The Perfect Soldier

by B D Grant

  The prosecutor walks away from the Council’s table looking smug. “Are you sure, Mr. Kauffman?” the Councilwoman sitting on the right asks Uncle Will’s attorney. Dad and I perk up. “Yes, ma’am,” Kauffman says. She nods at him, and then looks to the Councilman with the gavel.

  “We will proceed,” he announces to the room.

  Kauffman walks over to the defense table. He says something to my uncle as he picks up a thin folder that has the list of signatures on top. It was too quiet for me to be sure, but I think it was, “We got this.”

  He walks over to my mom on the stand and holds up the list. “Mrs. Jameson, do you remember signing this sheet?” Mom shakes her head. “No, I do not.”

  Kauffman turns to show the list to the prosecution and then the audience. “And this is the list that the prosecution was just asking you about, is that correct?”

  “It is.”

  Kauffman opens the folder placing the list behind it. “Mrs. Jameson, do you remember ever attending First United Methodist church in Aurora?”

  Mom gives him a shy smile. “Yes, sir. I attended all of the churches in Aurora at one time or another.”

  Kauffman looks down at the open folder. “Does that include Our Lady of Mercy Catholic Church and St Andrew Presbyterian?”

  “Yes. I attended services at both.”

  Kauffman looks over the audience curiously. “Did you have to sign in?”

  Mom thinks for a moment. “They would pass around an attendance book.”

  “And you would sign in” Kauffman says, turning to face her, “even though you weren’t a member of any of these churches?”

  Mom’s smile grows as she shrugs lightly. “Everyone around me would sign it, so I would too.”

  “Were you a part of any of the decision making when you attended these gatherings?”

  “No, I was not.”

  Kauffman flips a page over in the folder. “Before you left Aurora, you were being looked at by the FBI as a possible recruit,” Mom nods along, “were there any classes or meetings you attended for this?”

  “I met with members of the bureau and I was invited to gatherings where other recruits could meet and talk with agents who were in the various fields within the bureau.”

  “Were you recruited by The Movement, Mrs. Jameson?”

  Mom’s smile fades as she glances at Uncle Will and then Dad. “Just about everyone my age was being recruited by The Movement, or at least attempted to be.”

  “Please explain,” Kauffman says, closing the folder.

  “The Movement would appeal to anyone who was upset with how those in charge were running things. It must have been easier to find unhappy teens because I ran into far more people my age than any others talking about how great The Movement was. I’m pretty sure that it was at St Andrew Presbyterian where I was first approached. One of the girls in the bible study class stopped me on my way out of the class and asked if I’d been invited to any of their socials. I think she was the one to describe The Movement as the new hope for the Christian faith.” Mom shakes her head as she thinks back. “There were two others after that, but it wasn’t until a good-looking guy invited me that I finally accepted.” She glances at my dad. “I went to one, maybe two, of their gatherings.” Mom lightly shakes her head. “It wasn’t for me. I could see the appeal though. The food was good and you could just sit around with friends and talk about how you would change the world if given the chance.” Mom turns to the Council. “It was an outlet for them. That’s it. I never heard anyone talking about hurting people. It was just a bunch of kids eating snacks, talking about how they would do things differently, and” Mom glances at Dad, “some random making-out.”

  “So there was no talk about having Aurora’s Council murdered?” Kauffman asks.

  “I never heard anyone talking about hurting the Council or anyone else.”

  I reach for Dad’s forearm but he sees my hand coming. He takes my hand in his and gives it a gentle squeeze. There’s no way anyone can think that she was a Rogue.

  “Thank you. And, one more question,” Kauffman says, extracting the list from behind the folder in his hands. He hands the list to my mom. “Please read to the court the name that is written on the list right below yours.”

  Mom’s mouth gapes open as she looks down at the list. She looks up at Kauffman. “The name written below mine is Lynda DeAngelo.”

  There’s whispering behind Dad and me. “And who is Lynda DeAngelo?” Kauffman asks.

  “Lynda is Lynn DeAngelo’s daughter.” Mom looks genuinely happy as she says it. The whispering in the audience stops. Who are the DeAngelo’s? Hearing the name, all I can think of is Jake’s family, the Angelos. I’m about to ask Dad when Kauffman turns to the audience. “For those of you who aren’t from Aurora, Louisiana, Lynn DeAngelo was one of Aurora’s Council members. So, not only was this gathering not about killing Aurora’s Council, but—”

  The prosecutor throws a hand in the air. “Objection, your honors,” he says, slapping the table as his arm comes down.

  Kauffman doesn’t stop. “But, one of the Council’s very own children were even in attendance at this gathering making it hard to believe that there was any discussion of harming the Council, isn’t that correct, Mrs. Jameson?”

  “We’ll allow it,” the Councilman with the gavel says looking amused.

  Mom looks from Kauffman to the prosecutor, who slouches back in his seat. “That’s correct.”

  I should feel happy when my mom is finally allowed down from the stand. Uncle Will’s attorney, Kauffman, did a decent job tearing apart that list, but as Mom walks back to her seat beside Dad, I can’t help but watch the Council. They’ve rolled their seats back away from their table to converge into a tighter group as they mumble back and forth to one another.

  “You did great,” Dad says to Mom as she sits down next to him.

  “You think so?” she asks, not looking too sure.

  The Councilwoman on the far right lifts her head. “Do either of you have any witnesses to call forth?”

  Kauffman partially rises from his seat. “No, your Honor. We have not located any farther witnesses.”

  She looks to the prosecutor. “Cassidy Sipe was the only remaining witness for the prosecution, so if no one knows where she is,” the prosecutor says, notably glancing over at my uncle, “then no, your Honor. The prosecution rests.”

  The Councilwoman stands from her seat, grabbing the gavel left on the Council’s table. “At this time, we will deliberate,” she says, striking the gavel on the table.

  The other Supreme Council members stand, pushing their chairs out of the way so as to not obstruct the others’ path to the door at the back of the table. They file out from behind their long desk as Kauffman and the prosecutor begin picking up their things.

  A guard steps forward from the back of the room, instructing all of us in the audience to proceed to the exit at the back of the courtroom. The three of us stand along with the rest of the audience. Uncle Will joins us at the back as a bottleneck forms at the exit.

  A throat clears behind us. “Mr. McBride,” a deep voice says, behind us, “the Council would like you to wait in here with the other two.” All four of us turn to see a courtroom guard who hadn’t been there just a minute ago. He must have come through the Council’s door. The guard points with his thumb behind him at Kauffman and the prosecutor still at their tables. Uncle Will silently obliges, walking with the guard back to his seat.

  I continue toward the exit, but Mom and Dad don’t move. Mom is still turned around watching my uncle take his seat. “He’s going to be okay,” Dad assures her, wrapping an arm around her waist to move her toward the exit.

  Kelly and Mitchell are waiting off to the side as we walk out of the courtroom. Mitchell walks up to us as we maneuver around those piddling about just outside of the doors. Kelly doesn’t move. He’s too busy staring down at the ground in front of him not looking at anything in particular.

  �
��How was it?” Mitchell asks my parents. “Should I be worried about being called to the stand next?”

  Mom is looking back into the courtroom. “You should be good,” Dad tells him as I walk past them to Kelly. I glance back into the courtroom as the guard starts shutting the doors behind the last man to exit to see what Mom’s looking at. We can only see Uncle Will’s back. His slumped posture is not very encouraging.

  Kelly looks up as I step in front of him. He seems to suddenly be aware of all of the Seraphim around him; his eyes sweep over those closest to us.

  “They tried to make me out as a Rogue is all,” Mom says. She doesn’t sound as bitter as I would be if it had been me on that stand. Kelly checks out my parents standing with Mitchell before glancing down at me standing next to him. He ducks his head a little in my direction. “Hey, uh, does the Council believe in the death penalty?”

  I gape at him. Did he hear someone talking on their way out of the courtroom that would make him ask me that? Would the Council sentence my uncle to death even though the raid saved so many people being held by The Movement? I don’t want to ask my parents, because I know Mom will freak out, so I try listening to the conversations of those around us who were also in the courtroom. All I catch is someone asking about the traffic headed out of town. None of them seem worried, but none of them are related to the defendant either.

  The man who works for the Department of Defense steps up to my side making his way through the crowd toward the stairs. “Do Seraphim believe in the death penalty?” I ask as he steps next to me.

  He stops abruptly, giving me the once over. “Sentencing matches the crime,” he says, looking less than enthused to be having a conversation with a kid.

  “Do you ever answer a question with an actual answer?”

  His eyes crinkle some in the corners, as he looks me in the eye seeming to study me. I’m not sure if I’ve annoyed him or if he’s trying not to laugh. “Not if I can help it.” He looks down the corridor toward the stairs. “You have a nice day,” he says as he continues on his way.

  I look up at Kelly. “Why did you—,” I start, but then hear, “Mr. and Mrs. Jameson.” I turn to see a Detective Susan, the one who took my statement, strutting down the corridor from the stairs.

  Mom is suddenly at my side facing her as she walks up. “We will not be answering any more of your questions,” she says sharply.

  Detective Susan’s voice drops as she gets near. “It’s Jake Angelo,” she says. Mom looks unconvinced. “He kicked the therapist out of the therapy room and locked himself inside. We have Tempero working on it, but he’s refusing to open the door.”

  “I can go talk to him,” Dad says over Mom’s shoulder.

  “I’ll come,” Mitchell says behind him. Mom shakes her head. “I’m coming.” Kelly, Mitchell, and I move to follow after them as they start toward the stairs. Mom stops as soon as she notices us behind her. “Why don’t you three stay here. If Will gets out soon, I want him to have some friendly faces waiting to greet him.”

  “We aren’t the only ones on your brother’s side,” Dad tells her.

  “I know. But still.”

  “We got it,” I say quickly.

  “Yeah, we’ll be right here,” Kelly adds.

  “We found out what happened to Jake’s parents,” I tell Kelly and Mitchell as Mom and Dad leave with the detective.

  “That sucks,” Kelly says with a shake of the head as he looks down at the ground.

  “It more than sucks,” Mitchell mumbles. “He’s not the only one though,” the elevators ding behind us and Mitchell turns to look in that direction. He puts a hand on Kelly’s upper arm still looking back at the elevators. “I’ll be right back.” He lets go of Kelly and hurries off.

  Kelly and I turn around to watch Mitchell walk off. He goes straight over to a man stepping off of the elevator. I recognize the man as one of the medics who was in the church parking lot where we regrouped after the raid. He stops when he sees Mitchell walking up. They greet each other with a one-armed hug. They immediately begin chatting as the man points Mitchell in the direction of the other courtrooms. Mitchell looks over at us nodding in the direction that the man is pointing him to. Kelly bobs his head at him and they’re off. The man talks with his hands as the two of them move past the elevators and then around the corner. “Jack will get through it,” Kelly says beside me. “He’s just got to deal with it for a while, like the rest of us.”

  My first instinct is to give him a tongue-lashing for so inconsiderate, but I swallow it back. “I know what you mean.”

  Kelly looks down at me smiling a little like I’ve said something amusing. “No you don’t.”

  I stare at him egregiously, regretting haven taken the higher road. “Excuse me?” I spit, getting the attention of a pair of women chatting closest to us. The taller of the two women continues to look in our direction as her friend picks up the conversation where they left off. I lower my voice. “I have had a ton to deal with, thank you very much. Just because I wasn’t morphed into some monstrous Elite—”

  Kelly grabs me by the shoulder and directs me to a nearby wall for a bit more privacy. “That’s not what I meant,” he says as he effectively pushes me back. “You have Sidney to help you deal with the bad stuff.”

  “How do you…” I stop myself. Does he really know about Sidney and me, or is he fishing? I look him square in the eye. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  He leans one shoulder against the wall and dips his head uncomfortably close to my face. “Feigning ignorance doesn’t suit you. Sidney told me.”

  “Told you what?”

  His eyes narrow. “Not everything, I bet. But she did tell me how she could help me with my night terrors when we were making our deal.” I frown at him. What deal? “She showed me,” he taps on his temple, “how she’s already been helping you by keeping your nightmares from you.”

  “I don’t sleep much,” I say, still guarded.

  “You aren’t alone on that one,” he says, backing his face away from mine some, “but I think insomnia isn’t something she can help with. Anyways, that’s what I meant. Not all of us have a Sidney around to lighten the load.”

  “I wasn’t aware that she was,” I tell him, not wanting to think about how much worse it would be to fight insomnia along with night terrors. “What kind of deal did you and Sidney make?”

  He rolls from his shoulder so that he’s next to me now, his back against the wall. I take care to leave some distance between us, still not over being pushed. He stares up at the ceiling. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I shot her,” he says dryly. It’s quiet for a moment. “I almost killed her. By the time they got her loaded in the back of an ambulance, I thought she was dead.” He looks down at me. “But they were able to get the bleeding to stop. When she woke up, she was nothing but kind to me. I should have been arrested, honestly, but when detectives showed up she refused to put any blame on me.” He rubs the top of his right forearm arm with his left hand. It’s the same arm he burned in the basement pushing me out of the path of the explosion. As his hand slides up to his elbow and stops, I wonder if it still bothers him despite having healed so well. “I would be in that lockup with all those Rogues right now if it weren’t for her. When the detectives left, I told her that I owed her my life.

  “Next time a nurse came in to check her dressing and give her pain medicine, she talked the nurse into giving me a small dose of something that would let me sleep.”

  “I know where this is going,” I say lightly. Sidney doesn’t particularly like to talk when she’s awake. I’m pretty sure it’s her time as a Rogue captive that left her too paranoid to speak openly, even when no one else is around to hear.

  He turns onto his shoulder again to face me. “Good for you. I had no idea why she wanted me to go to sleep so bad. I figured she just wanted me to shut up for a bit. I only took the clear liquid the nurse offered me because she said it was kid’s Benadryl. I didn’t think that it would
actually work on me.” He raises his eyebrows at me. “But that stuff was no joke. I think I passed out faster than she did. If I hadn’t have been asleep when she started talking to me in my head, I probably would have peed myself a little.”

  “Oh come on,” I say, acting grossed out.

  “What? I’m just being honest. It would freak anyone out.”

  I raise an eyebrow at him. “You don’t have to be that honest.”

  “Anyways,” he continues, “she told me that if I wanted to make it up to her, than it would be pointless for me to be stuck up her butt since she thinks she’s dying soon anyways. And I’m not talking about from me shooting her.”

  “She told you that you were stuck up her butt?” That doesn’t sound like a phrase Sidney would use.

  Kelly grins. “Maybe not word for word, but I knew what she meant. She wanted me to even out a debt she already had with someone else. She told me that someone had saved a loved one of hers, and that she would in no way be able to repay this person in the shape she was in. So I agreed to pay it forward.” He pushes off of the wall to stand directly in front of me. “That’s why I am now going to be stuck up your butt instead of hers.”

  “Me?” I ask. Sidney doesn’t owe me anything. The hospital explosion is the only thing that I can think of. I was able to push her sister, Karen, into a room before the first grenades went off in the hall, but I only did that because I was right there. It was nothing that Sidney would need to repay me for. “I didn’t do anything that anyone else wouldn’t have done in the same position.”

  Kelly slides his hands into his front pockets as he shrugs his big shoulders. “That’s not how she sees it.”

  “So what exactly are you planning on doing for me?” I ask, the words tasting strange in my mouth. It comes out as more of a challenge than I mean it.