Rebels & Lies

by Brian Cotton

  Chapter .14

   

  Kaspar looked down at the bloodied face of Razor. The behemoth lay unconscious on the blood stained mat. Kaspar raised his fists in the air and pumped them up and down in celebration. The crowd cheered him on and a smile broke across his face. The ring official carried with him an oversized duffel bag, no doubt filled with enough credits to live on for a long time. The prize fighter unzipped the bag to examine the contents. Inside, all he saw was Mother’s face. Her eyes were wide open despite the fact that she was dead. He dropped the bag and tears flowed down his cheeks. Something could be felt in his right palm. A bloodied American flag patch rested there…

  The van braked to a stop, jolting Kaspar from his sleep. He tried to get his bearings back as he looked around the van. His left shoulder ached from leaning against the window. He looked towards the bench in front of him and was met with a concerned face.

  “Hey,” Krys said, “you okay, man?”

  “I’m fine. Just a bad dream.”

  “What kind of dream?”

  “You wouldn’t understand.” Kaspar replied.

  “Fine. We’re here.” Krys said. She stretched out her back and let out a yawn.

  The short Asian man stood up and undid the back double doors. He moved out followed by Krys. Kaspar felt a sharp pain in his left eye as he rubbed at both eyes. Another round of ice packs would be necessary before the eye became a swollen mess once again. He stood and ducked his head from the roof and hopped out of the van. His feet landed on the tiny rocks of the driveway.

  Kaspar stretched out his back then looked forward. An old two story building stood in front of him. The exterior looked like it had been abandoned years ago by the look of the chipped white paint and black shutters. There was nothing but forest surrounding the place. They took him to the middle of nowhere. At least they knew how to pick a safe house.

  After a yawn, he followed the others to the front porch. Paxton reached into his pockets and fished out a set of keys. It took four different keys to unlock the four deadbolt locks that ran down the door. With all the deadbolts undone, he unlocked the handle with a fifth and final key. With the door opened, Paxton walked in and flipped on the light switch.

  The others entered the old building first, Kaspar followed behind the Asian. A short right turn took him into the living room. Two well-worn couches rested on the damaged wooden floor. On the coffee table sat newspapers and propaganda letters the USR sent out like clockwork. The couches faced a thirty two inch flat screen television.

  Something caught his eye in the back. There were stairs that led to the second floor and a banister at the top. Over the banister hung that evil flag with its red and white strips, the fifty white stars and blue background on the left hand side. The sheer size of the flag made it look like an idol that these people worshipped. Did he get drafted into a rebellion or a cult? It would be any moment now before they asked him to bow before it or put his hand over his heart. Kaspar stared at the flag and, for the first time, wondered what in the hell he got himself into.

  “Come on,” Paxton said, interrupting Kaspar’s thoughts. “Follow me.”

  Kaspar shook his head and followed the leader through the kitchen into the garage. Paxton opened a door in the garage and led the way into a large storage room. A flick of the light switch and the illumination revealed that the storage room had been turned into a briefing room. There were three rows of tables and chairs, a podium in front, another American flag at the left, and a large projection screen.

  The others filed into the room. They took their places in front of the podium and stared at the new recruit. Kaspar stared right back at them. Nobody made a sound. There were no sudden moves. It was another stare down. Didn’t these people have voices? Were they not allowed to speak unless given permission?

  Another thought crept in as he stared at his new squad mates. What in the hell was this? From all the news reports the USR put out, he imagined the resistance being something on a much larger scale. Kaspar’s initial thought at the abandoned shop was that there would be more rebels to be met later. That thought turned out to be dead wrong, apparently. There were only six of them, including Kaspar. Where was all the high tech equipment, the military grunts, the special ops stuff? Just how full of shit was the USR?

  Paxton took his place at the end of the row, next to the big black man with the shined bald head.

  “Time to introduce you to the team.” Paxton said.

  “Okay.” Kaspar replied.

  “Big guy here is Ron Kilbourne. He’s our specialist in explosives. He did as much for the USR before he defected and joined our side. He’s also my second in command. Come to him if you need anything.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Kilbourne’s gruff voice said.

  “You were with the USR?” Kaspar asked.

  “Sure was. But, I got out when they started asking me to do some wild shit.”

  Kaspar started to ask another question, but Paxton moved down to the skinny guy with the glasses. Glasses man looked up and rubbed at his red nose.

  “Skinny guy here is Robert Clarke. He’s our…eyes you could say. He’s a real high tech nerd.”

  “I’m not a nerd,” Clarke said, he adjusted the glasses on the rim of his nose. “I’m just a guy who happens to be good at what he does. When you guys go out on missions, I’m the one who keeps your rear ends in one piece.”

  “Good to know,” Kaspar replied.

  Paxton moved down the line to Krys. She stood there with her arms folded across her chest and no facial expression.

  “You’ve already met Krys.”

  “Yeah, so he knows my skills on the bike, right?”

  Kaspar said nothing.

  “She can handle herself,” Paxton continued. “Her skills on the bike do come in handy as does her skill in infiltration. Quiet as a mouse, she is.”

  Up next came the short oriental guy, with the same cocky expression on his face.

  “Yung Li, double black belt in Tae Kwon Do. Li knows Danny quite well. He trained him in another one of those underground fighting leagues.”

  Li took a bow in front of Kaspar and didn’t say anything. Kaspar nodded at the bowing Li and wondered what in the hell he was doing. He thought about the assertion from Paxton that this tiny kid was a double black belt. Could he be taken in a fight? Kaspar thought so. Maybe he would find out one day.

  “So,” Kaspar said. “Was Danny an old prick to you, too?”

  Li moved his head up and nodded a yes.

  “Yung, he doesn’t talk much. He’s still working on his gun fighting but if things get to close quarters…well, don’t be the other guy.” Paxton said.

  Li smiled.

  “Well, I guess that leaves me. We do have rules which I can explain to you in the morning. Right now, you need some rest. Everyone is dismissed.”

  “I have questions.” Kaspar replied, the others filed their way out of the room around him.

  “Sleep on them. You’ll have all day to ask away tomorrow. A lot will be explained to you and we’ve got some stops to make as well. Robert here will show you to your room.”

  “Follow me,” Clarke said.

  Paxton remained in the situation room as Kaspar followed the skinny guy out. He followed back into the living room and to the stairs. They began their accent upwards when something…beautiful caught Kaspar’s eyes. Krys walked across the hall in nothing but a black sports bra and gray sweat pants. She had a work of art going down her rib cage. A red rose with some red petals falling down her bronzed skin.

  “Eyes to yourself,” Krys said without a look over, “Mr. Kaspar.”

  Kaspar moved his eyes away and focused them on Clarke. They reached the top of the stairs and into a narrow hallway. The wooden floors here made more noise than the ones at the old apartment. At the very end, to the left, Clarke opened the white painted door.

  A small bedroom waited inside. No decorations on the wal
ls or anywhere else, save a picture of a bald eagle in a gold frame on the night stand. I really am joining a cult, he thought. The hope was that at least this cult would provide him with a gun, and train him how to use that gun to kill as many USR before his own death. Kaspar moved to the white cot and took a seat. His ass fell straight down.

  “That bed’s kinda old.” Clarke said.

  “Tell me about it.”

  “There’s some clothes in that closet. They belonged to…well, he was about your size.”

  “I’ll be wearing a ghost’s clothes, then?”

  “Yeah, sort of. Just watch yourself when you talk about Zach. We are all still stinging from it.”

  “So, that was his name.”

  “If you need anything, I’m in the room directly across from you. Have a good night.”

  Kaspar stood as the door closed. He walked over to the closet. Not much in the way of clothes hung inside. A few pairs of jeans, plain short and long sleeve shirts, and white tees folded on the shelf above. He shut the door and stripped down to his boxers.

  The tears started to flow once more. Kaspar buried his head into the soft white pillow and didn’t try to stop them. He felt a sharp pain in his left eye, but ignored it. No matter how valiant the attempt, he could not get his mother’s eyes out of his mind.

  He hoped that joining this rag tag band of rebels would make the pain go away.