Caroline tried to contain her panic. A dark trailer, a border stop, and a long bumpy ride. “Sixty miles?” she squeaked.
“It’ll be fine,” Gig said. “We’ll have food and water and a way to signal the driver if we need anything. Temperatures should be relatively mild so we won’t get too hot or cold.”
He made it sound unrealistically easy. Caroline had seen images of people trafficked in the back of trucks. Stacked like fucking bricks. Almost all dead on arrival. She had to make it through this conversation before she started freaking out. “Okay,” she said. “We play this little human cargo game and then what?”
“We fly from Denton to Mexico.”
“No questions asked?”
Gig smiled grimly. “Another rent-a-friend. I’ve got fifty grand in a duffel bag for him, so he was more than happy to get on board.”
He was leaving something out. Maybe leaving a lot of somethings out. The guys didn’t seem to notice, or care. “I see,” Caroline said. “Then what?”
“Then we get to the border with California and you tell us where to go.”
Caroline let her eyes wander over the men. She’d assumed Gig knew a little about the rebellion, even after their conversation in the kitchen. That maybe he’d been evasive since he didn’t know her that well. He seemed more tuned in than Gabe regardless of whether or not he’d been in the Underground’s inner circle. But he didn’t know a damn thing.
“You’ve been pinning this entire plan on assuming that I knew what I was doing?” she asked.
Gabe shrugged his shoulders. “I guess so. You said San Diego.”
“San Diego is a huge city,” Caroline said, exasperated. “You didn’t think to ask me that before we left Washington?”
“I figured we’d play it by ear, dig up more info if you didn’t know.” He smiled at her earnestly. “You do know. Don’t you?”
She rolled her eyes. “You all are lucky I got into some deep shit before I got caught, and that I have a good memory. Jesus.”
“You’re our ticket to ride,” Jones said.
“Fuck,” Caroline said. “What little I know is enough to get us all killed.”
“But you know where we’re going,” Gabe said. “Right?”
Crunch laughed. “California’s a big place. We’ll find somewhere to go.”
She could picture it in her head. If there wasn’t a rebellion, they could haul down the road in a jalopy in their best impression of a Steinbeck novel. Wouldn’t that be a goddamn riot. “We’re going to Camp Pendleton,” Caroline said.
“Shit,” Gig said. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Isn’t that a little obvious?” Gabe asked.
“You’d think so. But my interrogators didn’t know about it and so far as I can tell, that’s the place to be.”
“How’d that happen?” Crunch asked.
“I don’t know all the details,” she said. She felt guilty for being evasive but wasn’t going to reveal too much. Not the jargon, not the buildup, not anything that might get her friends into trouble. That was a burden she had to bear alone. “Something happened when the Marines pulled out and California seceded. I don’t know what’s there but I hope it’s something.”
“I assume we can just throw ourselves at their mercy, right?” Gabe asked.
“Maybe.” Caroline glanced over at the service awards and plaques on the wall. “Gig, you got any weapons around here?”
Jones snickered. “Yeah. Piggy piggy ain’t got no weapons.”
That earned a death glare from Gig. Their tenuous truce wouldn’t last long if he didn’t learn to deal with Jonesie’s irreverent sense of humor. “Make any bacon jokes and I’ll kick your ass,” he said. “I got a few. One for each of us.”
“What if we get there and there’s no rebel base?” Crunch asked.
Caroline wasn’t going to think about that until it became reality. “I suppose we could live a nice life on the beach.”
“That wouldn’t be bad,” said Gabe. “I’ve had enough of winter.”
“When do we leave?” she asked.
Gig plopped a box of crackers down on the coffee table. “If we leave within the next two days, we’ll be in California by the end of the week.”
Caroline swallowed hard. In a few days they’d have an answer. Might not necessarily be the one they’d been seeking, but they’d know where they stood. “So this is really happening?”
She was greeted with four eager smiles. “Sure is,” Gig said.
* * * * *
A day of packing and repacking. Of chatting and planning. Of getting to know one another. Whatever initial reservations they’d had about each other were tossed away. Jones looked pleased when Gig let him pick out his own gun. He was pissed they’d had to leave their stockpile behind in Washington. They all felt more comfortable when they were armed.
There was plenty to do before they left for Oklahoma. Caroline wanted to get to know Gig. He seemed like the person she’d have the most in common with. The one who might understand her the best. Gabe, Jones, and Crunch were all trustworthy companions but Gig was the closest to her in age and life experience.
It provided her with an easy excuse to avoid Gabe. She felt supremely guilty about it because she knew she’d run back into his arms if she needed comfort. And he’d be kind enough to provide it. But she was out of Washington and could breathe again. With Gabe around she was always watching what she said, careful not to give him the wrong idea. Gig was the better option when it came to conversation. She camped out in his room watching him pack. They talked about their favorite Chicago restaurants for a while until Gig asked about her legal career. One of the few things she didn’t mind talking about with a former cop.
She filled him in the best she could, taking him from the Department of Justice to the Baltimore City State’s Attorney and back again. She felt comfortable enough with him to open up about the emptiness she sometimes felt with regard to what she viewed as a noble profession. It was much easier to talk about that part of her life than anything more recent.
“I viewed the law as a vocation,” Caroline said. “But I never had that feeling that I was doing something tangible or substantial. I derived great meaning from what I did but I never had proof of it, you know?”
Gig just nodded.
“I’d send a guy to prison and wouldn’t crow about it. Then I’d come home at night and unclog a drain and realize that was the first time I’d felt a sense of accomplishment in months. It was a fucking drain. But I had proof that I did something. That I made a difference. That the water went down the way it should.”
“I’d attach my name to bills once I was in Congress,” she continued. “As if that made me a decent person. I’d go to the White House to watch the president sign them. But who knows what good a piece of legislation does? How do you measure that in any quantifiable way? I used to ask myself why we did any of it. And now I know. Now I see.”
Gig put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. She knew he wasn’t going to say anything so she kept going. It was making her feel better.
“I felt like I accomplished something when I got married, had children, whatever. But you know when I really felt like I’d done something important? When I pushed those kids out of the way at the Capitol Visitor’s Center. I didn’t feel that way again until I started getting involved in this underground movement.” She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have taken my time in Congress for granted. I could have done so much more.” She turned to Gig, who was smiling at her. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for that soliloquy to pop out. Sometimes words just sprout forth without me having any control over them.”
“I know what you mean,” he said. “I could tell you a few stories about when I was on patrol on the South Side.”
“I bet you could.”
“You wanna know what drove me out?”
Caroline saw Jones ever so carefully shuffling closer to the open door to Gig’s bedroom. He’d been in the living roo
m and must have heard the two of them talking. She had a feeling this was something he needed to hear.
“Yeah,” she said.
“You know about the blue wall of silence?”
Every prosecutor did. “Of course.”
“I saw that shit firsthand on a pretty massive scale. Did me in.”
“You can’t say that and not give details.”
Gig sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Got off my shift one night and headed to a cop party. You know the ones. The house parties with the badge bunnies and the drunken antics and the nudge nudge wink wink just make sure you drive home slowly sort of thing. Only this one got out of hand.”
Caroline sat down on the bed, and he did the same. “Go on,” she said.
“A guy showed up with a couple of chicks. They weren’t invited but usually that doesn’t matter. People show up, have a few beers, no biggie. But he was mixed race and the women were white. And this was a party full of white cops. In a white neighborhood. In a city we pretend isn’t segregated as hell.”
Caroline had heard similar stories. She knew how this was going to end.
“The guy came with these ladies, they had a few drinks,” Gig said. “No big deal, right? They started to leave and all of a sudden one of the hosts of the party said that his house keys were missing. Thought the guy stole them. And things…happened.”
Caroline heard a small cough. She wondered if Gig realized Jones was right outside the door, because he didn’t appear to have noticed anything. “Where were you while this was going on?” she asked.
“Front porch,” he said. “It all happened so fast. So goddamn fast. You see things escalate at lightning speed when you’re patrolling or responding to a call but it moved ten times faster at this party. They started beating the shit out of him. Wailing on him over and over again.” He shook his head. “Ever see the Rodney King video? Magnify that by about twenty.”
Caroline let out a low whistle. “Jesus Christ.”
“Guy would have died if he wasn’t a bodybuilder or some shit. Squads were called. He was transported to the hospital. Then the lying began.”
“What did you tell the investigators?”
“The truth,” Gig said, without any hesitation. “You think that fucking mattered?”
Caroline knew better. “How’d it shake out?”
“Blue wall came out in full force for the investigation and the trial. I was called to testify, and I did my fucking job. Which was to tell the fucking truth,” he spat. “They were fucking acquitted. Got their jobs back at full pay. Everyone remembered the traitor who’d testified against the defendants. What do you think happened to me? None of my hard work mattered. I was an outcast. A reject. No one wanted to patrol with me. No one came when I needed backup. Any dreams I had of making detective or sergeant were kicked in the ass. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be a part of a system like that. So I left.”
“Wow,” Caroline said. “That’s unreal.”
Gig started folding and refolding one of the shirts scattered on the bed next to them. “That shit happens all the time, you know. I’ve heard the stories. I’m sure you’ve heard them too.”
She nodded. “I’ve assisted in a public corruption case or two.”
“But to see such blatant misconduct out in the open, to see the fucking cover-up, to watch all these people lie like it was nothing. That guy could have died. It’s a miracle he didn’t. I know those fuckers are probably patrolling the streets of the city right now.” He shook his head. “Hell, they’re probably doing much worse shit, because any checks and balances that might have once been there are totally gone.”
“I bet it was hard to leave, though.”
“Hardest thing I’ve ever done,” Gig said quietly. “I wanted to be a cop ever since I was a kid. Wanted to help, you know? Make a difference. Maybe I did, for a couple of people. Seems like a goddamn waste now. I’ve got all those pretty plaques and medals on the wall and sometimes looking at them makes me sick.”
Caroline thought of the decorations in the living room. Of the obvious care he’d taken in hanging them up. “But they’re still there.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Because every once in a while they remind me that I have a chance to do something meaningful with my life.”
She patted his back. “I think you’ve done all right for yourself.”
His frown slowly turned into a grin. “Sure did. Joke’s on CPD. Went into private security and I’ve been making money hand over fist for years.”
Caroline heard a laugh from the hall. “For Christ’s sake, Jonesie. Just come in here already,” she said.
Gig’s smile faded. “He was outside the door?”
She grinned when Jones peeked his head in. “Figured it wouldn’t hurt for him to hear what you had to say.”
Jones was grinning too. “She’s a shifty one, our Princess.”
“Fuck.” Gig looked like he wanted to strangle them both. “You got me.”
“Got any more stories you want to tell?” Jones asked. “I’m all ears.”
“Not any you’re gonna want to hear, asshole.” Gig threw a shirt at him. “Did you just call her ‘Princess’?”
Caroline sighed. “Diana. Princess. You know.”
Gig grinned. “Well, then. You all are a boatload of fucking awesome.”
Jones laughed again. “You got that right. I got my own packing to do. Later,” he said, scooting out the door.
Caroline glanced around Gig’s room after Jones left. Talk about a sense of accomplishment. She was done for the day in terms of group progress. “You going to leave all this stuff behind?”
“Don’t have much of a choice,” he said, shoving some shirts into a knapsack. “You can take some of my clothes, if you want. They’ll be huge on you but it seems like most of your stuff doesn’t fit.”
Her clothes were big but not abnormally so. She could use another hoodie or two, or a couple of long sleeved shirts. No matter the temperature, she was never going to wear the short sleeved shirts Gig had bought for them all.
“Yeah,” Caroline said. “Do you think it makes me stand out? I try to wear the smaller stuff when we’re out and about.”
“Not as much as you’d think,” he said.
Caroline stared at the pictures on the wall, then noticed a wooden object with signatures on it leaning against the dresser in the corner. She picked it up. “You were in a frat?” she asked, amused.
Gig grabbed the paddle out of her hand. “I was.” He turned it over to reveal the Greek letters and Caroline went pale.
“Sigma Chi?” she asked softly.
He didn’t notice the shake in her voice. “Did it on a whim freshman year. Thought it would be fun.”
She shook her head, trying to clear her mind. A technique she should have abandoned since it never seemed to work. “Did you enjoy it?”
“It was all right.”
She didn’t want to make small talk about Greek life or college experiences. She needed to get away from him and everyone else for a while. Caroline spotted a couple of folded sweatshirts and picked them up. “Okay if I take these?” she asked.
Gig kept shoving clothes into his knapsack and didn’t even look in her direction. “Sure.”
“Great,” she said, backing toward the door. “I’m gonna do some packing myself.”
He nodded, not even noticing when she fled to her own bedroom.
* * * * *
She waited until they were asleep before heading out onto the balcony. Even with the lights at a lower capacity, she couldn’t see the stars. You never could in the city. She used to imagine they were there but now just saw a cloudy brown sky.
Nighttime was the worst. During the day she could be focused on survival, existence, the grand plan that was falling into place. Back in Washington she focused on her recovery, on learning to fight, on building trust with the guys. But here on her home turf, in the city she loved…she was vulnerable. Whatever boost she’d gotten from comin
g to Chicago had faded. It was easy to fall into old traps. Relive old memories. Focus on the things she’d lost and would never regain.
She collapsed into one of the chairs on the deck, slipping her hands inside the front pocket of one of the old hoodies Gig had given her. Her mind drifted and the tears flowed easily. She’d done such a good job of suppressing them and with the slightest nudge they’d come rushing back. She didn’t bother wiping them away.
Caroline held up her left hand and stared at it. Crooked, bent, and broken fingers. Hard to think about the lovely rings that had once graced that hand. Or the man who had placed them there.
No word from the Underground. No activity on their account. No nothing, save for that final kiss Jack had given her right before he’d vanished into the trees. And the memories that trapped her in their grasp with no intention of ever letting go.
“I miss you,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “I miss you so much, my darling.”
The nightly rolling blackout had almost reached Gig’s apartment by the time she felt strong enough to go back inside. Her fingers and toes were numb and she readily crawled into the sleeping bag in her bedroom.
And dreamt of Jack.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The Past
It was a few days after they returned from President Hendricks’ funeral and they were both a little jumpy. Caroline wanted to spend every moment she could with Jack. The two of them had discussed going away for a weekend but hadn’t formalized any plans. They settled on being much more romantic than usual, making sure they had time set aside every day for each other. Dinner was over and they had no commitments for the rest of the night. Jack mentioned a surprise for Caroline in his office so they headed there instead of going upstairs.
He led her inside, making a point of locking the door behind them. “Go over and stand by that chair,” he said quietly.
Jack walked over to the curtains and closed them before unlocking a bottom drawer in his desk. What was he planning?
“I’m the only one who has access to this,” he said.
She eyed him warily. “What’s going on?”
The Bellator Saga: The First Trilogy (Dissident, Conscience, and Sojourn) Page 87
