Eve of Tomorrow (Dawn of Rebellion Series Book 3)

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Eve of Tomorrow (Dawn of Rebellion Series Book 3) Page 6

by Michelle Lynn


  “He wanted to make sure you were okay,” Lee says. He’s lying. His eyes shift away from mine and focus on a spot on the floor.

  “Just give me the damn truth,” I say and Lee fidgets with the bottom of his shirt.

  “All of your access is being revoked, as is your rank. Adrian is working on sending you back to base. He said he should let your father deal with you,” Lee responds reluctantly.

  I sink back into my bed.

  “But there is so much more to do here! This is rubbish! What about the Reverend?” I ask.

  “Adrian says he'll find someone else to help,” Lee replies.

  “That’ll set him back too far,” I say, but I’m arguing with the wrong person.

  “Gabby, there was more in the labs than just the people that were sick,” Lee explains tentatively.

  “I knew it,” I say quietly. “The experiments were still going on.”

  “If there was one person here you should have trusted, it was Adrian.” Lee scratches the side of his face and looks away before bring his eyes back to me and continuing. “Adrian’s aunt and uncle developed a biological weapon.”

  I inhale sharply and then finish his thought, “that’s the weapon that Kearn has.”

  Lee nods and says, “they also developed an antidote but Kearn took that too. They were close to replicating it. That’s why the labs were still open.”

  I sit in shock for a moment before climbing out of bed and starting to put my clothes on, feeling worse by the second.

  “I need to get out of here,” I say.

  “You haven't been cleared yet,” Lee says, holding me back.

  “Let go of me!” I yell as I make it out into the hall. “Just leave me alone.”

  I don't know where I'm going until I get there. Landon's flat. They still haven't cleaned it out after all this time. They will now that he's officially dead.

  He's dead. Landon is gone and a lot more people are going to die.

  I think Landon was my friend, for a short time at least. I didn’t know him for very long but he was one of the men who helped Dawn and I get out of Texas.

  His apartment was tossed by the police right before the attacks on Texas and no one besides Adrian has been here since. He was Adrian's best mate. Go figure.

  I trip over a box on the floor. “Bugger this!” I grunt as I fall to the ground.

  The box falls as well and the carpet shifts slightly, revealing something shining on the ground. It's a door handle. There is a secret door in the floor. Oh, Landon, we could have been good mates.

  I push some things aside and then pull on the small brass loop. The door opens up with the creaking and groaning of rust covered hinges. The space is dark and I can't see anything so I reach my hand down and feel around until I hit something hard and cold. I lift a bottle. Of course. I just found the man's stash. Landon distilled illegal hooch. I laugh as I count the number of bottles. This stuff is probably worth a lot now and by tomorrow the police will be here cleaning this place out. I take two bottles out and then do my best to hide the door.

  I'm not ready to leave yet. I'm not ready to say goodbye or to admit to Landon that I couldn't save him. I promised him. My tears hit the glass bottle with a quiet sound as I sit down and unscrew the top. I take a long swig and do my best not to spit it out. I clamp my mouth shut and force myself to swallow. It burns my throat before settling like heat in my stomach. I raise the bottle to the sky.

  “This is for you Landon. Your hooch might taste awful but you were a good man.” I say as I take another drink. “I'm so sorry I couldn't help you. I couldn't keep my promise.”

  After a few minutes and a few more swigs, I can barely stand. I use a table to pull myself up from my seat on the ground and stumble towards the door. By the time I reach it, I've forgotten all about the second bottle and head outside. This time, I know where I'm going. There are two people in this world right now that I trust. I have no idea where Dawn is at the moment, but I stumble straight for Lee's flat. My legs buckle and sway underneath me, but, finally, I get there. I knock four times and lean against the door frame to keep from falling over.

  The door opens and Lee looks confused.

  “Gabby,” he says.

  There is no “Where have you been?” or “I’ve been looking for you,” even though I'm sure he has. He is just relieved. I'm seeing two Lee's at the moment so I’m glad when he takes my arm and guides me inside so that I can sit.

  “Are you drunk?” he asks.

  I don't respond. I'm too busy trying to stop the room from spinning all around me. I shoot out my arm to grab something, anything so that I don't fall out of my chair. I feel like a proper toss pot. I feel sick. I know Lee has a lot of questions right now but he doesn't ask a single one. He helps me to his bed and I am asleep within minutes.

  It is dark when I open my eyes. The only light comes through the single window across the room. Lee is sitting near the window, looking out at the night.

  “Hi,” he says when he catches me watching him.

  “How long have I been out?” I ask softly.

  “A while,” he replies.

  My head feels clear except for the pain that throbs in my right temple. Nothing I don't deserve. Nothing compared to the pain I feel for what I have done. It all comes rushing back so quickly now that I am not on pain killers or alcohol. I suddenly wish I had brought more of Landon's stash with me.

  Lee has removed my shoes and wrapped me in a blanket. As I look at him, I try to find the words to thank him but the sound sticks in my throat.

  “Come here,” Lee says quietly.

  My bare feet hit the cold floor and a stab of pain works its way up my arm from my tightly wrapped, burnt hand. I reach Lee and he holds me to see what he's looking at. An old woman is walking down the street carrying a single candle. She is followed by a trail of others with their candles raised high.

  “See, Gabs, you aren't the only one who cares. They're mourning for everyone who died in the labs,” Lee says.

  I look at Lee and meet his eyes. When I first met him, I didn’t like him one bit. I don't know how I thought that when he has such kind eyes. I run my fingertips through his hair and down his cheek. Then I surprise us both by leaning in and kissing him lightly. I lean back and look into his eyes once more. He stands up with his hands resting on my hips and pulls me to him.

  All of our emotion of the last few days is poured into this moment. The anger. The hate. The guilt. Our kiss becomes hungry and desperate as the need deepens and I steer us towards the bed as I lift his shirt and run my hands across his warm skin.

  “Gabby,” he protests. “We shouldn't.”

  I look into his eyes and pull him back towards me. We can over think this tomorrow. Right now, this is what I need to forget about everything.

  “Please, Lee,” I whisper.

  His protests end as he looks at me. He leans down once again, kisses me softly, and I am lost.

  Chapter 21: Dawn

  “Hunter!” I scream as I try to fight an American woman twice my size. He can't help me because he has his hands full with a couple of the men from the Cincinnati Patrol. Every time I punch, a new pain races up my arm. It feels like I am hitting a brick wall. I am pushed to the ground as the woman pulls her knife. I look around frantically for something, anything to use as a weapon. My gun is lying out of reach so I grab a large stick.

  I block her first attempt at a stab and on her second try the knife buries itself in the stick. I fling it as far as I can. Not missing a beat, my attacker runs to where her gun had been knocked free and aims it at me. I try to run but a man’s hands snake themselves around me from behind, holding me in place. I struggle but it does no good.

  “You are coming with us,” he says.

  I dig my nails into his arm until he loosens it for just a second. I duck down and away and practically collide with Ryan as he steps into the open.

  “Hannah,” he says, nodding. She lets out a long whistle and the men around
her stop fighting.

  “Ryan Smith,” she begins. “Are you their prisoner?” She asks, motioning to where I now see Hunter pinned to the ground. He's alive. The rest of our group was not so lucky.

  “No,” Ryan states coldly. There is something in the stare he gives this woman that unsettles me. His hatred is so raw in this moment, so open and obvious.

  “Then is it Ryan Smith, freedom fighter?” she asks mockingly. “After your father spent many years trying to keep the freedom fighters away from our borders.”

  “No, and don't you speak to me about my father,” Ryan snaps.

  “You're right,” she says. “He is of the past. My father is in charge now and he will reward me greatly when he sees who I've captured.”

  She grins and makes a move to grab him. He steps out of her reach, diving to the ground. He grabs my gun, aims, and fires in one quick motion. Hannah doubles over, surprise and pain etched on her features. Her cohorts frozen at what they have just witnessed.

  “That's why you were never as good as me, Hannah,” Ryan says. “I was always too quick for you and your sad excuse for a family.”

  Ryan aims at the other Americans who have started to back away.

  “Just go home,” he says. “We have not trespassed on your borders and our mission does not concern you.”

  They release Hunter and disappear quickly back into the woods, out of sight. After waiting to make sure they are gone, I move next to Ryan to see if he'll talk to me now.

  “You said ‘your borders’,” I state.

  “They haven't been mine since the day those people killed my father,” she says angrily, as he helps Hunter to his feet.

  “Hunter, you have a knife in your leg,” I say as soon as I see it.

  Hunter looks down as if this is the first time he's noticing it. To my horror, he grabs the handle and pulls it free. Ryan rushes over with some cloth to stop the bleeding. Once it is all wrapped tightly, Hunter wants to get moving immediately. I do too, if only to get far away from all these bodies, but he has got to be in pain.

  “Let's go,” he urges.

  “Don't you think you should rest for a bit?” Ryan asks. Hunter looks at the both of us as if he is confused by our concern.

  “A rest would be good,” I agree.

  “It was only a knife,” he says, shrugging.

  “Doesn't it hurt?” I ask.

  “Yes,” he says gruffly, ending the conversation as he leads the way once again.

  We're close to base now, only a couple days away.

  “Why do you think the Americans were all the way down here?” I ask Ryan.

  “Hannah would have wanted to find me to end our line.” He pauses. “There are a lot of families in Cincinnati that would follow me over her father if I came back. A few of her men were from the smaller families. That's why I knew they would leave if I told them to. I'm never going back though, so Hannah got herself killed for nothing.”

  He shakes his head, continuing, “You know, we were friends as kids. I know Hannah, she wouldn't have quit until I was in the ground. For years, the power battle in Cincinnati has been turning friends and neighbors into enemies.”

  Ryan grows quiet. I spent most of my time in Cincinnati in the clinic so I didn't see much of anything else. I did see a lot of Ryan's day to day life there. He was a different person before he was forced to flee. He was happy and cheeky. He loved horses and building things. He was training to be a medic. Now he is a soldier who is forced to kill old friends. After all the amazing things we saw in the Wastelands, the only thing he will ever think about is that we had to leave his sister behind. He could have stayed too. He even could have been a medic and lived a simple, safe life.

  He chose this war. He realized that winning is the only way to ensure a future we can all enjoy. It gutted him to leave Emily behind but there was no other choice.

  We are moving once again, though slowly this time. I took quite a beating. Every step brings pain to my chest as my ribs scream in protest. My knee throbs, leaving me limping along in pain. My hands are cut up and sore from punching and clawing at that woman. I guess I got the better end of the deal though because, well, she's dead.

  Hunter, on the other hand, doesn't limp at all. If I hadn't seen it, I wouldn't even know that he had been stabbed.

  We manage to avoid trouble for the next few days, until we finally see the windmills and shack that signal that we are now standing over the Rebel base.

  “How do we get in without an officer?” Ryan asks.

  I shrug, thinking it over. This was an off book mission so there is no code to give the shack operator. We have no officer identification codes either.

  “I don't know if this will work but I've got an idea,” I say, entering the shack.

  I've never been in here before. I've only seen officers go inside and the ramp always opens up as they come back out. There isn't much in here. It's a bit dodgy, with a roof that looks as if it could collapse at any time and walls that feel like they are closing in. I close my eyes and breathe deeply. Damn it. I wipe the sweat from my face. I'd have thought I'd be over my claustrophobia by now but I'm not, so I step back outside for some air.

  “You okay?” Ryan asks. I nod and head back in.

  The key is expediency. I find the key pad near the floor and start typing in random numbers. The operator is bound to take notice. That's when I see it. The cord connected to the keypad. I follow it with my eyes and the end looks like it’s been cut. What do I do now? I take a closer look at the keypad itself. It’s elevated from the floor, almost like there is something underneath it. I feel around the edges to confirm my suspicions and then pry it free. There is a large red button underneath. Without thinking, I press it.

  “Code,” a woman's voice demands.

  “Yeah, hi,” I start. “I don't have a code but I need to get in.”

  “You need a code,” the voice states.

  “You should go get my father, General Nolan. See, I'm Dawn Nolan and I'm returning to base,” I reply.

  She doesn't say another word so I'm not really sure what's happening. I leave the shack.

  “Did it work?” Ryan asks.

  “I don't know,” I respond honestly.

  We wait for a while before the ramp finally opens up. My father is not the man who comes to greet us, though. No, this man is someone with a much sweeter smile and a warmer welcome.

  Drew stops right in front of me. I can reach out and touch him but I don't. It seems like I've been away from him ever since we made it to Floridaland. We've only had moments. I'm hoping this isn't one of those moments. They usually end with one of us leaving on some assignment.

  “I've missed you,” I whisper, very aware of both Ryan and Hunter's presence.

  “I've missed you too,” he responds as he finally closes the space between us and kisses me.

  Chapter 22: Dawn

  Daddy spins mommy across the living room and my big sister Gabby and I giggle as we watch from the couch. Today is our favorite day. Our family is lucky enough to have a radio. It's because Daddy works for the government. Every night there are boring things on the radio that we have to listen to. Daddy calls it propaganda but I don't know what that means. Fridays are different. Every Friday the government allows two hours of music on the radio. Once a month they play Jazz. That is the best.

  Daddy walks to the couch and lifts me up as I laugh.

  “Dawny knows how to dance,” he says.

  “No I don't!” I say, giggling as he sets me down.

  “Just as I taught you,” Daddy says. I step onto his feet and we start to move.

  “I wanna dance too!” Gabby yells. Mommy grabs her hand and twirls her as the music speeds up. Their smiles and laughter rival mine and daddy’s. We don't stop dancing until the last song is cut off abruptly. There is no “goodnight.” No “See you next week”. It's just over and we are all back to the boredom for another week.

  I was young when I lost my parents. That's the term I
use to describe it now. Neither of them died. They weren't taken from me. My father didn't just leave. They were lost to me.

  Most of the memories I have of that time come from the stories Gabby has told me. She remembers a lot more than I do. Friday night dancing is something that I actually remember. I can tell the difference between what I've been told and what I've experienced because of the emotions they bring forth.

  I have a hard time reconciling the mother and father in that memory with the two people before me now. I remember them as loving and fun and happy. These Rebel leaders are cold and I know little else about them.

  My father, the general, is sitting across the long table flipping through the document that I brought back from the Wastelands. He didn't seem surprised when I told them about the town and about Riley. Miranda, my mother, was shocked. She paces behind the General's chair as he reads.

  “Well,” she says, “are you going to fill me in on what's going on?”

  “Yeah, DAD,” I say, using that word like a weapon but it doesn't seem to faze him. “I'd like to know too.”

  “It's complicated,” he responds, rubbing his temples.

  “Why don't you start with the reason you had Riley build an entire part of town that nobody lives in,” I suggest.

  “Who is this Riley?” Miranda interjects.

  “He's ex-British military,” the General says.

  “Bollocks,” I argue. “He doesn't even look like a soldier and he has an American accent.”

  “Dawn,” he says tiredly, “do you really think most of those people would follow him if they knew he was British?”

  “I guess not,” I concede.

  “Miranda, there are some things you need to hear. Sit down.” She does as she's told.

  “For a decade at least, the crops in this part of the country have been in steep decline,” he explains.

  “How much longer can the land support us?” Miranda asks.

  “With severe rations, a few years. We don't want to let it get to that. You should see these fields in the Wastelands! We should probably stop calling it that when we need to convince people that it is a good place,” he smiles for only a second and then continues. “There is also the matter of England. The evacuations are starting soon. The land and the weather have become too volatile. Eventually, we will have ships of people that we need to house, feed, and protect.”

 

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