CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Barbara was already home, watching a TV game show called "Know Your Bible", when Davidson walked through the door. She sprang off the couch and charged towards him, pleasure and annoyance wrestling for control of her face. "Darling, you killed some FA fighters and won a big medal. I saw that on the evening news. Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you invite me to the ceremony?"
A polite kiss. "I'm sorry. It happened very fast. One minute I was involved in a fire-fight at the CDC; the next I was dragged off to the Palace to be awarded a medal. It was a big public relation exercise. If you've got a complaint, take it up with the Chancellor."
She frowned and bit her lip. "Have you got your medal with you?"
He fished it out of his pocket and handed it over. She studied it closely - both sides - as if making sure it was real, and smiled. "It's beautiful. I'm so proud of you."
"Thank you."
She took his hand and got him to sit with her on the couch. "Now, tell me what happened this morning."
He briefly described the attack on the CDC without mentioning his discovery that Helen Watkin was a traitor. Like the Chancellor, Barbara expressed great delight whenever he described shooting a Freedom Alliance fighter. When he finished, she frowned. "The Chancellor said you shot six terrorists."
"I only shot three. He was gilding the lily."
Her scowl impaired her beauty. "He wouldn't do that."
As usual, her black-and-white view of the world annoyed him. It would be nice if, just once, she stopped believing everything the Chancellor said or parroting the latest slogans from the Office of Information. Still, he didn't want a fight. "You're right. He must have got confused. He asked me what happened at the CDC. I said I shot three and he must have heard six."
"Well, I suppose that could happen. Anyway, I'm proud that you killed some FA fighters, even if only three. They're scum - disease-carrying vermin - like the Chancellor said."
He suppressed a sigh. "Of course."
"So you met Chancellor and kissed his ring of office?"
"Of course."
"Then you talked to him?"
"Like I said, I told him what happened."
"What was he like?"
A short, fat liar. "Very impressive. The City is in good hands."
"I know that."
Barbara spent the rest of the evening praising his bravery and proudly fondling his medal. After dinner, they sat in front of the television and watched the first game of the World Series between the Sector 7 Braves and Sector 2 Yankees. Between innings, Barbara pulled out a piece of red paper and started folding it.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm teaching the kids how to do origami tomorrow morning." She spent a couple of minutes creasing and folding the piece of paper until she had a little object which she held up. "What do you think?"
"Excellent."
She looked suspicious. "What is it?"
He took a wild guess. "Umm, a horse."
She smiled. "Well done."
Later, in bed, she cuddled up and kept whispering how proud she was. Their sex relieved his tension, without providing joy.
After switching off the light, he lay on his back and stared into the darkness, pondering the day's events. When the FA fighters confronted him, he reacted like a cornered animal. Now he regretted shooting them and felt deep remorse.
He couldn't point to a particular time when he lost his faith in God and the Chancellor. For a long time, he thought he was an honorable soldier fighting for a just cause. When he performed dirty deeds, the ends justified the means because he was defending the ark of civilization. However, he now realized he was fighting on the wrong side. The Chancellor maintained power by terrorizing his own citizens and massacring Outlaws. No just God would allow such acts to be performed in his name.
The medal ceremony that morning crystallized his discontent. After listening to the Chancellor lie and dissemble, Davidson realized he had killed and interrogated Freedom Alliance fighters with much finer characters than the Chancellor's. The cause they fought for was not perfect, but much better than his.
He had already killed too many people for the Chancellor. He would not kill another. Nor would he arrest or interrogate for him. He would feign loyalty, but the moment an opportunity arrived to help the Alliance and wash some blood off his hands, he would seize it.
He felt a strange joy. A tear ran down his cheek. He brushed it off and realized that, for the first time in his life, he felt free.
Webster City Page 13
