Rebels & Lies (Rebels & Lies Trilogy Book 1)

by Cotton, Brian

  With both hands, Kaspar raised the PSD and began to slam the stock into the wall behind him as hard as he could. He started to shout incoherent obscenities as the stock tore through the drywall. Tears started to run down his red cheeks as he continued his assault.

  Krys freed herself from Kilbourne and ran towards the kitchen. She approached Kaspar, who did not see her in the midst of his outburst. He slammed the stock into the wall one last time. He let loose of his grip and the gun dangled in the hole at first before it crashed to the ground. Kaspar leaned his back against the wall and slid down as his legs gave way. Once his ass hit the floor, he buried his face into his gloved hands.

  When Krys sat beside him no words were said. Not even the feeling of her arm around his neck could erase his anger. He moved his still red face from his hands. Tears, more from his anger than sadness, leaked from his eyes. Krys reached up with her index finger and wiped them away. She inched closer and rested her head on his shoulders. Kaspar moved his arm up and hung it over her shoulder.

  A loud banging noise from the back of the house caused the two to jump and focus their attention that way. Paxton and Clarke walked through the kitchen. Clarke’s eyes became fixated to holes that Kaspar created in the wall. Paxton looked down and motioned for Krys to step away. She did, walking back into the living room. The old veteran knelt down and looked his young recruit square in the eye.

  “Ryan,” Paxton said, “pull yourself together.”

  “Don’t you tell me that,” Kaspar replied.

  “Blaming yourself is not going to bring them back.”

  “Nothing can bring them back…but, I could have saved them.”

  “Step into the briefing room with me.”

  Paxton reached down and gripped Kaspar’s hand. He jerked upward to help Kaspar to his feet. Once on his feet, Kaspar wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his jumpsuit. The two walked to the briefing room then took seats opposite each other. Questions ran through Kaspar’s mind. The answers would most likely elude him for the rest of his days. Why did this have to happen? Why couldn’t a family just live in peace? Why…

  “How are you feeling?” Paxton asked. He knew the answer.

  “Like shit.” Kaspar replied.

  “I figured as much. Listen, you have to pull yourself together. This will not be the last time you see something horrible like that.”

  “What was it like?” Kaspar wondered. He had to know what he was fighting for. “Before the USR, I mean.”

  Paxton shrugged, “It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, but we did okay. We had our freedoms, our liberties. If you thought the president was an asshole, you could say so publicly. Nobody arrested you, tortured you, or shot you dead because of it.”

  “Did this kind of thing happen?”

  “No, the police back then, they protected and served like they are supposed to. If you were accused of a crime, you got yourself a fair trial. The Andersons…well, they just got executed.”

  Kaspar thought about what Paxton had just told him. He spoke of freedoms and liberties, but what did that really mean? Those words were foreign to him. Not even Mother taught him about that, even though she had experienced them at one point in her life. Kaspar reasoned that, perhaps, she did not want to teach them to her son because she knew he would never experience it himself.

  She must have been right. He had never felt free at any point in his life. Not even now, even though he was what Paxton would call a freedom fighter. He was forced to join them so that he could avenge Mother. Now, he would be forced to stay the course to prevent any further tragedies like the one tonight to happen again. When would it end?

  “I can see why you fight so hard, now.” Kaspar remarked.

  “If you lived during the reign of the US of A, you would feel the same. That scene you saw, that little girl dying in your arms, that’s why I fight. That’s why, if I have a USR Agent in my sights, I shoot to fucking kill.”

  “What happened?”

  “We…” Paxton paused and cleared his throat. “Lost sight of our ideals…our principles. We got so spoiled with our freedoms that we got lazy. Then, the government got reckless and started spending and borrowing untold amounts of money. They borrowed so much that there was no way for them to pay it back. That was when things started to change. Slowly, the USR stepped in.”

  “How?”

  “The government knew that they had to pay back their debt, even if it seemed insurmountable, or else they would lose their power and influence. They started to garnish wages to pay it back. Printing money at such a fast scale that the dollar became nearly worthless, which is why we have what they call credits now. People began to speak out against it, violent riots ensued. That’s when they took away our freedoms of speech…our free will…everything. Eventually, a new kind of consciousness began to form. What you see now, that’s years and years of conditioning through fear. By the time you were old enough to remember, what we called the Constitution was already invalidated.”

  “What did you do? I mean, after everything started to go downhill.”

  “I joined a local militia. It was small, filled with war vets like myself who could see what was happening. We fought back against the military like police force…but then…Randi…”

  Paxton paused and Kaspar looked away. His leader had never talked this openly about himself before. Kaspar finally began to understand the man, even if just a little. He understood now how Paxton could have turned into the hardened man that he was today. The pain and guilt the old man felt every day must have driven him to it. Kaspar finally realized what had happened during that interrogation of Forte…those eyes after the Agent was put down. He had become a hardened killer, with nothing else to live for except the destruction of the evil USR.

  A realization came with the understanding: Kaspar would have to become Paxton in order to see justice through. Not just for Mother, not any longer. That was something that Krys failed to realize. There could be no prisoners, no stones left unturned. The USR, they didn’t play by anyone’s rules but their own. Why shouldn’t those who resisted take the same approach?

  “I’m sorry, John.” Kaspar said.

  “You don’t need to apologize to me.”

  “I can see why you hate politicians now.”

  “Damn hypocrites…” Paxton said. “That man, Forte, do you think I did the right thing with him?”

  Kaspar took a moment to ponder the question. He remembered what Krys told him, about how they were fighting against the very thing that Paxton did to the Agent. The Agent was tortured and killed, but they were able to extract vital intelligence from him. If only they had been faster…

  “Damn straight you did.” Kaspar replied.

  Paxton rested his head into his palms. “I’m not proud of it. I can never look Krys in the eye after I do it. She’s right, you know, it is wrong.”

  “Then why do you do it?”

  “For that family,” Paxton said. He raised his head. A look of determination was the only expression to be found. “We were late tonight, but for any other family out there…that’s why. I know it’s not right. I’ll eventually answer for it in this life…or the next. I will never be sorry for it, though.”

  Kaspar reached and patted Paxton’s arm. “These USR nut jobs are nothing but pure evil. What you did to Forte is not something you should feel guilty about. He deserved it. All of those Agents out there, they deserve it, too. They deserve anything they got coming. Anything you or I do to them.”

  “I hope you are right,” Paxton replied. “I really do. But, something deep inside of me tells me you’re not. Tell me something, though.”

  “What?”

  “Is revenge still the only thing that drives you, even after tonight?”

  Kaspar looked down at the yellow fabric. “My eyes were opened. I’ll be honest, before tonight that was all that I cared about. But, seeing that little girl…”

  “Don’t you ever forget her.” Paxton interrupted. “I know it’s
hard, but you keep that memory in your head. Little children like that need to grow up in a world where they don’t fear their government, but work alongside it.”

  “Trust me. I could never forget something like that.”

  “I know that my father, and his father before him, didn’t fight in all those wars just so this could happen. They fought and died for this country. And, God as my witness, I will fight until I die.”

  “I hear you. I just wish I could understand you better.”

  “You will, someday. Why don’t you try and get some sleep?”

  Kaspar stood and gave a nod to Paxton who nodded back. Kaspar started to walk but stopped and turned. The old war machine didn’t look like himself any longer. He just stared off into the distance. Was this the real John Paxton? Kaspar shook his head then turned and walked out.

  Everyone else seemed to have scurried off to their beds. Only Clarke remained in the deserted living room. He sat on the couch and typed away at his laptop at a furious pace. Kaspar sat down on the couch opposite him. He watched for a few moments. Clarke seemed so fixated on his computer screen he didn’t notice there was someone else there.

  “What are you up to?” Kaspar asked.

  “I was just sent something,” Clarke replied, eyes still focused on the screen in front. “Something big, I just can’t access the USR’s main frame to see it just yet.”

  “Who sent it to you?”

  “Someone from The Committee.”

  “Did they mention at all what it was about?”

  “No, just that they found something that should be considered urgent. I just…can’t get into their Goddamn systems.”

  “Robert, get a grip.”

  “That’s funny,” Clarke said. His eyes finally met Kaspar’s. “Coming from you, the man who tore a hole in our wall.”

  “Hey, you don’t know what’s like, okay? You don’t know what it’s like to see families get gunned down right in front of you, when you have the ability to stop it, but are just too slow.”

  “And, you don’t know what’s like to be forced to stay behind and watch it all unfold through a computer monitor. If you want to cry about feeling helpless, don’t bring it here.”

  “That’s awful tough talk coming from a computer whizz.”

  “Call me what you want, but I’m busy right now. Good night.”

  Kaspar said nothing as he stood and walked up the stairs in slow steps. He was spent emotionally and physically. Once inside his bedroom he stripped down to his boxers. He lay down on the bed, which never felt more comfortable, and his mind raced as he shut his eyes.

  Within seconds, he succumbed to sleep.

  Thirty-Six

  “Our great society was shown another glimpse into the lawless, ruthless nature of the resistance today.” Consul Williamson said into the microphone in front of him. “These radicals who fight with such tactics are only proving to everyone the reason why the ones before us failed in the first place.”

  Behind the Consul stood the apartment building where the latest incident with the resistance took place. A female correspondent moved slowly, the building behind her, and talked about the shootout. How the resistance moved in on a family whose only crime was their devout support of their government.

  “Now,” the reporter said, dread in her eyes, “the innocent civilians who have fallen prey to these ruthless killers live in fear of what will happen next. Will you or your family be next?”

  The camera cut to an angry middle-aged man. He held a sign that showed his full support of the USR and its leaders.

  “The killing must stop,” he cried into the camera. “If I have any say in it, I will personally take out each and every one of these terrorists.”

  “I don’t understand,” another female citizen said into the microphone. “Why can’t they just accept that the world has moved on? They are only causing more pain and suffering for their own little crusade.”

  “We don’t want them, we don’t need them, just go.”

  ***

  Sullivan stood in Captain Fitzpatrick’s office with sweat beading on his forehead. Consul Williamson stood next to Sullivan’s boss behind the shined oak desk. They had not given him permission to sit, yet. The fact that the Consul decided to show his face today meant nothing but bad things to come. Sullivan continued to press the ice pack to the fresh stitches on the side of his head. Williamson leaned over and whispered something into Fitzpatrick’s ear. The Captain merely nodded his head at everything whispered to him.

  The inescapable was coming. Sullivan knew that he was about to be reprimanded for disobeying a direct order, but he was so close. He would take whatever punishment they would give him at this point. The only fear he had was soon pushed away. There would be a good chance that the Consul was here to take Sullivan’s badge from him. If he did, then so be it, Sullivan thought. He would bring down the resistance on his own time.

  “Have a seat, Mr. Sullivan.” Williamson said.

  Sullivan obeyed. He pulled one of the chairs in front of him back and sat down.

  Williamson continued, “I’ve been here with your Captain all morning trying to figure out what is going on in this department.”

  “Consul,” Fitzpatrick said, “we just need to sit down and calmly figure this thing out. Will over here is one of the USR’s very best. He was only doing what he thought was right.”

  “That’s right,” Williamson quipped. “Disobeying a direct order from a superior is ‘the right thing to do’. Thanks for the enlightenment.”

  Sullivan was reminded of why he never had any respect for the Consul. He would always come up with some smartass remark if anyone tried to reason with him. The reality was no match for the saint that Williamson made himself out to be on the television sets. He was loud, arrogant, and listened to no one’s voice, save his own.

  The Agent’s thoughts then shifted to Julie and his little Davie. Julie had been sick for a while now, but she still refused to seek medical care. Sure, if he got suspended or fired he could seek the resistance on his own, but how then could he afford his son’s education? Suddenly, that fear that he suppressed earlier came back to haunt him. He was sure now that this was no “talk”. It would be his termination.

  No, you cannot put your son through that.

  “Sir,” Sullivan blurted, “with all due respect, I nearly had one of those rebels before I was blindsided.”

  Williamson said nothing at first. Instead, he forced Fitzpatrick out of his chair and ordered him to sit down next to Sullivan. There was shame and embarrassment on the Captain’s face as he stood. Sullivan felt bad for his boss, but the greater part of his psyche feared for his own position at the moment. Fitzpatrick’s job security was not at risk here. He could get over the embarrassment later on today while he looked for another Agent to take Sullivan’s place.

  “Mr. Sullivan,” Williamson said once at Fitzpatrick’s chair, “just what were you thinking last night?”

  “I already told you,” Sullivan replied. “I was trying to apprehend a member of the resistance to bring him in for questioning. I nearly succeeded…”

  “That’s what makes the USR so great, isn’t it? Nearly succeeding? I’ll tell you something you did succeed at: disobeying your damn orders! Acting like one of those citizens out there would act is not why you are a detective in this department! You are supposed to be above that.”

  “I was only doing my job, sir. What I was hired to do.”

  “Your job is to obey orders, is that understood?”

  Sullivan leaned forward. “The resistance is wreaking havoc out there, sir. You just spoke about it earlier this morning. Something has to be done about them, sir, and I’m trying my best.”

  “The resistance is for the big fish. You just remember you’re nothing but a flounder in this pond.”

  “Sir,” Fitzpatrick interjected, “if I may.”

  “Go on, Donald.”

  “Like I’ve been telling you, the detective here is one of m
y best men. He acted on impulse last night, that much is true, but he had his reasons. Reasons I believe are justified.”

  “You stand by his actions, then?” Williamson demanded.

  “To an extent, yes.”

  “Then, that doesn’t say much for your leadership skills, does it? Maybe you are the wrong man for this job.”

  “Sir…” Fitzpatrick started to get out.

  “Enough is enough. Agent Sullivan, you are on indefinite investigative leave while we try and sort this situation out.”

  “Sir, I’ve got a family to feed.” Sullivan pleaded.

  “Maybe you should have thought about that before you went rogue. But, don’t you worry your sorry little ass about it, it’s with pay.”

  Fitzpatrick sighed, “Sir, I believe that it is my call on who to suspend under my employ.”

  “My say supersedes yours!” Williamson cried. “So, unless you want a nice, fat suspension of your own, you will keep your mouth shut.”

  Sullivan wanted to say something further in his defense, but decided against it. There was no talking, much less reasoning, with a man like Williamson. You just say ‘yes, sir’ no matter how in the wrong he was. Maybe this could end up working out. He would at least still get a check for a couple of more weeks. It would give him more time with Julie to patch up their relationship, what little was left of it, anyway. Not to mention more time with Davie…

  He felt a vibrating sensation on his left thigh. Sullivan reached into his pocket for his black cell phone. The caller ID read “DR. RODGERS” in black letters against the blue indigo background. He looked up at Williamson who gave him permission via hand signal to step outside and take the call.

  “This is Will,” Sullivan said once outside.

  “Mr. Sullivan,” the female voice said through the ear piece, “have you got a moment?”