Zombie Soap 2: Conspiracy

Thirty-Three

Jayson: Part III

"Hands up and follow me," Billy whispered , nudging Jayson's forehead with the gun.

Jayson did as he was instructed, stuffing a scream back in his chest where it belonged as he tried to roll into a sitting position. After nearly a minute of struggling, Billy yanked him by the collar and shoved him to his feet.

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes as something pinched in his side, forcing him to stuff his fist into his mouth. Shuffling toward the open door, he paused between steps, fighting to catch his breath.

Once he reached the threshold, a stranger grabbed his arm and dragged him down the small walkway leading to the rental office. In only his socks, every pebble dug into the soft pads of Jayson's feet, and without a jacket, goosebumps erupted along his bare arms as the lingering humidity dusted his skin.

Flashlights shined from a semicircle gathered around the office, all aimed at Jayson's face. No one said anything; they watched in silence, faceless spectators behind blinding lights.

Oh, my God, these people are gonna lynch me.

That might be a merciful option compared to the other scenarios rolling through his mind, including tossing him to the Soapies or worse, turning him over to Benson.

None of these options were appealing, and based on the rough treatment and fact Billy already had his name in less than twelve hours, Jayson had little hope these people would listen to his side. After all, he was the outsider, and according to the retired Marine's propaganda, a criminal.

The crowd made no move toward him as the second man dragged Jayson into the office and slammed him into a hard, wooden chair.

"Tie his hands and guard the door," Billy said from outside. "I want to question him without Eli or Gloria interfering."

That didn't bode well.

Plastic zip ties dug into his wrists, anchoring him to the chair with no way out of this room. And even if he could leave, he wouldn't make it far.

As the stranger shuffled outside, Billy shined his flashlight in Jayson's face, blinding him. Better than punching him though, which Jayson had low key expected.

"Alright, J.R. Start talking. Who are you? Why did you appear the same day a broadcast was sent out from a military base, giving your exact description?"

All good questions. Though to be fair, there were loads of men with blond hair and green eyes. The truck would be more difficult to explain, and Billy couldn't be stupid enough to buy any lies Jayson tried to come up with.

Squinting in the bright torch light, Jayson looked in what he hoped was Billy's face. "My name is Jayson Recklaw, former Staff Sergeant in the U.S. Army. I can't claim to know what description was given, but I'm here because I crashed the vehicle I was in outside your lovely city."

"Don't get smart with me," Billy snapped with a dangerous edge. "I still might shoot you if I decide you're a threat. Why is the government after you?"

If only he knew. However, Jayson had a guess, and Billy wasn't going to like it. "Honestly? You'd have to ask them. I left that facility two days ago without anyone to bar my exit. In fact, they encouraged my departure."