Fear shot through me. This scene looked too familiar. The image of Pastor Rick, standing on the stage in the Roslyn church, holding his Bible over his head, floated back to my memory. The pastor had been praying for deliverance from the earthquake, just before being impaled by a piece of stained glass window. Too late, I realized what book my grandfather had been poring over for weeks. He was holding a German Bible.
The praetor’s smile faltered, then returned with full force. “How sweet. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Donner has found God.”
The soldiers laughed. The people around me stared, too stunned to do anything else.
“Nation will rise against nation!” Grandpa continued. “There will be famines and earthquakes!”
“The Gospel according to Saint Matthew, I believe. Chapter 24, no? But these things have been happening since the beginning of time, old man,” the praetor replied. “It truly saddens me to see you brought this low.”
“Haughty eyes! A lying tongue! Hands that shed innocent blood!” Grandpa shouted at him. “These things are an abomination to the Lord!”
The praetor’s smile vanished. “Enough of this.” He pulled his gun out of its holster and pressed the bore against my grandfather’s forehead. “I have grown tired of these games.”
I tried to move forward, to intercede, but the soldier beside me took a vicious grip on my arm and held me in place.
“You will answer me this time, old man!” the praetor bellowed. “Do you hear me? Where is your son? Where is Jason Donner?”
I felt David take my hand. How many times did we have to tell this man that our father was dead?
“You think your God can save you, old man?” the praetor sneered. “Go ahead! Ask your God to save you!”
“We must do the will of the Father!” Grandpa answered.
Will of the father, I thought.
“Will of the Father!” Grandpa repeated.
That’s what Steve Skaggs had been muttering the night he’d stepped off the edge of the world.
The praetor’s face screwed into a mask of rage. He took my grandfather by the back of his shirt and turned him around to face me. He pressed his gun so hard into his skull that it forced Grandpa’s head sideways. “You! Sera!” he yelled at me. “Where is he? Where is your father?”
I couldn’t breathe. My legs shook so badly I could hardly stand. What different thing could I tell him? What magical answer might spare my grandfather’s life?
“What do you want from us?” David cried.
“I want the truth!” the praetor roared back.
“Sera,” a soft voice called to me. It was my grandfather. “Seraphina? Look at me.” My eyes shifted to his face. It was him—he was present again. “It’s okay, honey. Don’t be afraid. Just tell the truth.”
“Yes, Sera,” the praetor mocked, “tell me the truth.”
I took a deep breath and tried to quiet the trembles in my body. I was so tired of being afraid. I swallowed hard and answered the praetor’s question. “My father is dead.”
The praetor blinked at me. And then he broke into laughter. “Good heavens. You actually believe that, don’t you? Well, this is certainly embarrassing. It seems that I have been wasting my time in this cesspool of a town.”
He shot my grandfather in the head.
My world stopped. David let go of my hand. The soldier’s unrelenting grip on my arm kept me on my feet as I watched my grandpa crumble to the ground.
I heard someone screaming. It was me.
I tried to run to him, but the soldier wouldn’t let me go.
The praetor stood calmly amid the chaos of terrified people fleeing the park. “Collect everyone under the age of twenty-one and put them in the truck,” he ordered. “Shoot everyone else. I am done with this wretched town.”
His command brought clarity to the riot in my head. People were cowering on the ground around me. David had fallen to his knees, his face a pale mask of shock. Milly, devastated, tried to keep Jude from attacking the nearest guard. Ben shouted at me to move.
The soldier in me took over. My vision went into sharp focus. I spun toward the man holding onto my arm and yanked the AK-12 off his shoulder. Driving the barrel into his chest, I pulled the trigger.
Soldiers fired into the fleeing crowd. I fired back. Ben tackled one of the praetor’s men across the table, took his weapon, and started shooting at the soldiers. Jude tipped over one long table, pulling David and Milly out of sight behind it.
I strode toward the praetor. He released his wolf. It raced toward me, jaws snapping. I raised my weapon and shot the animal dead.
In three quick strides, I had my weapon pressed against the praetor’s ribcage. He pulled his side arm and I knocked it to the ground.
The park fell silent.
With most of his soldiers dead on the ground or hiding behind trees, the praetor put his hands in the air. “Careful, Sera,” he said gently. “Guns can be very unpredictable things.”
The citizens of Roslyn looked up from where they’d run for cover. Only a few had been injured. Ben had taken refuge behind a tree, while Jude, Milly, and David watched from behind the tipped table.
I looked at my grandfather laying on the ground and my heartbreak turned into a fury that threatened to consume me. I considered firing the weapon in my hands and, in one glorious moment, sending the praetor to hell where he belonged. But reason steadied my hand. If I killed him now, we would never get Tim back; we would never make it out of town alive.
From the corner of my eye I saw George, his weapon raised, edging closer.
I dug the bore of the automatic weapon into the praetor’s ribs until he grunted in pain. I turned my head, leveling my gaze on George. “Please. Come closer,” I growled.
George stopped.
The praetor’s laugh was tense. “Honestly, George. You are being cowed by a little girl.”
I raised the weapon and put a persuasive bullet between George’s eyes. I’d never felt a greater sense of satisfaction as the big soldier stared at me, stunned, then toppled backwards to the ground.
I clenched my teeth. “I’m a sergeant in the 1st Cascade Militia, you son of a bitch.”
The praetor’s posture changed entirely. “Now that I did not see coming.”
I looked over my shoulder at Ben and the others. “Get in the truck.”
The four of them skirted the crowd behind me. Several soldiers watched them closely, but they didn’t dare move as long as I had their beloved praetor in my death grip.
“What do we do with Stanislov?” Ben called out to me.
“We bring him.”
The praetor tensed. “You will die,” he breathed.
“You’ll be lucky if you die. Move.”
Ben scrambled in behind the wheel of the truck while David and Milly clambered into the canvas-covered bed. Jude had my back. I forced the praetor over the tailgate with me. Jude climbed in after us.
“You are being stupid,” the praetor spat out.
I shoved him down onto the bench seat. “Shut up!”
Ben put the truck into gear and plowed out of the park at full speed, bouncing over holes, knocking down barricades. We had to get out of town before reinforcements arrived.
Beside me, the praetor was sweating. It felt good to see him nervous for a change. Jude kept his weapon pointed at the man. We were both looking forward to shooting him.
David, pale and staring straight ahead, had yet to shake off the shock. He’d been so desperately wrong about Europa and the praetor.
“David,” I said to him. He didn’t respond. “David.”
Finally, he looked at me.
“Are you with us?”
He nodded, then went back to staring.
Next to Jude, Milly sat with her head down, her hair hanging in her face. She’d stopped crying, but I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.
The praetor stupidly decided that it was safe to open his mouth. “What do you hope to gain from all of this?”
I slammed the stock of my weapon into his nose, which exploded in blood. He stopped talking.
The truck skidded into a turn as we raced up Arizona Avenue. Ben would head down Highway 903 toward the interstate. I looked out the back at the scenery flying past. No one was pursuing us, but that wouldn’t last. The soldiers of Europa wouldn’t rest until they got their precious praetor back. First they’d give us Tim, then we’d return their leader—in several pieces.
Suddenly David came back to life. His gaze shifted to the praetor. “What is this sick obsession you have with my dead father?”
The praetor smirked. He dabbed his sleeve at the blood covering his face. “I find your naiveté quite charming.”
“I can’t wait to cut that smirk off your ugly face,” Jude remarked.
The praetor’s expression slipped.
Ben, not exactly an experienced driver, careened into a tight turn. The truck came dangerously close to tipping sideways. I fell back against the canvas. Jude, David, and Milly toppled from the bench and onto the floor.
That’s when the praetor made his move.
Before I could react, he threw himself over the gate and out into the road below. I scrambled to my feet in time to see him limping for cover behind the old Chevron station. I fired at him, but the truck bounced, throwing off my aim.
“Stop! Stop the truck!” I shouted.
I gathered my courage and prepared to jump over the gate.
Jude grabbed me. “No, Sera! We can’t lose you, too! He’s gone—he’s already gone!”
My heart felt like a stone in my chest as I watched the praetor disappear around the building. We couldn’t afford to stop to pursue him.
With a savage cry, I hurled my weapon toward the back of the cab. A low growl of protest rumbled from the dark space.
Jude pointed his weapon at the sound. I edged forward and found a large covered box tucked into the corner. I lifted the canvas tarp, revealing a white wolf cub in a crate. It backed away and snarled at me. This had to be Hati’s replacement.
“Kill it,” David ordered.
That was my first thought, too. But then something in its brilliant amber eyes changed my mind. “No. It’s not his fault.”
This one perfect thing would live, in spite of the praetor.
The ride smoothed out and I knew we’d reached the interstate. Finally, the window to the cab slid open, revealing Ben’s face. “Where am I going?”
I looked around at David, Milly, and Jude. Everyone was looking at me.
“Tim?” Milly said.
Jude shook his head. “They could be holding him anywhere.”
“The praetor’s gonna want our heads on sticks,” Ben warned.
Jude nodded. “We need someplace to lie low and plan a rescue.”
Then I remembered what Grandpa had told me through the fence at the compound.
Take them to the cabin, Sera. Stay smart. Stay safe. Protect them at all costs.
I’d let him down once. I wouldn’t do it again.
“Highway 97,” I told Ben.
He shifted into a higher gear and we headed into the back country of the Wenatchee National Forest.
Part Three
“Watch out that no one deceives you.”
-Matthew 24:4
Chapter Nineteen
I crouched behind a pile of wood in the ankle-deep snow and watched as the two soldiers prepared to break camp. They’d stamped out their fire and were loading their tents and supplies into the back of the truck. Soon they would load the children.
We’d been hiding in the wilderness of the northern Cascades for almost a year. News of Europa and its despicable activities filtered through to us via a growing network of rebel factions. Not long after we’d fled Roslyn, the praetor had abandoned our town for Ellensburg, just east of the Cascades. He’d set men to work digging out the Central Washington University complex, then claimed it as his central command. His soldiers now patrolled the communities of the northern Cascades, confiscating supplies, seizing property, and arresting people for fabricated crimes like “subversive language” and “aggressive demeanor.”
Europa’s biggest offense by far, however, was the abduction of American children. They forced some into military service. Some were never seen or heard from again.
They had five kids today, gagged, trussed up back to back, and shivering in the cold. The group included a frail-looking girl who’d been crying most of the morning. Small, weak, she was not soldier material. I’d heard rumors that pretty young girls were being stolen from their families to work as concubines, comfort girls for the military. I wondered if that was to be this girl’s fate.
Not on my watch.
Something cold and wet touched my cheek. I looked into a pair of bright amber eyes. Ash stood beside me. He was my constant companion; my partner in crime.
My relationship with the white wolf had suffered a rocky start. He’d bitten my hand several times and eaten my favorite pair of boots, but he was a magnificent animal, loyal, intelligent, fearless—everything the praetor had said the Ellesmere wolves were. Though only a year old, Ash was almost five feet long and already weighed more than I could lift.
I nodded, giving him the signal to begin.
Like an overzealous puppy, he bounded off toward the soldiers’ truck with his tongue lolling out. I shook my head at his antics; he seemed to enjoy this game even more than I did. Knowing exactly what I expected, he hid beneath the rear suspension and waited for the right moment to spring into action.
The fatter of the two soldiers walked up to the open truck gate, his bedroll in one hand and a bag of potatoes in the other. Potatoes, a hot commodity, went for a full clip of ammo on the black market. I wondered what hungry family he’d stolen them from.
Ash sprang out from behind the wheels and slammed into the soldier’s legs. The man yelped and dropped everything. While he spun in a tight circle, sputtering, trying to figure out what had happened, Ash took advantage of the confusion. He snatched the potato bag in his massive jaws and darted out of reach.
“Whoa! Hey there!” The fat soldier raised his arms and took a few steps toward the wolf, trying to startle him into dropping the potatoes. Ash, too seasoned for that ploy, skittered away and then stopped to stare back. The soldier tried again. Ash huffed, dancing closer to the tree line.
The taller soldier, a centurion, looked up from packing his bedroll to see what was going on. “Just shoot ze beast,” he called out. He picked up his AK-12.
That was Ash’s cue; he turned and galloped into the woods.
Not willing to give up the valuable food, the fat soldier grabbed his own weapon out of the truck. Both men gave chase.
I waited until they’d disappeared into the woods, then hurried across the camp. The kids’ eyes rounded in terror when they saw me. I pulled off my face mask and held my finger to my lips, signaling for quiet. Relief flooded their expressions and they shifted with anticipation.
Taking the knife from my pocket, I sawed through the ropes binding the biggest boy. Once free, he joined me in releasing the others.
“Follow,” I whispered to them.
I led them all into the forest and hid with them behind a wall of young pines.
“Thank you,” one of the boys gasped. He couldn’t have been much older than I was.
“Where are you from?” I asked quietly.
“Peshastin,” he whispered.
“Dryden,” another answered.
“Leavenworth.”
“Me, too,” said a smaller boy.
“I-I’m from C-Cashmere,” the frail girl whispered, shivering. Her hands were bright pink from the cold.
I took off my gloves and handed them to her. “Here.”
Tears filled her eyes. “Th-thank you.”
I looked away, wishing I could do more.
I stared out across the camp at the distant tree line. Ash was out there somewhere, hopefully leading the soldiers far from camp. Sometimes they gave up on the
ir stolen supplies sooner than planned, though, so I needed to keep my eyes peeled just in case.
Our game would have been much easier if ammunition weren’t so precious; two quick bullets would have meant checkmate the moment I’d spotted their camp. It didn’t matter, though. Ash and I had never lost. We made a good team.
I heard gasps behind me and knew the wolf was back. The sight of him always shocked people at first, but, as I often told David, he was only dangerous to dangerous people. I took the bag of potatoes from his mouth, then pulled him into a hug to show the kids they could trust him. I ruffled the fur on his massive head. A few of them got brave and reached out to touch his shaggy back.
I handed the bag of potatoes to the tallest boy. “Stay quiet,” I told them, “and follow the wolf. He’ll lead you to two boys named Jude and Ben. They’ll take you to a logging road. Follow the road west to Winton. The people there will help you.”
Winton had become a stop on an underground railroad of sorts. Rebels in the old mining town had no qualms about hiding enemies of the praetor or returning stolen children to their families.
The frail girl threw her arms around my neck. “God bless you,” she whispered in my ear.
I flinched. It had been a long time since God had been mentioned in my presence. I preferred a simple thank you. “Sure,” I muttered. Then I patted Ash on the back. “Go on, boy. Get ’em out of here.”
The wolf huffed excitedly and padded off, the kids following behind. It would take them twenty minutes to hike to Ben and Jude. They would only make it if the soldiers, once they returned to camp, didn’t go after them.That’s where I came in.
I walked into the middle of the camp, stood by the embers of the dead fire, and waited. By now the soldiers had realized that they would never catch the wolf. They’d decided to call the potatoes a loss and get back to their captives.
I heard the two of them crunching through the snow long before I saw them. They ambled into the clearing. “…probably a whole pack of ’em,” the fat soldier was saying.
“Vhite volves do not grow here,” the centurion replied.
The Goliath Code (The Alpha Omega Trilogy) Page 21
