Hunting Indians - Chapter Seven

Chapter One can be found at: https://steemit.com/fiction/@andrewgenaille/hunting-indians-chapter-one

Chapter Six can be found at: https://steemit.com/fiction/@andrewgenaille/hunting-indians-chapter-6

1. Chapter 7

"Is that everybody?"
"Yes." Beth answered.
"Ok, good." Barry Hall stood at the front of the conference room looking frazzled. He was a skinny man in his forties with thinning grey hair, suit and tie with wire rimmed glasses. "First order of business, I want every Indian Agent called back to work. I don't care whether they're on vacation, whether they just finished a night shift or they're having a sick day. They're all to be called in and they're all to be here tonight."
The ten clerics and forty underlings in the room began making notes. Only a few of them actually had the authority to make that happen but they all still needed to be in the loop.
"I also want the reserve unit called in and ready to go where we say, when we say, but only them. I don't want the army thinking they have a say, so I don't want them involved. This stays inside our house; we made the mess we clean it up. Does everybody understand?" Barry searched out discontent.
Beth understood. Barry was a political appointment directly from the Prime Minister’s office. His job wasn't just to clean up the mess but to keep it from leaking and leading people back to his overlords.
"What we have are two dead people, and an Indian on the loose with an axe to grind. Here's what we're going to do, who's in PR?" Barry looked over as Quincy raised his hand from the side. "They were campers, they came out from Ontario for a business trip and someone suggested they go camping, out in the Provincial park and they were ambushed by some Indians looking for a fight."
"Yes sir." Quincy wrote it down.
"If anybody asks how they got away from the reserve, you tell them we erred. You tell them we were attempting to reconcile with the native population by granting them more freedoms and they took advantage of that." Barry moved to the front board where there was a drawing of Kevin up. "This man, we're clamping down people. I want that reserve shut down. Every house ripped open until we find this man. Shoot on sight if they have to."
Barry finished the meeting and cleared the room except for Beth. "You have something for me?"
"I do."
Beth led Barry two floors down to the interview rooms. It was an entire office floor converted into what could only be described as its own police station. There were booking desks and several small steal rooms for holding. Beth escorted Barry to an observation room where Damien waited.
"You're the man of the hour, I understand?" Barry said and shook Damien's hand.
"Thank you sir, but just doing my job." Damien came back with false modesty.
"Beth here tells me you're usually above and beyond in your job. She's got plans for you." Barry moved to the window to look in the other room.
"He's been exceptional so far," Beth added. Damien smiled at her and wondered if he could nail her.
"Thank-you."
"So what's the story with this guy?" Barry asked, looking at where Peter sat at a table with his hands cuffed in front of him. There was a heater on the table pointed at him causing him to sweat.
"I found him in the bush with this camera." Damien held the device up. Barry looked at it.
"He's not in our system," Beth said, "And this is state of the art. It's compact and is shielded to prevent detection, beyond anything they have on the reserve."
"Bush Indian?" Barry asked. "Yeah, he's working with somebody. Wait for the inquisitor and rip him apart."
"Actually sir, I was thinking Damien could handle this. After all, it is his collar." Beth suggested.
"Is he qualified?"
"I think he is." Beth glanced at Damien.
"As do I sir, I've been preparing for this for years." Damien stepped forward.
"Hmmm." Barry considered it. "When I say rip him apart...I am being literal."
"I have no problem with that."
"Very well, get me everything." Barry said, he looked once more at Peter and left the room.
Beth smiled at Damien, who punched the air in celebration. "Go get him tiger."
"Oh beautiful, my time to shine." Damien moved through the connecting door and closed it behind himself.
Peter looked up but could only see an outline of a person, the heater gave off too much of a glow. Damien remained silent as he watched his prisoner.
"Hello?" Peter said.
"Give me your name." Damien ordered.
"Can I get a glass of water?"
"No," Damien slid a chair over and sat across the table. "I want your name."
Beth crossed her arms as she watched. This was one of those times that she dreaded, standing there acting calm as her insides churned. She knew Peter personally, had known him for years and now through her direct intervention had to put him into hell. Their alternative was worse though, she reminded herself, so very much worse.
"If I give you my name, then can I have some water?" Peter pleaded, missing the energy to sell it.
"I can make that happen."
"Jason..."
"Last name."
"Thomson, Jason Thomson." Peter leaned forward. "Can I please have that water?"
"Not just yet." Damien put the camera on the table. Peter sighed his disappointment and sat back as far as the cuffs will let him. "What is this?"
Peter looked at the camera and then back to the form, he said puzzled "It says camera on the side."
"Where did you get it?"
"It was a gift."
"From who?"
"My friend."
"And what's his name?"
"Are you even allowed to give me water?" Peter leaned forward.
"I will if you give me a name?"
"I don't think you're allowed, I don't think you're the guy in charge."
"I'm in charge Jason, as far as you're concerned, everything that happens in this room is under my control. You live or die on my whim."
"Prove it."
Damien stared at him. "I am. I can beat the living shit out of you if I want."
"Of course you can, that's what they do here, that's what's expected. You have permission to do that, go for it. But both you and I know you can only do what you're told, and I'm betting someone told you not to give me water." Peter sighed.
Damien reached out and grabbed the back of Peters' head, pinning it with a bang to the table. "Give me the name!"
"Steven! His name’s Steven Smith!" Peter yelled.
Damien let him go and sat back. "See, now we're getting somewhere. Now who is this Steven Smith, what does he do?"
"Fuck you." Peter said.
Damien started to lean across the table but Peter jolted back.
"He's a carpenter, just outside the city..." Peter stayed tense as Damien moved back. "He's a good man, I swear he's a good man."
Beth didn't recognize any of the names but she wasn't privy to everything, and a little bit concerned Damien was being effective. She tried Steven Smith on her phone and the listing came up; he was a carpenter.
"What's the camera for? Who were you taking the footage to?" Damien continued.

"Give me the keys." Kevin held the pistol to Austin's neck from behind. The Natives other hand held Austin's collar. The two stood next to an out of the way truck stop two hours walk from the hunting grounds.
"It's biometric..." Austin said, wishing that he had just waited the extra twenty minutes to town to use the washroom. He was a suit, a nerd of sorts that worked in the accounting department at Revenue Canada and drove the new electric Prius.
"What does that mean?"
"My fingerprint starts it." Austin answered, "There's no key."
Kevin considered his options and there were few. He had already wasted time getting there and another hour waiting for someone to stop in. "Okay, unlock the door and then get in." Kevin moved them closer to the car. "You drive."
"You can just take the car after I start it..."
"Shut-up, you drive."
Austin put his thumb on the door and it clicked loudly. He stretched his arm to open it and Kevin hit the inside button to unlock the other doors. He shifted Austin into the driver’s seat and then climbed into the back, both doors closed.
"Start it up." Kevin ordered. Austin started the engine. "Drive."
The car jerked forward as Austin headed for the highway. He looked at the door lock button and saw that it was covered in blood. "Where are we going?"
"City."
"Then?"
"I'll tell you when we get there..." Kevin looked down at his side and the hole through the flesh just below his ribs. His shirt and the top of his pants were soaked with blood. He tried to cauterize it out in the bush with the barrel of the gun, but it had cooled off and the magazine was empty.
"How far?"
"Um..." Austin looked at his monitor and maps. It was set for his house. "Ninety minutes."
Kevin sighed, this might have been a bad tactical error and he was too light headed to figure out what his next move should be.
That's when he passed out.

Damien came through the door to the interrogation room causing Peter’s head to snap up.
"Hey..." Peter said but Damien struck him hard across the face. Damien pulled back, hesitated and then hit Peter again.
"You think this is a joke! This is funny to you?" Damien hit him a third time. "Steven Smith!"
"Oh..." Peter yelled. "Stop!"
"Who is he to you?" Damien didn't bother to get his anger under control.
"My contact..."
"He is not." Damien hit him a fourth time then backed out of the heat lamps way.
"Ok..." Peter checked his face, numb now but he knew it would hurt later.
"We tore his place apart. There's no way in hell he's working with you."
"Oh yeah." Peter nodded. He came across Steve Smiths’s name a few years ago in a white supremacy pamphlet calling for the eradication of the Indians. Raiding his place would've turned up more writing. Peter loved the idea that their biggest supporter got the once over.
"Where did you get the camera?" Damien controlled his voice for maximum effect. "You think this is as far as I'm willing to go? They've given me permission to do anything I want to you. Do you know how long I've wanted that over anybody?"
Damien sat across from Peter and waited for the other to look at him.
"I'm going to explain to you what's about to happen, ‘cause right now, two of my friends are in the basement setting up a chair, an electric chair. Then we are going to take you down there and hook you up to it, just like a little kid in those schools of lore. And if that doesn't work, there's a drain under the chair for easy cleaning because I'm going to slowly tear out your nails, your teeth, I'm going to cut you up until I get what I want. You will talk." Damien squeezed his fists.
Actually, Peter hoped to himself, what's going to happen is they were going to go downstairs where Peter was going to frustrate Damian, make him angry, make him lose control. If Peter was lucky, Damien would accidentally kill him before he gave anything important away. Peter was aware he knew too much, none of which he could let get into the hands of an Inquisitor.
"Bring it on, bitch." Peter challenged Damian.

Miranda woke up with a start at nine and looked around the almost pitch black bedroom. Something was off but she couldn't place it. Her sister Layla slept in the bed next to her, as their cousin Carrie slept on the floor at the end of the bed.
"Layla?" Miranda shook her sister’s shoulder. "Layla."
"Shhhh...what?" Layla rolled but didn't fully wake up.
Miranda listened a bit, then heard the vehicle. "Layla, get up, get up now." Miranda shook her sister harder and staggered off the bed. "Carrie, wake up, everybody get up. Layla, where's the phone? Did you hide it?"
"Yes, it's away..." Layla sat up and then screamed as the door was kicked in by an Armed man in uniform. The Soldier had a halogen flashlight that blinded everybody in the room.
"Hands in the air! Hands in the air!" He yelled as he aimed his AR-15. "Move! Move!"
Miranda helped Carrie to her feet as Layla was grabbed by the arm and pulled into the living room. There they found the rest of the occupants of the house on their knees, with hands behind their heads. There were three other soldiers in the room and an Indian Agent named Donald; overweight and sweat all over his out of shape red face.
"You know who I'm looking for. Where is he!?" Donald said, "Play nice and you might get out of this alive."
Jasmine, another one of Miranda's cousins pointed toward the closet.
"Jasmine..." Layla said, as Donald went to the closet and opened it. He took a few minutes to go through it before he came out with the cell phone.
"Not what I'm looking for...but definitely worth keeping. Whose is it?" Donald moved to stand in front of the group. "Who does this belong to?"
The group was silent.
"Ok, take them all, all of them."
"It's mine...it's mine." Miranda blurted, Donald moved to her.
"Get her out of here." Donald ordered and Miranda was grabbed and dragged for the door.
"No! No!" Layla yelled, "I made it, I made it, please."
"Layla, no!" Miranda yelled back from the door as her soldier stopped pulling to see what was happening.
Donald studied Layla as he considered the paperwork involved if he was wrong, and how much worse it would be for him if he let something get away.
"Take her too." Donald said and Layla was pulled away. Donald addressed the rest as he held up a picture. "We're looking for this man. He is a terrorist and if you are hiding him, you are terrorists and will be treated as such."
Miranda and Layla were dragged kicking and screaming out onto the front lawn. Miranda settled when she saw that all the houses in their area had cars out front as men in uniforms and blacks suits moved about.
Miranda was pushed into the back of a waiting paddy wagon and locked by her wrists to the floor. A moment later Layla was locked into place and the door was shut. They were shrouded in blackness.
"Miranda?"
"Shhhh"
"What's going on?"
"I don't know."
The truck began to move and over the next half an hour the door would open occasionally as other natives were pushed in and locked up. Miranda wasn't sure who they were but recognized some voices as they argued with the guards and shared information.
"Darwin, they get you?" Melvin said from the blackness.
"Yeah, fuckers. What the hell are they doing?" Darwin answered.
"Don't know. Something's happened. ‘Cause they're pissed." Sara said.
"It's those...that girl and her army, we told her this would happen." Darwin growled.
Miranda knew she was in with the reserve leadership.
The wagon travelled along a bumpy road for another half an hour before it came to a stop. The people inside were made to wait another hour after that before the back door opened and the inside was flooded with halogen lights on rifles.
One by one those inside were uncuffed and dragged out the back; Miranda and Layla were taken out last. Once on the ground Miranda could see they were away from the reserve, somewhere out in the bush where the wagon and several cars were parked.
Nine soldiers and two agents moved them in a pre-school style line away from the cars. They walked a football field distance into a clearing where a large Backhoe was being shut down.
"Line them up." Ryan stepped forward holding a Berretta.
The natives were lined up along a bump of dirt, Miranda looked back to see that it was in front of a ditch six feet deep. It dawned on her what was going on and she looked down the line of twelve natives.
"No...no,no,no." Miranda said and grabbed Layla's hand.
Ryan sauntered up to Marvin, first in line, and held up the picture. "I want a name, and where he is."
Marvin looked at the picture, it was a crude drawing of Kevin but most of the features could've been any Indian. Marvin assumed whoever described the individual was a believer that all Indians looked alike. Even so, it was definitely Kevin and Marvin was never going to give him up.
"I don't know who that is..." Marvin said. Ryan lifted the gun up to Marvin's head. "I swear I don't..."
Ryan pulled the trigger, Marvin's head snapped back and his body hit the ground as Ryan moved to Sara, whose face was full of terror. Two agents moved forward and pushed Marvin's body into the ditch.
"Miranda..." Layla said in shock.
Ryan aimed at Sara's head and held the picture up. "I want his name, and where he is."
"We don't keep track of them, they don't give us their..." Sara said quickly but Ryan fired, her body hit the ground.
Darwin bolted for the trees but two of the soldiers shot him, his body staggered forward before dropping to the ground a few feet from the sisters.
Layla screamed and grabbed onto Miranda, crying in fear as Ryan moved onto the next native. One by one he asked his question and didn't get the answer he wanted so he would kill them. He reached Miranda and Layla, as the younger girl clutched her sister for life. Ryan tilted his head and smiled as he saw the interaction, he stepped forward and held the picture up.
"She's doesn't know, please, she's not involved with anything." Miranda begged. Ryan pointed the gun at Layla and Miranda wailed. "Please, it was my cellphone, mine, she doesn't know anything about it. Please."
"What cell phone?" Ryan lowered the gun.
"My cell phone, it's mine. I swear its mine." Miranda continued.
"I don't, I don't really care." Ryan held up the drawing again. "I want a name, and I want a location. That's all I care about. You give me that, and I let you live."
Miranda studied Ryan looking for honesty, and then looked down at the drawing of Kevin. She went through her mental Rolodex but came up blank. She looked up at Ryan.
"I'm sorry, please." She said.
Ryan sighed and aimed at Layla.
"Kevin, his name’s Kevin." Layla blurted out causing Ryan to pause. He reached out so she could have a better look at the picture.
"Look closely. Are you sure?" Ryan motioned with his head to a soldier who put the light on the picture.
"Yes."
"And where can I find him?" Ryan pulled the picture back.
"I don't know, he lives in the forest with the others." Layla loosened her grip on Miranda.
"But you know how they contact him?" Ryan asked. She nodded and he grinned. "Ok, what's your name little lady?"
"Layla." Layla answered.
"Well, you've been very helpful and I believe you will continue to be. You get to live." Ryan stated, he aimed and fired two rounds into Miranda.
Layla screamed grabbing onto her sister as Miranda landed on the dirt bump, her body slid over the back and into the ditch.
"Bring her, cover the rest." Ryan said as he left for the cars. Layla was grabbed and dragged away as she yelled out her pain, watching as other soldiers moved forward with shovels. They pushed the bodies into the ditch, filling it in after.

Peter arched his back and screamed. His sounds echoed throughout the basement; which was nothing more than a large shower room converted into a torture cell. Two agents stood by watching as Damien used pliers to pull the nail out of Peter’s large toe.
Damien finished and stood up to show Peter, who stopped screaming and went about getting his breath under control. He was strapped down to a metal chair, one that was hooked up to a fridge sized battery against the tiled wall.
"I used to do this as a kid. I used to experiment on the neighbourhood dogs. What I found was that I can pull them out, give you a few months so they grow back and I can do it all over again." Damien put the nail on the metal table next to the chair. "Your teeth though, you only get one pull each."
"Where do they find you people?" Peter asked. He looked at his bare feet both in a barrel of bloody water. "They put ads up in the fucking loonie bin?"
"The camera, Jason, where were you taking it? Who were you giving it to?" Damien crouched down in front of Peter.
"Who's Jason?" Peter asked.
"You are." Damien narrowed his eyes.
"No..." Peter shook his head.
Damien stared as his tempter started to build, to the point that Peter couldn't make out what the Agent was thinking; but he found out when Damien yanked the nail from Peter’s next toe. Peter grunted at first but then let out his yell, the blood stretched out in the warm water.
"What's your name?" Damien screamed at him. Peter closed his eyes and concentrated on taking back control of his body and fears.
"We're starting from the beginning again...your boss is not going to be happy with you." Peter weakly smiled just before Damien punched him hard and backed away.
"Cook him." Damien said. One of the agents approached the controller and flicked the switch. It sent several thousand volts of electricity into Peter and down to the water. Peter arched again and gritted his teeth as his body convulsed beyond his control. "Stop..."
The current was shut down and Damien loomed over him, he put his hands on Peter’s wrists.
"Give me your name."
Peter pulled what spit he could and sent it onto Damien's face; who backed up.
"Hit him again."

Two armed military men escorted Eric from his house to the backyard each one holding one of his upper arms to move him along quicker. Eric winced as his arthritis inflamed, made worse in a world that didn't allow him the medication to combat it. Up ahead his wolf Larry growled from the other side of a fence as Ryan studied him.
"You make him stop or I'll kill him." Ryan said, knowing he needed the wolf.
"Larry. Shhh, settle down my boy." Eric said as he put his hand on the fence line. The wolf settled down but watched Ryan.
"Feed this to him." Ryan held up a small coin sized device. Eric took it and looked it over.
"What is it?"
"It's edible." Ryan said.
Eric sighed, resigned to having to cooperate or these men would make good on their threat of killing his neighbors in front of him. He opened the gate and Larry came to him so he petted the creature. "Good boy, good boy..."
Eric held the item to Larry's mouth and the wolf tasted it before eating it up. Eric looked to Ryan and nodded.
"Alright, send him on his way." Ryan backed away from the cage as Eric brought the wolf out. He lifted up his small computer pad with the mapping program on it.
Eric whispered instructions to Larry and let him go, the wolf darted off for the trees as the map lit up. It showed its current location and the location of the small tracker that the wolf had just eaten.
Ryan motioned to the soldiers as he headed back to the house, on the other side the other forty Indian agents and two hundred Reserve forces waited for the instructions to move. Ryan gave the order to the first few and it spread through the ranks. The well-armed men and women started moving for the forest.

Peter was tired. He wasn't sure what time it was anymore but it felt like he had been sitting in this chair for days. In reality it had only been eight hours. He was keeping track and thought he might have only two nails left on his left hand, it was hard to tell as his appendages were only sending throbbing pain messages. His left eye was swollen shut and all he could taste was the blood from where three of his teeth were removed.
He wanted to talk.
He knew who the leadership was on the reserve by name, he knew where the natives in the bush were; he knew how to get to the border and where they could cross. This had to be useful information to them, and he wanted more than anything just to tell them everything. He could tell them all they wanted and they would make the pain stop.
Peter felt a lightning-like-pain behind his eyes, as if his skull was being split open. If it would make the agony stop Peter would've and could've named even the people working in this very building that had been working with the Indians.
This reason alone, that he was aware that he was ready to talk, meant Peter was also aware that he needed to die.
"How about it? You have a name?" Damien leaned in next to Peter and talked softly to him at ear level.
Peter started to talk but coughed up blood and felt it drip down his chin; he waited a moment and tried again. "Jason...Thomas."
Damien shouted out his frustration and moved in front of Peter, he pulled out his pistol and pushed it to Peter’s forehead. "I'm going to count to three, if you don't give me your name by then I'm going to blow your head off."
"You suck at this..." Peter said.
"One."
"You don't have the guts to kill me."
"Two."
"You chicken shit."
"Three." Damien said but didn't pull the trigger.
"Yeah, I didn't think so, you coward" Peter said. "I've seen your worse, and you..."
"Lower your weapon." A new voice caused Peter to stop; a deep and proper voice. "Agent, lower your weapon."
Damien lowered his weapon and looked over at Richard Porter in the doorway. He was in a tailored suit that went with the business hair cut. Richard was a lean six foot two man with good looks mixed with a higher education. He had dirty blonde hair and deep blue eyes. Peter couldn't see any of this though, but from the authority in his voice knew who he was. More importantly, what he was.
"Oh no..." Peter said softly.
"I'm interrogating the prisoner." Damien said.
"And you're done." Richard replied.
"But he still knows things that..."
"Let me be more clear, if you value your career, you will get out of my sight. If you don't, I will personally take an interest in destroying your life." Richard remained calm. "Go now, while you still have a chance."
Damien put his weapon in its holster and went out the door. Richard was unimpressed and moved over to see what had been done to Peter.
"Turn that off." Richard said and the generator was powered down. He touched Peter's face, causing the Indian to wince and pull back. "It's alright, you're done for the night."
Peter closed his good eye as Richard felt around with his hand checking for broken bones. It's too direct, Peter could tell he was a man with a medical degree.
"Okay, get him a cell with a bed. Bring in the doctor to look him over. I want him cleaned up and fed. If he doesn't want to eat, use an IV." Richard stepped back. "And suicide watch, nothing sharp or anything that can be tied."
Richard took one last look at Peter and left the room.
Peter knew he was in trouble now. The Inquisitor was here.

Chapter 8 found at: https://steemit.com/fiction/@andrewgenaille/hunting-indians-chapter-8