We emerge from our hiding spot along the riverbank, hitting the trail with a renewed energy. The dark mouth of an underpass presents itself. What doesn’t present itself is the guards that were stationed here during our reconnaissance. They’ve been called back just as we’d hoped.
“You hear that?” Richard whispers?
I do hear it, the unmistakable rumble of an engine roaring to life. The roar is joined by another, and another still. Soon I lose track as more of the metallic beasts join their pack, their deep roars like a collective battle cry as they prep their charge. The sound deepens and then grows steadily softer, the beasts finally let loose for a hunt. They head north in a hurry, chasing after prey that isn’t there. Instead, the prey is on their doorstep. And they’ve grown fangs.
When the roaring has gone silent we emerge from the underpass, making a mad dash across the no man’s land between the trail and the DoubleTree’s fire-damaged south side. I half expect to be shot down, to at least hear an alarm raised, but none come. The guards have been pulled to more vital tasks like securing their captives. Like chasing ghosts. No need to waste manpower securing the abandoned ruin of their south wing.
We skirt the building in search of an entry point, finding one halfway along the outer wall. Once inside, it becomes clear why the Animals have left this side largely unguarded. The whole place feels as if it’s about to cave in. Piles of broken ceiling and furniture from the upper floors have crashed down into heaps along the hallway. It’s a claustrophobic feeling, being surrounded by this crumbling mess. It feels like we’ve moved deep underground, like the exit to this place wasn’t just down the hall. But exiting now would make this all for nothing. We have to move forward.
Our progress is slow and cautious. The last thing we need is to disturb one of the last threads holding this place together. We continue down the hall until we reach a wall of debris.
“Shit!” I curse. Examining the wall. It’s rock solid. There will be no moving it. I curse again. This is the only way we saw this plan working. Surely, they will have the other entrances covered, wouldn’t they? I stand, rubbing my knuckles against my head, trying to figure out what to do when I hear Felix’s voice from down the hall. I make my way toward him, dipping inside one of the rooms. Atop the bed rests a crashed desk, above which lies a gaping hole in the ceiling above it.
“We’re not getting through the debris back there,” he says. “We can go up and over and hope this way’s clear.”
“It’s as good a plan as any,” I say.
We proceed through the hole in the ceiling, emerging onto the second floor. The hallway here isn’t so bad as the one below. There is evidence of the fire, but the damage is less pronounced. We continue down the hall until we are again met with a wall of debris.
I curse again, more crudely than before. What the hell are we supposed to do now?
“Explains why they haven’t bothered guarding this side,” Leon says, frustration etching his voice. “What’s the point if there’s no getting through to the main hotel anyway?”
I begin to respond but I’m cut off by Lauren. “Shhh,” she says. “Listen.” We grow silent, each of us straining our ears. Then I hear it: the sound of running feet and excited voices muffled by the debris between us. The feet draw level and then thunder pass.
“Come on!” I say. “The wall can’t be too thick or we wouldn’t have heard them.”
Slowly, we dig. As we work, we begin to disturb the fragile ceiling above us. Pieces of plaster and wood fall on top of us. There’s a muffled cry from behind as someone is hit over the head by something heavy. He squats, rubbing his head quietly cursing every word in the book. The rest quickly learn to cover their heads to save themselves from injury. Finally, the gap opens wide enough for us to enter.
We file in one at a time, black sooted and filthy, our only injuries some scrapes and cuts and a few bumps on the head. Not a bad price of admission by any means.
Voices drift from up ahead, leading us down the corridor. At the end, Richard goes to a knee, peering around the corner with the aid of a compact mirror.
“Most of the hotel is in the lobby,” he whispers. “Only counted fifteen who were armed though. The rest must be captives.”
“Makes sense,” Frank says. “He needs to ensure the compliance of the people he took on the raid. He must be sure of their loyalty to leave them in charge.”
Translation: they are part of the 20 percent who he warned us about. Richard lays out a basic plan for us to strike.
“We have to move quickly,” Richard says. “If they surrender, good. If not, take them out. On my mark.” He holds up three raised fingers. Two. One.
We move into the lobby, guns drawn. He wasn’t exaggerating. The place is full of people. Most sit huddled on the floor, shaking and scared. Only their overseers don’t look miserable. At least until we emerge. We catch them completely unaware, their attention split between their conversations and the entrances they guard. Never did they imagine they could be blindsided like this. Most are subdued before they even have a chance to raise their weapons. The few that do get shots off miss. Richard’s hatchet, Felix’s crossbow, and Frank's throwing knives make quick work of them.
There’s an uproar of confusion, the noise almost making the lack of gunfire on our end pointless. If it continues, the rest of the guards will know something’s happened the same had we came in guns blazing.
“Quiet!” Frank shouts. The sudden reappearance of one of their former leaders is enough to quiet them.
“Fucking traitor!” one of the guard shouts, spitting at his feet. Enough to quiet most of them, that is. Leon shuts the man up with a quick kick to the stomach. He doubles over and coughs, but offers no more insults toward Frank. Nobody does. But that doesn’t mean the man’s feelings aren’t shared. Every one of his fellow guards looks at Frank with pure loathing. Even those captive glare at Frank with bitterness. Hate, even. They don’t care about the leverage Barr had on him during his time with the Animals, nor the things he’s done since leaving them. To them, he’s still the man who stood by Barr’s side—the man who, undoubtedly, put many of them here in the first place. Before they can focus on that hate, I step forward. A ripple of recognition goes through them. Barr did well. They have no trouble recognizing me. Still, I leave them with no doubt of who I am.
“My name is Morgan Taylor,” I say. “And you know why we came here tonight. The time has come for you to make a choice.”
I pause, letting my words sink in.
“Barr has made you believe we are your enemy, that we are a threat who must be destroyed. But I ask you: who is your true enemy? As we speak, Barr is off with your loved ones, chasing a false trail in search of us. I have no ill will toward them. I know Barr is using you as leverage to force them along. Because that is what you are to him: tools, a means to an end. But I don’t believe most of you think the same way he does. Am I wrong? Do you agree with the actions of your leader? Do you believe that others are exploitable and that you have the right to whatever you want so long as you have the power to take it? Given a choice, would you choose to remain here and do as you’ve been doing?”
Anger fills their faces but I don’t feel it aimed at me. No. It’s their situation they grow angry with. It’s the man who keeps them here.
“I didn’t think so,” I say. “Barr has been drunk off power for so long that he feels he has the right to your lives: that he can do as he pleases because everyone is too afraid to rise against him. That’s why he wants me so badly. I rose. And despite everything he’s done, I’m still standing. For a long time, I tried to avoid this fight. I thought all of you like him: callous and cold.”
I look to Frank, to Angela, to the other former Animals who no stand behind me.
“But now I know the truth. A lot of you might look at Frank, and see El Matador. You might remember the things he’s done and think him no better than Barr. But he was coerced the same as you. If left unchallenged, Barr will continue
this same sad cycle. He will gather more and more people to his cause—an army bound by fear and threats.
“That’s why I’m here. I’m tired of seeing the town I love run by a man I hate. I swore I would do all I could to cut that man from power and bring him the end he deserves. But I can’t do it alone.” I sweep my hand to the people at my back. “We can’t do it alone. We need your help. Only together can we take this son of a bitch down for good. The choice is yours: either stand with us or stand with the man who would turn you into animals.”
There is no overjoyed uproar following my speech. My words do not make these people jump and thump their fists against their chests as one might see in the movies of old. There is only silence, their faces fearful and indecisive. I can practically see the war raging within them: their struggle to resist the fear that’s been ingrained inside them, and summon the courage to rise against their oppressor. They are not fools. They know how badly things could end for them should they do what I ask them to. But they also know what will happen if they do nothing. It’s in their blank stares, their bleak outlook playing before their very eyes: a future in service to a tyrant who will strip them of their morals and values until they are but a shade of their former selves. And not only them, but those they love as well.
It’s a brutal picture. I know because I’ve seen it myself. It’s what made me rise up and take this fight against Barr in the first place. And it is the same picture that ultimately decides for them.
At the back of the lobby, a woman steps forward until she stands mere feet in front of me. She’s small, hardly taller than the youth who stands nervously at her side. The kid looks up at me with fearful eyes only to look away again immediately. But I don’t see fear in the woman’s eyes. I see fire. I see someone who has realized the harsh truth that I have laid out for them: that they are in this fight whether they like it or not. Like me, they didn’t ask for it. Still, it’s on them to choose which side they’re on. Looking at the woman, I already know her choice.
“My husband and I have done many things for that man,” she says. She looks briefly at the youth beside her. “He turned us into the animals you speak of. That stops today. I will stand with you.”
I nod, keeping my eyes locked on hers, hoping to convey my deep gratitude. “Thank you,” I say. I look away after a moment. “Will anyone else stand with her?”
A man steps forward next. “I’ve fantasized about getting my revenge on that son of a bitch for a long time,” he says. “I am with you.”
More step forward. One at a time. Two at a time. Soon it’s the whole lobby, their pledges to join us turning into one loud roar. It shakes me to my bones. This is it. This is the tide we needed to turn. I look to Lauren, who, as always, stands by my side. She smiles, making me smile in turn. Neither of us speak. She knows me better than I know myself, and the warmth in her eyes needs no interpretation. I turn back to the roaring lobby and hold up my hand, calling for quiet.
“Now to business,” I say. “We have a homecoming to arrange.”
Chapter 13: (Lauren)
With the addition of the captives to our ranks, securing the rest of the hotel is easy. Barr left a true skeleton crew behind to guard the place. The bulk of his heavy hitters and coerced soldiers were either on patrol or with him as he left this evening. All of them will be together now, searching for the false trail set by Emily and Val’s team.
“It was beautiful,” Emily says. “They passed us on the way here. I even waved at him from the shadows. Ha! How long do you think it takes the prick to figure it out?”
I wish I knew. We’ve been monitoring the radios but have yet to hear from him. It’s strange. Shouldn’t he have tried to call in by now?
“Hopefully it takes a while,” I say, choosing not to voice my concern. We’ve had two overwhelming victories tonight. I don’t want to spoil them with my paranoia. “The more time we have, the more prepared we will be.”
Though the bulk of Barr’s forces are with him, their armory is still largely intact. The room alone stands testament to the many lives they have ruined. Each gun, each box of bullets once belonged to someone else. Watching those same weapons being put in the hands of those they were taken from is poetic justice if I’ve ever seen it. These weapons would have been used to ensure their compliance. Now they wield them in defiance of the man who would kill any of them if it suited his purpose.
Still, it’s slightly unnerving being surrounded by so many who, only hours ago would have turned us in on Barr’s orders. They might have only done so out of fear, but that wouldn’t have mattered to us. The damage would have been done all the same. And though they show no signs of duplicity, it would be foolish not to remain vigilant around them.
Richard and Frank lay out the battle plan and move us into position, taking into consideration the available cover and sightlines we have to work with. We want Barr well within our sights before he has the chance to act. If we can just get him into the lobby. If his men could see that their loved ones are no longer in danger there would be nothing holding them back. Barr’s hold over them would be shattered, and he would be surrounded by a horde of angry Animals he helped make. There would be no escaping such a scenario. He’d finally get the justice he deserves.
I focus on the image. It’s almost over. All we have to do is wait. But more time passes and still, there is not hide nor hair of him. The radio too remains silent. That uneasy feeling grows inside me. Something is off. I lock eyes with Morgan. He feels it too.
“Should we make a call?” Morgan asks.
“That’ll just tip him off,” Keith, one of the former captives says. He points to the body of one of the dead guards. “He knew the callsigns. If we radio in without them they will know something’s up.”
“It’s true,” Emily says. “Only reason he bought our transmission was because we forced them out of one of the Animals in the patrol.”
There’s a series of curses, none more animated than from Lylette. This wait is as hard on her as anyone. Wives worry over husbands. Children worry over their parents. But Lylette? Over half her Ranch was taken by Barr, all of whom are with him now. The longer this plays out the more her imagination is bound to run. For her, I rack my head, trying to figure out something we can do other than sit here and wait. But for the life of me, I can’t think of anything.
“What if—” whatever Felix was about to suggest is lost, the conversation put to rest as one of the lookouts shouts from the front.
“Vehicles returning!”
We scramble back into our positions. “Definitely ours,” the lookout says. “But...shit.”
“What? What’s wrong?” Morgan and I push forward until we can see past the rising bodies.
“Shit,” I repeat the lookout’s words. Three trucks and a small bus pull into the parking lot, all of them beat to hell. Bullet holes and huge dents riddle their metal bodies. Smoke rises from beneath their hoods. The bus slips and slides the whole way, both tires on its passenger side completely flat. That it is running at all is a miracle.
There is a surge toward the exits as the vehicles pull up front. We try and maintain order, warning them to stay in position, that it could be a trap. But the moment the doors open there is no holding them back. I can’t blame them. Half those outside are as beat up as the vehicles they drive. Realizing this, we exit after them. Lylette lets out a shout as she recognizes a band of her people and rushes to their side, accessing them for injuries. I’m about to see if I can help when one of the new arrivals walks up. Unlike many, he appears to be uninjured. What’s more, he doesn’t look surprised to see us.
“Barr’s not coming,” he says before we can ask. “He knows you have the place.”
“How?” Morgan asks.
“Someone sent a message through the radio,” he says. “Heard it myself: warning him of what was going on.” He shakes his head. “I tried to end him there but one of his lackeys took the bullet instead. It was all I could do but shoot my way out from there.�
�� He points to those around him. “As you can see, I wasn’t the only one. It was chaos. I rallied as many as I could, but Barr had the drop on us. We lost so many people before we managed to get away. Even then Barr gave chase. Ran at least two trucks off the road. He only pulled off as we came into view of the hotel.”
“How many people does Barr still have?” Frank asks.
The man eyes Frank with distaste. “Hard to say," he says, finally. "Forty. Maybe more. Not easy getting a headcount while dodging bullets if you know what I mean.”
Our plan is in shambles. The hysteria rises as the news spreads. People shove and push past one another in desperation to find their loved ones. I look around at the manic scene, witnessing everything from teary reunions to a woman fainting at the sight of her injured husband. His is not the only devastating injury. Bullet wounds. Massive gashes and broken bones. Their wails of pain are mingled with the sound of mourning as some are given the news they most feared. Worse yet are those who are left without answers—who have no idea of their loved one’s fates. Some don’t sit around and wait. They leave the hotel in search of them, our pleading for them to stay falling on deaf ears. But we don’t stop them. We have no right to do so.
Curses are thrown our way. The atmosphere growing more contentious by the minute. I can see the blame in their eyes. They might have hated the things they were forced to do, but they did it so their loved ones could live. Now, that’s not the case for many of them. On instinct, our people gravitate closer together. I grip the handle of my rifle, ready to use it at a moment’s notice.
A woman kneels off to the side, her face blank, eyes lost. She goes unnoticed by the masses who are still busy sorting each other out. I do notice. So does Morgan. Unlike me though, he’s not content with letting her be.
“Are you alright?” he asks. She doesn’t even acknowledge that he’s said anything. “Ma’am?” Still no response. “It’s freezing out here. Why don’t you come inside?” Still nothing. “Here, at least take my coat for now.” He moves closer, making to drape the coat across her shoulders when she acts.
Echoes of a Dying World (Book 3): A Dream of Tomorrow Page 17