The Syndicate

Chapter Seven

  The cold, early morning air was pierced by the harsh shouts of the guards.

"Wake up! Get moving!" they bellowed, their voices echoing through the compound.

It was 4 AM, and Allen Carson's domain was coming to life in the most brutal way possible.

JK groaned as he was jerked awake by the rough hand of a guard. "Up, scavenger!" the guard barked. "You've got work to do."

  The guards began herding the prisoners into different groups, assigning them various tasks. "You're going to the kitchens," one guard said to an older woman. "And you, to the workshops," he said to a young man.

JK stood, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, trying to understand what was happening. He was roughly shoved forward by a guard.

"You," the guard snarled, "are going to clean the mansion."

"What about the others?" JK asked, concern for his group evident in his voice.

"I need to be with them."

The guard laughed cruelly. "Not your choice," he said, shoving JK towards a waiting group of enforcers. "Carson wants his mansion spotless. And you're going to make sure it is."

  As JK was pulled away from his group, he tried to make eye contact with them, silently promising he'd come back. Sarah clutched her child tightly, her eyes wide with fear. "Stay strong," she mouthed, her voice barely a whisper.

The enforcers didn't give JK a chance to respond. "Move it!" one of them snapped, jabbing him in the back with the butt of his rifle. JK stumbled forward, trying to keep his balance.

  The journey to Carson's mansion was a brutal one. The guards didn't hesitate to use their batons to prod and strike anyone who lagged behind. JK received several blows, each one a reminder of the ruthless power Allen Carson held over them.

  When they finally reached the mansion, JK was awestruck by its opulence. In stark contrast to the squalor of the compound, the mansion was a fortress of luxury. But there was no time to marvel.

"Get inside," a guard ordered, pushing JK towards the grand entrance.

  Inside, the mansion was even more impressive. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and the floors were polished to a shine. But for JK, it was nothing more than a gilded cage.

"Start with the floors," one of the enforcers commanded. "And make sure everything is spotless. Carson doesn't tolerate slackers."

  JK nodded, keeping his head down. He knew better than to provoke them. As he started to clean, he couldn't help but think of his friends, now scattered and alone. The feeling of helplessness gnawed at him, but he pushed it aside, focusing on the task at hand.

  Hours passed, each one a blur of scrubbing, dusting, and polishing. The guards watched his every move, ready to strike at any sign of weakness. At one point, JK accidentally knocked over a vase. It shattered on the floor, and before he could react, a guard grabbed him by the collar.

"You clumsy idiot!" the guard shouted, slamming JK against the wall. "Do you know how valuable that was?"

"I'm sorry," JK managed to gasp, pain shooting through his ribs. "It was an accident."

  The guard's eyes narrowed. "Accident or not, you're going to pay for that." He punched JK in the stomach, doubling him over in agony. "Clean it up, and make sure nothing else gets broken. Understand?"

JK nodded weakly, struggling to breathe. "Yes," he wheezed, "I understand."

  As he cleaned up the broken vase, JK's mind raced. He needed a plan, a way to escape and reunite with his group. But for now, survival was his only option. He couldn't help anyone if he didn't survive.

  The day dragged on, each task more grueling than the last. The guards took pleasure in making his life miserable, finding any excuse to beat or berate him. By the time night fell, JK was exhausted, his body bruised and battered.

"You'll sleep here," one of the guards said, pointing to a small, windowless room at the back of the mansion.

"Don't even think about trying to escape. We'll be watching."

  JK nodded, too tired to argue. He collapsed onto the thin mattress, every muscle in his body aching. As he lay there, staring at the ceiling, he thought of his friends. He had to find a way to get back to them, to protect them from Carson's wrath.

  In the silence of the night, JK made a vow to himself. He would survive this hell, no matter what it took. He would find a way to bring down Allen Carson and free his people. As he drifted into a restless sleep, that promise burned bright in his mind, a beacon of hope in the darkness.