Battle Cry (Freedom/Hate Series, Book 4)

by Kyle Andrews

  “I don't want to shoot at pictures,” Collin replied, turning away from the portrait and walking toward the front desk.

  Kenny rushed to catch up and dropped his smile. With nothing but seriousness in his voice, Kenny said, “I wasn't talking about the portrait.”

  Collin stopped walking and looked Kenny in the eye.

  “We have him,” Kenny told Collin. “We have that son of a bitch locked up. People are lining up to take their shots at him, but Aaron turned them all down.”

  “Aaron's here?”

  “Mek talked to him on the phone a little while ago. He's on is way,” Kenny explained. “But Aaron did say that you have authorization. You get to see Northfolk. You get to do whatever you want to him. If you're interested, I mean.”

  “I'm interested,” Collin replied, without a moment of thought.

  Kenny's smile returned and he said, “Come with me.”

  He led Collin through the building, to a long, dark hallway. There was a door labeled 'Interrogation 1' which Collin stood in front of. He stared at the letters on that label, imagining the room behind the door.

  There were several Freedom soldiers guarding that floor, and Collin could feel all of their eyes on him. They were waiting for him to go inside. Undoubtedly there would be people watching his interaction with the Mayor from the observation room. He wasn't interested in putting on a show, but what choice did he have?

  “We have people at the controls. Just tell them what you want them to do once you're in there,” Kenny instructed. “Good luck, man.”

  Kenny stepped back, waiting for Collin to enter the room, but it took Collin a few moments to build up the nerve. He wasn't concerned about seeing the man who had intended to kill him all those years earlier. He was more concerned with the room itself.

  During his time as a prisoner of HAND, Collin hadn't seen many faces. That room became his world. In his mind, it felt like a living thing, capable of great horrors. Going through that door was like walking into a wolf's mouth.

  He pushed those thoughts aside. Freedom was at the controls now. He had to remind himself of that. He had to stop feeling as though he would be tortured when he went through the door.

  Collin was very aware of each scar on his body. They itched and throbbed. Understanding that their reaction was the product of his own mind and nothing physical happening to him didn't do much to help the situation. He could be as logical and reasonable as any man had ever been, but that wouldn't change anything. His reaction to that place came from a deep, dark part of his brain that functioned on instinct alone.

  He pushed open the door and stepped inside. As soon as the door was closed behind him, Collin stood in complete darkness.

  The smell of the room caused a flood of memories to rush through Collin's mind—pain, screaming, hopelessness, fear—but he tried to hold them back. He took a step forward.

  “Who's there?” came the familiar voice of the Mayor. He was trying to sound strong and maintain his authority, but he was failing. The fear in his voice was obvious.

  Collin didn't respond right away. He took another step forward, allowing the Mayor to hear his footsteps and know that he was getting closer.

  “I demand to be released!” the Mayor called out. “I have rights!”

  “Do you?” Collin responded, in a voice so quiet that it was barely a whisper, yet it carried through the darkness remarkably well. “You are a prisoner of Freedom. Your life belongs to us now. I wonder... How does that make you feel?”

  “You can't intimidate me.”

  “I do intimidate you. Right now, your heart is pounding in your chest. Your palms are sweating. I can hear how dry your mouth is every time you speak.”

  “You will all die for this.”

  “You have no authority here, Mayor. You have been abandoned by your superiors. The Governor fled in a helicopter. Were you invited to join him?”

  There was no response, but Collin could hear the Mayor's breath. He could tell that the man was scared, and he enjoyed that fact.

  Collin took another step forward and said, “Do you know who I am?”

  “You are a rebel. A terrorist.”

  “No, I disagree. I am a loyalist,” Collin declared. “I am loyal to the country that your people overthrew. I am loyal to the rights of the citizens. I am loyal to the idea that each and every human being is born equal, and with inalienable rights that you have no authority to take from them.”

  “Save me the propaganda. Just kill me and be done with it.”

  Collin ignored the Mayor's words and continued, “What is a terrorist? It's someone who thrives on fear. Who takes what isn't theirs and tries to make their victims believe that they are helpless to stop it.”

  “Please,” Northfolk said, and Collin could practically hear the man rolling his eyes.

  “I didn't build this room. You did. I have never enjoyed the idea of making people suffer in agony for weeks or months at a time. Do you know what it feels like to be cut into and subjected to the torture of this room, Mr. Mayor? Because I do.”

  Collin walked deeper into the room and called out, “Lights!”

  The lights in the room came on and the Mayor recoiled at the sudden brightness, but Collin stood over him and looked the man in the eyes, waiting for them to adjust and for the Mayor to see his face.

  Realization washed over the Mayor when he saw Collin, and he actually looked amused. He said, “So, what is this? Revenge?”

  “This is justice!” Collin declared.

  He couldn't help it. As Collin stood there, looking down at the Mayor who was stretched out on the same table that Collin had been tortured on—or one exactly like it—Collin felt the imaginary Liz standing behind him.

  He closed his eyes and tried to shake off the specter of his former girlfriend, reminding himself that it wasn't really her and she wasn't really there. Liz was alive somewhere. This thing behind him was a figment of his own imagination. It was something that he thought he had gotten past years earlier, but being in that room brought it all back to him.

  It was as though she had been waiting for him to return. Now she was standing there, in a beautiful gray pencil skirt and deep red lipstick, like something out of an old movie. She leaned against the wall, watching Collin. If he turned to look at her, she wouldn't be there, so he didn't even bother.

  He tried to push the feeling of her aside and opened his eyes to look at the Mayor once again.

  “How many people have you dragged into this room?” he asked the man on the table.

  “I've lost count,” the Mayor replied defiantly, without a hint of remorse.

  “How many deaths have you been responsible for?”

  “This year, or in total?”

  “How would you feel if I turned up the dial on your pain?”

  The Mayor smiled and said, “You don't have the ability. I don't have any implants.”

  Leaning down, Collin grabbed the Mayor's index finger and said, “That just means that I won't be able to turn it back down.”

  With a twist, Collin broke the man's finger. The crunch of it sickened Collin, but he kept a straight face as he watched the Mayor scream in pain.

  Once the Mayor stopped screaming, Collin said, “One finger. Imagine your entire body feeling that surge of pain. Imagine feeling it over and over again, whenever your invisible torturer saw fit. Imagine going weeks without sleep because every time you begin to doze off, your dial is turned up. That pain becomes your entire universe.”

  Imaginary Liz pushed off of the wall and walked closer to Collin. She stood behind him, looking over his shoulder, waiting for his next move. Was she eager to see what came next, or was she disappointed in the fact that Collin enjoyed making Northfolk suffer? He didn't know.

  “Are you trying to scare me?” the Mayor asked.

  “No. I am trying to educate you.”

  “If you're going to do it, just do it. I won't tell you anything.”

  “I don't care what you tell
us. That's not my department,” Collin assured the Mayor. “I just wanted you to feel a fraction of the torment that you have inflicted on others. I wanted you to fully understand what it was that you did to them. And even now, I don't believe that you do understand. What can I do? How can I make you realize that you are the terrorist? You are the usurper.”

  “You're giving me a lot of credit.”

  “You shouldn't joke.”

  “Just. Kill. Me.”

  Collin walked away from the Mayor and looked up to the glass that separated the observation area from the interrogation room. He had never seen the inside of the observation area, but he had always imagined that it was like a big control center, with computers and dials, all working to make their victim suffer as much as humanly possible.

  There must have been a dozen or more people watching him speak to the Mayor. He wondered what they would think of his methods. He wondered what they would want him to do next. Most would probably want the same thing that the Mayor wanted. If the tables were turned and he were given a second chance, the Mayor would undoubtedly kill Collin without a second thought.

  As much as he would have loved to believe that he was above that sort of thing, Collin wanted the Mayor to die. He believed that the Mayor deserved to die. Keeping him alive would serve no purpose.

  He considered his options. He thought about the many ways that he could do what he wanted to do. He thought about which of those options would put on the best show for the crowd.

  Then, Collin turned back to the Mayor and said, “'In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and district wherein the crime shall have been committed, which district shall have been previously ascertained by law, and to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him...'”

  He leaned down closer to the Mayor's face and smirked as he said, “We can do that.”

  The Mayor snorted, trying to sound amused by the whole thing, but he had no snarky comebacks.

  Collin stood straight and said, “Leslie Northfolk, you are accused of committing acts of terror against the people of this city. Of impeding the rights of the citizens, granted to them by their creator, and defended by the Constitution of the United States of America. You are accused of the murder of countless individuals, and the torture of others. This is the nature of your accusation. I am the witness. And the entire city is your jury.”

  Collin turned and walked toward the door.

  “What is this?” the Mayor asked. Collin ignored him and walked out of the room. As the door closed behind him and the lights were once again shut off, the Mayor screamed, “WHAT IS THIS?!”

  51

  “You could have killed him,” Kenny said to Collin, once they were in the elevator and away from all of the people who were filling the hallway outside of the interrogation room when Collin walked out.

  They had all been silent. Nobody said a word to Collin about what he said to the Mayor. They neither showed support for him, nor outrage. Instead, it was as though they had never considered the idea of a trial before. It was not something that was done often by the authorities, and when it was, it was usually just for entertainment purposes.

  But the authorities were gone now, and the way of life in their city needed to change. Collin wanted to kill the Mayor, and he still hoped that the man would be sentenced to death, but he was not going to live with that decision on his shoulders. If it were done, it needed to be done for the right reasons, at the right time. Not as an act of revenge, but as a message to the authorities and to the world. Freedom needed to prove that they were not just another group of animals, fighting and killing as they saw fit. There needed to be a system in place. There needed to be protocol. If Collin had killed the Mayor, he could have pushed the city toward a way of life that none of them wanted.

  He had made it his life's work to spread the message of Freedom to the people of the city, and sometimes actions spoke louder than words.

  The figment of Liz didn't leave the interrogation room with Collin. If she were still there, she was the Mayor's problem now.

  Collin didn't explain himself to Kenny, but as they rode the elevator toward the thirteenth floor, Kenny seemed to put it together. He was used to working with Collin and knew when to stop and think about the actions that Collin was taking. He was remarkably good at finding the hidden meaning in Collin's actions. So good that he sometimes found meaning that Collin never even intended to imply.

  It had been a long day. The sun would be going down soon. Collin just wanted to find the people that he cared about, make sure that they were safe and sound, and then find a quiet corner of the city to collapse in. He didn't plan on waking up for days, though he suspected that he would probably get less downtime than he preferred.

  For some reason, when he thought about that quiet corner of the city, his mind went back to Sophia Talbot's apartment, where he had hidden from the authorities while being hunted. It was his last taste of the outside world and he would have loved to go back, if only to visit for a little while and see the look on that woman's face on the day that the city was taken by Freedom.

  He smiled at the thought, but he knew that it was impossible. Sophia had been dead for years.

  The elevator doors opened onto the thirteenth floor and Collin walked with Kenny toward the command center. The thirteenth floor was quite impressive. Images of wanted fugitives and video from street cameras were splashed all over the walls, along with weather forecasts and traffic reports. He'd never seen anything like it before, so needlessly high-tech.

  They walked into the command center and Collin scanned the room for Dor, Mek or Tracy. Of the three, he only saw Tracy. When their eyes met, she started to walk toward him with a look on her face that made his stomach turn.

  She had blood all over her shirt, and Collin could see the white of a bandage through a hole. He looked from the wound, back to all of the scrapes and bruises on her face, assessing her injuries as she approached.

  Though he was concerned for Tracy, his mind went to all of the other people that he knew, but hadn't seen since the battle began. Not just Dor and Mek, but his entire staff and all of the people that he worked with on the paper. In that moment, all Collin could think about were all of the people that he knew who might be dead.

  “First of all, I want to say that Dor's safe. She was here. I saw her. She is fine,” Tracy told him, and then she hesitated. She didn't want to tell him whatever needed to be said.

  “Tracy, what happened?” Collin asked, feeling as though his heart would explode if she didn't just say it.

  Instead of telling Collin anything, Tracy reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. She handed it to Collin, and he looked down at it, seeing his own name, written in Dor's handwriting.

  Why would she be writing him a note? Why wouldn't she just find him and tell him whatever she needed to say? It didn't make sense to him. So, he opened her letter and he read it.

  ҂

  Dear Collin,

  We did it! I can't believe that we pulled it off. And even more than that, I can't believe that I won't be there to see your face on the day when we retook the city. I'm sorry about that.

  I don't have a lot of time to tell you everything that I've seen and everything that needs to be said about this day. I gave Tracy the SD card from my camera, so you can get an idea of what I've witnessed. Don't worry, I have another one and I will make sure that I come back with a ton of stories for the paper.

  The thing is that by the time you read this, I might not even be in the city anymore. One of Mek's people was arrested before the fight, and he was put on a train with a lot of other prisoners. They were sent to a reprogramming facility. Mek and his people are going to take some of the HAND vehicles from the garage and track down the train. They're going to rescue those prisoners, and as many more people as they can find. Collin, this is huge. I know that yo
u'll understand that this needed to be documented. People need to know what happens to our people when they're taken away.

  I also know that you'll worry. I can't help that. But you taught me to be a reporter and to tell people the truth. You taught me that information like this is worth putting our lives on the line for.

  I will be careful, but if I let them go without me, I wouldn't be the person that either one of us wants me to be.

  I love you, Brother Bear. And I will see you soon. I promise.

  Dor

  ҂

  Collin read the letter, but wasn't sure how he was supposed to react to it. On the one hand, she was right. This was the job. But on the other hand, he had spent years protecting Dor. Was he supposed to be proud of her? Was he supposed to be angry?

  “When did they leave?” he asked Tracy, as calmly as he possibly could.

  “A couple of hours ago,” Tracy replied. She was waiting for Collin to react, but he wasn't quite there yet. “I would have gone but...”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I'm fine. I just won't be doing any soldiering for a while.”

  Collin nodded and said, “That's probably best for us all.”

  There was a metal folding chair nearby, which was completely out of place inside of the HAND command center. Collin walked to that chair and put a hand on the back of it, but he couldn't bring himself to sit down.

  It never ended. No matter how hard he fought, there would never be an end to the fear and the worry. There would never be a day when he would be able to close his eyes and just rest without having a hundred thoughts running through his mind.

  How could Mek have allowed Dor to go on a rescue mission outside of the city? How could they have left without seeing Collin first? How could they have gone without discussing the plan with Aaron and organizing their approach?

  Collin was tired. He was angry, and sick, and stressed out beyond his breaking point. He only realized this as he was slamming that folding chair into the ground repeatedly, while everyone else in the room stood back and watched.