“What about the guard?” he asked, his voice muted from the group chat. The cigarette’s cherry burned into the filter and Stone used it to sneakily light a second.
“What about him?” Jeremy joined him, muted.
“I mean, do you think he’ll still be working when we detonate?”
“Oh, for sure.” Jeremy let out a devilish laugh. “Shift doesn’t change until after the first hour.” He looked over at his accomplice, squinting his eyes. “Don’t tell me you have sympathy for that pig.”
"Well, he's going to die if he stays. Seemed like a real nice guy. Just feel like he doesn't really deserve it.”
“You can’t have any compassion for those bastards, Stone," Jeremy said disgustedly as if the word ‘compassion’ had passed over his lips coated in putrid residue and he spat it out. “He’s guarding the services offered by Satan. Could have been a guard anywhere, but no, he decided to defend such a place. They’re murdering the innocent there! Don’t for a second think he has a soul simply because he offered to send your boss a happily worded email after you cleared the evidence of porn off of his workstation. Man’s a pig, protecting the Devil. To Hell with him.”
Stone’s heart wasn't eased any after the explanation, but he tried to only consider his leader's logic. The guard was, to an extent, cooperating with evil at some level, and if he wasn’t truly wicked, then he was willfully ignorant of the works around him. Another thought came screaming back to Stone, “But, what about the women?”
“What women? The mothers?”
"Yeah," Stone trod carefully and posed his question in a neutral tone. He knew he wasn't in a great position, Jeremy’s face twisted with revulsion as he waited for Stone’s explanation, “I mean -- if they’re going there for abortions, and get killed in the explosions, aren’t we made guilty of their sins? We’re technically doing the job of the doctors and then some.” Tears came to Stone’s eyes and he quickly wiped them away while Jeremy watched the road.
“All wrapped up here,” Francis beamed over the Auris.
“Same,” Eddie also confirmed.
Jeremy ignored them, “You’ve gotta have more grit, Stone.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s a war we’re waging. It’s not going to be perfect. No sunshine or rainbows to be found this side of Hell. We told you it would be tough, that you’d have to make difficult decisions. We’ve gotta send our message to the public and innocent lives will be lost, but there’s no other way.”
“I guess you’re right.” It still didn’t sit quite well with Stone. The reasoning didn’t seem to completely justify their tactics and it smacked of hypocrisy. “Why not just take the main STORK Tower down altogether? You know, the headquarters.” Stone took another drag on his cigarette.
“It’s next on the list. We just needed to interrupt the business at these clinics first. Make people reconsider their blind obedience to Unity. We’ve got Zealots all across the globe tonight, carrying out the same mission.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“I told you before that we’re just a small part of a much bigger picture. You have to have patience, Stone. You’ll see.”
“You think so?”
“Absolutely. One day, if you’re lucky enough, you’ll stand above the ruins of this abomination of a world, victorious. You’ll understand the costs we’ve paid. You’ll understand about the lives we’ve sacrificed. And most importantly, you’ll know, first hand, the price of freedom and what it means to have it.”
“How will I know when we’ve won?” Stone pictured the world as Jeremy described with the Tower fallen and the tyranny of Unity dissipated. He could only imagine chaos following such things.
“When the people wake up and realize they had forgotten what freedom feels like. When they wake up that day and can finally ask themselves, ‘What do I want to do today?’ It will be the day a pregnant woman will walk along the sidewalk unashamed and unafraid of her swollen belly. It will be the day you attend Mass and see your first born baptized, without the slightest dread that the government’s hands will likely clench around his or her throat, squeezing out obedience. This is a just war, Stone. People will remember us as heroes shortly after a time when we were once called terrorists.”
This set Stone’s mind at ease. He imagined the future painted by Jeremy’s words. For the first time that night, his family’s message and warnings fell away. Their powerful echoes fading and no longer mattered. He did this for them. For their safety and for the safety of Maria’s unborn, Stone fought this war. A sudden relief entered him as through an open door while he considered these things. The child born in hiding would have the opportunity to live out his days in a world of freedom, never having known a world without.
“Clem, what’s taking so long? Are you about done?” Debra asked over the chat because she hadn’t seen him on screen in a long time. He and the female guard had wandered off camera.
“Yes, Madame, allow me to get dressed and I’ll be on my way.” She saw the female guard exiting the bathroom, fixing her hair, while Clem added, “Wouldn’t want to catch a cold.”
“I can’t believe you’re screwing around right now,” Debra’s tone seethed with a mix of anger and anxiety.
“What can I say? With the cat gone, the mice play!” he quipped, laughing.
“Unacceptable, Clem. We’ll have words about this. Get your romp out of there now!”
“The Frenchman fascinates me,” Nelson remarked only to Debra, “from the perspective of someone who’s not human. He truly seems to know how to live life to its fullest. I’d like to live the way he does if I had ever been born.”
“He’s an idiot. He’ll be the death of us.”
“I guess you’re right, as always, Jeremy,” Stone remarked on their previous conversation, after listening to the chatter, unamused. “Just know that even though I sometimes have these questions and thoughts, it doesn’t mean I won’t obey your every word. You guys are my family.”
“I know,” he confirmed and nodded, spinning the steering wheel to make a right turn. “You’re still a rookie too. Time will teach you how to deal with things emotionally, just be patient. That’s the worst part anyway -- learning how to cope.”
The night air had grown chillier during the time spent executing their mission. As planned, the men parked their vans in the previously determined hiding place, out of the frosty outdoor weather. They waited at the rendezvous point down the street from the garage. The five of them huddled together in a tight circle of steaming breaths and snorts like a rounded-up herd of buffalo. Clement shared many details with them --details about female guards and their fighting style. He mentioned that she took him as a prisoner, showing him the usefulness of her handcuffs and the sharpness of their metallic grasp.
Jeremy was not entertained in the least, infuriated with the man and his stupidity to perform such an act on the mission. “Enough! I don’t want to hear another damn word of it, Clem. You’re really not entertaining any of us. It’s really unacceptable. If anything comes of it, I’m not sure what the boss will do with you. Doesn’t the mark on your arm mean anything at all to you?”
“Thank you!” Debra yelped in agreement through the Auris.
“Sorry, monsieur.” Clement withdrew his smiles and perverse jokes while they continued to wait for the cab in silence.
…
Once the vehicle arrived, all the men piled into it, packing it to capacity. Stone thought about the guard, not David this time, but the one Clement seduced. It’s certain the woman will die as well, just like David. For the first time, Clement seemed much more sinister to him. How could someone do such a thing? How could someone be the least bit turned on at such a time? Use another human being for self-gratification and damn them immediately?
He thought of plenty more questions while sitting pressed up against the Frenchman like they were in a can of sardines. Thinking about these questions and their possible answers was far better than contemplatin
g his own actions and their possible outcomes. Clement’s issues gave shelter to the young man’s conscience. To risk everything, risk all of us for something so unnecessary. Surprised that Jeremy hasn’t murdered him yet, really, I probably would’ve killed him by now.” Finally, Stone wondered, How the hell did he even pull it off? Surely, she saw the branding on his arm? He wanted to ask Clem so badly, but knew Jeremy had no more patience for the topic. Stone slumped into his seat, mentally and physically spent.
The men made it safely back within the walls of Jeremy’s downstairs apartment and the sky’s inky darkness began to fade. The aroma of freshly made waffles, cinnamon rolls, eggs, and hash browns wafted through the space; it was exactly the breakfast Donald had imagined a few hours earlier. Stone’s stomach clenched and turned with pent up anxiety, but finally relaxed with relief as he swallowed the delicious food. The savory tastes, mixed with the sweet, melted in his mouth. It was just the thing he needed -- hell, it was what everyone else needed too -- after such a long, exhausting night.
Stone surprised himself, thinking about the food and actually enjoying it after all that they’d done. Donald thought of food, but he didn’t think he would have actually been hungry. He believed the appetite would dissipate after rigging up explosives and meeting the guard, his first victim, but he was just as hungry as he’d ever been. They all sat together in the dining room, passing food to one another and discussing what they did and what was to come with growing excitement. Outside, the light grew ever brighter.
“Debra,” Francis turned, looking over his shoulder, “turn the tele on, if you don’t mind!”
“News?”
“But of course!” The Frenchman’s laugh was muted as he stuffed his face with a monstrous bite of cinnamon roll, getting its creamy icing all matted within his mustache.
Apparently, the ritual involved coming back to the apartment, eating, and waiting for the news to break. The men made bets about how long it would take -- three minutes, ten, thirty -- but they had never done a job on such a large scale before, so really had no idea. Times before this, their missions were localized jobs: a small bomb here, one there, vandalism of a STORK clinic, and other smaller acts. But this time it was very different. This time they had taken part in a coast-to-coast planned event that ticked closer and closer to its hour of fruition.
“What time is it set to happen?” Stone could not, for the life of him, remember the details. His mind swarmed with opinions and emotions that had never traversed his imagination before, making it difficult for him to retain anything of the mission’s specifics.
“Damn, boy! If I have to say this once more, I swear I’m going to wring your neck!” Eddie shouted across the overcrowded glass-topped table shaking his head, “The fireworks start at eight thirty our time. Eight-thirty, you hear?” He then repeated the time once more very slowly, in a caveman’s articulation, “Eiigghhhht-thuuuurtyyy.”
It was two hours away and Stone couldn’t believe the amount of time that had elapsed from the moment he packed the van. Just minutes before he perceived it as a long night, but now, now it seemed short as the time for the bombs to detonate approached. He glanced over at Debra, as she sipped from her mug upon the couch, wrapped in a blanket and speaking to Nelson. Stone very much desired to be alone with her, for all the noise and other men to vanish. She appeared so comfy, her hair wrapped in a tight bun with strands of loose hair tucked neatly behind her ears. She blew the steam off of the coffee as she drank, her lips looking so full and beautiful as she did. There she sat, oblivious to his gaze, asking Nelson of statuses and ensuring there were no irregularities.
Stone wanted to feel the softness of her sweater, he wanted the comfort of her warmth and the aroma of her perfume in his immediate presence. He stood from the table and cleaned his dishes of all sticky residue and crumbs in the sink with scorching hot water. Once he finished, he joined Debra on the couch, but not too closely, not as close as he wanted.
“Are you nervous?”
“Not really. Just sort of tired. Wish I could nap at least.”
“Get yourself some coffee!”
“I’ve had some. Sometimes I feel like it just makes me more tired.”
“Weird.”
Jeremy and Clement stood from the table after eating and stepped outside, leaving their dishes behind uncleaned. Stone imagined Jeremy was about to lay into the misbehaved man as he promised he’d do earlier. A few more moments passed and Eddie took leave from the table to speak to his mother. Francis went to check in on his brother to see how he fared after being a target of Jeremy’s wrath.
…
Debra looked up from her mug and almost whispered, “What is it, Stoney?”
“Do you ever feel bad for them?”
“Them?”
“You know,” Stone looked to make sure no one else was listening, scratching his shaved head with his chewed nails, “do you ever feel bad for the people that die?”
“Of course. Worst part of the job,” she replied, frowning.
“I’m just…I don’t know.”
“I don’t mind, just say it.”
“I don’t know…I mean…sometimes,” the antique analog clock upon the wall ticked forward, “I feel like we aren’t attacking the right people.”
“It’s not up to us.”
That answer came from the part of Debra that he couldn’t understand. He didn’t think she belonged in such a place, a den of savages and warriors. She was not simply sweet and caring, she was those things for sure, but she was also hardened to the reality of life. She lived in a twisted existence and Stone didn’t think a flower of such beauty deserved to live entangled, smothered out by the weeds she allowed to grow around her. How, why, what she was really doing there, he couldn't understand. She was the main reason that he never ran from it. Every time he thought he might cut and run, he remembered her and thought that as long as she was there, being a Zealot must come with some well-hidden virtue.
“I just feel like as time goes on, I find myself not fighting the things I thought I hated -- the things I signed on to fight.”
“You don’t hate STORK? They’re forcing women to abort their babies?”
“I mean, the majority of those women are choosing to do that, are they not?”
“I’m shocked, really Stone.” She plopped her mug down and looked at him with confusion. “You can’t believe the propaganda. Those women they interview are either soulless or they’re paid actresses. Most of these women going to clinics are being forced to do so. The pressure of Unity’s compliance requirements and society’s empty promises are shoveling them into the furnaces as we speak.” She raised her voice and Nelson hid behind his couch on the screen in front of them, “I hate STORK with everything in my being. Disgusting. For so many reasons, it’s sickening, and no one except us seems to care. They’ve all been blinded, reprogrammed, and tied down.”
“Well, I guess I’m really more concerned with the women who don’t want to be there. They’re going to die for doing something they didn’t want to do in the first place. How is that right?”
“The world is often grey. It’s rarely ever black and white, but we have to choose this or that. The world wouldn’t be the mess it is if things were always so simple.” Debra thought for a moment, “Did you see that story about the woman who went to the clinic freely? The story about the father?”
“No, what are you talking about?”
“The other day a woman went to a clinic, against her lover’s wishes. The father of the child tried to stop her. He screamed and begged and slammed his fists against the door to the clinic. He shouted, ‘Please don’t kill our baby, please! Please honey, don’t let them kill my baby!’ They just had him carried away in a cop car as if he was the crazy one.”
“That’s sad.”
“Yes, it’s sad.” Her eyes flared, “It’s evil…and it’s an evil that must end.”
“I just want Unity destroyed. He’s the root of it all anyway. Why can’t we j
ust destroy him?”
"You only say that because you think it's easier. No innocents, but there're innocents in every battle. It’s a chaotic world out there, you gotta be tough. Also, Unity runs the show, but it’s the people that allow it. They’re all compliant to his terrors.”
Her words were even more comforting to Stone than Jeremy’s. She made an even more convincing argument than he had, something Stone didn’t expect. He halfway expected that when he told her of his misgivings, she would jump up and run away with him, but it wasn’t so. She only persuaded him further that it was he who was wrong. Stone was over-emotional, soft, and not hardened like Debra. Even with the perspective he gained from her reasoning, he still couldn’t fully come to grips with what they had done. His stomach wrenched itself into knots.
…
One hour. The hands on the clock seemed to not only twist along the numbers, but they also seemed to skip forward, jumping from single digits to doubles rapidly as the time approached and the sunlight flooded into the ceiling-high windows. Stone’s frayed nerves came back to clutch at him once again, along with a dose of self-loathing that made him wonder if he was the crazy one. Everyone around him seemed excited as they restlessly waited for Nelson’s announcement, followed by the headlines. It was as if they were bringing in the new year, complete with all of the celebration, but without the silly glasses and sparklers. He didn’t share their enthusiasm. No part of him felt the thrill the others seemed to feel. Even his smile was fake, a façade stuck in place unmoved and unaffected by the others.
"I've got the champagne and OJ ready!" Eddie shouted as he brought the glasses out of the cabinet, dancing.
“Go ahead and pop the top off,” Jeremy suggested, “no one’s going to want to fool with it once eight-thirty rolls around.”
Stone looked and examined the branding along his forearm. The crosses were exceptionally smooth, which caused them to shimmer as they caught the sunlight. He wondered where his family was at that very moment, whether or not they had actually left yet. He desired nothing other than to see them and enjoy their company: Maria’s laughter, Cole’s silly theories, even Michael’s debates seemed more appealing than the demons surrounding him. Stone didn't truly believe that the Zealots were all that bad. Even still, his biggest problem was that they offered him no privilege of sympathy. They simply didn't think the same way.
Sowing Season Page 23
