The Remaining: Refugees (51 page)

It is the image of his childhood hiking boots with their red laces,
and how they felt, heavy with mud
as he tramp
ed
through the woods after his father.

It is the feeling of his blue jacket, the inside flannel so warm, but the metal zipper c
old every time it touches
his neck.

The earthy smell of pecans and the ripe, gritty feeli
ng of their hulls as he gathers
them in his pockets.

And it was into these memories that a ghost suddenly appeared, a being from another time, another place, transposed there strangely into his childhood amongst fall leaves and tree forts and hiking trails. All those images disappeared like
a sudden gale of wind dissipating
a cloud of smoke
that hangs in the air
, and his memories became his perceptions of the present.

Blacktop, stretching out before him.

Empty trees to either side.

A sign that stated the speed limit was
50 miles per hour.

And the ghost—a man—standing there in the center of the road, his legs straddling the double-yellow line and his arms spread out wide, his hands open, palms revealed and empty.
He wore a multicam uniform, and his bowed head was shrouded with a matching boonie hat.

Lee stamped on the brakes and the Humvee skidded to a stop just a few yards short of the man. Lee must have grabbed his rifle and exited the Humvee, because the next thing that registered was how much colder the wind had gotten in the
last
half-hour of driving. He stared down the barrel of his M4 as he approached the man in the road, and he realized he was yelling.

“Get on the ground! Get the fuck on the ground!”

The man complied, moving slowly and deliberately as he lowered himself so that he was face-down on the roadway, his legs and arms spread eagle.

“Do not look up!” Lee shouted as he continued to approach.

He could hear boots behind him. LaRouche was there beside him, also pointing his rifle at the man on the ground, but his eyes were fixed on Lee. “Captain! What are you doing?”

“Make sure this motherfucker doesn’t have any weapons, and get him in the back of a truck,” Lee ordered. “I’ll keep him covered, but we need to move quick.”

“Uh, Captain, I think he’s military…”

“I know he’s fucking military!” Lee snapped. “You’re gonna hafta trust me on this one, LaR
ouche. Pat him down and detain him!”

LaRouche gave a slight shake of his head, but turned his eyes towards the man in the road. “Sir! Keep looking down at the ground. Put your hand on your head and interlock your fingers. Don’t move from that position, or you will be shot.”

Again, the man on the ground complied.

Lee stood with his feet spread wide, his rifle addressed towards the man’s torso, and his finger hovering outside the trigger guard. LaRouche crossed the short distance between them and took hold of the man’s arms, pulling them behind his back and then securing them with a single, large zip-tie from his vest.
As the hands were secured, Lee shifted his attention from the man in the road to the woods around them. He felt naked and exposed.

“This is not a trap,” the man on the ground said, loudly. “I’m not here to hurt anyone.”

At the sound of his voice, Lee jerked
, tingled
.

When he looked back around, LaRouche was pulling the man to his feet. Lee took two steps and stood directly in front of them. The boonie hat
was unsettled and fell from the stranger’s
head. Short, sandy hair with a long, crescent-shaped scar running from the top of his head down to his ear—a scar that Lee knew came from a boating accident many years ago.

The man raised
his head. “How
are you,
Lee
?”

Lee’s mouth fell open. “Brian?”

The man smiled, hesitantly.

Then Lee delivered a right hook to the man’s j
aw and knocked him unconscious.

On the ground in front of Lee, the man called Brian lay on his back, his eyelids fluttering, while that strange knock-out groan came from his throat. Lee ripped the shemagh from around his neck and used it to quickly blindfold the man on the ground. As he worked, his eyes scanned the woods again.

Harper appeared, wide-eyed. “Uh…what the hell was that?”

“Come on.” Lee bent down and hooked his arms through one of the man’s elbows. “
We need to move
.”

Harper’s voice bore a little more edge to it. “What the fuck is going on?”

Lee straightened his legs, dragging
the man’s torso off the ground
. “Could I get some fucking help here? I told you I would explain things later. This is no
t the time or the place.
”

Harper bared his teeth, but snatched up the man’s other elbow and they began hauling him towards the nearest LMTV. “Why not, right?” His voice was rank with sarcasm. “We trust you on everything else, what’s one more time? You know, one of these days you’re gonna have to actually tell us what the fuck you’re doing!”

The man dragging between them mumbled something, forming words with the noises coming out of his mouth. Lee shook him hard. “Don’t talk.” His eyes came up to Harper as they shuffled around the corner of the LMTV,
regarding the older man from under his eyebrows.
“
We’ve lost two men to ambushes. You wanna stand around with your ass in the wind, be my guest. But we need to get mobile ASAP
.”

They hauled the man into the back of the LMTV. Lee grabbed the handle on the lifted tailgate and hauled himself up. He looked over the side and saw LaRouche standing around, looking a little confused. “LaRouche
, you’re driving. I’m gonna watch our man back here.”

LaRouche nodded and jogged back to their Humvee.

At the tailgate, Harper clenched his jaw. “You want help back
t
here?”

Lee shook his head and looked down at the blindfolded man. “No. I got it.”

Harper disappeared
with a huff
.

Lee knelt down over his prisoner. The man’s mouth worked, probably feeling out the damage to his jaw. As the
sound of engines shifting reached him, and the LMTV lurched forward, Lee searched himself to see how the presence of this man affected him. Was he off-balance? Was he shocked? Perhaps confused?

No.

He was cold inside. Like the surface of his mind was a frozen lake, and he knew there were things moving beneath that hard numbness. Powerful emotions that could hurt him, cloud his judgment, and drive him crazy. Fatalistic thoughts. Feelings of hopelessness. But he couldn’t see or hear or feel them. He only had the knowledge that they were there.

N
ow there was nothing but the cold, flat, hardness.

He took a deep breath and it felt rotten in his chest.

He would have preferred
anger.

Lee sat back on his heels as the truck rumbled along. Over the sides, the tops of trees clawed at the darkening sky. He lifted his
head
and felt the wind on his face and neck, colder where
his shemagh had
kept his skin warm
.

The man at his feet shifted and touched Lee’s boot.

He directed his face upwards, searching like a blind man. “That you, Lee?”

Lee didn’t respond for a long time, just sat there, staring down at the captive and considering what to do next. Finally he spoke: “What are you doing here, Brian?”

Brian triangulated on Lee’s voice. “Listen to me. I know you’re confused, but you have to trust me
. I’m here for you.”

“What about my men
? What about them?”

“I can’t help what happened…”

“Just shut the fuck up.” Lee
shook his head
. “Who’s taking care of South Carolina?”

“You’ve been out of the loop, my friend. What the hell happened to you, anyways?”

“How about you answer my questions first.”

“There is no South Carolina, Lee. Not
anymore
.”

Lee’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

Brian shook his head. “No. Not here. You get me someplace safe and you keep me under lock and key and you have someone you
really
trust guard me. I’ll talk to you in private. But not here.”

Lee’s jaw jutted out. “Suit yourself.”

Five minutes later they pulled up to the Camp Ryder gate and Lee peered over the top of the cab as the guard opened the entrance and the convoy rolled in, barely fitting all the vehicles inside
. As the diesel engines trundled
in, people began to notice and their eyes went wide at the line of military vehicles. Many of the people began to clap, smiling up at
Lee as the LMTV came to a halt
. Perhaps the presence of the military vehicles gave them an increased sense of security.

But
Lee’s
mind was in other places, and he gave them a curt nod and hopped down off the tailgate.
Harper was immediately there with him, and they were pressed in by curious onlookers who wanted to see the vehicles. As they edged around the back of the truck, they saw the huddled form in the back,
bound and blindfolded
and a slight hush fell over their excited talking.

“Help me get him out of here,” Lee mumbled to Harper.

“Where we gonna put him?” Harper asked.

As he said it, Bus edged through the crowd, followed closely by a group of three that Lee recognized as some of the volunteers. Lee nodded to Bus and they pulled Brian over.

Bus’s eyes widened a bit. “Who’s this?”

Lee looked between Bus and Harper. “Please, just give me a minute so I only have to explain things once to the both of you.”

Bus nodded. “Okay.”

Lee
pushed Brian into the hands of the three volunteers
. “Find a shipping container for him and lock it up tight.”

“Wait!” Brian protested, twisting his still-blindfolded face around. “Don’t pass me off to these people, Lee! You have no idea what you’re doing!”

“Get him out of here.”

Two of the volunteers, both younger men, took hold of Brian and dragged him off.

Lee reached out and put a hand on the shoulders of Bus and Harper, simultaneously pulling them slightly closer as though to confide a secret to them, and pushing them towards the Camp Ryder building as he started to walk. “Let’s talk.”

***

The three men stood in a tight circle inside the office. Bus leaned back against the desk and folded his arms across his chest. Harper stood in a similar repose, but with one hand worrying ceaselessly at where his beard extended down onto his neck. Lee stood as the third
point in the triangle
, his rifle leaning against the chair behind him and his unbuckled tactical vest providing a support for his hands.

He
told
them what had happened over the course of the past few days, and left nothing out. From the sniper that killed Jake, to the ambush as they neared the bunker, to the conversation he’d had with the dying man as he bled out on the forest floor, Lee recounted everything in detail, his voice rote and emotionless. He ended with
his discovery of
Br
ian Tomlin, and his suspicions about
him
.