Woman of the Past

Chapter 18

Chapter 18

To Peyton’s surprise, they didn’t take her to the General’s office. The soldiers brought her towards two small one story, concrete buildings surrounded by a large chain link fence. A wicked amount of barbed wire curled around the top of the fence making the whole thing look like a tiny prison. She frowned seeing large tanks coming around the buildings. The sound of their engines was almost deafening. A paved area the size of three football fields surrounded the place while soldiers ran back and forth, preparing for battle.

Peyton’s body shuddered as she realized why the General was here. The area was easily defendable. The buildings surrounding it were low and easily guarded by a few well-placed snipers. She prayed the men’s inside information helped them find a weakness in the defenses. So far, she saw none.

Declan separated from the other soldiers, pulling her along with him. They entered the small building on the right together. There was an entryway where an old reception desk with a few chairs situated in a waiting area. Doors surrounded either side of the reception desk. The soldier sitting at the desk waved the two of them towards the one on the left.

Declan swung it inward and shoved gently to get her moving. Stumbling a bit, she made her way into the room, her eyes moved past the General, and the soldier next to him, to the man lying bruised and bloody on the floor. She vaguely registered the other soldier’s words as he spoke to General Bouffant, “He still says he isn’t with them General. He may be telling the truth and was just a Hesha fan like the others.”

“Hmmm, keep at it a little longer Beaker. I want to be absolutely sure.” He turned to look at Peyton in the eye. “You can stay here while he works. Maybe seeing what you’ll be going through will loosen his tongue. I have work that needs done, but believe me,” He stepped closer to her and forcefully lifted her frozen features, “you will be talking later. You’re going to help me capture your conspirators.”

Peyton’s nostrils flared as she jerked her chin away, grinding out her words, “Fat chance General.”

He gave her a half upturning of the lips, not to be confused a smile, there was no joy in it, and nodded towards Beaker. Beaker turned without a word and kicked Jupiter hard in the ribcage. Peyton winced; her entire body shuddered at the thud of Beaker’s kick and the hoarse, pain-filled noise made by Jupiter. General Bouffant watched her as he spoke, “You know the human mind is strange. Human’s developed this thing long ago called empathy. When you see someone hurt, chemicals in your brain are released allowing you to understand others pain. The human imagination only increases this ability and I’ve noticed that you are a very empathetic woman.”

With that, he motioned to a chair on the other side of the small room. Declan moved her over to it and pushed her down. He undid her handcuffs, cuffing one and hooking the other to the little metal chair. She made to bring her left hand forward but he grabbed it and kept it behind her, jerking her arm, telling her without words to keep it there.

“Continue with your work Beaker. Declan, with me.” General Bouffant ordered. Declan threw a glance back at her. It looked as if he wanted to say something but before she could tell what, he turned and left after General Bouffant.

Beaker bent down and propped Jupiter against the wall before turning to look at her. Peyton couldn’t take her eyes of the wreck that used to be Jupiter’s face. He had a gash in his forehead and blood had dried over the left side. His left eye was black and swollen shut, but his right watched her every move. She wrenched her gaze away when she realized Beaker was speaking to her.

“-break his fingers one at a time until he gives up the location of the criminal leaders. Excuse me one moment.” Beaker opened the door to the room and spoke with the soldier at the desk, “Ignore the noise. He’ll be screaming a lot in a moment.” He ordered with a stomach-turning amount of glee coloring his voice. The guard replied with a, “Yes Sir.” of acknowledgement as Beaker shut the door and turned his back to her. He rummaged through a large black duffel bag she hadn’t noticed when she first came in.