer gazed out the window. “Maybe we should start sleeping in shifts. I don’t ever want to be caught off-guard like that again.”

  “They took all the guns,” said Francesca. “I don’t know what good a night watch person would do. Unless you want to dig up the AR-15s.”

  Jennifer shook her head. “No. If they catch us with those, they can tie us directly to the shootout back in Atlanta.”

  “They didn’t take all the guns.” Bob lifted his shirt revealing the handle of a silver revolver.

  “Where was that?” Francesca asked.

  “In a dry box, under the manure and compost pile. Some places, even a dedicated man won’t look.” Bob pulled his shirt down. “Although, a five-shot revolver won’t do much if they kick in the door again.”

  “For now, I’ll be satisfied with knowing I won’t be awakened by a flash-bang,” said Jennifer. “But the sooner we can get out of here, the better.”

  “You need to rest,” said Bob. “Get a good night’s sleep, we’ll talk about it in the morning. I’ll keep watch.”

  “What about you?” Jennifer asked.

  “Those pills Jarod gave me knocked me out. I’ve had all the sleep I can handle for a while.”

  “But you need to take your medicine,” said Francesca.

  “I need to be able to think,” Bob countered. “I’m a tough old coot. I can handle a little discomfort. I’ll catch up on my sleep once we get relocated.”

  “Okay, then.” Jennifer made her way to the stairs. “I’m going to bed. I spent the night in a tub full of cold water last night. I love you, Daddy. See you both in the morning.”

  Bob remained sitting at the table. “I love you, too, sweetheart. I’m glad you’re home.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Judge not, that you be not judged. For with what judgment you judge, you will be judged; and with the measure you use, it will be measured back to you. And why do you look at the speck in your brother’s eye, but do not consider the plank in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me remove the speck from your eye’; and look, a plank is in your own eye? Hypocrite! First remove the plank from your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.

  Matthew 7:1-5 NKJV

  Jennifer stayed out of sight, well inside the tree line. She looked both ways up Highway 28.

  “Is this our guy?” Francesca pointed at a new lifted Ram pickup coming down the road.

  “We’ll know soon enough,” said Jennifer.

  “What if he doesn’t see the bandana?”

  “Then we’ll go back home.”

  “I’m pretty scraped up from those briars. I’d hate for all of that to have been for nothing.”

  “He saw it!” Jennifer pointed to the shiny red truck as it slowed. “Come on!”

  The two girls darted out from the cover of the woods and rushed to get into the cab of the vehicle. Jennifer slammed the door. “Drive!”

  Barrett punched the accelerator. “Hey, Jen.” Even when he was sitting down, it was obvious Barrett was a tall man. And he was big. He had big arms, a big chest, a big neck, as well as a big belly. Because everything else was so big, he didn’t necessarily look fat, just big.