Charlie's Requiem: Democide (12 page)

John quickly made his way to the parking lot, and was relieved to find that someone had picked up Brie’s body. The empty parking space he had placed her in was once again empty.

“Well,” Bru said as John approached the M-ATV.

“Well,” John replied. “Let’s patrol, then we need to stop at the Fairgrounds.”

“I won’t ask,” Bru stated. “You’re driving.”

Good
, John thought.
A partner with a sense of loyalty. Didn’t question the call, and doesn’t seem inclined to ask.
Dixon Bruner just got placed one more rung higher on John’s trust ladder. With his headache a faded memory, and a crisp sunny morning in front of them, John felt significantly lighter than just four hours ago. But the image of Brie lying in his bed still haunted him. It wasn’t going to go away until John learned the truth about all of this, and the Fairgrounds were the perfect place to start.

Chapter 12

A woman is like a tea bag – you can’t tell how strong she is until you put her in hot water

— Eleanor Roosevelt

M
aria didn’t like it. She didn’t like it at all. Ever since she arrived at the facility, as DHS liked to call it, she had been the focus of an ever increasing amount of unwanted attention. Agents in charge of the cafeteria, agents in charge of the recreation tent and even one female agent in charge of the shower and bathroom facilities had all been hinting at the special benefits she could have if she wanted to spend a little time with them. So far, the pressure had been subtle, but this morning at breakfast, the director of food services had openly propositioned her. Promises of better quality food and even alcohol were given in exchange for, what was the term he used? “A beneficial date” he called it. Friends with benefits! He was more like a fiend with benefits. The fat, sloppy pig of a man looked like he hadn’t missed a meal since well before the lights went out.

Not that Maria would have ever traded herself for favors; she was a long way from going down that road. But the lingering thought that the situation may deteriorate, forcing her to make some unwanted choices, troubled her deeply.

Would there be a time that I would willingly do that?
She thought.

She gave that idea a brief consideration and quickly decided that this line of thinking went nowhere good. It had only been a little over a week, and she already saw a number of women aligning with some of the camp’s administrators. Apparently, these women thought that getting in the game early would increase their chances with their supervisors. But Maria wasn’t going to let that happen to her.

She had thought about getting out of there; but it was plainly evident that once you came in, you didn’t leave. There was no “Get out of Jail” card at Camp Fairgrounds. Armed guards walking the perimeter with German Shepherds ensured compliance with the rules. Several large trucks with machine guns flanked the main road into the large fenced-in park. She even heard a high-pitched roar from beyond the fence that one of the other women, who had been in the military, said was a “tracked” vehicle. This woman swore it was a tank rolling down the road just out of their line of sight.

When she first arrived, having walked from her downtown apartment, she went through Camp Fairground’s orientation session. They were told that the roaming agents and their dogs were there to keep them safe. But several times people attempted to leave the facility and were rebuffed strongly by the agents manning the gate. The armed sentries patrolling the perimeter were drawn to the commotion created when these folks and their families tried to leave.

Maria sat on her cot, a military folder that fit her trim frame well enough. But some of the larger women in the 58-person tent were complaining that the frames were pinching them, cutting off their blood flow and causing bruising and numbness, as their arms and legs hung over the edges of the canvas and metal beds.
Not her problem
, she thought.

She slid a box out from under the cot; it held all her remaining earthly belongings. Several changes of clothing, her issued toiletry kit, a few pieces of jewelry and two pictures occupied the plastic storage bin. One was a family shot taken last Christmas. Her parents and siblings were all standing in front of their church, while her
Abuelita
, whom she called “Lita,” sat in front of them all. Confined to a wheelchair, her little grandmother still radiated love and strength, even as Parkinson’s slowly robbed her of her dignity.

The second photo was of her love, Jorge. The lines at the corner of his eyes crinkled and his angular, strong jaw jutted out. The picture of the two of them, taken in a boat on his backyard lake, was just three months old. They had just finished jetting across Lake Conway; and as the speed boat danced and skipped across the lake’s smooth surface, it had brought a fine spray off the glassy water that cooled them both. It had been a welcome relief from the summer’s heat. She remembered that day, the day when Jorge first asked her about decorating one of the rooms in his new house. It was the first sign he had more than just casual plans for the two of them. She was so excited, but couldn’t allow Jorge to see her joy. She remembered going home and calling one of her friends, and the two of them talked on the phone for over an hour. They both acted like teenagers, reminding her of the old times 10 years prior, when they had been the best of high school friends. She stared at his face as his broad smile beamed back at her and sighed.

Now, the world was forever changed. Things that mattered just a few weeks ago didn’t count for anything now; and as she reviewed her years on this earth, she realized what was truly essential in her life. With most of her jewelry gone, all her designer clothes rotting in some box in a storage room and her late model Honda Accord a dead piece of metal, she realized that only two things really mattered, her family and her Jorge. God, she missed them all.

After a few moments of self-pity, Maria took a deep breath.
It could be worse
, she thought.
I’m fed and safe for now
.
But for how long
?

Maria sat on her cot along with all of the women assigned to the tent. They were present for afternoon roll call.

Several of the cots nearby were now empty with clean linens and a newly pressed cotton blanket folded neatly on the foot of the bed. The former occupants had been re-located after they had been interviewed by the facility’s management. Every day about this time, several camp guards would accompany an administrator as she made her rounds to each tent. Although not specifically spelled out in her intake form, it was evident that the Fairgrounds was a holding area. A few of her fellow refugees returned from their interviews but many never came back. With the constant flow of full busses coming in and out of the camp, it looked like many were being reassigned to wherever the government had deemed to send them.

Then, like clockwork, four female guards accompanying a female administrator, entered the tent.

“ANGELINO, BANNER, BOWERS, CARRINGTON, DE LA HOYA!” The woman cried out to the assembled group.

The five women all raised their hands as the agent checked off their names on her tablet. She continued in groups of five until she had all of them accounted for.

“All right,” she concluded. “The following people please step forward. Angelino, Carrington, Edwards, Rose and Waterman.”

The five women stepped up, each glancing apprehensively at each other, and they were led away. Maria looked about and noticed that there were only about twenty of her original group left. The rest were newcomers that had just arrived over the last four days.

Maria did the math and realized she only had another day or so left before she would be processed. It was a sobering thought. They would have another roll call after dinner tonight and another five would be led away. She was bound to be sent off by the next day. Processing five women at each after-meal-roll call, left a maximum of four more meals before she was gone. But gone where? No one knew because no one had ever returned once they had been reassigned.

After roll call, Maria had the freedom to move about the camp, at least in the women’s section. She wandered over to the new recreation facility where she could at least find some mind-numbing activities to hold her over until dinner.

The former fairgrounds had a number of fixed structures along with the hundreds of tents erected by DHS. Included in the mix was a 50,000 square foot open pavilion which sat at the back of the property and abutted Lawne Lake, a 150-acre urban body of water that marked the northern boundary of the fairground. As Maria approached the pavilion to find the recreation section, she noticed a massive amount of activity on the lake’s left or western bank. Earthmovers were bulldozing trees and leveling the city park which sat just northwest of the fairgrounds. She could see a large, chain-linked fence being erected and connected to the camp’s own partition. They were expanding, and doing it quickly. Maria did some mental calculations and realized that the number of people DHS was going to have to process was too large to grasp.

Once at the pavilion, she noticed the changes that had already occurred in the last week. Cattle pens and other cages had been removed and partitions were erected within. A maze of cubicles and three walled rooms now occupied the space formerly used to judge a variety of farm animals and oversized vegetables.

Generators growled along the back of the pavilion, providing power to the people within. Giant electric lines lay on the ground, snaking their way throughout the facility. Threshold-like ramps lay over these heavy gauge, rubber-coated conduits, allowing people to walk without stumbling over the electric wires. Makeshift electric poles about ten feet high provided smaller electric lines and computer cabling a means of travelling overhead. Even with limited lighting and minimal fan use, the strain on the generators was massive.

Maria found a legend stapled to the wall at the west entrance, and following the directions, she made her way around the back of the pavilion to an open bay where some disinterested camp residents were “volunteering” their time distributing a pitiful assortment of lawn toys. Frisbees, several balls and a croquette set were the extent of the “recreational” activities available. But, on the back wall, a library of paperback and hard-covered books were available to read.

“I’d like to check out a book,” Maria said.

“Sure,” the volunteer said back without taking her eyes off of the magazine she was perusing. “You just can’t take any with you. We have chairs you can use while you read.”

Maria saw that dozens of folding chairs were arranged throughout the bay, most still collapsed and leaning against the walls. Maria started to walk behind the table where the woman sat, but was stopped before she could enter the bookshelf space.

“Card please,” the volunteer snidely stated.

Maria handed over her I.D. card and the woman swiped the magnetic strip through a reader. After getting a green light, she was allowed to enter the enclosed space and choose something to read. Soon, she found a hardback novel called “The Giver,” and unfolding one of the chairs, she sat down and began to read.

Time moved quickly and after she finished the fourth chapter, she stood up to stretch her legs. The metal and plastic chairs were definitely not comfortable for reading, but the book had done its job and several hours had passed by without her thinking about the future. Maria sat back down and was just starting to read again, when a short DHS Agent started walking her way. Perplexed, Maria sat and stared as the woman made a bee-line directly to her, bypassing several other women who were reading as well.

“Maria de la Hoya?” The woman asked.

“Yes,” she tentatively replied.

“Come with me, please.”

“But why, I haven’t done anything wrong?” Maria shot back.

“No, you haven’t,” the agent said. Then she leaned in and whispered, “Just come with me. It’ll be alright.”

Maria didn’t know what to do. She sat frozen while the other women stopped and stared at the two of them. The agent stood quietly, waiting for Maria to stand up. When that didn’t happen right away, the woman reached out and grasped Maria by her right arm and gently tugged.

“Now, would be nice, Ms. de la Hoya.” She more sternly commanded.

“Don’t touch me,” Maria shot back.

The agent backed up a bit, then removed an electric prod she had attached to her belt. No firearms were allowed in the facility, preventing them from being stolen and used against the agents themselves. But the electric prod issued by DHS was reported to carry a 5-million-volt shock. With low current, it wasn’t fatal, but the high voltage guaranteed a heck of a jolt if she used it on her.

“Are you stupid?” The agent asked. “Just come with me or I’ll use this damn thing on you.”

“Where am I going?” Maria asked.

“Just shut up and follow me,” the agent replied.

Maria marched in front of the woman, following the agent’s directions as they made their way to the front of the facility.

“Stop here,” The agent ordered.

The little woman walked up next to her and looked up.

“Don’t act surprised when you see him.” She instructed. “Just act natural, like you know him.”

“Who? Who am I supposed to know?”

“Just do what I say. Now move it.”

The two of them resumed their march to the processing center at the front of the fairgrounds. Maria passed through several more security points; and as she got close to the front gate, she gasped in awe at the sight. Stretching for as far as she could see, thousands of people were lined up, waiting to be processed. Tables with electric and network cabling were stretched across the huge parking lot in front of the 30,000 square foot, single story exposition hall. Coming in from the side of the building enabled Maria to see past the expo center and witness the drama before her. There were refugees as far as she could see.

A serpentine line wove its way back and forth from the left side to the right end of the parking lot, eventually spilling out onto the four-lane highway in front of the fairground’s property. She stopped to gape at the magnitude of the situation. She noticed that many of the processed people were being ushered into the expo center itself, but a good number of these poor souls were being shoved onto busses that quickly whisked them away and down the road. Their final destination was unknown.

“Stunning, isn’t it.” The female agent said as they both watched the chaos in front of them.

Maria quietly was led to a door at the back of the expo hall. They were checked by a sentry once again and they passed through to a small room where five male agents waited. One of them, a tall and fairly good-looking man with light blue eyes came toward her.

“Maria!” He said and opened his arms to hug her.

Who the heck was this!
Maria thought to herself as she recoiled and pushed the aggressive man back.

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” She shouted.

The other four men stood back and chuckled, their fingers pointing at her and her attacker.

“You said it. She’s pissed!” One of them said between laughs.

“Come on, Maria,” the aggressive agent said. “You know I didn’t mean to leave you here. It just took some time to find you.”

Maria was dumbfounded, but wasn’t going to be tricked so easily. She had heard of some women vanishing from camp when they caught the attention of the wrong people. Could she be the next to “disappear?”

“STAY AWAY,” Maria shouted as the man came forward again. She swung at him, attempting to connect with a right cross. But the man was big and quick and suddenly had her arms pinned behind her back.

“How long have you known her?” One of the four agents asked.

“Well,” the man said. “To be honest, I’ve never met her before today. I saw her being processed and it took me a while to find out her name.”

“Oh NO!” One of the others laughed. “You DOG!”

“Don’t tell anyone,” John said over his shoulder as he pressed into the helpless girl. “She’ll come around when she sees where I live.”

Maria tried to bite the vile man, but he was just too powerful. She felt him pressing himself into her. He easily held her arms behind her back with one hand; and taking the other, he grabbed her chin and forced it to the side, exposing her left cheek and neck.