Patriots & Tyrants

by Brian Cotton

  ***

  The interrogations that Sullivan conducted, which were more and more a rarity these days, changed dramatically in intent. Before, Sullivan was so desperate to find the resistance members that he would do anything to get the answers. Who they were, where they hid out, what their intents were, etc. Now, he didn’t even know who he could trust anymore. When he first saw that message on the television, he didn’t take it seriously. It seemed like a desperate ploy by the resistance to get attention for their cause. If the USR response was accurate, that there was nothing to fear, then why were women dying left and right and nothing being done about it?

  So, as he stared down his first suspect in over a week, he tried to find some way to get information from him about the water supply problem. The man who sat in front of him, a thirty-four year old named Travis Reed, stared right back, unflinched. Reed, his file said, worked in the factories, what he did there was top secret. So top secret that Sullivan didn’t even know what they worked on in there. For a man who used to be always in the loop on everything, this bullshit had worn out its welcome a long time ago.

  “What have we got you in for today, Mr. Reed?” Sullivan wondered, knowing the answer.

  “I don’t know,” Reed replied. “You tell me.”

  “It seems like you’ve been meddling around with the wrong crowd.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Sullivan put down the man’s file. He placed his hands, with interlocked fingers, on top. He moved his hands up and down several times, tapping on the manila cover. The reason that Reed had been brought in to the station was that he, along with several of his fellow co-workers, were seen getting together after work in some old warehouse. Given the secrecy of the work they did, the powers that be deemed this inappropriate. Reed appeared to be the ring leader of the whole thing, so he was brought in first for questioning. During his brief with Fitzpatrick, Sullivan learned that they would slowly bring in the others to see who the rat would be.

  “Tell me about your little meetings that you have with your co-workers.”

  “What meetings?” Reed demanded.

  “You know, the ones where you all hideout in some abandoned warehouse. Don’t play dumb with me. We’ve got hard evidence to support that.”

  “Is it a crime to have some drinks, non-alcoholic naturally, with some buddies from work?”

  “It is when you all work in the same place. And your job is so vital to USR efforts that I don’t even know what it is you do in that factory.”

  Reed leaned in. “What does our work have to do with anything?”

  “We just want to make sure that you guys aren’t plotting some kind of insurrection…or that you’re not aiding those terrorists out there.”

  “Please…we know the laws, we know what happens to ‘citizens’ who try to rebel. You think I want to put my family through that?”

  Sullivan grew annoyed when Reed used his fingers as quotation marks when he said “citizens”. He kept his composure, though. He began to feel himself start to side with these rebels the longer he thought on it. The government that he served everyday hadn’t done a damn thing about his wife, yet, in either case. He would need these rebels. Maybe, just maybe, Reed and his pals worked on that substance that was going in the water. Or, even more hopeful, the inevitable cure.

  The wheels inside of Sullivan’s head started to turn. His attention was now half on the questions he was asking and the bullshit answers he received in return. The other half was on figuring out a reason that he could let the man go. Not just anything, but something he could take to Fitzpatrick.

  “You still with me?” Reed asked, trying not to laugh so as not to offend the Agent.

  Sullivan nodded his head. “Yeah, still here. Trying to figure out what to do with your sorry ass, as a matter of fact.”

  “What’s the verdict?”

  Sullivan pondered for a moment. “You’re free to go…for now. But, if you so much as take a shit wrong, we’ll know about it.”

  Reed said nothing and stood straight up. Sullivan opened the door, allowed the suspect to walk out, and then followed behind. After signing a waiver, Reed was free to go. Fitzpatrick looked shocked at the outcome. He pulled his one-time top Agent into his office for a chat.

  “What the hell was that?” Fitzpatrick demanded, reaching into his desk for a bottle of moonshine.

  “What do you mean? I let him go.” Sullivan replied, not bothering to take a seat.

  “I know that’s what you did, dumb shit. I want to know why you did it.”

  “We need to get surveillance on his ass. We’ve got nothing on him. As far as we know, he really is just chilling with his buddies after a hard day’s work.”

  “I don’t expect you to understand the severity of this situation, but I do expect you to use your best judgment.”

  Sullivan leaned in over desk. “Why don’t you enlighten me? Maybe if I knew what he and his pals did for a living, I could have used my best judgment.”

  Fitzpatrick shook his head. “You know I can’t do that. It’s…”

  “Let me guess, ‘confidential’, right?”

  “That’s right. Only the highest level Agents know what they do. Maybe if you hadn’t gotten soft, you’d be one of us by now. What happened to the Sullivan I used to know? I never thought I’d rather have Mason and Wilcox more than you. At least they got results.”

  “You know what?” Sullivan shot back, a sarcastic smile on his lips. “Those two thugs didn’t know shit without me. Yeah, they got people to squeal, but I was the one who brought in the squealers. If it was all on them, we’d never know anything.”

  Fitzpatrick shook his head. “We could go back and forth on this all day and night. I’m willing to trust you on this. Besides, that son of a bitch is lucky he works for the USR or else he’d be heading for a body bag right now. But, if this comes back to bite us in the ass, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

  “I understand, sir. That’s why I’m volunteering to lead the surveillance unit.”

  “Do what you have to. Good bye.”

  Sullivan saluted his boss. Maybe now he could get some answers.

   

  .05

  Kaspar always enjoyed his morning runs with Krys. The feel of the still cool morning air brushed against his bare arms as they started to push it a little more. She kept with him stride for stride as they jogged. She was looking a lot better now than earlier in the morning. The lesion was covered up by makeup and she didn’t look to be in too much pain. Kaspar couldn’t help but wonder to himself how much longer she could hold up. She was a strong woman, but even she had limits. Everyone did.

  They turned the corner on the forest trail and pushed their legs even harder. Kaspar ignored the burning sensation in his legs as he was now keeping up with Krys. She was pushing it really hard right beside him. Krys had her hair pulled back in a ponytail and wore black sweats and a black sports bra. The lack of any other clothing showed off that rose tattoo that ran down the side of her rib cage almost down to her hip. The image, with the falling rose petals, took on added meaning over the past several months. He used to love the tattoo. It even drove him mad at times, but now with her worsening condition, he couldn’t stand the sight of it.

  “You keeping up back there?” Krys asked. She turned her head and smiled. “Or are you too busy staring at my goods?”

  “I’m keeping up,” Kaspar replied. She could always read his mind.

  Kaspar pushed his legs hard until he was right beside her. He kept up stride for stride as they made their way through the woods. They were near the campsite, just another mile or so away would complete their five mile run for the morning. The closer they got, the harder Krys seemed to push. Kaspar wanted to yell at her, to tell her that she’s pushing herself way too hard, but the words never came out. He just wanted to pretend like there was nothing even wrong with her in the first place.

  The inner li
e didn’t last long. Krys stopped dead in her tracks. Kaspar moved in beside her as she bent her upper body down. Without warning, a river of orange vomit flowed through her mouth. In all, she did five hard gags, each time with the same result. On the sixth gag, there was nothing left to be evacuated. She dry heaved for a few seconds before she slammed her ass down on the tall grass.

  “You okay?” Kaspar cried as he knelt down beside her. He started to rub at her back.

  “Yeah,” Krys replied. She pulled out a handkerchief from her pocket. “I’m fine. Just…pushed too hard is all.”

  “You don’t look fine. You need me to carry you the rest of the way?”

  Krys frowned. “I said I was fine. Just give me a few minutes, okay?”

  Kaspar nodded in acknowledgment. He stood straight up from his knelt position and just stared off into the woods. Things were getting bad for her. There was no worse feeling in the world to Kaspar right now than the feeling of inadequacy. He wished now, at this moment, that he had the smarts and the know how to fix what was eating away inside his lover. There was no fix to be found, though. He promised to protect her, and it was starting to look like he made another promise he couldn’t keep.

  For her part, Krys just stood over the grass and tried to catch her breath. Her lips trembled and her breath was short. Kaspar, from his now standing position, reached down and began to rub at her back again. She let out a slight wince when he rubbed at the sports bra over her back. Through the back cloth, he could see the spot looked wet, and the bra stuck on that spot a little bit. When he lifted the black cloth, it revealed another lesion, just like the one on her neck.

  “We should go back and rest, now.” Kaspar said. “I’ll help you back to camp.”

  “Okay,” Krys replied, finally giving up.

  She stood and put her arm around Kaspar’s neck as he led them back. The walk was slow and, at times, Kaspar felt like he was dragging her. Her breathing consisted of short wheezes here and there. At one point, Kaspar thought that she passed out on him. The hike back to the camp soon became one of the lowest moments of his entire life. He knew the score back when the two of them escaped together. There was always a glimmer of hope that she would be okay, though. That hope was just another cruel way for Kaspar to lie to himself. He wanted to enjoy every moment that he had left with her. Mother was already taken for granted and Kaspar didn’t want to make the same mistake with Krys. The past few months flew by so quick. The months felt like just a few days. She was nearing the end and he was not ready to see her go.

  No, she’s not going to die. Not on my watch.