ALIVE: The Aftermath Chronicles (Book 1)

Chapter 15 - THESE DARKEST DAYS

Not having a single clue, nor care, for what the hell Russell accused him of now, Doyle can't help but chuckle. A chuckle, that turns into a sardonic laugh.

"You're my only friend, Russell. Who the hell else would I be sending a signal to?" Bitterly, he jokes as he leans against the frigid wall.

"Doyle..." Sophie tries to hush him from her own point at the bars.

Russell takes his step forward and then another as his hand steadies to aim, then suddenly lowers down at his side.

The prisoners have hushed. They wait, they watch, they whisper. Doyle can smell their fear. Not anymore for themselves, for the living dead, but for his own skin.

"You keep this up, Sergeant and you'll lose everythin'," Russell replied curtly, "Naw, you can either learn to behave 'ere, or we're gonna have to find a way to get ridda ya. The colony has an order, has rules for a reason. Hell, if you were in charge, I'm sure you'd want rules in place too."

That cocky grin of Russell's returns, when he adds over Doyle's noted silence, "Ya gonna play along or are we going to have a problem here, Sergeant? Let it be and you can walk with us. That goes for all of you...just play by the rules, keep all of us safe....and all of you can go home by next light. Keep talkin' nonsense and we're gonna have to kick you outta here, or worse. I'll do anythin' to protect those kids in the school, to protect the likes of Abby from this colony fallin' apart."

Russell's ego-trip of his power filled the room stronger than his ultimatum.

In truth, Doyle didn't really understand what was happening here. He didn't know what Russell wanted from him, or what he wanted in general.

Sophie, Abby, Elisa, himself...they had a good thing going here, even if Russell was bat-shit insane. Outside of that fact, Doyle wasn't ready to pay the price of such a luxury— the price of lives. Lives of civilians, of those he cared about, of himself. He turned his face, looking to Sophie, as most of the others in the cells agreed to subject.

"I don't need you to stand with me," Doyle says to Sophie before he addresses Russell, "I'd rather die than live by your ridiculous standards. You're nuts. Everyone can see it now. You can hide behind your repulsive southern charm....but I ain't buyin' what you're sellin', hoss. Never have. You know it. I know it. Send me to my death, to my exile. You won't catch me beggin' for my life. Do what you gotta do."

To the bars, Russell descends on faster than a rubber band snapping back. Doyle, still at his seat on the bench, takes in the veil lifted from Russell's face. He sees raw anger, hatred, madness. He'd seen it before. If not in him, then certainly in the ghosts of his past.

"Then maybe it ain't your life I need ta threaten. Abby, the doctor...this one righ' here..." Russell has the guard open up Sophie's cell and it's when she's dragged out by her hair, that Doyle finds his feet. His resolve, his own sacrifice, counted for nothing when his actions are held against him to punish her.

Doyle's voice tightened as he threatens, "When I get out of this fuckin' cage, I'll kill you with my own hands. It's a promise."

Doyle's eyes danced back and forth, making sure he understood the full impact of what he told him as he continued, "So you better kill me first, or throw away the damn keys to this cell. When I get out of here, you're through. Trust me. You do somethin' to her, to any of them, and I promise you will be begging me for your life."

The ruler of Richmond Hill smiles in return to Doyle's threat. Though the soldier doesn't have the upper hand, he still makes his demands, his careless threats, without a leg to stand on against him.