by B. C. Tweedt
It had been worth it. Everything.
Nick gagged again, but turned to the mulleted guard, shoving the papers in his chest. “Let them out, or you’ll take their place!”
The guard glanced at the papers and shoved them in the other guard’s chest as he fished out the key, unlocking the prison doors. “You’re gaggin’ already. I wouldn’t get too close, I were you.”
The prisoners stood up. His adopted brother Sammy, with barely a piece of flesh without mud on it. Sydney’s parents.
His mother. Thin as rail. Step-father, just as thin and pale.
Nick’s chin quivered, the emotion shaking at his core. Finally he was justified. Finally he was redeemed.
Demons don’t save people.
Nick steeled his chin and turned to the guard. “Get them clean. New clothes. Food. They aren’t prisoners any more.”
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“For over a year,” Emory stated, staring at a mounted camera, “we have been on the run. Even after disbanding, we have been pursued in every corner of the globe. The great power and apparatus of the United States government has been employed to defeat us. And it has nearly won. Thousands of us are in their prison camps. Were. Thousands of us were, before they were murdered while tying to free themselves. Now we are few.”
He seemed to mourn despite the camera and its crew. But then his head rose again with a fresh fire. “Yet, even in the same breath, they say both that they have defeated us and that we are powerful enough to hack and control the most sophisticated satellite network known to man, one that controlled an army of killing machines. Which is it? It can’t be both. But it can be a lie. If history informs us, the government has used the false flag tactic to justify their wars before. And they may use it again – unless we act! We must say ‘ENOUGH!’ And we must finally, after so long, throw off that which seeks to enslave us all. Show them that we are not stupid – that we will not fall for their ploy again. But since the election tells us that over half of the people wish to continue down the wrong path, we let them – because we value freedom, even if those that are free choose slavery. But as for the rest of us. We will start fresh.”
He managed a smile, but his thoughts deviated. He was choosing his words carefully. “Though we disbanded months ago, our idea has lived on. Pluribus has always been an idea. But once the idea is conceived, it is no longer needed. Therefore, as of today, Pluribus is no more. Where it once was, there is the ARC.”
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Dan’s stiff arms flexed as he grasped the edges of the table, leaning toward the laptop where Grover’s face appeared with a backdrop of snow-covered evergreens. “General Overton saw Foster’s corruption first hand with the delay to attack. He’s ours.”
Grover nodded with no celebration. “Any others?”
“Not yet. I know of several going ARC, but most will stay.”
“Belford?”
“Staying. Family’s in New York.”
“Sanchez?”
“Staying. Political. Probably blackmail.”
Grover cursed. “What’s next?”
“We’re rallying what’s left of the teams. Recruiting from those volunteering in ARC militias.”
“Militias? You serious?”
Dan didn’t back down. “You saw what the boy did, didn’t you?”
Grover looked away. “We need men, not boys.”
Leaning in further, Dan’s voice raised. “We don’t need men. We need warriors. Haven’t you seen? He has good inside him stronger than any of us, and he fights for it harder. His drive for goodness and truth is relentless. When he finds even a sliver of it, he gives his entire self to it. Maybe it’s his youth, or something else, but God knows we need more like him in this country.”
“We don’t have time to train them.”
“We don’t have time not to. Three states now. Several more voting soon. Federal lands are being surrounded. Last time this happened it took four months from secession to Sumter.”
“Four months…?” Grover trailed off.
“We’re going to need him.”
Chapter 84
The hooded girl padded behind the line of mourners, making her way to the beginning, where the chorus sang in acapella. Their voices carried, giving many the opportunity to sneak in whispers to their neighbor without offense. Many were putting their flags away, sneaking glances in all directions, afraid of punishment. But the authorities were hesitant. Almost disinterested.
She saw the boy, nearly obscured by the hulking StoneWater guards surrounding him. His mole confirmed his identity, though his look-alikes had all been given similar moles. Still, she was willing to bet her life this was the real one. And she was about to.
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Greyson crunched through the snow, saw Drake say goodbye to Sydney. Gosh, he hated this. The tension. Even Drake knew it was coming – that Greyson and Sydney needed their space. The tiptoeing around wasn’t fun. It was awkward. Burdensome. But this had to be done.
“Hey, Syd.”
Sydney turned, smiled. Stood up slowly. “Hey.”
She came to him with a hug. He winced, the stitches in his side still tender. But the hug still felt good, despite the pain.
“I’m…just happy you’re alive,” she said, pulling back.
“Yeah. Somehow.”
Sydney looked over his shoulder, probably at the VTOL – the vertical takeoff and landing aircraft. Its rotors were still spinning, ready for immediate takeoff. He saw it on her face. She didn’t want him to go. She was angry at him. “You’re just stopping by.”
“Yeah,” he said, kicking himself. He was never good with words. “I-uh. I heard that you…you didn’t go to the funeral.”
“Ankeny volunteered.”
“It’s Sam. You should have been the one.”
The muscles in Sydney’s cheeks tensed. “You wanted me to go? Again?”
He shrunk. “I don’t want to fight again.”
She backed down, nodding. Shrugging. “You’re right.”
“Can we do that honest thing again for a sec?”
She smiled and kicked a groove in the snow. Pulled the strand back around her ear. “Sure.”
Greyson referred to his memory. The script he had written in his head on the ride. “You were a great spy. You got information from the Plurbs when others couldn’t. It’s because you’re smart. You’re talented. And you’re a really good dancer.”
She laughed at that one. Her cheeks reddened. “Thanks. You’re a good flyer.”
He laughed back. “Thanks,” he said, starting to make his own snow groove. “But I’m trying to say…I think you’re great. And our country needs you. When I heard you didn’t go to the funeral, I thought, maybe, that you didn’t go because of me.”
It took her a few seconds to say it, but she did. “Maybe.”
Thankful for her admission, he moved to the final segment. “That’s what I was afraid of. I really, really, think you’re probably the best friend I could ever have. But I can’t hold you back from doing good stuff. I want what’s best for you.”
Sydney thought for a long moment, then turned, throwing her hands up. She huffed to herself until she finally turned, bursting out. “What if you’re what’s best for me?”
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Pulling her hood further over her forehead, Ankeny sided up to the StoneWater guard, holding out her unlit candle. “My name’s Sydney McHansen,” she said loud enough for Sam to hear. “Can I have Sam light my candle please?”
After the guards had escorted her away, she waited, alone in the churchyard, watching as the hearses disappeared around a corner in the town below. It didn’t take long for Sam to approach her, his hands in his pockets and guards following a few paces behind.
“Is it you?” he whispered, trying to see under the shadow of her hood.
Ankeny shook her hooded head. “No. A me
ssenger. Light my candle, please.” She held out her candle, with the device underneath the plastic wax catcher.
“Oh,” he said, holding out his candle toward her wick.
Hidden from the guards’ view, she slipped the device from her hands to his. “You wanted to stop a heart without taking a life. This is an HR cuff.” Then she paused, hating her next line. “She says be safe.”
Ankeny tried to slip away, but Sam stopped her. “Wait. Pass a message back to her, will you?”
She halted, letting her stare answer for her.
“Tell her…and Rubicon…that Matthew Raines found the source. He calls them Fenix.”
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Emory pleaded with the camera. “Those of you who have fought with us, do not be afraid. Already three brave states have crossed over. In the coming weeks, it could be near a dozen. But it is up to you, the people. It always will be up to you in the place you are going. Do not be afraid. Be strong and courageous. Do not believe those who say war is inevitable. In fact, as Audrey Raines so courageously proclaimed to the P.A.A.C., secession may be the only way war is avoided.”
He shifted in his seat, looked beyond the camera.
“Some may say, ‘They are too strong. They have nuclear weapons.’ And you are right. But there is something you may not know – something that has been whispered in the ears of all those who are considering secession. So does Texas. And as one last parting gift to the ARC – to the people – we’ve hidden them in the capitals of ten states that voted for Reckhemmer.”
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Cael followed the freed prisoners out, all the way to the underground river that served as the Plurbs’ shower and bathhouse. He sat with his rifle across his knee, his thoughts drifting from regretting coming back to absent-minded eavesdropping. He picked up quickly that the prisoners were the boy’s family and friends. How he had earned their freedom wasn’t for him to know.
Nothing was for him to know anymore. After returning with a disfigured Orion, he was nearly executed. Instead, Neeson pleaded his case and had him demoted to prison guard. It was a boring job and didn’t have the access he would have liked, but as he had learned in the escape from FEMA Camp #34, there would be opportunities to hurt the Plurbs even as a prison guard.
He just never guessed it would come so soon.
“Did you say Greyson?” he asked the blonde boy with silver epaulets.
The blonde boy furrowed his brow, upset that the guard had overheard his personal conversation. “It’s none of your business.”
He stood up with his rifle in plain sight. “It dang well is. If it’s Greyson Gray you’re yakking about, then that’s off limits here. Maybe someone should hear ‘bout it.”
The boy puffed his chest. “If you insist, I was wondering if these former prisoners have seen the boy’s father. Rumor has it he’s one of us.”
Cael didn’t blink as he processed the information. A flurry of memories flashed before him.
“Fate!” Orion shouted gleefully. “It’s been patient. I’ve been patient. But you never came after him.”
“Why would I? He’s a traitor!”
And then, before the bullet had struck the helicopter pilot, Cael heard the final interaction.
“Tell my dad something for me,” Greyson demanded, his nostrils flaring.
Orion paused, tapping his fingers against the triggers. “What?”
“Tell him that I still love him.”
Suddenly it all came together. Greyson’s father was here. Here.
Cael slung the rifle over his shoulder and darted away.
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Orion’s face and body wrappings resembled that of a mummy, and his stagger was fitting. The pain was excruciating, but not debilitating. The doctors had warned him against moving, and he felt every reason not to. The bandages were wet, on fire. But there was something more important than his own pain. He still couldn’t believe it.
The drone beeped in the intersection. It didn’t recognize him through the bandages. He spoke, but the sound was too gargled. Even his voice box had been burned. Instead, he put a shell into the drone’s eye and stepped over its corpse. It twitched on the ground as Orion continued down the hall, toward the black steel door.
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Cael raced to his backpack and zipped it open in a frenzy, waking Saylor.
“What’s up?” she asked as he rummaged through Greyson’s things.
He’d looked through it all long ago but found nothing of value. But now he knew exactly what he was looking for. “That Greyson kid. The one in the video you showed me…”
Saylor woke up quickly, kneeling by the bag. “Yeah…”
“This is his bag.”
She grabbed his arm as he finally grasped the picture’s edge and brought it out. After seeing it for himself, he held it in front of Saylor’s eyes. “And this is his dad.”
Leaning only an inch away from the picture, squinting, she finally saw what he had remembered. “No way.”
Cael nodded. “Orion said Greyson’s dad doesn’t know he exists. If that’s true, he needs to know.” He shoved the picture in his pocket and stood up. “You still have that video?”
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Orion let the black steel door slam behind him as he raced inside. The doctors were surrounding the bed, called by the alarm, but he pushed them away. His bandaged face couldn’t display his surprise – his glee.
She’d awakened from her coma. After so long…
The patient was sitting up, her face drooped and pale, what was left of her matted red hair matching the fire in her eyes. Though she couldn’t possibly recognize Orion behind his bandages, she knew who it was.
“Did he get away?” RedHead asked, panting.
Orion leaned on both rails, ignoring the pain. “Yes-sss. But we’ll find him…together.”
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Greyson stepped close to Sydney, his heart beating hard and fast. Even after so long, she still made him nervous. And with words like that, he felt it was an invitation. ‘What if you’re what’s best for me?’ Had she really said that?
“You really think that? That I…you know.”
Annoyed that she had to say it again, she swayed on her feet. “Yes,” she said at last. “But I don’t know. Avery said we shouldn’t give up; we would regret it if we didn’t try. You know. To make it work.” She rubbed at her arms, so cute when she was shy. “So it’s your turn to be honest.”
He eyed his boots. The groove in the snow. He remembered her dancing. The way he had felt about her. The lengths he would go to keep her alive – to make her happy. But what if what made her happy was actually…him?
The pressure suddenly camped on him. The realization hit hard. She likes me. She really likes me.
“Greyson?”
“Uh…I…” He looked over his shoulder at the VTOL. Forge was waving him in. It looked urgent. She likes me – and it’s already holding me back.
“I…I want to. But I can’t.”
She stared at him, unwavering. Her swallow was apparent, even as she tried to hide it.
Finally he stammered it out. “If…if I…and you…you know…I’d hold you back. And you’d hold…”
When he managed a glance at her, he saw the understanding passing across her face. She nodded, trying to keep back the tears. She was hurt, and he’d been the one to do it. But he knew now. Pain. Suffering. Loss. They were sometimes necessary for growth. For something new to be forged.
He eyed his new friend Drake and nodded at him.
“I’m sorry, Syd. But we can still be friends. Right?”
She sniffed, obviously upset at herself for starting to cry. Her neck stiffened in new resolve. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. Unless you don’t want to be…”
“ORPHAN!”
“JUST A MINUTE!”
He turned back to Sydney. “Friends. Forever, okay?” For some dumb reason, he stuck out his pinky finger. He started to withdraw it, but she came up with hers. The shake was awkward, but it made her smile. “There. Now we’re done being awkward,” he said, stumbling through the words.
She laughed again, wiping her eyes. “You’re never going to be done being awkward.”
He laughed, too, as Drake came up, still giving them space. He was a good kid. Better than he was. And since he liked guitar and singing, he probably liked to dance, too.
Greyson looked at Sydney and had a kind of gut feeling his words would be his last to her, at least for a while. “Dare you to be happy.”
She smiled and accepted his hug. Maybe it was because she was tired, but it felt as if she could fall asleep in his arms, her head against his vest. It took a few pats on her back to prompt her to release. Finally, he took a few steps back and gave a wave.
“See you, later,” he said.
“Bye.”
He met Drake on the way to the helicopter, shook his hand, and whispered in his ear. He knew Sydney was watching, but he didn’t care. Drake wouldn’t tell her what he said. But maybe she’d figure it out anyway. When their whispered conversation was over, he nodded goodbye, raced to the VTOL and jumped inside.
Again, they were parting. A tug of guilt asked him to reconsider, to beg Rubicon to let her come with, but the deed was done. His brain had triumphed over his heart.
But his heart still lingered. You love her, don’t you?
Sure, I care for her. I want to be with her. I’ll do what’s best for her, no matter what it takes. The whole pie is there.
But it didn’t matter, his mind told him. She was better off without him, even if she didn’t think so. And he was better off without her. They were free now. They had seceded from each other, giving chance to new unions. His would be with Rubicon. And hers…that was up to her.
