Patriots & Tyrants

by Brian Cotton

  ***

  The two old war veterans sat by themselves in the back of their vehicle. They had their laptops turned on, wired in to the news stations which were rapidly reporting the news of, what they called, the worst act of terrorism ever committed against the USR. Several of the Consuls from all over the country were condemning the resistance and the old way of life which led to this atrocity. Harvey had to slam his laptop shut as he couldn’t stand to listen to it anymore.

  “Hell of a thing to do,” Sanders said, eyes still glued to his large computer screen.

  “What?” Harvey demanded.

  “This, the USR, its one helluva power play.”

  “We were setup all along, weren’t we?”

  Sanders nodded his head. “No doubt about it. They destroy the cure, which was probably leaked to your guys on purpose, get us on video heading in that direction. Then, the big bad Agents move in to save the day. Like I said, helluva power play.”

  “You don’t sound a bit surprised.”

  Sanders shook his head. “I’m not surprised. I could smell this trap from a mile away.”

  “Why’d you agree to help us then?” Harvey demanded. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  Sanders didn’t reply.

   “How many men did we lose today? All on some farce that you saw coming? Now, Krys is about to go. No way we’re going to be recovering from this for a long time.”

  Sanders sighed, “So easy to give in to defeat you are, Sam. There are still others like us. Units that the USR built to expand their influence. We’ll strike back at them hard. They won’t even see it coming.”

  Harvey shook his head and leaned back in his chair. Sanders was talking all crazy again. The cure was the one thing that the resistance could possess that could’ve changed the tides in this war. Now, that trump card was gone, and all they had to show for it were the lives of brave men. There was nothing else they could do. Not right now, anyway, with their unit all beat to shit.

  “Stop shaking your damn head,” Sanders said. “I’ve known rookie pukes with more dedication to the mission than you.”

  “Rookie pukes don’t know better, either.”

  “So, what now, we just fold our tents and pack it in?”

  “Not forever, just until we rest up and maybe find some more guys.”

  Sanders stood and walked over to the side of the vehicle. With his arm rested against the cold steel wall, he buried his head into it. After several sighs he faced Harvey again. Harvey could sense the sadness in his new partner’s eyes. It was a sadness that he could understand. The war seemed more and more like one they couldn’t win. He wondered if Sanders could sense the same thing. If they couldn’t win, Sanders seemed like the type to give them as much hell as possible before the end. Harvey was more of the take it easy type. He didn’t see it as giving up the way his partner did. To him, it was more about resting before the next battle; making sure they had all their ducks in a row first.

  The two soldiers remained in what would’ve looked like a trance like stare to the uninformed. The whole time, Harvey tried to get a read on what exactly Sanders was thinking. He obviously had something in mind, the only thing that bothered Harvey was how much trouble they were about to get into.

  “Let me ask you something,” Sanders finally said. “Soldier to soldier, have you looked in the mirror lately?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Harvey wondered.

  “Nothing philosophical or any of that bullshit. I mean literally, have you looked in the mirror? We’re getting old…we’re already old. How much time do you think we have left?”

  Harvey sighed. “I know we’re not young anymore. But, just because we’re old doesn’t mean we need to be fool hearty.”

  Sanders slammed his fist on the side of the vehicle. “Who’s being fool hearty?! I’ve got just a few more years left, you get me?”

  “I understand, but we’ve just suffered a major loss. Let’s take some time…”

  “There you go with time again.”

  “What do you propose?” Harvey asked.

  “We’ve got that geek of yours in that other vehicle, right?”

  Harvey shook his head. “We can’t trust any of that, not after today.”

  Sanders slammed his fist one last time before he took a seat. Harvey felt pity for the old soldier. It was never easy to suffer a defeat. Everyone dealt with it differently. For Sanders, it was always about the next fight. That was the way his mind operated. Sanders rubbed his hands together as he sat.

  “How about something we do know about…for a fact.”

  “What’s that?”

  “D.C.” Sanders replied. “The Capitol.”

  Harvey was shocked at the mere mention of the Capitol. Almost anyone who was a leftover knew about D.C. Right at the beginning of the USR’s reign, they blew up the White House as a way of saying that the old ways were over. The rubble from the explosion was never cleaned up. There were still chunks of the old structure stuck into the ground. In its place, the USR built a smaller, five story structure which also served as a way of saying the United States was defeated. We are here now. It was a key structure for the USR. One that, if the resistance brought down or took over, would cause serious shockwaves through the USR’s leaders.

  “No,” Harvey said with a shake of his head. “Absolutely not.”

  “Why the hell not?” Sanders demanded.

  “We don’t have the man power to carry out such an operation, for one thing.”

  Sanders smiled. “I’ve got connections too, you know. We can assemble a squad large enough if we wanted to.”

  “What about the repercussions?”

  “There will always be repercussions, you know that, Sam.”

  “Not like this. The USR will up the ante if we succeed.”

  “We’ve got to do something. We can’t just roll over and play dead for a while. They certainly don’t give a damn about harming—killing—their own people as we saw tonight. They need to be reminded that we’re still around and not playing their fucking games.”

  “So, this is about us proving something to them? It’s too risky.”

  “Of course we’re trying to prove something to them. Not only that, but if we could do something…drastic like this, it will motivate the other patriots out there. Besides, you want the USR to think that they can just do this shit and get away with it? Not me. No, I’m going to get on the phones with my contacts. You want in? You can join us. I’ll let you think about it.”

  With that, Sanders sat back down in front of his computer. He grabbed a pair of headphones and turned the volume up. All Sanders wanted right now was to be alone, but being stuck in the vehicle with Harvey made that impossible.

  Harvey walked over to one of the benches and lay down on his back. The thought of striking back at the heart of the USR was intriguing, but he just couldn’t get past the feeling that it was too soon. They still needed recovery time. But, maybe Sanders was right for once. He wasn’t getting any younger and the USR was only getting stronger. If they could succeed in taking over that building, that could send the right message to all the other resistance units around the country that there was hope. Harvey forced his upper body back up. He looked in Sanders’s direction and his partner looked back. With a thumbs up, the message was clear.

  Harvey was all in.

   

  .35

  “Ryan, I think something’s wrong.” Krys said.

  Those words jolted Kaspar from his sleep. For a moment, he wondered if he was dreaming as he saw Krys fall off the bench. He moved over to her with swiftness and picked her up. Her entire body shook and her lips trembled. When she started to gag, he reached over for the orange bucket next to them. Once he placed it in front of her, she started to vomit into it without control. The vomiting was so fierce that she only had a few seconds in between each evacuation to breathe.

  This was it, Kaspar thought. There was
a feeling of guilt inside when it didn’t hit him as hard as he thought it would. However, he told himself that he had been anticipating this moment for so long that he was almost desensitized to it. Still, there was a massive feeling of sadness that gripped him on the inside. He fought back the tears in an attempt to be stronger for her.

  As he held her, he reached into his pocket for his walkie. He cried into it telling everyone to stop and pull over if it was safe. Krys was very sick and she needed some kind of medical attention. When the words were said into the device, he could feel the vehicle stop dead in its tracks. Krys finished vomiting and wiped her mouth with her sleeve. In all the times that she was sick, she never looked this bad. Her face was pale and her lips were blue. She was gasping for breath.

  The doors behind them opened and the rest of the crew filed into the back. Kaspar saw Harvey, who had a concerned look on his face. With a simple shake of the head, Harvey’s eyes dropped. The rebel leader had a syringe in his hand and moved in on Krys.

  “No,” Krys said at the sight of it. “No more, please. I just want to rest.”

  “Are you sure? This can make you feel better.” Harvey replied.

  “I said no. It’s over, Sam. Just let me be.”

  Harvey nodded his head and turned. He told the others to file out and give the two inside some privacy. The door shut behind Kaspar and Krys again. Kaspar looked deep into his lover’s eyes and tried to picture her healthy, happy, and free once again. His heart was sinking at the thought of this being the last image of her that he would ever see.

  “Not yet,” Kaspar said. “Not like this. Take the meds.”

  “Why?” Krys asked.

  “It’s to help you.”

  “Ryan, I’m ready to go. I’ve been suffering for so long. I just want it to end, the suffering, I just want it to end.”

  Kaspar could not fight back the tears any longer. His grip on her body grew stronger. He lifted her head close to his. He didn’t care if she had just been sick. He brought his lips close to hers and kissed them. After the kiss on the lips, he gave her several pecks on her cheek. He then moved his forehead to hers. She was so cold, that was the one thing that struck Kaspar more than anything else. He never realized that a person could get this cold and still breathe.

  “Ryan,” Krys said with trembling lips. “Promise me something.”

  “Anything.”

  “Don’t stop fighting. And, don’t fight just to avenge me or your mother. Find the real reason behind what we’re doing and fight for that.”

  “Okay,” Kaspar replied. He started to run his fingers through her hair.

  “You’re not going to are you?” Krys asked with a small laugh.

  “I’ll try. But, you know why I joined this fight, and now you’re gone, I don’t see any real reason other than to kill as many of those bastards as I can.”

  “Just, try, as long as you try, that would make me happy.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Can you see that?” Krys wondered.

  “What?”

  Those were her last words. When the breathing stopped, her body went limp and became heavy. Kaspar wept and held her body close to his. All the experiences she had in life, all the highs and lows, all of the love that they shared, was gone in that instant. Kaspar wondered what it must have been like for her. For someone who truly lived her life to the fullest and now, in the blink of an eye, it was all gone. Did anything she did even matter, in the grand scheme of things? It mattered to Kaspar, of that much he was sure of, but once Kaspar met his eventual end, what then?

  The words he wanted to say, that he loved her with everything inside, didn’t come out in time. He would never be able to tell her, wouldn’t be able to speak to her ever again, and the weeping at that thought grew stronger. He looked into her wide, brown eyes that were once so full of life, and now they only looked aimless. Kaspar became haunted by the image of her dead eyes being wide open. It reminded him of Mother, the last time he saw her. Was this his lot in life? Would anyone he cared about suffer a cruel, early death? For the second time, Kaspar felt like his life had been snatched away from him.

  “Krys?” Kaspar asked out of sheer hope that she would snap out of it. He began to shake her body. “Krys? KRYS!”

  The others outside heard the shout and opened the door behind him. Kaspar didn’t bother to look over to them. He buried his head into Krys’s chest and began to weep without control. None of the others tried to intervene, except for Clarke, who had a tear run down his own cheek. He walked over to Kaspar and placed a hand on his shoulder. Kaspar didn’t move. The only movement from him came from his lungs, which tried to draw breath in between the sobs.

  Clarke said a silent good-bye to his old friend and walked out.