Echoes of a Dying World (Book 3): A Dream of Tomorrow

by Esquibel, Don M.

  “You speak about Barr as if he were a normal human being,” Frank says. “He’s not. When the Animals were first formed, ten men got it into their heads that they could overthrow him and his brother. They mutinied, ended up killing a dozen people before they were stopped. Most died in the fighting, but three of them survived.” A dark look passes Frank’s face. “You think you know cruelty, that you’ve seen the worst side of humanity. But you weren’t in the room when Barr finally got his hands on them. First thing he did was kill off their families. Did it right in front of them. It was quick at least, bullets to the back of their heads. The men though? They weren’t so lucky. He made it last days, making every waking moment agony for them. When he was finished he brought their bodies up for all to see and left them hanging outside the front entrance as a warning to others. It’s a warning that has served him well.”

  Val, his right hand, nods. “I remember that day,” she says. “You could hardly recognize them. Scars and bruises all over their bodies. Patches of skin flayed away, fingers chopped off and cauterized. Each of them wore a necklace decorated with their own teeth...it was the most disgusting thing I had ever seen. But as far as deterrents go, it was effective as they come.”

  There’s a moment of silence that follows, each of us no doubt imagining the horrifying image they have painted.

  “But you’re here,” Lynn says. He looks not only at Val and Frank but the others who gather around them. “You risked everything to be free of him, and you're continuing that fight today. What’s their excuse?”

  Brett, one of the former Animals speaks for the first time. “I can’t speak on behalf of them, but for me, it came down to that night on the farm. Frank held Barr at gunpoint and people were drawing sides one way or another. I just thought to myself, this is it. If I didn’t act then, I was never going to. So I did.” He looks to the woman at his left and the little boy perched on her lap. “I knew the risk, but it was a risk I felt I had to take. I can’t blame the others for not feeling the same way.”

  The night on the farm. The night that everything changed. I remember how the Animals chose sides. Some, like Brett, chose to risk it all and stand beside Frank. Others let their fear decide for them. If only they could have overcome it. Barr might have been finished that night if they had. Instead, he lived. He returned to the DoubleTree to find his brother dead and flames consuming part of the building.

  I stand abruptly, inspiration coming to me like a flash of lighting. Eyes flick my way the moment I rise. I feel the weight of their stares as if it were a physical force. It makes my legs feel rubbery, urging me to sit back down and let the others figure this out. Then my eyes Morgan’s and I can see the hope rising against the gloom that has shrouded them for the past hour. It steadies my legs. Helps me find my voice. I turn to Brett.

  “You mean to say that you chose Frank because your hand was forced—because you were in a position where you had to choose one side or the other?”

  He nods. “That’s how it felt.”

  I turn to the rest of the room. “That’s our answer,” I say. “We put them in a position where they must choose between us and Barr. And we do it in a way that Barr won’t be able to use his presence to scare them into submission.”

  “An excellent idea,” one of the new recruits scoffs. “But how in the hell are we supposed to do that?”

  I smile. “By using his bloodlust against him.”

  I lay out the basics of my plan, the attention of the entire room focused on me and what I propose. When I’m finished, it’s as if that weight I felt earlier has been lifted from my shoulders. I said my piece. Now it’s up to the rest to decide whether or not they agree with me. Looking around I see skepticism. But I also see people deep in thought, their faces somber as the digest my plan and the many risks involved. Because it is risky. There are a dozen different ways things could go wrong, and only one where it can go right. If it does go right though...Game changer. It could be the thread that unravels everything.

  The longer I wait, the more I can see people drawing the same conclusion. There are nods. Murmurs of agreement among them. Richard stands, drawing the attention of the room.

  “It’s a bold plan,” he says. “One might even call it reckless.” He pauses a moment. Then his mouth lifts into a small smile. “But I like it. It’s exactly the strike we need right now.”

  A swell of agreement follows this, making my spirits rise. I look past the faces around me. I’m grateful for their support, but it’s not whose approval I need right now. My eyes delve into his, searching for the emotions layered beneath the surface. The fear he hides so well from the others shines in his eyes now. He may have convinced them to rise up and strike back, but that doesn’t make this any easier on him. I’ve seen the terror that fills him each time one of us leaves the safe house, wondering, no doubt, if he will ever see them again. Even after the patrols we’ve intercepted and the strikes we’ve made, nothing we’ve done comes close to this plan.

  He looks away, eyes going around the room, taking in the faces surrounding us. After a moment his eyes settle back on mine. The fear is still there, but there is also resolve. Acceptance that this is the path we must take. He rises and the voices around the room fall silent.

  “I agree,” he says. “The plan isn’t without risk. But if it works, we might finally be able to end this. It’s a risk worth taking.”

  There are still those who look unconvinced, but with the tide of support so strong, there’s no stopping my plan from moving forward now.

  The next few days are spent making the rough outline I drew into a polished product. Recon teams are sent out, eyeing the patrols that have only grown more ominous. They’re a headache to deal with, making it extremely difficult to maneuver inside the town without being spotted. The sheer amount of them is crazy. Barr must have half his soldiers out at least. More probably. I’ve had eyes on several of them. They look tired and miserable. The hunt for us seems to be taking its toll on them. Only a few seem to be at all interested in actually finding us. Their voices are more animated, the excitement of potentially being the one to deliver us to Barr easy to spot. I try and make a mental note of them. When the time comes, they’re the ones we’ll need to worry about.

  “It’s doable,” Frank says. “It will be tricky to go unseen, but if Barr bites hard enough, we should be able to pull it off.”

  That’s the big question. How hard will he bite? The whole plan hinges on Barr’s obsession with finding Frank and Morgan. Because though he’s after all of us, there’s no doubt he wants those two most of all. I just hope we’re not overestimating his need for revenge.

  “Communication is the key,” Richard says. “We’re going to be working with a tight window. We have to relay quickly to one another or this will all go to shit.”

  Those of us who will be leading the engagement tonight have sequestered ourselves in the main office of the warehouse. We go over the plan in its entirety, sorting out the fine details. Morgan listens with his gaze outside the small window, the sky painted pink and purple as the sun begins to set. I watch it sink behind the western mountains, wondering where we will be when it rises again tomorrow—wondering if we’ll be alive to see it. Please God, let us be alive to see it.

  Finally, after exhausting the same points we’ve been over three times at least, there is nothing left to add. It’s then that Morgan tears his gaze from the window and addresses the group.

  “It’s nearly time,” he says. “We should make sure the others are ready to head out.” One by one the room empties. I make to follow Felix out the door when Morgan reaches out and stops me. “Give us a minute?” he asks Felix.

  Felix nods. “I’ll make sure the others are prepared.”

  Morgan watches the door close before facing me. With the others gone, he lets his mask slip, and I can see how fried his nerves truly are. I’ve stood with him on so many occasions such as this—these quiet moments before the storm. Somehow we’ve managed to weather
them and come out alive and whole. But standing here now feels different, the storm we face more fierce than those that have come before it. Morgan must feel it too.

  After a minute he looks away, drifting toward the window. I don’t say anything, knowing he asked me here for a reason. I’ll give him the time he needs.

  “I don’t want you coming with us tonight,” he says.

  I hear the words, but it takes a minute for me to process them. All I can do is stare blankly until I can find my voice. “Are you serious?” I ask. “This is my plan. I have to be there to see it through.”

  “It's your plan,” he admits. “And it’s a good one. But we can follow it through without you being there.”

  “What happened to your promise?” I ask. “You said you would never keep me on the sidelines again.”

  He finally turns around in frustration. “That’s not what I’m asking you to do,” he says. “There’s more than one aspect of the plan. Val and Emily could use your help on their end.”

  “Val and Emily have more than enough help to get the job done,” I say. “So why don’t you cut the bullshit and be honest with me?”

  “What do you want me to say?” he asks. “Do you want me to tell you that I’m afraid? That I’m terrified this is all going to blow up in our face?”

  “I don’t know,” I say. “Are you?”

  He makes a strangled, choking noise. “Of course I am,” he says. “Aren’t you?”

  “Of course I am,” I say. “But that’s not going to stop me from seeing it through.”

  His eyes bore into mine, trying desperately to convince me to stay behind. But there is no changing my mind. Nothing will stop me from coming tonight. Tears pool in his eyes as he realizes the truth.

  “I don’t want to lose you,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

  I lay my hand against his cheek and feel his tears fall upon my wrist. It takes everything I have to keep the tears away myself. But when I speak, my voice is strong and sure.

  “And I don’t want to lose you,” I say. “That’s why I’m coming tonight...I’m going to make damn sure that doesn’t happen.”

  He doesn’t speak for the longest time, just continues to stare into my eyes until his tears stop flowing and he regains his composure.

  “Fate wouldn’t be so cruel to stop us now, right?” he asks.

  The words take me back to the night we spent together before he departed for Salida. I remember the fear that swelled within me as we sat talking, not recognizing my growing feelings for what the were. It was then I told him he would return—because I couldn’t imagine fate being so cruel. But I know better now. That he came back to me wasn’t because of fate. It was because he took an impossible situation and refused to be broken by it. The same will be true tonight.

  “Fuck Fate,” I say. “Whatever happens will be because we made it happen.”

  His eyes harden, my words helping to stoke the fire that had grown so low within him. Now, it comes roaring back to life. I can see it in the smile he gives me, making my own confidence swell.

  “Fuck fate,” he says. “I like it.”

  He continues staring into my eyes for a minute, his face peaceful, as if there was no place in the world he’d rather be. Or is that just me? He leans closer and kisses me once, his lips soft as a butterfly’s wings, sending a whole swarm of them fluttering inside my belly.

  “We best be off, McCoy,” he says. “We have an army to break.”

  Chapter 12: (Morgan)

  The night is dark, no moon to speak of in the vast sky above. By starlight, we travel, following the path forged by Frank and Felix. They scout ahead, their keen eyes our first line of defense against possible detection. We move in silence, whispers and hand signal our only means of communication. Recon teams have moved in and out of here over the past few days, but we haven’t had so many of our own this far into town in weeks. It’s hell on the nerves. I’m constantly scanning my surroundings, ears pinned back for anything that stands out. Any minute I expect to come across a patrol, a lookout, something that will expose us and stop this all dead in its tracks.

  I glance to my right where Lauren marches, eyes scanning the path ahead of us. I should have known better than to ask her to stay behind. It’s not who she is. She’s been a fighter long before I met her. She’s braver than me, her strength worlds beyond my own. Nothing I said was going to keep her from coming with me. And though I fear all the terrible ways this might end for us, I find comfort in her presence now. More than that, I find courage. I feel it coursing through my veins. Whatever happens, we’ll meet it head-on. It won’t stop us. We still have too much to live for.

  We make it to the river trail without incident. All we have to do is follow it to our destination. Even now in the dead of winter, with times being what they are, there are dozens of footprints through the snow, those still alive within the town using it as a thoroughfare to travel. While it saves us the effort of having to break a trail ourselves, it also increases the risk of coming across unwanted guests. Sure enough, we run into some as we draw closer to our target. We find Frank and Felix beneath the bridge spanning the river near Santa Rita Park.

  “Foot patrol heading our way through the park,” Frank says.

  “Only one?” I ask.

  “Far as I could see.”

  I nod, considering the predicament. The plan was to remain undetected and wait for Emily to radio in on their end. But with a patrol so close, we may have no choice in the matter. I turn to Richard.

  “Engage or evade?” I ask.

  He looks around us a moment, quiet as he thinks. “We can probably slip past them, but there’s a chance they could catch us with our pants down if we do. I say we take matters into our own hands.”

  That’s good enough for me. He lays out a basic plan, our number allowing us to be less creative than the ruses we’ve had to pull with past patrols. We get into position on the far side of the bridge, waiting silently in the shadows for the patrol to draw nearer. There are no words, no noise that gives them away, only the soft crunch of snow beneath their boots. Patiently we wait, the crunch growing louder as they approach the snare. They appear, and the trap closes shut. It’s over before it started, the whole lot of them overwhelmed by the speed with which we move. Once they’ve been tied and stripped of their weapons, we radio Val and Emily to inform them of the small delay. We line the patrol up in a row, their eyes flicking back and forth between Frank and myself.

  “You know who we are?” I ask. All of them nod, the two at the far right spitting on the ground in defiance. I ignore the petulance. “Good, because we have a schedule to keep.”

  I pace before them, the movement both clearing my mind and keeping their focus trained on me. “By now, you have heard our message. You can choose Barr, a man who coerces you into doing his dirty work, or you can choose us and fight for something more. Come morning, you will need to have an answer.”

  We leave them tied and gagged inside one of the lone buildings within the park. It’s all we can do with them for now. Even if they were willing to help, we couldn’t accept it. Not without being certain of their intentions. There’s too much riding on our actions to run that risk.

  Frank and Felix resume their forward scouting. From here, we must proceed with increased caution. The closer we come, the harder my heart beats. The deeper my breaths become. My mind is in a whirlwind, so many thoughts flashing in and out I can’t even focus on them. My head snaps at every sound. My eyes search the shadows, half-convinced a new patrol will materialize out of them with their guns blazing. But none come. And the next thing I know, we’ve caught up with Frank and Felix.

  “Captain to Princess,” I say over the radio. Emily’s reply is immediate.

  “What’s your status, Captain?”

  “We’re in position.”

  “Copy that,” she says. “We’ll radio in once we’re finished on our end.”

  “Good luck, Princess,” I say. It speaks to th
e gravity of the situation that no humor fills my voice as I give her callsign and no irritation fills hers as she replies.

  “You too, Captain,” she says after a brief pause. “Over and out.”

  “And now we wait,” Richard says as I tuck the radio into my pocket.

  I let loose a long breath. “And now we wait.”

  The waiting is always the worst part. It’s made even worse by the cold. Pacing is out of the question, our location requiring us to remain as silent and hidden as possible. I clear the snow off the face of a large rock and sit, knee bouncing up and down violently until Lauren lays her hand atop my kneecap. The starlight is just bright enough to highlight her eyes which stare back at me, speaking to me without the need for words.

  Calm yourself. Everything is going to be alright.

  I force a deep breath and nod. My nerves are still fried, my anticipation growing with each passing minute, but I settle myself enough to focus on the task at hand. It’s all that matters right now. The future I always wanted to build might finally be possible after tonight. I take the thought and expand on it, imagining all the ways things could change for us with Barr out of the picture. I see it play out in my mind’s eye and I tell myself it will happen, that it’s not just fantasy. I tell myself it again and again until I convince myself I really believe it. I have to believe it.

  Emily’s voice comes over the radio, hushed and excited. “Princess to Captain,” she says.

  “I hear you, Princess,” I say. “What’s your status?”

  “Snare’s been set. Hoping for some rabbits.”

  My adrenaline peaks, clearing the anxiety and doubt from my mind. My mask sits firmly in place now at the moment of action.

  “Copy that, Princess. See you soon.” I store the radio away and look over the others. Without saying a word they have risen, practically bouncing with anticipation. “It’s go time.”