Cindy Gerard - Killing Time

“Just with myself. It took everything I had in me yesterday to keep from ripping into Lawson.”

“The first shock of seeing him face-to-face is behind you now. You should be able to rein it in better today.”

“And what about you?” He watched her shimmy into the long skirt. “You haven’t met him yet. You going to be able to handle it?”

She kept her head down, messing with buttons and the zipper. “I’ll handle it.”

Yeah, he thought as she grabbed her tennis shoes and, barefoot, headed for the door. He had no doubt that she would handle it just fine.

• • •

Even before Eva stepped into the dining hall—a respectable distance behind Mike for show—she’d suspected her patience would be tested to the limit. One look at the layout and activity in the room the size of a basketball court, however, and she knew she’d underestimated the magnitude of her irritation.

The women who weren’t cooking or serving or clearing dishes sat with the children at long rows of tables on the left side of the room, eating breakfast. The men sat in clusters around large round tables at the other side. All of the conversation—save for the little boys mixing it up and laughing—came from the men. The women and girls were silent. As soon as a woman finished eating, she immediately rose and started helping the others. Except for the toddlers, even the little girls rose from the table like robots and started helping with the chores.

She followed Mike, who had apparently spotted Lawson at the table at the head of the room. She felt her stomach tighten as they neared the head table and knew she had to get a grip, to school her expression into one of blind acceptance and bear it.

Lawson stood as they approached and extended his hand to Mike. “Welcome to my table.”

“It’s a pleasure, sir. Thanks for the invitation.”

Eva was grateful that she was expected to stand in silence, her head lowered, so Lawson couldn’t see the hatred in her eyes.

This man was responsible for Ramon’s death.

She made herself pull back from the thought. She didn’t have the luxury of indulging her hatred. That could come later.

Lawson introduced Dan to the men sharing his table, tossing around their titles. Executive officer, intelligence, supply, operations, security officers. Lawson had structured his army after the U.S. military model. He’d even anointed himself with the title of general though he had barely enough men to form a company.

“My wife, Maria,” Mike said as if he were presenting a piece of meat for inspection.

She had to look at Lawson now or he’d consider it disrespectful. The predatory look in his eyes made her want to recoil with revulsion, but she kept it together.

“Dan tells me you’re an attorney.”

She swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

“Licensed in Idaho?”

“Yes,” she answered again. “I made certain of that before we left California.”

“That’s very good to know. Should we have need for legal counsel, we may call upon your expertise.”

“I would be honored.”

He motioned to one of the serving women. “See to it that Mrs. Walker has something to eat, then give her a tour of the compound and assign her to a unit and a work detail.”

Like a dutiful wife, she thanked Lawson, cast Mike a subservient glance, and followed the woman who had gotten the task of breaking her in.

And so her UWD indoctrination began.

It was after seven p.m. when the door to the cabin opened and Eva walked in. It was on the tip of Mike’s tongue to ask, “And how was your day, dear?” but one look at her flushed face and angry eyes told him she wouldn’t appreciate the joke. He knew they’d worked her like a mule.

“You would be wise not to talk to me right now.” She tugged off the bonnet and hung it on a peg by the door.

“Way ahead of you on that one.”

Poor baby. Even though the uniform made it difficult to distinguish one woman from another—part of Lawson’s plan to break them down and strip them of their individuality—Mike had managed to catch glimpses of her on and off throughout the day. Once he’d seen her lugging a basket of wet laundry to a clothesline. A couple hours later, he’d spotted her in the garden, weeding. That was around two p.m. The sun had been brutal. The last time he’d seen her was in the communal dining hall. She’d been clearing tables after dinner, which explained why she was a full hour behind him getting back to the cabin.

Her hair was plastered to her head, damp with sweat. Her clothes were dusty and spotted with what he suspected was food from her work in the dining room.

She looked exhausted and irritated and beautiful, and he couldn’t stop himself from walking across the room, taking her in his arms, and hugging her close.

“All in all, you look pretty good for a beast of burden.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

“I need a shower,” she said on a weary breath and leaned back against him. “Then I’ll be ready to talk.”

“I’ll walk you there,” he offered even though he’d already had his shower.

She shook her head. “I need a little alone time, okay? I’ve got a lot to process.”

He got it. “Sure. Take all the time you need. Here.” He squeezed her shoulders, then reached for a stack of clean clothes. “Someone dropped by with these. I even got my uniform.” He spread his arms wide to show his camo pants and T-shirt, WALKER stenciled on the breast pocket.

She stared at his bare feet. “No soldier boots?”

He grinned. “They’re under the bed.”

“And did you have fun playing war games all day?”

“Thought you didn’t want to talk yet.”

“You’re right. I don’t.” She snagged the clean clothes and a towel from the chest and headed out the door.

It was almost dark by the time she got back. Not quite as pissed, but still exhausted. Still quiet. But looking a little more in control.

As soon as she closed the door behind her, she stripped out of the confining blouse and skirt and into the T-shirt and boxers she’d washed out during her morning shower.

“Much better,” she said on a sigh and crawled onto the bed. She plumped a pillow behind her back, crossed her legs, and breathed deep. “So… how was your day, dear?”

He grinned at their like minds.

“Interesting. I got access to some of the workings of the camp. Because I’m good with engines and electrical—”

“You are?”

“I might have fudged a bit, but I’m hoping we won’t be around long enough for them to find out. I’m also a crack shot—that, at least, I can back up. Anyway, they showed me their mini power plant. Besides a few gasoline-powered generators for emergencies, the camp gets its electricity from the local electrical cooperative—as I suspected, stolen by splicing into rural power lines. Since the electric company doesn’t have a chance of patrolling more than every other year or so, they’re pretty much home free. It’s located at the south end of the compound. It’s also stocked with some large propane tanks.”

“All critical information.”

He sat down beside her, propped his own pillow behind his back against the headboard, and stretched his legs out in front of him, wanting to touch her but knowing she needed her space. “Yep. If we have to make a break for it, we can knock out their power source, blow the propane tanks, and at least make it confusing for them to search for us.”

“Got it. What else?”

“Lawson’s office is the camp’s command center. Doubles as the surveillance and communication room. That’s where I first met him yesterday. He took me back today, had me sit in on his weekly podcast so he could impress me while he preached to the faithful and spread the word. The sonofabitch clearly sees himself as the zealot enforcer god they all worship.”

“Sounds like you’re in like Flynn.”

Because he couldn’t help himself, he lifted a lock of hair away from her face, played absently with the ends. “Not exactly. He hasn’t turned over our handguns or the phone, so apparently he sees me as enough of a question mark that he’s not yet ready to hand me keys to the kingdom. He’s short a training specialist, too. I’m going to convince him I’m the man for that position but that’ll take a little more time. Just like it will take a little more time to finagle a tour of the armory. I might have to resort to a sneak-and-peek to see what they’ve got tucked away in that building.”

“You’re going out tonight?”

Mike bent a knee and rested his forearm on top of it. “Lots of cloud cover. A little wind. Sounds like good conditions.”

“You want company?”

She was so tired, she could barely keep her eyes open. Yet she was ready to go if he asked her. “I think this is a solo gig. Just to get the feel of the place.

“Hey,” he said before she could lodge a protest. “I made a friend today.” His grin told her he was pretty pleased with himself.

“You and Simmons bond over bullets, did you?”

His grin widened. “Nah, I think I burned that bridge. Guy by the name of Beaver. Even has the buck teeth to go with it. He’s not much more than a kid—physically or mentally. Exactly the type Lawson likes to mold. Only Bucky has a little weakness. He’s pretty much in awe of me for doing time for that B&E. Sees me as a real badass.”

“I’m sure the black eye helps cement the image. How does that feel, by the way?”

“It’s fine. As for Bucky, yeah, just about everything about me impressed him. It didn’t take long to figure out that all I had to do to prime his pump was tell him a few stories about life in stir while we were on the shooting range.”

“That must have been good.”

“Oh, it was. Plus he hates Simmons. The big dog has lifted his leg on the little dog one too many times, so we have something in common. Anyway, now he wants to show me he’s important and a badass, too.

He wants to share secrets.”

“What kind of secrets?”

“I don’t know yet. But he’s busting to let me know he’s got inside info. Important enough to make him feel superior and show me he’s got status around here.”

“And nothing makes a little man feel bigger than sharing what he knows, to prove his importance.”

“Exactly. I’m hoping he can clue me in on where Lawson spends his time. I haven’t figured out where the general lays his head yet. That seems to be top secret… so maybe when I find his bed, I find where he stashes his important papers.” Which was the purpose of their visit.

“Anything else?”

“Yeah. I let Lawson know I had a couple friends wanting to join the movement.” Gabe and Green, who were waiting in the wings for the call.

“How’d he react to that?”

“He didn’t have much to say. But I know he’s thinking about it—especially after I told him they were disenfranchised former Special Forces. He could use some thinkers with military backgrounds. It’s pretty clear his recruits are mostly rejects and derelicts who don’t lend much more than muscle to the cause.”

“Maybe that’s the way he likes it. Men like that are easily led.”

“True, but Lawson can’t do all the leading—not and keep his fingers in his other pies.”

“Like fraternizing with the Juarez cartel.”

“Exactly. His executive officer was Army for four years but that’s it. No one else has any special skills. Not too many sharp tacks in that drawer, either. I can tell that Lawson knows his top tier is lacking. He tries not to show that he’s frustrated by it. He has to delegate at some point and it’s apparent he’s starting to realize he doesn’t have a lot of go-to guys to carry the load.”