She smiled, adding a bit of beauty to her otherwise plain-Jane looks. “Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.”
CHAPTER 4
Wicks led his security team down the corridor as they approached the twin vault doors protecting the entrance to the silo. He stopped and turned to Liz, who was following a few steps behind, pushing a four-wheeled gurney with medical equipment lying on top of it. “I need you to hold here, ma’am.”
“No, that girl needs medical attention.”
“Not until we secure the area. It’s too dangerous.”
Liz shook her head. “I’m going with you.”
“It’s not open for discussion, Doc. My job is to keep you safe and detain that man.”
“You’re not the one in charge here.”
“I’m afraid I am, Doc,” Wicks said, making eye contact with one of his team. The guard knew what he wanted, slinging his weapon and stepping forward to grab Liz by the arms and spin her around, sending the gurney rolling against the wall in a clank.
Liz fought his grip, swinging her arms and twisting her shoulders. “Let go of me this instant.”
Wicks held up a hand, trying to calm her fury. “Please, Doc. Let us handle this. It’s in the best interest of everyone concerned. Once we secure the area, you can do your thing.”
“Hey, stop it. Let go of her,” a voice shrieked from the far end of the hallway.
Wicks turned.
It was Summer, who then broke into a sprint. When she arrived a few seconds later, she sidestepped the gurney, her face flushing with anger. “What the hell is going on here?”
“Just trying to do my job,” Wicks replied.
“Let go of her, immediately,” Summer said to the guard with his hands wrapped around Liz’s elbows.
The guard ignored the request as Liz continued to resist.
“I said, let go of her.”
The guard didn’t respond, nor did he release his grasp on Liz.
Summer brought her eyes to Wicks. “Do it now, or I will have you and your men relieved of duty. Permanently. Is that clear?”
Wicks held for a moment, looking at Liz, then at Summer.
Summer pinched her lips and shook her head. “I’m serious, Wicks. Do it now or I’ll have you banished from this facility.”
“My commander gave me explicit orders to handle this and that’s what I’m doing.”
“Well, I’m telling you to un-handle it and stand down.”
“Me too,” Liz added. “We’re in charge here, not you.”
Wicks wasn’t sure what do to, not without a clear chain of command.
“Last chance, Wicks,” Summer snapped after putting her hands on her hips. “You of all people know what I’m capable of.”
Wicks looked at his men, each one returning his gaze in kind. He got the sense they were all thinking the same thing—none of this would have ever happened back in the day.
He knew he was fucked either way. That’s when he decided to step back and disengage, for the good of his men and their standing in the silo. “As you wish, ma’am.” He gave his man a hand signal and the guard followed it, releasing Liz.
“That’s better,” Summer said. “From here on out, we do this without all the manhandling, is that clear?”
“Yes, boss,” Wicks said, waiting for further orders.
Summer gave him a nudge. “Go. Do what you need to do, Wicks, but I don’t want any of the prisoners harmed. No matter what happens.”
“Roger that,” Wicks said, turning to his men, wishing he had never gotten physical with Summer in the hallway. She was never going to let that incident go. “On me.”
Wicks went to the guard posted at the inner door. “Open up.”
The man worked the controls for the massive steel door, swinging it open on a set of oversized hinges.
“Now the other one,” Wicks told him, signaling for the rest of his team to join him. They caught up, just as the second door was opened.
Wicks led the charge, aiming his rifle at Nomad’s face. His boss may have demanded nonviolence, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He’d rather be judged by three women than be buried by one man. “Hold it right there, asshole.”
Nomad knelt on one knee, with the Scab girl still draped in his arms. “We surrender unconditionally,” he said in a deep, gravelly voice.
The other five Scabs dropped too, though they hit the floor with both knees instead of one, their heads hanging low and arms limp.
Wicks held his rifle steady as he swung his head, making eye contact with the only guard to his left. “Watson, secure his weapons.”
“Yes, sir,” Watson answered, taking a wide path around Nomad and approaching from the rear.
The former-cook-turned-operative leaned forward and pulled the twin swords from their sheaths. He put them aside, then patted Nomad down, starting with his shoulders and working his way down.
“He’s clean,” Watson said, picking the swords up and returning to his position next to Wicks. He spun the weapons around in his hands. “They’re heavier than I expected, sir.”
“Hang on to them for now,” Wicks said before peering at the balance of his team to the right. He motioned for them advance on the Scabs. “Secure those things. But maintain your distance.”
His men scampered to the Scabs and spread apart, walling them off with their weapons drawn.
One of his men slung his rifle, then proceeded to lash the hands of each Scab behind their backs.
After they were restrained, he pulled out a wad of handcloths and used them gag each of their mouths in a wrap.
“All right, bring them here,” Wicks said, pointing to a spot behind Nomad.
The men angled their weapons to the side, then grabbed the Scabs by the arm, pulling them to their feet.
Wicks had expected the Scabs to resist, but they didn’t. In fact, it seemed as though they came willingly, almost as if this entire event had been scripted.
Either way, it was clear Nomad was responsible, a dynamic Wicks never saw coming.
If someone had asked him, Wicks would have admitted there was a big part of him that wanted the women to struggle. That way, he could have shown them the extra force needed to send a loud, powerful who’s-really-in-charge message.
Not only to them, but to Nomad.
It’s the first rule established by a jailer—removing all doubt in the mind of the detained.
However, when facing docile prisoners such as these, it becomes an unnerving, hard to anticipate situation. More so when the captives are formidable adversaries, as in this case.
Liz arrived with Summer, who had her hands on the gurney, rolling it into position next to Wicks.
Nomad brought his face up and made eye contact with Liz through the cutouts in the mask. “We humbly request medical assistance for our sick friend. Will you help?”
“What’s wrong with her?” Liz asked, her eyes apparently scanning the black splotches around the Scab girl’s mouth.
“She must have eaten something she shouldn’t have.”
“When?”
“Few hours ago. We got here as soon as we could.”
Liz stepped forward, swinging her eyes to Summer. “Help me, please.”