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RED SOX: The pain is palpable.

WARNING: Deep breath. This is going to be tough. Decadence? Of course. Depravity? Sure. Debauchery? You bet. Like I said, it’s...

Recon 3 and their prisoner were moving north and climbing to higher ground. They had been doing so for nearly four hours under a blazing sun with little or no breeze. Mercifully, there was an ever growing shade as the day got later. Their pace was maddeningly slow due to Decam 28’s steady but crawl like speed on sloping surfaces. Kendall looked away from the trail ahead when she took a long draw off her water bottle. She and each of her team mates were making liberal use of their water allowances on the tedious journey. However, nobody had offered Brady even a small sip.

Kendall didn’t want to be the first to suggest to do so. She believed there was a good chance Brady Drapper was involved in the massacre at Eden Reborn. It was dangerous to appear soft with a criminal like that. Her team mates were hard core mercenaries whose idea of justice emphasized the DEAD part of ‘wanted dead or alive.’ She accepted as a fact she needed Quon and Woody more than she needed Brady to survive this mission. She decided it was in her best self interest to let Brady Drapper save herself regardless of how cruel it made Kendall feel at the present moment.

Kendall watched as Brady staggered onward and upward. The young PhD was obviously exhausted. Her movements were in a series of starts and stops. Brady would hurry to catch up with the plodding Decam 28. Then she would rest briefly, bent over slightly, until her rope leash grew taunt forcing her to straighten and hurry forward again to catch up with the machine’s unrelenting progress.

Dark patches, of what Kendall assumed was sweat, darkened the black, long sleeved shirt Dr. Drapper wore. The stains stood out as a testament to the woman’s struggle to move forward. However, it also drew Kendall’s attention to the clothes Brady wore. They were not her own. The items were from a larger man’s wardrobe; some sort of military uniform. Kendall’s concentration was broken when Brady collapsed.

“Get up,” Kendall commanded as she stepped beside the gasping woman. “On your feet. Now!”

“C..can…can’t…,” it was barely a sob.

Kendall felt a shiver down her spine as the slack in the rope lessened, “Move it, Brady! Get on your feet. NOW!”

Weeping was the only response.

“Leave her,” Quon edged closer but was unwilling to pass Decam 28 in case of booby traps. “Her dead body will trigger any ordnance along the path just as well as a live one would.”

Soft crying and the drone of the persistent engine were all that could be heard. The rope pulled straight. Kendall watched Brady’s body stiffen as the leash tightened. It took a gagging sound from the woman on the ground for Kendall to finally act. Her blade was out and slicing the rope before anybody could protest.

“What the fuck?” Woody shouted and shoved Kendall to the ground. “You working with her or something?”

“Idiot!” Kendall hissed back.

She had hit the ground hard and smacked her head on a rock. Blood oozed from an inch long cut across her forehead. Woody’s machine gun pointed at her was his only reply.

Kendall turned to Quon for support. “Quon, Brady’s our only lead. She’s the only one alive that we’ve found so far. If she burned out the settlement then we’ll be big shits ‘cause we caught her. If she’s a survivor then we’re even bigger shits ‘cause we saved her and Beckworth didn’t.”

Brady gagged for air again. She kicked at the dirt beneath her heels as she desperately tried to breath around the noose strangling her. Her cheeks were growing redder and her lips bluer with every passing moment.

“For Christ’s sake, Quon! Either cut her free or shoot her in the head,” Kendall knew she was taking a chance. “You’d do as much for a dog.”

Quon motioned Woody to back off with a flick of his hand. He took two big steps over to Brady. He grabbed her by the hair and tugged her to her knees. Her eyes were wide even if they were filled with terror. Quon almost admired her strength in keeping them open. Most of his victims faced death with closed eyes and mumbled pleas for mercy. He let his thick fingers work the knot under her chin loose but did not free her from the rope.

Brady dragged in deep breaths, filling her lungs with intoxicating oxygen. She remained on her knees at his feet after he released his hold. Breathing was the only thought that mattered to her at the moment.

“Come on, get up,” Quon grabbed Brady’s arm and pulled her to her feet. “You too, Kendall.”

“Please,” a cough broke Brady’s plea and she swallowed hard before trying again. “I can’t go on. Too tired. Please.”

Her knees buckled as if to prove the point. Quon staggered a bit with the effort to keep them both upright. “DON’T TEST ME!”

The threat did nothing to get Brady’s legs under her. Instead, her head fell back and her body started to jerk in Quon’s arms. Her mouth clamped shut and blood ran from both corners.

“Shit! She’s takin’ a fit or somethin’,” Woody said as he moved back a step or two.

“Lay her down,” Kendall instructed as she scrambled to the other side of the pair. “Don’t try to hold onto her. Just let it take its course.”

Quon eyed the scene before him with a frown. “Shouldn’t we put something in her mouth to keep her from eating her tongue?”

Kendall shook her head, “No.”

“This is bullshit!” Woody shouted. “We’re sitting out here completely exposed. Anybody could start picking us off. I say we leave her and get the meet up point. Let Dick-Wealth there come back and get her sick ass.”

“Look, she’s almost over the worst of it,” Kendall pointed out as the convulsing body started to quiet. “A couple more minutes and we can load her onto Decam 28.”

Quon nodded agreement. “Woody, go shift some boxes around so we can put her in the jump seat.”

“But…,”

“DO IT!” Quon silenced Woody’s complaint with a low growl.

Kendall smoothed Brady’s sweat soaked hair away from her face. The tremors were easing. Brady whimpered but Kendall believed it was more reflexive than a clear indication of pain.

“I can’t lift her by myself, Quon. Will you give me a hand?” She hoped the man would agree and not force her to dragged Brady the ten feet to Decam 28.

“I’ll get her,” Quon replied. He slung his M-16 behind him and lifted the still and pale body.

“Ah, you might want some gloves. I’m pretty sure she crapped herself,” Woody warned.

Quon scooped up Brady. He paid no attention to the mess. He wanted to get moving quickly and this was one way to do it. Gently, he lowered her into the jump seat then stepped back so Kendall could strap her in.

“Oh no,” Quon voiced.

“I told you to wear gloves,” Woody stated smugly.

Kendall glanced over her shoulder expecting to find an angry Quon soiled with excrement. Instead, his clothes and hands were smeared with blood. Kendall realized only then that the sweat stains on Brady’s clothes were really blood stains. Brady was bleeding.

She felt clean and cool and comfortable. It was the first time she had felt that way since the invasion. Since her capture. Since her escape. Since she went on the run.

”Wonder how long have I been running anyway?” Brady asked herself silently.

She struggled to move but her body felt heavy. A shiver of fear raced through her when she realized she had been drugged. Fighting with the little bit of strength she could muster, Brady forced her eyes open. She was lying on her side on top of an open sleeping bag. Her body was covered with somebody else’s fresh, soft cotton clothing. She was wearing a loose t-shirt and boxer shorts. Somebody had also washed and changed her. Even her hair was clean and combed.

It was early evening. A small camping stove in the middle of a circle of sleeping bags was being tended by Quon. Woody seemed to be wandering back and forth. He was on the far side of the sleeping bags attempting some kind of patrol position.

“Hey, I didn’t think you’d wake up until tomorrow,” Kendall said as she approached from the jungle behind Brady.

“…water…, could I have…a little,” Brady’s throat was so dry, it hurt to talk too much.

Kendall nodded and retrieved a water bottle from her gear. She knelt next to Brady. She moved closer to help Brady sit up, the woman tried to flinch away from her.

“I can do it myself…,” Brady rasped in spite of her pain.

“Nope. You have to let me help. I spent a couple of hours treating your wounds, Brady. You got some stitches and bandages that I don’t want to replace tonight so suck it up and let me help you.” Kendall tried to keep her words light but her voice was straining with the effort. It had truly been a long day. “Here, have a few sips of water. Then we need to have a talk.”

Brady lowered her eyes as Kendall spoke and let the woman move her. Once she was sitting up, braced against Kendall, the water bottle was brought to her lips. Out of instinct, her hands rose to take the bottle and she saw, for the first time, her wrists were still lashed together. Only now, they were in front of her instead of behind her back. Brady almost gagged on the water in her mouth. She managed to swallow what she had then turned her face away from Kendall.

“Come on, I know you’re thirstier than that,” Kendall gently encouraged her to continue.

“Please untie me.”

Kendall shook her head and pressed the bottle back to Brady’s lips. “I can’t do that. Now, drink.”

Brady obeyed. Her strength was gone. Any dignity she had was taken months ago. Why resist the comfort of water even if provided under the most controlling of situations?

After several sips, Kendall set the bottle aside. She kept Brady leaning against her. It was time to get some answers but Brady spoke first.

“You drugged me.”

Kendall huffed a bit of annoyance, “I only gave you a mild pain killer and your prescribed dose of Neurontin. From the seizure you had, I’m guessing you’ve been without your medication for a while.”

Brady offered nothing more than a nod.

Kendall’s anger finally broke free and she ground out the question she’d been waiting hours to ask, “Who whipped you? And who, for God’s sake, branded you?”

Brady tried unsuccessfully to suppress a shudder of fear the memories the questions rekindled. “My Master,” it was whispered but clear enough to understand.

“And, what’s that suppose to mean?” Kendall’s anger was rising with her confusion.

Brady managed to pull herself away from Kendall. She shifted over a foot or two to face the woman directly. “A militia over ran the island months ago. They came to kill and destroy and enslave and…,”

“A Militia?” Kendall questioned. “What the fuck are you talking about? Did you hit your head or something?”

“Or something,” Brady whispered as she lost control of her tears.

She hadn’t cried since her the night they burned out Eden Reborn. There were times throughout these last few months that she believed she would never allow herself to cry again. Yet, here she sat crying.

“Calm down. Talk to me, Brady. Tell me what happened,” Kendall lowered her voice and eased over closer to Brady.

Brady couldn’t meet Kendall’s eyes. She had been trained not too. She had been trained to do many other humiliating things as well. So, it was not entirely surprising to her that she felt compelled to obey the perceived command. She took a big breath and resigned herself to her fate.

“Things were going well with my research. I was making real progress with the island’s geographic history. Most of my time was spent at my campsite. But, I had made good friends with many of the settlers and found myself traveling back to Eden Reborn every couple of weeks or so. Mostly, I’d stay with Rasheed and his wife and their five children. They were like family to me. He was a microbiologist and loved to talk about my research.” Brady sighed, “Those first few months were so beautiful. It was a new way of life; a better way of life. Money wasn’t a concern. There was no class struggle or racism or religious intolerance. Waste wasn’t a problem because we were all very concerned about the long term survival of the settlement. We worked together as a community. Even more than that, we were like a really big family.”

“What went wrong, Brady? Tell me,” Kendall was trying to keep a lid on her temper but the evening was darkening and she was bone tired.

“The militia happened, that’s what. Five hundred men with guns and bombs stormed the island one morning. I saw their launches hit the beach and raced to Eden Reborn.” Bound hands lifted to wipe away tears. “I should have gone to my own camp. I might have gotten an SOS to Beckworth Industries or somebody. By the time I reached the settlement, the soldiers were already attacking. It was something out of a nightmare; gun shots, explosions, fire. I was grabbed and dragged off with the women and children. The men and older boys who tried to fight back were rounded up and…,”

“It’s okay, I can figure that part out. I saw the bodies,” Kendall interrupted.

“Rasheed and his children were still alive when they were tied up in their home. Then the soldiers set it on fire. Miriam, Rasheed’s wife,” Brady continued as if she didn’t hear Kendall, “broke way from the prisoners and threw herself into the flames. Sometimes, just before I fall asleep, I can still hear Rasheed screaming her name. The militia was very efficient. By dawn, the remaining population was completely subdued and every building was destroyed. By mid day, they segregated us; women from men, children from adults, boys from girls, blacks from whites from Hispanics from Asians from Indians, Christians from Jews from Buddhists from Muslims from Catholics…,”

Kendall shook her head. The story Brady was telling was unbelievable. She had to find a hole in it to make it untrue. She was grasping at straws, “Why would anybody do that? It doesn’t make any sense. Nobody thinks like that anymore. For God’s sake, Catholics ARE Christians.”

“Not according to the militia. In fact, most Christians aren’t Christians according to them. But then, they hate any kind of Christian too. They’re way beyond the literal interpretation of the Old Testament. For them if it was happening in the Bible back then, it should be here on earth now; war, famine, leprosy, slaves.” Brady looked up and chanced a glare at Kendall, “They want to set time back two thousand years but they want to keep their weapons. And they have very high tech weapons.”

“Jesus Christ!” Kendall hissed.

Brady shook her head, “They don’t like him either. They don’t believe he was the messiah; too weak, too forgiving, too much love.”

Kendall shook her head in disbelief, “What could they possibly want with this little island?”

“World domination,” Brady answered without hesitation. “And, their key weapon is buried in the mud of New Covenant Island.”

“WHAT?” Kendall gasped.

Brady sneered, “Congratulations Savage, you mapped out the path to the end of the world. I hope God can forgive you.”

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