Liberation

by Debra Dunbar

  “Are we there yet?” Lysile asked, a tremor in her voice. She had a knit cap pulled over her head to hide her pointy ears and was wearing some of Nyalla’s borrowed clothes, which would hopefully allow the elf to blend in.

  “Almost.” Nyalla looked out at the Potomac River to the row of buildings on the opposite side of the water. They’d passed the Key Bridge, the Fourteenth Street Bridge was coming up in just a few miles. She’d pull off in the only two parking areas she knew that were near a Metro stop and big enough to accommodate a Suburban and a horse trailer. The shops at Pentagon City or Reagan National Airport.

  Lysile screamed. Nyalla swerved, nearly capsizing the trailer as she hit the grassy median. Whispering apologies to the poor dragon being jerked around, she managed to pull the SUV back onto the road without rolling.

  “What? What?” she shouted. The elf was curled up, cowering.

  There was a roar and an airplane screamed past them in line with the river. Lysile sobbed.

  “It’s okay. It’s okay,” Nyalla reassured her, glad that she’d had the foresight to put the child lock on lest the elf try to bolt from the moving car. “It’s an airplane. Remember? You saw them up in the sky, leaving tails of white behind them? Humans use them to travel long distances quickly.”

  “The human magic is terrifying,” she said, lifting herself up to stare at the plane landing to the left of them. “And the airplanes look much smaller up in the sky. How many people do they carry?”

  “Two to three hundred.” Nyalla smiled. “It’s scary, but fun. I’ve been on one twice and can’t wait to fly again. There’s a place down here by the airport where you can lie on the grass right at the edge of the landing strip and watch the planes come in. It looks like they’re going to land right on top of you. I swear you can count the treads in the tires on the landing gear.”

  “That doesn’t sound fun at all,” Lysile muttered. She was sitting back upright again, pale but staring at the plane in the distance.

  Well that ruled out parking next to the airport. Guess it was Pentagon City, Nyalla thought as she signaled her turn onto the exit.

  Pentagon City wasn’t actually in the Pentagon, but south and a bit west, on the opposite side of I-395. It was bad enough trying to navigate a giant SUV with a horse trailer down GW Parkway and the insanely convoluted Interstates around the DC metro area, but finding parking for said conveyance in the busy retail district of Arlington was downright impossible. Nyalla finally left the Suburban in a Harris Teeter parking lot, hoping that she wouldn’t return to find it booted.

  “Can I get out now?” Little Red stuck his head out the trailer window and looked around. “I thought you were going to roll this whole thing over back there. I’ve done mid-air barrel rolls with less G-force then you had going on. I’m surprised we’re all still alive.”

  Oh, the drama. “No, you can’t get out. Lysile and I have to walk to the Metro station to meet this friend of Wyatt’s who evidently won’t give us any information unless we meet him in person. As soon as we’re done, we’ll be back to get you. Just hang tight.”

  “You’re joking.” The dragon puffed a plume of smoke out his nostrils. “I can’t even turn around inside this thing. I’ll come with you.”

  “You can’t,” Nyalla extended a hand to help Lysile out of the Suburban. “There will be a panic if people see a red dragon strolling down the street. You’re my secret weapon. I need you to stay hidden until the right moment.”

  “Hidden. In a horse trailer where any curious passerby can clearly see I’m not an equine. They’re my elves, Nyalla. Mine. My treasure hoard. I can’t stay here stuffed in a trailer. I need to be helping.”

  Nyalla beeped the lock on the SUV. “I promise you will, Little Red. I just need to get information from this Eros person, then I’ll be right back. You can go with us to free the elves wherever they’re being held. I’ll even let you eat a few of the ones who stole your treasure. How about that?”

  “Deal.” The dragon’s long, forked tongue darted out to lick around his mouth. “Elves taste good. But not my elves. They’re not for eating. But thieves are for eating. Thieves make for a satisfying dinner.”

  Lysile shuddered and Nyalla put a reassuring hand on the elf’s shoulder. “Then we’ll see you in about an hour.”

  It was a long dash across several parking lots, then through the mall to the Metro stop. They’d raised a few eyebrows running like escaped convicts, weaving in and out of shoppers, but made it to the subway station in plenty of time. Buying a fare-card for herself and Lysile, Nyalla helped the elf through the turnstiles and down the escalator, thankful that Lysile had worn the leather gloves as there was metal everywhere. On the platform, she checked her watch and stood, peering down the dark tunnel looking for the tell-tale lights of an oncoming train.

  “This is the singularly most terrifying thing I’ve ever done,” Lysile muttered, hugging herself and staring with horror at the deep trench that housed the subway rails. “The wars weren’t nearly as frightening as this. Do you know that one strip of metal down there has electrical current running through it? High voltage electrical current? I can feel it from here.”

  Nyalla nodded, still looking for the train light. Where was it? DC Metro was reliably prompt. The train should be here any moment. “That’s the third rail. It will fry you like a strip of bacon if you touch it. Although if you fall in, then the subway train might run you over, too. Squash you or splatter you all down the platform.”

  “You’re not helping.”

  “Close your eyes.”

  “What? Why?” Lysile’s voice squeaked.

  “Because the train is coming, and if the plane landing scared you, this is going to freak you out. Close your eyes and hold my hand. Now.”

  Lysile did as told, nearly crushing Nyalla’s hand as the train tore into the station, wind gusting their hair and brakes shrieking as it slowed to a stop. The announcer shouted something indecipherable over the horrid PA system, and Nyalla pulled the elf forward. “Okay, now open your eyes.”

  Lysile gasped. The doors slid shut behind them. Lights flickered in the car and the train lurched forward.

  “Hold the seat back,” Nyalla instructed. “but keep your gloves on, it’s not all plastic.”

  The elf gripped the seat with both hands. By the time they pulled into the Crystal City station, she was so white that Nyalla was worried the elf might pass out.

  “Scared the heck out of me the first time, too,” she confessed, reaching out to hold Lysile’s hand. “We’re there. Just one more escalator ride and a short walk to the parking garage, and we’ll be done.”

  Well, they’d be done until they needed to return, but there was no reason to remind the poor elf of that right now. At least this time they didn’t have to go up the escalator. Nyalla went to the meeting place and looked around, waiting for someone to approach her.

  “What does he look like?” Lysile was beginning to get over her fear and becoming her usual take-charge self.

  “Wyatt didn’t know. He could be young or old, fat or thin, any ethnicity. He could be in a business suit, or disheveled with a tin-foil hat.”

  “Like that guy?” Lysile pointed.

  Sure enough there was a man reading a newspaper as he sat on the concrete and metal bench. He was mid-thirties and rail-thin, wearing skinny jeans and a tan, crumpled button-down shirt. On his head was a Nationals hat with a strip of aluminum foil around the crown.

  Eventually the crowd thinned out as those exiting the train made their way out of the station. The only people left were Nyalla, Lysile, the man on the bench, and a few other people busy typing on their phones.

  “Excuse me.” Nyalla sat down beside the man, trying for her most charming smile. “Are you Eros? From Plan Nine? I’m Wyatt’s sister, Nyalla.”

  The man shot her a narrowed glance over the top of his paper. “Is she one of them?” He nodded at Lysile who adjusted the hat covering her ears.

  “Yes, but she’s
on our side.”

  He glared. “Why are you with one of them? I heard you speaking their language.”

  “I need her to get in and out of wherever they’re holding our friends without undue casualties – namely ours. And I speak their language because they stole me from my crib as an infant and kept me as a slave for eighteen years of my life.”

  The man’s paper hit the floor, his face ashen. “They took you to their home world?”

  “Yes. It’s very pretty. Not that I got to see much of it. Most of my time there I spent inside cleaning toilets and mopping demon vomit off the floor.”

  “Those bastards!” Eros clenched his fists, glaring at Lysile.

  “What’s he saying?” she whispered. “He looks like he’s going to punch me. Should I run, or punch him back?”

  Nyalla put a hand on the elf’s arm. “Neither. Just wait.”

  “Your brother said there are good aliens and bad aliens, that the bad ones want to take over the world and enslave us all, while the good ones want to blend in and live peacefully with us or return to their homeland.”

  “Yep.” Nyalla nodded. Aliens. Elves. Same thing. In a way they were illegal aliens. “The bad ones have kidnapped forty-one of the good ones and are keeping them somewhere near Crystal City. I’m hoping your surveillance has picked up something that will help us find and free them.”

  “I knew it.” Eros did a fist pump. “I know where your friends are being held. Plan Nine has been monitoring these aliens for the better part of the year. I’ve seen them. We have connections who have been following them and reporting to us. They have most of our government under our control. They must be stopped before they enslave us all.”

  Nyalla waved her hand. “Yes, yes. Sam’s going to stop them as soon as she gets back from fighting the angels. Right now I just need to rescue our friends.”

  “Who’s Sam? Are ‘angels’ a code name for the aliens?”

  “Sam’s an imp, a demon. She’s sort of Satan. There’s a rebellion in the angel homeland and she’s up there with the archangels trying to stop it. As soon as she’s done, she’s going to take care of the elf problem. Now, where are our friends?”

  Eros stared at her, his excitement fading. “Angels and demons? You’re crazy. I was hoping to meet a kindred spirit, someone to help me in the fight to retain human sovereignty, and instead I meet a nut-job.”

  “Says the man wearing a tin-foil hat and talking about aliens,” Nyalla retorted. “I don’t have a lot of time. I’ve got a dragon in a horse trailer parked outside of a Harris Teeter, and I need to get back to him. Where are our friends?”

  The man shook his head, clearly confused. “I’ll tell you, but only if I go with you to assist in the escape. I know the building layout, and I want to see the aliens first-hand, interview and video some of them. I might be able to finally get Homeland Security to take me seriously, then.”

  Nyalla huffed in exasperation. Might as well include him. He knew the area better than her, and his constant surveillance might yield information that kept them from getting killed. A jailbreak orchestrated by an elven basket weaver, a conspiracy theorist, a former changeling slave, and a dragon. What could go wrong?

  “Fine. You can come. Where are they?”

  “In the Pentagon.”

  Chapter 3

  The subway ride to the Pentagon was as if they were on a DC landmarks lecture. Eros went on and on while Lysile stared at him, transfixed.

  “...groundbreaking was on September 11th, 1941, which is exactly sixty years prior to the terrorist attacks. Coincidence? I. Don’t. Think. So. There’s over three million square feet of office space. Consider how enormous that is since the building is only five stories tall. They say there are only two basement levels, but we know better. There are at least six more, plus the tunnels that lead to the Capitol and the White House. Not that anyone would use such a high-profile target as a nuclear bunker. That’s what Raven Rock Mountain is, just outside of Camp David. In fact, during the Cold War, everyone called the Pentagon ‘ground zero’ because it was the primary nuclear targets of the Russian commies.”

  “What’s he saying?” Lysile asked Nyalla.

  “Stuff that may or may not be true about the building we’re going to,” she replied.

  “…there are just ramps to get from level to level. That’s to keep the aliens and commies from locking down the elevators and trapping everyone in the building.”

  “Here’s our stop!” Nyalla announced cheerfully, grabbing Lysile’s hand and dragging her out of the train and into the station.

  The platform, the escalators, even the bus stop just outside the station were all filled with people either wearing business suits or military uniforms. They followed Eros on the short walk to the actual Pentagon where they were met by a metal fence and a sign directing badge holders one way, and visitors the other.

  Nyalla stood at the sign and bit her lip. “I guess the visitor’s entrance?”

  “Or we could steal badges,” Eros suggested enthusiastically. “Grab a couple of these guys and knock them out, drag their unconscious bodies behind the bus stop and in we go.”

  That sounded unnecessarily risky. “Or we go in the visitors’ entrance with the tour then sneak off.”

  “Not going to happen. You have to request tours in advance, and the guide walks backwards the whole time to make sure no one runs off and plants a bomb in the bathroom. Did I tell you there are over two hundred fifty bathrooms in the Pentagon? Far more than necessary, due- “

  “Yes, yes. We know.” How the heck were they going to do this? “You said there are like thirty thousand people working here. Can we claim to be seeing someone? Do you know somebody who could vouch for us, like a janitor?”

  Eros scowled. “I still like my idea of stealing badges better. I think I could take one of these guys.”

  “What’s he saying?” Lysile demanded, starting to fidget with the delays. “Why are we just standing here, arguing?”

  “No. How about climbing the fence? Although Lysile can’t do that.”

  “What? What about me?”

  Eros pouted. “Fine. There are a few names I know of people that work here. I don’t know if they’ll vouch for us or not, but I’ll try.”

  “We’re going in,” Nyalla told Lysile as they followed Eros. Security had a difficult time locating any of Eros’s contacts. There was an issue when it came time for everyone to procure their identification. Nyalla and Eros both had IDs. Lysile did not. The security personnel also had an issue with Nyalla’s staff.

  “I’m disabled. I need it to walk,” she argued while Eros was still reciting names and the other security person was using hand gestures to get Lysile to produce some sort of identification.

  “This is ridiculous,” the elf snapped. “I’m trying something. If this doesn’t work, then I’m going to climb up the side of the building and go in through the roof.”

  Nyalla turned just as Lysile yanked the hat off her head. Light blond braids dropped down her back, strands pulled loose by the cap and static charged, flying around her head. With her pointy ears and wild hair, the elf really did look otherworldly.

  The security guards froze. “I’m so sorry, my Lady,” the one in front of her stammered. “I’ll get your badges right away. Will you be visiting the Colonel?”

  “It’s not your concern who I’m visiting.” The elf glared at the man. “Hurry up. We have a meeting and don’t want to be late.”

  The whole exchange was conducted in Elvish. Within ten minutes they each had a ‘Visitor No Escort Required’ badge and were on their way.

  “You said you knew where the elves, I mean aliens, are being held? You know the layout so we don’t get lost or arrested?” Nyalla asked after they’d left entrance and into a rat’s maze of corridors, ramps, cubicles, and offices.

  “We won’t get lost. Arrested, maybe. Lost, no.” Eros rubbed his hands together with glee. Lysile was walking slightly ahead of him, watching him carefull
y for clues about where they were heading. It was a good idea given that she was the elf, the one whose race seemed to open doors here.

  They went through several doors and down hallways, descending until Eros halted and dramatically flattened himself against the wall. Nyalla and Lysile did the same.

  “What are we doing?” Nyalla whispered.

  “They are in a room just around the corner, locked in. There should be aliens in the hallways outside.”

  “Action,” she told the elf. Lysile grabbed Eros by the arm and hauled him around the corner with Nyalla following behind.

  “What are you…you’re a double agent. You’re turning me over to them. You’re a traitor, a scourge on the human race,” he shouted at Nyalla.

  “Stuff it,” Lysile told him, twisting his arm behind his back. He yelped and two elves appeared around the corner.

  “Quiet,” Nyalla hissed. “We’ve got a plan. Don’t screw it up.” Eros’ eyes widened, his mouth snapping shut.

  The elves stopped. One pulled a dagger from his belt and asked what they were doing on this floor.

  “We have the human from that subversive Plan Nine group, the one who was orchestrating an attack.” Lysile told them, still walking forward and pushing Eros.

  “Who? What?” One of the elves asked. They all exchanged puzzled looks, but none of them seemed on the defensive…yet.

  “Who cares if the humans attack?” another commented. “They’re peasants. They can’t hurt us.”

  “Metal boxes of death that can break through walls and are impervious to fireballs?” Lysile’s voice was grim. She’d come even with the two elves and they turned to walk beside her.

  They collectively shuddered. “Who’s the other human?”

  “A slave girl from Hel-side. I need her to interpret since I refuse to learn this barbaric human language. Now, where do I stick this guy? By the Lady these rooms and doors look alike. Yesterday I was lost on the third floor for nearly half an hour.”