The Dead Zone (Book One)

Chapter 13

 The hot sun beat down on Zach's neck as he dug the shovel into the hearth, his eyes scanning the trees that surrounded the town he'd been brought to. Cedarville, they were calling it, and he could see why. Towering cedars lined the perimeter, and made up the large wooden wall that had been constructed around the small settlement.

 Even now, as he labored under the watchful eye of heavily armed men with guns pointed at him, he could hear other captives working in the forest, chopping wood and dragging fallen trees to reinforce the wall. It stood well over twenty feet, with large spikes adorning the top. The wall itself was ominous, casting a dark shadow over half the town. All together, he had counted roughly forty different captives milling around, forced to work like he was. 

 He was glad he used to do work around the farm where he and Bryson had grown up, or else he knew his hands would be blistering and bleeding right now from the hours of work he'd put in. He could only think of one reason why they were digging a trench around the city. Everything about this place screamed 'defense'- defense from one thing, and that was roamers. 

 With a trench around the town, and the wall adding an extra layer of protection, it would be impossible for a roamer to breach the perimeter. That was the thing, though. He hadn't seen a roamer since he, Paige, and Bryson had escaped the horde in Boise. The woods were eerily silent, aside from the staccato beat of axes hitting tree trunks and the occasional grunt of exertion. 

 He flung another shovel full of dirt over his shoulder, wiping his sleeve across his damp forehead. They'd been out here since dawn- now, the sun was directly overhead, cooking them like an oven. 

 "Did I say you could take a break? Get back to work!" One of his captors, the one nearest him, shoved the butt of his gun into the spot between his shoulder blades, nearly forcing him to the ground. He was a large man, with greasy black hair and a bulbous nose. His eyes were brown and slanted, as if he were always angry. He'd been watching Zach closely all day, which made him uncomfortable, considering his plan to lay low for a while and formulate a plan to escape. The last thing he needed was for this guy to cause a scene, or worse, kill him.

 "That's Jaco. He's one of the... meaner guards." Mean was an understatement. Zach's eyes roamed to the whip that hung loosely from his hip where he rested one hand. Little shards of metal attached to several leather ends glinted mockingly at him. He was sure he could see dried blood on them.

 "How do they get away with this?" He asked, not turning his eyes to the boy who worked beside him. They weren't supposed to talk, for fear of a whipping, which he'd witnessed a few of already this morning. But he knew which boy was speaking to him. He'd seen him around since they'd brought him out of his cell. Devon, that was his name, or at least he was pretty sure. He'd have to find out for sure later. 

 Devon was thin, but in a fit kind of way. He was neither overly muscular or malnourished or anything like that. He had sandy blonde hair that fell into his eyes, and freckles covered the majority of his face. He was young. Younger than Zach. Too young for this harsh treatment, that was for sure.

 "There's nobody left to stop them." A few more shovels full of dirt later, he added. "They capture anyone who tries to travel east on the highway- you saw the traps. And then they bring you here, out in the middle of the woods, where nobody will ever think to look for you... If there's anyone left looking to begin with."

 His words were solemn, as if he believed they were condemned to be trapped here the rest of their lives. As if nobody would liberate them. But Zach knew better. Bryson was out there, right now, calculating, plotting. He just knew it, because he knew his brother, and he'd yet to see him or Paige around this horrible camp.

 "I don't think I'll be here much longer." Devon paused momentarily, before hastily picking up his pace, lest one of the guards see him. He moved a few steps closer, his voice barely a whisper.

 "You're not going to run, are you?" 

 The very thought had crossed his mind since the moment he'd arrived here. The urge to escape was almost overwhelming him, nagging at the back of his mind. But as much as he wanted to escape, he knew he couldn't sit idly by and let these people remain slaves to Cedarville. He needed to think of a plan.

 "I don't know. Maybe."

 "Listen to me right now- I've seen people who tried to escape. What they do when they catch you- its, its..." He stops, and Zach couldn't help but finally turn his eyes on the boy. His face was chalky, as if what he was about to say was causing him to become ill. Evie had warned the exact same thing Devon had just told him. She'd said what they did was worse than what any gun or knife could ever do. What did that mean?

 "What do they do to people who run? Devon?"

 But Devon had turned his back, obviously done with the conversation, leaving him to mull over his thoughts as he dug the shovel into the earth, over and over and over. His eyes scanned the trees one last time, and he imagined his brother out there, perched somewhere high in the branches, watching over him. His bow could be trained on his captors right now for all he knew. When the time was right, that arrow would fly- and change the course of these people's lives forever.