“You see lots of things, Evan. Do you see what I am?”
“What you are?”
“I’m a survivor of New Winnabow. I’m a single mother. My father was killed by Trevor Stone. My first husband was a brave U.S. Marine who fought for his country and for freedom. Why, he was a regular hero. My son will tell you as much.”
It impressed Evan that Sharon managed to speak those words about her ex-husband without a sign of the venom she felt in her heart for the man.
He said, “Yes, he was a hero for serving his country in the old days. But then again, I think all the people of New Winnabow were heroes, too.”
“Tell me, Evan, what would it do for you if you had the mother of an orphan, the widow of a hero, and a victim of Trevor’s atrocities at your side?”
He tilted his head, considered, and told her, “I suppose it would give added weight to what I say. Make a great story, about how we first met in that tranquil village. How you came to me for help after what happened. Why? Are you suggesting a partnership?”
Sharon Parsons answered, “A partnership? Sort of a cold way of saying it, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know, Sharon,” he feigned a look of consternation on his face. “I’m a single man, no one special in my life…”
“Oh, Evan,” she cut through it all and ran a finger across his cheek. “This partnership would have plenty of fringe benefits. I think you’ll find me a rather…um… willing partner.”
“That’s good,” he told her. “I like that. Maybe we can come to some sort of arrangement. But tell me, besides you’re son getting a home what is it you want out of this… partnership?”
“I want to help you.”
“Help me?”
“I want to help you,” she repeated. “I’ve seen through the good Samaritan act you put on when you visited my town. You pulled that off very well.”
“That wasn’t an act, Sharon. I cared about your village. I tried to stop the attack from happening.”
“Yes, yes, I know, and I believe you…to an extent. But your objectives had less to do with helping New Winnabow and more to do with hurting Stone, for your own gain, of course. Don’t fear. Now that I’ve figured out what you’re all about, I want to help you. I want to help you get that power you desperately want.”
“Oh? And why is that?”
“Because you can only gain that power by taking it from your Emperor. As you get stronger, he gets weaker.”
Evan asked, “Revenge?”
“I want Trevor Stone to know, you reap what you sow.”
From the Old Treasury building on State Circle in the center of town built circa 1735, to the majestic house of Charles Carroll overlooking Spa Creek, to the 238 acres of the U.S. Naval Academy, history lived in every corner of Annapolis.
The “Southern Command” of what was now accepted as “The Empire” called Annapolis home, as did Nina Forest.
She pushed open the door to her small apartment but, before she could enter, in rushed Denise Cannon.
Jerry Shepherd-on well-deserved but short-lived leave-hovered at the door frame as Nina shook her head in wonder; wonder if she was up to this task.
“So this is it? Okay, okay, this will work,” Denise said lightheartedly.
The eleven-year-old inspected the small living room, darted into the even smaller kitchen, wove through the dining area, then down the short hall to examine the two bedrooms and bath.
Denise and Shep dropped heavy bags on the carpeted floor.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Nina said.
“You’re doing it,” Shep laughed.
A chubby man dressed in casual clothes knocked on the open door with the one hand he still possessed; only a stub remained of his right arm.
“Denise! Come here, Denise!” Nina yelled.
The man at the door shook Shep’s hand, left to left.
“Read in the paper that you kicked those lizard asses all the way back to Atlanta. Good work down there, General.”
“Thanks, Barn,” Shepherd answered and then asked, “How’s the itching?”
Barney touched the stub and replied, “Still a bitch at night but that cream you sent my way helped a bit. Thanks again.”
“Denise, this is Mr. Carson,” Nina introduced. “He’s the building’s caretaker. Everyone here knows him. He sort of looks after things when we’re off on missions and stuff. When I’m away, you’ll be seeing a lot of him.”
“Hello there, little lady,” Barney greeted.
Denise, in a well-rehearsed line, answered in an overly respectful tone, “Hello, Mr. Carson. It is nice to meet you.”
“Call me Barn. Everyone else does.”
Denise’s eyes gravitated to the stub.
Barney said, “Be careful what you wish for.”
“Huh?” Denise asked while Nina and Shep rolled their eyes in anticipation of the joke Barney told every day.
“I said, be careful what you wish for,” Barney told the girl. “One day I said I’d give my right arm to get out of the army.”
Denise’s eyes grew bigger and her mouth opened in the slightest.
Nina assured, “He’s kidding.”
Barney laughed. Denise forced a very fake smile.
“Go ahead,” Nina relented. “Give it the once over.”
Denise returned to her investigation, moving with the quick bursts of speed, changes in attention, and hyper-activity only afforded to kids.
“She’s a pistol. Can tell that right ‘way,” Barney said.
“Pistols can misfire,” Nina responded.
“That’s right,” Barney turned to leave. “That’s why you got to make sure you always know which way the barrel is pointing.”
Denise called from down the hall, “What? No bed? Where am I going to sleep? Wait a second, there’s no stereo in here.” Then she poked her head in the bathroom. “Oh boy, we have got to talk.”
Nina and Shep shared a look as the little girl walked over to the entertainment center in the living room and rummaged through the DVDs there. “Ugh…nope…nope…oh, wait, cool-Brad Pitt. He is sooo hot.”
“What did I get myself into?” Nina asked Shep.
He told her, “Oh, now that’s a good question.”
“But you know it’s like…I dunno…all I’m saying is that it feels kind of good. Look, this sounds silly, but well, I never had any kids of course, but when I’m with her…I feel like…I feel like I’m a-”
Shep put a hand on her shoulder. “I know how you feel. You don’t have to explain.”
Nina looked into Shepherd’s eyes. His fatherly eyes.
“I guess not,” she said and placed a hand over his. “I guess not.”
Denise moved into the kitchen. “What is this? A refrigerator? Does it work?”
Nina called, “It will when I plug it back in! Have to save power when we’re not home, you know.”
“Power? Cool. Like, we can watch movies and eat popcorn and-”
“Hey! Hey,” Nina said. “Look, don’t you go getting ideas that this is some sort of big slumber party. You are going to school, kiddo, and you’ll have homework and you’re going to learn to shoot and-”
“Relax,” Denise rounded the corner and smiled at Nina. “I know. Geez, don’t get all hyper… mom. ”
Denise disappeared down the hallway again.
“Is this your closet? Oh boy, did I get here just in time or what. Don’t worry; I’m all over it…”
Nina shook her head, smiling.
Dante Jones pointed at the shot glass. The bartender filled it with something again, maybe old Jack Daniels, maybe Jagermeister, maybe one of the new concoctions making the rounds.
It did not matter. Whatever it was, he would drink it and he did not have a tab to worry about. It paid to be Chief of Internal Security. You often found you had more friends than you realized.
The door to the center-city Wilkes-Barre bar creaked open. A few beams of late afternoon sunshine shot in, turning
the man who opened the door into a silhouette.
Dante did not notice the man who sat down next to him until he spoke.
“Early night cap, Dante?”
Jones looked, saw who it was, and sneered in disgust.
“What do you want, Evan?”
“Wow, that’s not a very nice way to greet a friend.”
“A friend?” The choice of words surprised Dante.
“Yeah. I thought we had, well, after the time we spent in North Carolina I thought we had bonded or something.”
Jones told Godfrey, “Since then a lot of my people have been forced to whack yours with night sticks and tear gas. Don’t think I don’t know about this candle light vigil thing this weekend. You damn well better not pull any shit outside the estate.”
“Hey, easy,” Evan said. “You know, I’m not behind every protest. I can’t be. There’s been too many of them. And you know what? There are more coming. Believe it or not, old Evan Godfrey isn’t the bad guy all the time.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever.”
“I’ll give you my personal word Dante. My personal word that the vigil will be non-violent. I know the kind of position that would put you in. You’ve been in enough tough positions the last few years. I promise.”
Dante cocked his head. “Tough positions? What are you talking about?”
“Well, like Dubois for instance when a bunch of Red Hands took that town out and I.S. got a bloody nose. Like trying to protect all the caravans and trains and shipyards when you don’t have enough manpower. You know a lot of people blame Internal Security. They say you’re not doing your job.”
“Well screw them!” Dante said a little loud. “Do they know what we have to work with? Do they know how tough this job is? Resources are-”
“Resources are thin, yeah,” Evan agreed.
“Right.”
“You’re doing the best you can with what you’ve got.”
“Hell yeah,” Dante nodded.
“You’ve got good people working for you. They’re trying their best.”
“Damn straight.”
“Things have got to change.”
“Shit, you can say that again-” Dante caught himself in mid sentence. He turned toward Evan with anger…breathed…then relaxed. “You know, Evan, you lived around here, right?”
“What? You mean Wilkes-Barre? Northeast PA? Yeah, I moved here before graduate school.”
“Back before ‘all this’, this bar wasn’t where we’d see a bunch of guys like you.”
“Guys like me? What, college guys?”
Dante answered, “White folk.”
“Oh,” Evan glanced around. He saw a black bartender but both white and black customers at tables and bar stools.
“Since things went to Hell, I come in here and it doesn’t matter what you look like. You know why? I’ll tell you why. Because when alien monsters start killing everyone, suddenly whether you’re black or white or red doesn’t matter much. Suddenly, you don’t see a redneck or a gang-banger, or some other stereotype, you see just a guy. Because you’re so damned happy that he’s a guy and not a friggin’ blob of Green Pudding that wants to suck your intestines through your nose.”
Dante paused, sipped half his shot, and continued, “So look, all it took was the extermination of ninety-nine percent of humanity, and what have we got? True equality. Real peace between the races. Probably not the way Reverend Jackson wanted to get there, I figure. But still, all the same, we’re there.”
Evan started, “Dante-”
“He’s my friend. We’ve been friends since a long time ago. He wasn’t tough like he is now. He didn’t know everything. Hell, he couldn’t find his butt with both hands without my help. Half the time he followed me around like a puppy dog. But back when the world drew big fat ugly lines between people Trevor knew it was wrong.”
“That’s great.”
Dante said, “Trevor used to come here, with me. He used to come to this bar. I never saw you in here, Evan.”
“I’m here now.”
Dante snorted as if to say ‘big deal.’
Evan pushed, “You just lied to me, Dante.”
Jones, with alcohol in his veins, was not the person you called a liar. He sat straight in his bar stool, cocked his head back, and appeared ready to start a fight.
Evan diffused his anger. “Trevor never came in here with you. Maybe Richard Stone, but Trevor didn’t exist back then. Trevor didn’t exist until there were Stumphides, Ghouls, and Gremmies in the streets. Think about that, Dante. Is that still your friend out there at the estate, or is it someone else?”
Jones returned his attention to his drink so fast that it was obvious he had thought about that. Thought about it a lot. Especially since New Winnabow.
“He is in over his head, Dante. He may be a good man at heart, but he has taken it upon himself to make a lot of hard decisions. It’s too much for him. He needs help, whether he admits it or not.”
Dante quietly examined his glass.
“You’ve been in here a lot, lately,” Evan said.
“How do you know that, Evan? You spying on me?”
“You weren’t known as a big drinker before, Dante. So that tells me something is bothering this man. I know it has a lot to do with New Winnabow. We were there, together. We got to know those people. Maybe Trevor didn’t think he had any choice. Maybe he just couldn’t see a way out of it. But what about next time, Dante? If the decisions stay on his shoulders alone then there may be a lot more New Winnabows. And guess what, buddy, no amount of drinking is going to chase those ghosts out of your head.”
Dante took a slow sip of the drink.
“I just want you to know,” Evan told him. “I want you to know that you have a friend in me. With everything going down, well, maybe the two of us can keep a lid on some of it. Keep it from getting out of control.”
Dante Jones put the glass down, turned to Godfrey, and said in a wavering voice, “He’s my friend.”
Trevor kicked the ball across the mansion’s side the yard. JB chased after it, missed with his kick, slipped to the ground, and laughed.
“JB! Come on! Let’s go!” Ashley called from the front side of the mansion where she stood with her father Benjamin Trump as well as two human body guards and two K9s including the Doberman Pinscher named Ajax.
JB scrambled to his feet, kicked the ball away, and then ran toward his mother. Trevor joined them.
“You guys going in to town?” He asked Ashley.
“No, security thinks we shouldn’t,” she said. “At least not until things die down.”
“My boy can’t even go in town now?”
“It will blow over,” she assured, although her assurance sounded hollow.
JB grabbed his dad’s legs in a hug.
“We’re going to Joe’s Pizza, father,” he said. “They have an air hockey game in there! Me and grandpa are going to play.”
Trevor knelt down to his son’s level.
“I bet you’re pretty good at it.”
“Nah, I’m not so hot.”
Trevor looked into the eyes of his boy. Really looked.
What was in there? What mystery to all of this was hidden behind those eyes?
Maybe…no, all he saw was a happy little boy. For now, maybe that was all there really was.
“Hey, I love you, buddy,” Trevor put his hand on his son’s cheek.
JB grew very serious. “I love you, too, daddy.”
That stunned both Ashley and Trevor. They gaped at one another as JB ran to his grandfather.
She said, “Being a parent is always full of surprises.”
“I suppose so,” he admitted as he stood again.
“We’ll be back later,” Ashley said and she followed her son and the security detail as they headed to an SUV idling in the driveway.
Trevor needed something to do now. An idea came to mind…
…Bam! Bam! Bam!
Shots from the Beretta M9 semi-automa
tic pistol slapped the air around the estate’s shooting range like firecrackers.
Trevor expended the last of that clip, ejected the magazine, and reloaded it from a box of bullets. Tyr yapped to alert Trevor to company.
Gordon Knox approached, holding a sheet of paper. He wore a bomber jacket in light of the lowering temperatures. The weather promised to get much colder in the days ahead.
Trevor removed his ear guards but continued to load bullets into the clip; each one harder to slip in as the spring inside the magazine grew more taut.
“Where’s the family?” Knox asked.
“Just left, went to dinner,” Trevor said.
“Oh.”
“What is it Gordon? What have you got for me? More protests in Scranton? Did they raid a food distribution center in Hagerstown again? Let me guess, this is full-fledged rebellion now.”
Gordon laughed, “Nothing of the sort, Trevor. I wouldn’t let some scattered protests get you upset. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”
Trevor smacked the reloaded clip into the pistol.
“Maybe I should just sic the canines on them.”
“Well, I think my timing couldn’t be better,” Gordon said.
“What does that mean?”
“Let’s just say, it strikes me that you need this bit of news right now.”
“Okay then, spit it out.”
“My people intercepted a message sent from Atlanta to Columbia before we captured the city. The Hivvan commander in Columbia never got the message because we took him out with a bunker buster before it got to him. We’ve finally translated it.”
Trevor turned his head and waited.
Knox told him, “It’s a directive from primary headquarters in Atlanta to the commander of Columbia. It tells that commander that after their heavy losses in North Carolina, the high command had decided to evacuate Columbia and consolidate defensive lines using the lakes and rivers on the South Carolina, Georgia border. It appears they were not planning a counter-attack on Raleigh after all.”
“Oh,” Trevor shivered. “So you’re telling me…you’re telling me they were going to evacuate Columbia, anyway? So you’re telling me…Jesus Christ…you’re telling me that it was for nothing? That…that I killed all those people for-?”
Empire ba-2 Page 41
