The Wasteland Soldier, Book 1, A Fractured World

Twenty Five

The cells were located in the basement beneath the detention rooms.

The military compound at the south gate was bustling with prisoners. A never ending stream of citizens were being marched or dragged inside by Red Guard soldiers and processed. Names and crimes were listed and then they were bundled into already cramped cells. There had never been a day like it. Not for decades. The Corporal in charge, although in control of the situation, was struggling to fit them all in and had serious concerns over safety as fights broke out over nothing. They would have to be transported to another compound or he would have to begin releasing the citizens charged with lesser offences.

Mason had placed Nuria with a two man escort. They had been instructed to return her to the House of Leadership once she had concluded her interviews with the prisoners. They led her from the detention rooms and into a noisy lobby, crammed with soldiers and citizens protesting innocence. She felt eyes burning into her back. Whispers were rampant; she had been labelled a traitor. She reached the stairwell and was taken to the lower level where the smell of sweat filled her nostrils. Men and women of all ages were packed into cells, shouting and banging on the bars, yelling at the guards, arguing with each other. She had never seen a cell block under such strain.

The soldiers led her by the cells and through a gated entrance into another corridor at the far end. It turned left and reached a locked door where two guards sat behind a broad desk. Keys and weapons dangled from hooks on the plain brick wall behind them. A thick set man, shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, took down a bunch of keys and led them through into a narrow and much gloomier cell block. The lighting was dim and the right hand wall was lined with heavy doors. She was taken to the third cell. The jailer unlocked it and the heavy door swung outward. A locked iron gate behind it allowed her to see inside. She dismissed her two man escort and the jailer. At first, they were reluctant to leave until she reminded them that she still held the rank of General, even though Gozan had demoted her.

Stone was on a wooden bench, at the back of a damp, poky cell. There was a bucket in the corner. There was no window and no light. They had stripped him, shaved his beard and cut off his hair. His bare skin showed fresh bruises and a number of older scars. His back was against the wall, a towering man even seated. Strong arms. Strong legs. His hands clutched his thighs. She watched him slowly open his eyes. She stared at him for a long time, saying nothing.

"They're going to hang you," she said, finally, leaning against the gate. "You and the girl."

Stone met her eyes.

"Was Gozan responsible for the deaths of your family?"

She wet her lips, waited.

"You addressed him as a Captain. This must have happened a very long time ago. Before I was born. Is that what you meant when you said I kept your name?"

Stone nodded.

"I'm sorry for what happened to you."

She glanced around the cell.

"I can get you out of here. You and the girl."

She leaned against the barred gate.

"Is this why they call you the Tongueless Man? The silence you keep? Let me tell you that after tomorrow it won't matter either way. They'll hang you both and burn your bodies."

She shook her head.

"I kept his name," croaked Stone.

He rose from the bench and she eased away from the gate. The jailer looked down at her, curiously.

"It means I never forgot," said Stone, his bare feet padding across the cold floor. "I was eight years old he came."

Nuria stared at his bald head and roughly shaved face. He looked a completely different man, more menacing, savage.