Authors: Steven Bird
The Resolution (6 page)
As the forensics technician who collected the DNA and fingerprint samples from Ed and Nate left the room, Nate looked at Ed and said, “Now what?”
“Whatever it is, I wouldn’t count on our situation improving any. We didn’t make any friends today. Not that anything we could have possibly said could have truly served us well. We were being used, regardless. He was trying to play us like a fiddle—wax our strings, tune us up, and then expect us to play his tune.”
Nate nodded in agreement as the door behind them opened abruptly, with three soldiers walking into the room. “Up!” ordered one of the soldiers sharply. Ed and Nate complied, Nate balancing on one leg and leaning on Ed with his hand.
As Ed helped Nate out of the room, the soldiers following closely behind, Ed began to turn right to return from the direction they came, only to be corrected sharply by an AK74 muzzle brake to the back, followed by the order, “No! To the left.”
Here we go,
Ed thought as he and Nate complied with the short, but forceful command.
The vacation must be over.
They were then led out of the building for their first time since their incarceration. “Into the truck,” the soldier commanded, pointing in the direction of an awaiting cargo van. The soldiers led Ed and Nate to the truck and shoved them inside; the doors slammed shut behind them, leaving them in total darkness.
As the truck began to move, Ed said to Nate, “Here we go. If we get separated, keep up the fight. If you get out of here someday and I don’t, keep up the fight. No matter what, keep up the fight. If people like us just lie down and take the hand that is dealt us all across the country… let’s just say I would hate to even imagine things going down that way.”
For the next few minutes as the truck drove over bumps and swerved around turns, every move exaggerated by their lack of sight, Ed and Nate sat in silence, contemplating the myriad things that may await them at their destination. As the van pulled to a stop, both men sat up and covered their eyes, temporarily blinded by the sunlight shining in on them from the opened rear door.
A figure stood in the doorway, obscured by the light. “Out!” the figure ordered. Ed and Nate hesitated, causing the man to repeat his order with an even more forceful tone.
“Okay. Okay. We’re coming,” replied Ed as he helped Nate out of the van. His eyes adjusting to the light, Ed looked around and saw ten-foot tall sheet metal walls with multiple rows of razor wire across the top. He saw a large cargo plane at a low altitude on climb-out, apparently having just taken off from somewhere nearby. A sharp jab in the back urged him forward as a large steel door built into the wall slid open.
“Inside,” the rather unfriendly escort ordered.
Leading Nate inside, their escorts were relieved by two men in solid-blue utility uniforms resembling military BDUs. Both appeared to be unarmed with the exception of tasers and batons. One of the men was of African descent, while the other appeared to be a Latino-Caucasian mix. Ed noticed this detail, as he was surprised to see personnel on this level who were not Russian, which had been their experience until now.
“Right this way,” the Latino man said with a very American-sounding accent.
Sounds like a Jersey accent to me,
Ed thought, still taking mental notes.
Looking around, trying to get a grasp on their situation, Nate said, “Hey, guys, we need to slow down a bit; since they took my leg, I can only go so fast, even with his help.”
“You had a prosthesis? Who took it?” asked the man of African descent, also seeming to be an American by his speech.
“Your Russian buddies when we first got here. Any chance I can get it back?”
“That wouldn’t be standard procedure, but there isn’t much we can do about it. Those guys basically do their own thing through a different chain of command.”
“Yeah, man, we just work here,” answered the other man.
“That’s above our paygrade, anyway. Our job is to get you in-processed. After that, you’ll be assigned to a dorm leader who will be your point of contact for the duration of your stay in the camp.”
While Nate was conversing with the two men, Ed took advantage of the distraction to glance around. He noticed that inside the wall, there was another similar wall, set back approximately thirty feet from the first one, with two steel doors, one on the left, and one on the right. This inner wall had razor wire coiled around the top as well. “What camp? Where the hell are we and why are you two helping them?”
“Just doin’ our jobs. You’ll have to direct the rest of your questions to your quad leader.”
In reply, Ed grumbled, “What the hell is a quad leader?” He then continued to assist Nate.
The men ignored his question and led them to a camper-style trailer parked in the far right corner, in between the two walls. Reaching the trailer, Nate took hold of the grab handle by the door and hopped inside on one leg, with Ed and the two men in blue following closely behind.
“Who is this?” asked a man inside the trailer wearing a similar uniform. He appeared to have more authority, however, as he wore a sidearm on his belt.
“1242 and 1243,” answered one of the escorts.
Thumbing through a stack of folders, the man with the gun replied, “Okay. Yep; got it right here.”
The Latino man took a position at the door, blocking any egress while the other man stood alongside Ed and Nate.
“Take a seat,” suggested the man with the sidearm. “I’ve got a few things to get done and your cooperation will make your lives much easier.”
Complying, Ed and Nate both took a seat on plastic and metal folding chairs positioned in the middle of the room. The man with the sidearm then did a cursory visual check of Ed and Nate’s physical condition. He looked down at Ed and Nate’s feet and asked, “Any sores on your feet? Most people have issues from going without shoes.”
“We’ll survive,” responded Ed sharply. “May I ask who we have the pleasure of dealing with today?”
“For you, my name is
sir
. Respond
yes, sir
or
no, sir
. That’s all you need to know.” Looking down at Nate’s one bare foot and amputated leg, he chuckled and said, “I guess you aren’t getting away in a hurry.”
Staring at the man, Nate clenched the arms of his chair tightly, trying to control his rage. It was one thing to have an occupying force treat them with such contempt, but having his own countrymen do so filled him with negative emotions he would have to work hard to contain.
“Do either of you have any infectious diseases we should know about? For the safety of the other detainees, of course.”
“No, sir,” Ed replied in a firm tone.
“Well, at least you’ve got my name down. Now, give me your left hand,” he said reaching out to Ed.
Reluctant to comply, Ed asked, “What for?”
“Have you already forgotten the simple piece of advice I gave you?” the man said, putting his hands on the table to lean down to look Ed directly in the eyes. “There are things to get done, and they will be done. The condition you are in when it’s all over is the only thing you have control over at this point, and you don’t have that control for much longer. Now, give me your damn left hand,” he said insistently, reaching out to Ed.
Ed looked at Nate, still not complying with the order when an electrical shock went through his body, sending him falling to the floor, unable to control his muscles.
Feeling a hand around his throat as he began to regain control of his body, Ed attempted to resist, but realized that the other two men were standing on top of each of his arms. The man with the sidearm was breathing directly into Ed’s face, squeezing tighter and tighter, making it impossible for him to get more than an occasional gasp of breath.
“I told you what was going to happen. Now it’s going to happen like this.”
Releasing his grip on Ed’s throat, he picked up a device that resembled a rivet gun, put it around Ed’s hand, and popped the handle, sending a stinging pain into the meat of his hand. He then leaned back down into close proximity of Ed’s face, his foul breath reeking of onions and the smell of putrid meat, and said, “Now resist me again. Please… give me an excuse.” Patting Ed on the cheek, he stood up, looked at Nate, and said, “Your turn, cripple boy. Give me your left hand.”
Begrudgingly, Nate complied.
The man picked up a second device, verified a piece of paper lying next to it on the table, and then clamped it onto Nate’s hand, popping it, and sending the same pain sensation through him. Nate felt as if a nail had been driven through his hand.
Removing the device from Nate’s hand and inspecting the small red mark it left behind, he looked at Nate and said, “See how much easier it works around here when you just do as you’re told?”
“Yes, sir,” Nate responded with a flat, monotone voice.
“Now, you two will be assigned to quad two. The gentlemen here standing on your friend’s arms will escort you there and get you checked in.” Looking back at Ed on the floor, he continued, “And if you don’t immediately comply with any orders they give you, they have my permission to beat you to within an inch of your life. Lose the tough guy shit before it gets you killed. Do you understand?”
Ed nodded to the affirmative as the guards released the pressure from his arms, allowing him to recover to the seated position of the chair.
“Now, you’ll be staying in quad two as I said. You’ll have a quad leader that changes with each shift rotation, but while on duty, he is your God. You will be fed twice each day. Your quad will eat together, sleep together, and use the toilet together. You’ll do nothing without your quad, and it will all be at the discretion of your quad leader. The quad leader’s decisions are final and will not be challenged. Now that we have all of that squared away, do you have any questions?”
“Yes sir,” replied Nate.
“Go ahead.”
“We still don’t really know what’s going on. How long are we going to be here, and what is the legal process that will determine that?”
“Good question, but that’s not the concern of anyone here. You are here indefinitely as far as the leadership of the camp is concerned. If someone well above our pay grades wants you out, you’ll get out; otherwise, consider it home. Now, if that’s all, these gentlemen will escort you to quad two.”
“But how can someone detain us indefinitely without due process? Is this not still America? Do we not still have our basic constitutional rights?
“Subsections 1021–1022 of Title X, Subtitle D
of the National Defense Authorization Act was signed into law on December 31, 2011, and has been reaffirmed every year since. Like it or not, it’s the law of the land. If the government expects that you are involved with terrorist activities, you can be held indefinitely, without trial or due process.”
Nate knew the answer long before it was given. He had been studying the actions and trends of the government before the collapse. He just wanted to hear it directly from this man, who now seemed to wield total authority over him. And with that, Ed and Nate were led out of the trailer by the two escorts without another word being spoken. Ed stepped down from the trailer’s metal steps, cringing as his weight pushed the gravel making up the surface of the compound against his bare foot. He then stood by the steps, up against the trailer, so that Nate could lean on his shoulder while he hopped down on one foot. Ed helped ease him down from the last step onto the gravel below.
The two escorts then led them back in the direction they had come, beyond the main door in the center of the sheet metal compound wall, to another sliding metal door on the inner compound wall. As they walked, they looked around, trying to learn as much as they could about their new environment. Both the inner and outer sheet metal walls were approximately ten feet high with razor wire coiled on top. There was a distance of approximately thirty feet between the walls, and in each corner of the outer wall there was a guard shack with what appeared to be a guard armed with some sort of rifle, although it was hard to discern any details, as the guards stood in the shade of the interior of the tower’s guard shack.
All of the guards seemed to wear the same solid-color navy blue BDU style uniform, with a plain blue ball cap with no official logo. They had no nametapes sewn onto their uniform tops in the normal position, just a number. Some of the guards had numbers embroidered with white thread, while others were in yellow or gold thread. The men wearing the yellow-threaded numbers seemed to be the ones with authority over the others.
As they approached a sliding metal door on the interior wall, a guard on the ground received a visual signal from the adjacent watchtower and slid the gate open. Ed and Nate were then led inside, where they found a sheet metal building in the center of a large graveled courtyard. The lower floor of the building had a steel entry door with a guard posted next to it, while the upper level of the building seemed to contain an overwatch facility with windows on all sides.
In the very center of the compound, where the inner walls seemed to all come together, was a flagpole with a United Nations flag flying above an American flag. This enraged both Ed and Nate.
Someone is clearly trying to make a point about who is really in charge around here,
they thought.