Rescuing Liberty: Perseverance Book 1

by Amanda Washington

  Crazy’s definitely accurate.

  Connor stuffed both bottles in his bag and bent down to fill another. “She never gave me the chance to explain. Every time I’d try, she’d stick her fingers in her ears and start singing.”

  Why am I telling her this? he wondered, but that didn’t stop his lips from flapping.

  “I’m just so … I don’t know what to do.” He twisted the plastic lid too tightly and it cracked. “Damn it!”

  Liberty’s stare was uncomfortably intense, like her wild green eyes were trying to penetrate his soul or something ridiculous like that. Then she whispered, “You cannot be rebuilt, until you are destroyed.”

  What the—? How can she—?

  The bottle slipped out of Connor’s hand. He reached for it, but just swatted it further away. It plopped into the water and the fast current swept it away. Disregarding the lost bottle, he stared at Liberty in disbelief, wondering how she could possibly know the words his brother had told him so many times. He had to have misheard her. “What did you just say?” he asked.

  She bit her lip and looked down into the water.

  Did she know Jacob? Is there some kind of book they get this crap out of?

  “Nothing. Never mind.” She handed him the last full bottle, stood and raised an eyebrow at him in question. “Why did you do it?” Connor opened his mouth to reply, but she interrupted him. “No. On second thought, you can explain it to both of us.”

  He let out an exasperated breath. “Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said? I’ve tried to talk to Ashley. She won’t listen.”

  “Then you haven’t tried hard enough.”

  There were so many thoughts jumbled in his mind that he couldn’t force any of them through his lips.

  Liberty rolled her eyes. “Eat with us. You get one chance to plead your case, counselor.” She narrowed her eyes. “And if you mess with me, or hurt that little girl, I swear I’ll cut out your spleen.”

  “Why my spleen?” Connor asked.

  “Because—” A vicious smile spread across her face. “You could live without it.”

  * * *

  By the time Connor replenished his water supply and washed up, the girls had the fire out and were ready to go. Ashley kept glaring in Connor’s direction, but Liberty seemed unaffected. She gave them each a fish and motioned for them to follow her.

  Crispy skin and flaky meat danced over Connor’s tongue as he walked beside Liberty. The crazy woman had selected the smallest fish for herself and finished it quickly. She handed the fourth fish to Ashley then licked her fingers clean. Ashley broke the fish and handed half of it back to Liberty.

  “You’re a good kid, Ash.” Liberty mussed up the girl’s hair. Ashley giggled and swatted her hand away, which turned into a wrestling match and ended with each wiping greasy hands on the other. Connor watched, wondering what had transpired to make them so chummy.

  Liberty split the remaining half of the fish, handing part of it to Connor.

  He looked over her bony figure. “Keep it. You need it worse than I do.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” She was paying more attention to Connor than where she was going and stumbled. Out of habit he reached for her, but she steadied herself and eyed his hand.

  “You’re nothing but skin and bones,” he answered.

  A smile spread across Liberty’s face that lit up her eyes and showed off her cheek bones. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me,” she replied. “Now take the damn thing. If I end up any more in your debt I’m going to throw myself from a cliff.”

  Connor chuckled and took the fish, afraid she’d shove it down his throat if he didn’t.

  * * *

  The trio walked in silence until the sky darkened. Connor had tried to get Ashley to hear him out for so long that he was oddly nervous about it. He wondered what he could say, and then questioned whether or not it would make a difference. No amount of talking would undo what he’d done, and he didn’t want to take the chance that the explanation would make things even worse between them. The unsaid words hung over their heads like a dark cloud; ominous and foreboding.

  “Look.” Liberty stopped and stood beside Connor. “I’m so not comfortable with this situation. We made a deal.” She crossed her arms. “Start talking.”

  He held up his arms in surrender, and then collapsed on the ground. “Okay, okay.”

  A bone-deep exhaustion overcame him, liquefying his body and mind. Liberty slunk down across from him looking just as tired. She pulled Ashley down next to her. The girl leaned against Liberty, looking everywhere except at Connor.

  He pulled up a handful of grass and broke the blades into small sections as he recounted the events that led up to the death of his brother. “Jacob was diagnosed with type-one diabetes when he was young. Since then, he’s been insulin dependent, but the doctors have never really been able to control his blood sugars. His levels spiked and plummeted often.”

  Liberty whispered to Ashley and the girl nodded.

  “We needed some clean clothes and supplies, so Jacob and I decided to head to the house leaving Cathy with Ashley in the safe. Soon after we arrived, Jacob became disoriented and shaky. I’d seen the signs before, and knew he needed sugar, but I thought we had more time. I went upstairs and had just stepped into Ashley’s room when I heard several loud thumps. I ran to the top of the stairs and found Jacob lying at the bottom; having a seizure.”

  Liberty’s hand went to her mouth. “A boy I played softball with had a seizure on the pitching mound during one of our games. It was … intense.”

  Intense is right. Connor watched Liberty, anxious to see how she’d judge him for what he’d done. He needed to win her over, but he didn’t know how, especially since he couldn’t even win himself over. “As if the seizure wasn’t enough, he broke his leg in the fall.” Connor closed his eyes and remembered his brother; every muscle contracting, jerking on the floor. His eyes had rolled back in his head and his lips were turning blue.

  Not wanting to replay that horrific scene, Connor’s eyes sprung open. “It was a struggle to move him to the bed, but I did. I set the bone, but couldn’t do much else. He came out of the seizure, but was still shaking, sweating and unresponsive. I’d just elevated his leg when Cathy showed up. We’d been gone too long, and she and Ashley had gotten worried. She’d talked Ashley into staying behind, but none of us knew how long that would last. We never should have given Ash the code.”

  Liberty squeezed Ashley’s shoulders, but the kid continued to stare into the distance. He wondered what was going through her mind. It had to be difficult for her to hear, but this was his one chance. He had to tell it.

  “There was no food left in their house, so Cathy insisted on running to the neighbor’s to see if she could find any. I told her it was too dangerous, but she wouldn’t listen.” Connor paused and recalled the sounds outside the house; gunshots, shouts, crying. “People were already acting crazy. The city sounded like a warzone. But once Cathy made up her mind about something, there was no changing it. Jacob started talking to me, finally sounding lucid, right before Cathy came stumbling back into the room. She was holding her side, and her shirt and jeans were soaked in blood—too much blood. I tried to get a look at the wound, but she pushed my hands away, and staggered into bed, wrapping herself in Jacob’s arms.”

  “She was bleeding?” Liberty looked confused. “What happened to her?”

  Connor shrugged. “I don’t know. Shot? Stabbed? She’d gotten away somehow. There wasn’t time to get the details. The commotion outside sounded like it was closing in on us. They’d seen her run into the house and ...”

  “So you killed them to save your own skin?” Liberty shook her head.

  “No!” Connor broke all the blades of grass remaining in his hand then tossed them aside and pulled up some more. He took another deep breath and picked up where he left off. “My brother asked me to kill him and his wife.” His voice cracked, and he cleared his thr
oat. “And when I declined, he begged me.”

  Jacob’s request still haunted him.

  ‘You must. It’s the only way.’

  ‘No Jacob, don’t ask this of me. I can’t kill you!’

  ‘Yes you can. You have to. Ashley’s life depends on it.’

  Liberty reached out her hand, placing it on Connor’s shoulder.

  “Liar,” Ashley spat, pushing herself to her feet. “You lie! They would never leave me! They wouldn’t just give up. Mom always said you were a good liar.”

  Yes, I’m a great liar. But not this time.

  Liberty stood and went to Ashley, wrapping her arms around the girl.

  Connor watched them, jealous of the relationship they’d developed so quickly. “I didn’t know what to do.” Hopeless tears slid down his cheeks, all the while Ashley glared at him with pure hatred in her eyes. He stared at her and continued, “Jacob was right. We were out of options. Cathy was dying. And even if he would have left her behind, there was no way I could’ve gotten him back to the safe with his broken leg.”

  Ashley seethed. Her shoulders rose and fell with the sobs she held back.

  “More than even their own lives, they wanted you to survive,” Connor told her. “They loved you so much, that they never even hesitated.”

  Her small frame shook and she broke. She covered her mouth and turned away so he couldn’t see her. He could still hear her sadness though.

  Liberty ran her fingers through Ashley’s hair while watching Connor. Her expression was haunted and her eyes flooded with unshed tears.

  ‘Please, Con, kill me. Save her.’

  Connor’s chest constricted. ‘No, Jacob, don’t ask this of me.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “ASH, I’M SO sorry.” I squeezed her shoulders as the child mourned for her parents. I wanted to fix the situation—to fix her—but there was nothing I could do. But then an idea hit me. I couldn’t fix her, but I could give her something to help comfort her. “Hey, I have a present for you,” I said. Then I pulled Frog out of my pack, dusted him off and presented him to Ashley. Frog stared at her with his one glossy, black eye; begging to be accepted.

  “Frog, this is Ashley,” I introduced them. “Frog once belonged to someone dear to me. He hates being locked away in my smelly pack and complains continuously. I’d really appreciate it if you took him off my hands.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m twelve,” she said, like that meant she couldn’t play with stuffed animals or something.

  I shrugged and pulled open the flap of my bag, dramatically preparing to stuff him back in. “Alright, Frog, back in the pack you go. Might want to plug your nose.”

  Her soft, small hand grabbed mine, stopping it in mid air. “It wouldn’t hurt to hang out with him for a little bit. You know, see if we’re compatible.”

  I fought to hide my smile.

  She studied the bear’s tattered appearance and asked, “Who did he belong to?” Her delicate fingers explored the Band-Aid on his arm and the empty spot where his missing eye should be. Frog was flawed and rough-looking, but he was exactly what Ashley needed. She’d love him regardless of his imperfections.

  “My niece, Megan.” As if summoned, Megan’s laughter once again invaded my thoughts, slicing through the imaginary band-aid I’d patched that wound with.

  “What was she like?”

  “Stubborn,” I replied, trying to redirect my memories on the brat she could be. It didn’t work though. In my mind, Megan’s pout turned into a game of tickles. We chased each other around the house until she begged me to, ‘Stop, Aunt Wibby.’ “And sweet, adorable, funny. Loved to perform. To dance. She tried to make people laugh. She drove everyone crazy with knock-knock jokes, but could only remember the punch lines. Just a baby. She wasn’t even three.”

  “Wow.” Ashley hugged Frog. “Not even three?”

  I nodded. “I wonder if she would have grown up to be a comedian. Her twin brother, Martin, was always so serious. And quite the tattle-tale. He probably would have made a good cop.” In my last memory of Martin, he was saying grace over Thanksgiving dinner. The kid prayed for the silverware, the turkey, the glasses, the television and everything else he could see. Our meal had gone cold by the time Anna nudged him to finish. I savored that prayer now, thankful for the Sunday school teachers who had taught the twins so well.

  “He was right.” Ashley took a deep breath.

  “Hmm?” I asked.

  “I left the safe and went home,” she continued. “I was worried about my parents. I heard the shots, and when I ran into the room he grabbed me and threw me over his shoulder. I kicked and punched him, but he wouldn’t put me down. He shoved a shirt in my mouth and carried me back to the safe. Then he changed the code on the lock so I couldn’t get out anymore.”

  I brushed back a hair from her face.

  “I couldn’t get out … couldn’t get back to them. Didn’t even get to say goodbye.” She hiccupped.

  The stars came out and I held Ashley until she started to fade. Then we unrolled our sleeping bags and huddled close.

  She turned to face me with Frog tucked securely under her arm and asked, “What really happened?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, one day I was in school and the next I was in the safe. All Mom and Dad would tell me was that people were angry and we had to lock ourselves away from them.”

  “Well,” I pondered how much of recent events were okay to reveal to a twelve year old. “About four months ago, our country ran out of money.”

  Her brow furrowed. “How does a whole country run out of money?”

  “The government gets money from taxes. And they spend money on programs, employees, military, defense and all sorts of things. For a long time they’ve been spending more money than the taxes have been bringing in. So we’ve had to borrow enough to make up the difference.”

  She nodded.

  “I’m not sure what changed. I don’t know if our lenders cut us off, or if we upset someone. All I know is that on the first of March the government stopped putting money into people’s accounts. Grocery stores were full of confused and angry customers who had nothing but empty benefit cards to fill their family’s growling stomachs with.”

  “No one had any money?” she asked.

  “Some did,” I replied. “But we had become way too dependent on Uncle Sam. Lots of people were on unemployment, social security or welfare. And look at how many people the government employs.”

  “Like teachers?” She looked thoughtful.

  “Yep.” I nodded. “And postal workers, politicians, IRS employees, the FBI, police, road construction crews, surveyors, military, and so many more.”

  “Wow.” She rolled over on her back and stared at the sky. “That’s like as many as the stars.”

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “And that’s a lot of people to be really upset when their paychecks weren’t deposited. Tens of thousands showed up at the capitol building and fought their way inside; looking for answers.”

  She turned back toward me and raised herself up on one elbow. “What did they find?”

  I sighed. “Nothing. The building was empty. The senators had abandoned us.”

  “But—” Her brow furrowed. “That was only a few months ago.”

  “Yeah. But the nation was already in trouble. Too many had been out of work for too long. My own unemployment was about to run out. People were starving before this even happened. They kept telling us the worst of it was over. That the recession was ending. We never saw it coming.”

  I had always respected our laws and the authority of our country’s leaders. Raised in church, I’d memorized Hebrews 13:25 as a child. “Obey your leaders and submit to their authority. They keep watch over you as men who must give an account.” I will not envy our leaders when they are called to give an account to their Creator as to why they forsook the people whose lives He had entrusted them to lead.

  Shaking my head I attempted to eradicate suc
h condemnatory thoughts. My mother’s voice sounded in my head, reminding me that I was in no position to throw stones. “Judge not, lest ye be judged.” My own judgment day already loomed before me like an oncoming storm, growing in power and menace as it drifted ever closer. I could only pray God’s grace was greater than my sins.

  * * *

  THUD

  The faint sound pulled me from my sleep. I grabbed my dagger from the nightstand and held my breath, waiting for confirmation that something was amiss. Minutes passed, and nothing could be heard over the pounding of my heart. I stared at my bedroom doorway, but no boogeyman appeared.

  ‘Just a dream, dummy,’ I said, creeping out of bed and into the living room.

  But it hadn’t been a dream—there was someone in my apartment. I stared at the slightly ajar door that led to the common hallway. My sanctuary had been breached. Before I even had time to properly freak out about the situation, hard, cold metal pressed against my temple. I closed my eyes and silently prayed for intervention.

  “Hello, beautiful. Drop the knife.”

  The voice belonged to my neighbor, Rodney. Like the rest of the people in my building, he was little more than a stranger. I only knew his first name because he’d asked me out on numerous occasions, and I’d always declined.

  I slowly lowered my dagger to the floor. “What do you want?”

  “I was worried about you, Babe.” With his spare hand he played with one of my curls.

  “How thoughtful.” I shuffled my feet nervously. “So you decided to … what? Break into my apartment and put a gun to my head?”

  It took him entirely too long to ponder my question, but he’d never seemed overly intelligent. Then again, men who lean out their apartment window yelling things like ‘Hot momma, shake it for daddy,’ rarely are. It was more than that though. Rodney was carney-caliber creepy. The type of guy people would swear they saw on ‘America’s Most Wanted,’ or one of those registered sex offender flyers. Dishwater-brown hair brushed his shoulders in a mullet, framing a gaunt face not even a mother could love. His whiskey colored eyes constantly seemed unfocused. His cologne was always the same; eau de’ cheap booze and cigarettes. He was currently sporting a shirt that boldly advertised Pabst Blue Ribbon beer.