Twisted Justice: An Oz Garrett Novel, page 15
Sylwester shuffled nervously on the blankets. He had not considered the effects of an escape attempt. Privately, he was excited at the thought, even if it was doomed to failure.
“Bring him to me tomorrow. It’s time I finally met the man and tell him how it is in this camp.”
“And if he refuses to accept our ways?”
Rosa grinned. “As you said, he is only one man. I’m sure you and your friends can persuade Garrett. We can’t have him risk what we have established.”
Sylwester made his way back along the tunnel, his mind churning with possibilities at the prospect of Rosa interrogating Garrett. Although Garrett’s story had convinced him of the man’s truth, Rosa would uncover any lies. Frowning, he considered the options if she found Garrett to be a spy? It had not ended well for the previous man sent in by the warden.
Chapter 29
Garrett’s day was not going well. The infection in his left shoulder had flared up again during the night due either to the increased physical activity or the humid conditions of the mine. A quick look at his shoulder, and the angry red inflammation, told him all he needed to know. It was a matter of time before Dr. Cassidy’s prediction came true.
An escape attempt within the next week was essential. Any longer and there was now a real danger of the infection leading to a fever, or worse, his arm ceasing to operate. However, he still hadn’t formulated an effective plan to get out of the camp.
He was confident he could overpower the instructors to gain a key to get him through the first heavy gate. After that, he did not know how to reach the vehicle compound without alerting the instructors. He cursed himself for not paying more attention during his arrival. The hood had not helped, but he was determined to learn more if he ever had another opportunity.
He knew he could not succeed on his own. As well as additional intel on what lay beyond the first gate, he was going to need a distraction. That required help. Although Sylwester had shown the occasional hint of a rebellious side, Garrett wasn’t sure the man was willing to put his life at risk. And even if Sylwester did help, that still wouldn’t be enough. The task seemed almost insurmountable.
That didn’t mean escape was impossible.
He had attempted to speak with Sylwester when collecting his hammer earlier that morning but had noticed the instructors were paying him more attention than usual. The conversation would have to wait for the privacy of the tunnels after the daily meal. Assuming his arm did not get worse in the meantime.
“You don’t look well,” said Mercedes as she collected the latest batch of rocks in her basket.
Garrett paused to wipe sweat from his forehead. “It’s nothing,” he lied. Sleep deprivation was not helping. He now fully appreciated how disruptive the two-hourly siren was. His body felt heavy and slow, and he suspected he was far more irritable than normal.
“I’ll bring you more water,” she said, strapping the basket to her shoulders.
“Can you find Sylwester and let him know I have to speak with him?”
Mercedes cocked her head to one side. “You can talk to him at mealtime.”
“I know. But I want our conversation to be private. The instructors have been watching me in the kitchen. They must see that I talk with him all the time.”
“Yes, I have noticed too. I think the instructors are scared of you.”
“And so they should be. But I really do need to speak with Sylwester. It’s urgent.”
Mercedes nodded her head. “Okay. I will let him know.”
“Thank you.”
Garrett palmed the hammer in his right hand and smashed the rock in front of him once more. The loud thud reverberated along the tunnel, making his head ache. In fact, his whole body hurt. Blisters on his right hand had not had time to heal and although the skin on his artificial left hand was incapable of blistering, the pain in his shoulder was almost unbearable.
A while later, Garrett heard movement behind him. Expecting to see Mercedes or Sylwester, he turned to face three instructors holding axes and looking menacing.
“Is this part of the formal induction?” he asked, squaring up to them. Instinctively, he knew he was in a vulnerable position. Trapped at the end of a tunnel. The three instructors knew what they were doing, keeping a sufficient distance from one another to allow each of them to wield their weapon should Garrett decide to attack.
“You could say that,” the middle instructor sneered. Garrett recognized him as the one who recorded the weight of the bins every evening. The other two were the instructors who served food. He had not attempted to learn their names.
“What can I help you with?”
“We’ve been watching you. And to be honest, we don’t like your attitude.”
“Is it because I shouldn’t really be here? You all know this is a dreadful mistake. I’m innocent.”
The three instructors glanced at each other and laughed. “All sinners say that when they first arrive. It can take up to several years for them to confront their sins and accept the way of the Brotherhood.”
“I don’t think I have that long.”
“We have heard you don’t attend the mandatory prayer sessions,” said a second instructor.
“Religion is not my thing. But if you want to believe in almighty gods, then I will not stop you.”
As the three instructors moved closer, Garrett crouched with his hammer above his head, ready to defend himself.
The lead instructor raised his ax. “That attitude will not help you, off-worlder. We demand nothing less than complete compliance from all the sinners in this camp. What we don’t want is anyone causing unrest. People can get hurt.”
Garrett decided there had been enough talking. The instructors still had not made their intentions clear, but he wasn’t about to let them maintain their advantage. And he wanted to test how proficient they were with their axes. Confident they didn’t have instructions from Zaen or Darr to kill him, he lunged for the lead instructor.
Keeping low, Garrett swung his hammer in a long arc, catching the instructor’s knee with a glancing blow. The instructor froze for a fraction of a second, the unexpected attack taking him by surprise. Yelling in pain, he brought his ax down, but it was too late. As the sharp ax head bit into the rocky floor, Garrett was already rolling and moving onto the second instructor.
The years of Marine training came flooding back to Garrett. But, although everything around him appeared to be happening in slow motion, he was only too aware his reflexes were not what they used to be in his youth.
However, he could still rise and strike a blow to the instructor’s ribs. The resounding cracking of bones was almost drowned out by the man’s screams. Garrett was too busy focused on the third instructor to take any notice.
This man had seen what was happening and had assumed a defensive pose. Garrett rushed forward, swinging the hammer with all his might. This time, the instructor’s reactions were quick. He used the handle of his ax to block the blow, knocking the hammer from Garrett’s hand. The hammer flew down the tunnel, crashing into the wall well out of reach.
Cursing, Garrett ducked to his left, hoping to catch the instructor off balance, but again, the man was too fast. Garrett had to use all his agility to dodge the ax swinging toward his legs.
The second instructor sank to his knees, coughing up blood and dropping his weapon. Garrett saw it in his peripheral vision. This was exactly what he needed.
Ducking under another blow from the third instructor, Garrett moved to his left and reached for the fallen ax. However, a heavy kick from the lead instructor was enough to knock him off balance. Rolling over, his hand just failed to grab the ax.
Getting back to his feet, he squared off once more against the remaining two instructors. Rage filled their faces as they stalked toward him.
“This is why you need to be taught a lesson,” sneered the first instructor.
Garrett took two deep breaths to remain calm. There was an element of fear in the men's eyes. They had probably never faced off against someone with advanced military training. He had seen the look of bullies who were great at dishing out beatings, but unprepared to accept them. It was what he had suspected. And what gave him some hope.
Impaired by his injured leg, the lead instructor held slightly back. “Take him out, Gabe,” he yelled.
The second instructor immediately attacked, his movements quick but erratic. Garrett stepped back, out of reach of the flailing ax, causing his attacker to scream in frustration. The instructor sped forward, intent on landing a heavy blow. This was the moment Garrett had been waiting for. Allowing the ax to miss his head by centimeters, he rushed in. The momentum of the swing took the instructor off balance, leaving his right side exposed. Enough for Garrett to use his left hand to deliver a devastating uppercut to the man’s jaw.
The effect was instant, with the man dropping to his knees, dazed and unable to continue the battle.
But the move had left Garrett temporarily exposed. The lead instructor wielded his ax, hitting Garrett firmly on his right side, just below his ribs. Garrett gripped the ax handle, gritting his teeth to deal with the pain coursing down his side. He threw one punch, hitting the instructor firmly on the chin before his legs buckled and he sank to his knees.
The instructor reeled backward, harshly pulling his bloody ax from Garrett’s side.
“You weren’t supposed to kill the bastard,” Garrett heard the third instructor’s voice.
“He’s not dead.”
“For now, maybe. That wound will not heal itself.”
“What was I supposed to do? I was acting in self-defense. It was him or us.”
“Is that what you’ll tell Darr?”
“It’s the truth, Gabe. You saw what happened. I expect you to back me up. I just saved your life.”
Garrett heard the voices as a distant echo. Delicately touching his side, he felt the sticky warm blood on his clothes and immediately understood how much trouble he was in. With the intense pain, he knew he was going to pass out. A sharp blow to the side of his head, however, saved him from further pain as he slumped to the floor, unconscious.
Chapter 30
Mercedes had been emptying her basket into Garrett’s bin when she spotted the three instructors marching through the kitchen and stepping onto the conveyor belt, one after another. It was a rare event for any instructor to venture into the tunnels. There was something about their deliberate strides and tense body language that told her she needed to tell somebody.
Sylwester was digging in his normal plot on level nine, about two hundred meters from the conveyor. A knee-high pile of rock was already waiting to be collected by his helper for the day. As he heard someone sprint up behind him, he stopped mid-swing, allowing the pickax to drop to his side.
“Mercedes, what’s wrong?”
Mercedes waited a moment to catch her breath. “I saw three instructors take the conveyor to the lower levels,” she panted.
Sylwester didn’t need to guess which level they would be targeting. Whenever the instructors made an unannounced inspection, it never ended well for those involved.
“Who were the instructors?”
“Gabe, Cylus, and Melf. And they looked angry.”
Three of Darr’s most trusted instructors. Sylwester had witnessed several occasions when two of them had taken a sinner to one side, only to inflict their own type of justice. He had never seen three of them act together. But then, Garrett was bigger and stronger than anyone else in the camp. The instructors would want to ensure their superiority.
There was nothing he, nor anyone else in the camp, could do to prevent what the instructors were going to do with Garrett. Intervention of any kind would only result in punishments for those stupid enough to defy the will of the instructors. All that Syl could hope for was that Garrett survived.
“Thanks, Mercedes. Stay with me for now. It’s safer for you here.”
She nodded and sat cross-legged, rocking slowly back and forth.
“Syl, will Oz be okay?” Mercedes asked as he was about to take another swing at the rock face. “He wanted me to tell you he needed to speak with you urgently.”
“What about?”
“He didn’t say. But I know it was important”
Sylwester rubbed his chin. Three against one were never fair odds, but Garrett had shown he could handle himself. How good a fighter he was had yet to be determined. And what was the instructors’ intent? Was this just a warning or something more serious? Cylus was one of the meanest instructors, second only to Darr himself.
He smiled kindly down at Mercedes. “I’m sure Oz is perfectly safe. He’s a big, tough fighter.”
“He told me he used to be a soldier. In the Space Marines, they taught him how to kill the enemy with guns and knives,” she replied excitedly.
“There you go then. I told you he can look after himself.”
“But what about the instructors? We will all be in trouble if he hurts one of them.”
“Oz knows that. I’m sure they will just be having a talk. No one will be harmed. You did the right thing coming to me though.”
The answer seemed to placate Mercedes. She continued rocking back and forth, humming a random tune under her breath while Sylwester pondered what he should do. He knew he couldn’t go straight down to level nineteen. The instructors would not accept any intervention from the sinners. He would only make matters worse for everyone.
“Mercedes, can you go hide near the conveyor and watch out for the instructors to return? Come straight back here once they’ve passed. Then I can go have that talk Oz wants.”
She skipped away along the tunnel, leaving Sylwester to contemplate informing Rosa. She would surely want to know the instructors had invaded their space. If Garrett was attracting unwanted attention, it may only be a matter of time before the instructors accidentally stumbled on Rosa’s location.
And he knew that would be bad for everyone.
Chapter 31
Garrett stirred, vaguely aware he was lying on his back, and that the pain had eased. In fact, his whole body felt numb. Startled by the realization, he opened his eyes, expecting to see the instructors standing over him, waiting to finish him off.
Instead, he found himself in one of the family recesses, although it wasn’t the one he had been using to sleep in. Sensing movement to his right, he slowly turned his head to see who was with him. At the same time, he tried and failed to lift an arm to defend himself. The best he managed was a strangled grunt.
“Lay still,” a woman’s voice commanded from the shadows.
“Who are you?”
“Your savior, Mr. Garrett! I’m halfway through sewing up the hole in your side. If you want me to finish, do as I ask. There will be plenty of time for questions.”
The woman leaned forward to get a better view of his wound. Her face was now visible in the low light of the recess. The woman’s graying hair was pulled tightly away from her face and tied neatly in a bun. From the wrinkles around her eyes and on her forehead, he placed her at around fifty years of age, give or take ten years. Dirt, malnutrition, and living in permanent darkness had played havoc with her skin.
Garrett had known enough medics to know this woman had received medical training. He was also aware not to argue with anyone pulling a needle through his skin. Forcing himself to relax, he stared back up at the rough ridges of the roof, the tool marks clearly visible. He tried to recall if he had seen the woman before, but her face was not familiar. How many other people had he not seen in the camp?
He briefly wondered if the instructors had sent her in to keep him alive for Zaen, but she was wearing the same drab clothing as everyone else. Except maybe her robe was a little cleaner. Hopefully, she would stay around to answer his questions.
Five minutes later, the woman sat back up, moving away from him. “Okay, Mr. Garrett, I’m done. I think you’ll live,” she said, with no hint of self-importance. “I would suggest you stay there for a while to recover and allow the effects of the anesthetic to wear off.”
He doubted whether he could stand anyway. His limbs still felt leaden. “Thank you. You know my name. What is yours?”
“Rosa Palma.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rosa. And thank you for saving my life.”
“You have Sylwester to thank for that, Mr. Garrett. I only patched you up.”
“Thanks anyway,” Garrett replied, making a mental note to thank Sylwester at the earliest opportunity. “You have a familiar accent. Where are you from?”
She frowned. “Like you, I’m originally from the Stellar Cluster. From a small village on Nesta, actually.”
Garrett flinched. He had been in the Lafayette army that had battled Nestan forces for many months. It had been a bloody war where he had lost too many friends and recruits. There had been no winner in the end. But that was many years before, and most people on both sides had learned to forgive.
“You must have a story to find yourself here. I thought I was the only off-worlder.”
“It is a long story,” she replied. “Not one I’m prepared to share with you at this time. I want to know what happened to you.”
“Today or prior to me arriving in this hellhole?”
“Today will do. You can start by telling me why Cylus and his fellow instructors attempted to kill you?”
“I don’t know. They took me by surprise.”
“They must have said something to you. Unless you provoked them.”
Garrett recalled the fight, remembering the string of events and what the instructors had said. Although the fight had lasted a matter of seconds, it seemed like it had taken place in slow motion. Walking it through in his head, he felt he had done the best he could have against three men with better weapons.
“I think it was supposed to be a warning. To quash any ideas I had of escaping the camp.”
