Death Drive

Chapter 23

Silence reigned in the passenger compartment as the truck lumbered forward. Once they had gotten out of immediate danger, the people who had saved them had disarmed them at gunpoint, told them to sit on their hands and now watched them for the slightest movement, fingers nervously caressing their shotguns' trigger guards. Thomas still had the firearm he had hidden under his jacket but was content to wait and see where they were going. After all, why would anybody risk their lives like that only to execute them straight after?

One of the Chosen, a stern man with a nasally voice, had started mouthing off now that the initial surprise had passed: "How dare you treat me like this?" he said. "Don't you know who I am, what my Worth Score is?" He looked at the bearded man who had helped them in and barked: "Hey, I'm talking to you, you scum."

The man unceremoniously stepped forward and backhanded him on the mouth, spraying spittle and droplets of blood to the dismay of the person sitting next to him. Then he stepped back, and lifted one finger in front of his lips, staring the hit man in the eyes until he looked down, face contorted in anger. Amber leaned in closer to Thomas, trying to hide behind him.

The truck slowed down and stopped entirely. The back entrance of their carriage was opened, and the bearded man got out, leaving the other guard to watch them from the opposite end.

"One at a time," the guard said. "Nobody else moves."

One by one, they jumped down from the vehicle to the ground where they were patted down for weapons now that the men with the truck had gotten situation under control. Thomas sighed when his gun was taken from him once more and took his place in the row that was forming. Amber followed as close as she could.

They were at a large building, the massive sliding door, through which they must have come, was closing and offered him only a glimpse of large, colorful metal containers piled on top of each other. The same containers were stacked inside the hall, creating corridors between the metal rows, like canyons of steel.

"The docks," he gathered.

Armed men and women looked down on him from atop the crates as well as the catwalk high above. A crane started moving with a metallic screech, lifting one such container and placing it against the gate outside for added defense.

"These guys, whoever they are, are doing some things right at least," he thought. "Maybe I'll finally find someone with a lick of common sense."

A broad-shouldered man with a lean face and clear blue eyes appeared from amongst the containers, with a man and a woman bodyguarding him. He stopped at a distance to the recent arrivals and spoke: "I have good news, not-so-good news and bad news. The good news is you'll be safe here for the time being. The not-so-good news is we know you are somehow connected to the things that are going on, and we're going to find out what you know, one way of the other, so I recommend you just tell us what you know. Because if you don't....well, that's when I'll tell you the bad news, and I'd rather it didn't come to that."

He examined the row, the people of which suddenly finding something interesting to look at in every direction he was not in. Thomas was the only one to meet his eye.

"I think we'll start with you, big guy."

"I'll tell you what I know, but I must warn everything I know is second-hand as I'm not with these guys," he explained. "I was only there because I was taken against my will."

"Me too!" a scrawny man next to him exclaimed. A few others joined his protest.

The man waited for the noise to die down before continuing, in a calm but final tone: "We know what you did to the people you didn't want there. There were no prisoners." He nodded at Thomas. "Take him to the interrogation container, the rest to the holding cell."