Into the Real

by Z Brewer

  “Lloyd, that is enough!” Alice stepped out the front door, one of the larger male staff members at her side. A second man appeared at the bottom of the steps, as if he’d heard the commotion and had come to intervene.

  Lloyd clenched his jaw and turned his fiery eyes on Alice. “If you can’t handle me and my opinions, then send me home.”

  Alice seemed unfazed. “You’re not going anywhere yet. We’re invested in helping you heal.”

  Lloyd’s eyes were daggers. Words spilled from his lips so fast, it was as if they’d been held in by a dam that had finally broken. “You’re only invested in the generous donation my parents gave you to twist the queer out of me. What gives you the right to decide who I love? Who I want? Not a damn check, that’s for sure.”

  “Clearly you need some time to consider your words and actions.” With a nod to the two staff members, she said, “Daniel, Marcus, please escort Lloyd to the Serenity Hut. We’ll see how he’s feeling about treatment in two days.”

  Lloyd’s shoulders dropped. He looked afraid, like he had squaring off against Dr. Hillard at dinner last night, except worse. Lloyd was terrified.

  In a blur, the two men grabbed Lloyd by the arms and pulled him down the steps. He kicked and fought, but they carried him off toward the easternmost part of the camp. His shouted obscenities quieted as they disappeared into the woods.

  My heart was hammering inside my chest. “What’s going to happen to him?”

  “He’ll be locked in the dark with no food, water, or human interaction for two days.” Randall ran a shaking hand through his hair. “It’s not as bad as Deliverance, but it’s close.”

  My mouth had gone dry. “They can’t do that.”

  “Yeah, they can. If our parents signed the waivers to get us in here, they can do pretty much whatever they want.” Valerie’s eyes welled with tears. She found my hand without looking and squeezed it.

  Behind us, Alice spoke with conviction. Her words were tinged with triumph. “Take notice, children. Some souls cannot be cleansed. Some people are irredeemable.”

  19

  When the next bomb blew, the wall behind me bowed, but didn’t crumble. It settled uneasily, as if it were uncertain about its place in this war-torn world. It couldn’t take another hit like that. I wasn’t sure my team could either. Lloyd, Miranda, Collins, Stephens, Simmons, Jack, Thompson, McIntyre—they were good soldiers. If I didn’t get them out of here soon, they’d be dead soldiers too. Just like Johnson.

  “Sir, your orders?” A familiar voice shouted over the sounds of war. “Quinn!”

  Johnson. Shit. How was I supposed to tell Millie and their girls that he wasn’t coming home? Never mind erasing from my mind the image of shrapnel blowing a hole through his chest. I’d chosen to carry the bloody burdens of this damned war. His wife and children had been thrust into it by proxy. They deserved better than to have their whole world turned upside down, all because I’d convinced Johnson that this would be the last run for him—one last outpost before he could go home to his girls for good.

  Only now he wasn’t going home. Maybe none of us were. This operation may have all been for nothing. What the hell would I tell them then?

  “QUINN!” A firm hand gripped my shoulder and shook me from my thoughts.

  I snapped my eyes to Lloyd, who was crouched beside me, clutching his gun to his chest with his free hand. I didn’t have to ask him what he wanted. Like any good second-in-command, like any best friend, he was giving me what I needed—a good, hard slap back into reality. Bullets and bombs were still flying. Our team was in danger. They needed a leader. Mourning and guilt had to be put on hold. Time to “man up,” as my father would have said. A phrase that I truly hated, but it fit the current situation.

  Our mission came first. Storm the Allegiance’s headquarters and take their leader, Caleb, hostage. He wouldn’t be in Brume for long—maybe a week, maybe two—before he’d return to William Spencer’s mansion, their national headquarters five hundred miles away. We had to grab him now or our chance would slip through our hands. There was no more time to find a way to end this war. We’d used the last of the supplies getting here, and there were thousands of people counting on us.

  People like Johnson’s family.

  Eight outposts in total surrounded headquarters. They were small two-story buildings that formed a defensive circle. Each sported a banner that matched those outside Allegiance HQ. Red and black, with their creed: “As God Intended.”

  A knot formed in my stomach every time I saw those words. The Allegiance wasn’t exactly accepting of those who didn’t adhere to their doctrine. As far as they saw it, if you were anything but white, straight, cisgender, and hard-core conservative Christian, you didn’t exist.

  I wondered what their God would think of that.

  Four soldiers were stationed at each outpost—two upstairs and two down. Rotating shifts every four hours ensured that they were alert at all times. No less than a dozen more soldiers circled the perimeter around all the outposts.

  Twenty more had been dispatched once our presence had been detected, but we’d taken out most of them already.

  Allegiance soldiers were exceptionally trained and well armed. There was no doubt their bellies were full and their uniforms clean. Their wounds were tended to with the best of care and their nights off-duty were full of quiet rest. The Allegiance took care of its own. All you had to do to join them was sell your soul to the devil himself. Namely, Caleb.

  I hadn’t known Caleb before the war. But when the Allegiance had rolled into Brume, I saw him standing on top of a tank with his father, the General, at his side. The tank had come to a stop and Caleb addressed the crowd. “Greetings, citizens of Brume. Today my father and I bring you good tidings for the future of our country. Under the protection of the Allegiance, we’re going to make our country better again. The best in the entire world. As God intended!”

  My heart hammering nervously in my chest drowned out the polite applause. I’d expected every person there to hate him on sight, but to my horror, several gazed up at him in awe, as if they had been drowning and their savior had at last arrived. In a moment I’d never forget, Caleb met my eyes and flashed a smile so charismatic that I almost forgot for a moment that he was in charge of one of the most well-organized, well-funded hate-mongering groups to ever exist. He was handsome, and the look in his eyes was sincere. The moment was brief and probably meaningless, but it shook me to my core. This man was dangerous—maybe even more dangerous than his father.

  That night invitations to a dinner hosted by Caleb were sent out to a handful of people, myself included. My gut said not to go, so I didn’t. Good thing too. Once his guests were seated, Caleb gave the go-ahead for his men to open fire. He’d killed everyone in the room that wasn’t part of the Allegiance, all to send a message to everyone else in Brume. The message was clear. He was in charge now, and all who opposed him and his mighty Allegiance would suffer.

  Our plan was solid. If we could take out four of the outposts, we’d cause enough chaos that Collins, Thompson, and I should be able to slip inside, grab Caleb, and get the hell out of there. I wasn’t worried about getting out—by then, we’d have the biggest bargaining chip possible in our possession.

  Once we had Caleb, we could negotiate peace between the Allegiance and the Resistance. He was going to listen to reason if I had to smack that smug look off his face and make him listen. My people were dying . . . but so were his. The Allegiance had a way of projecting the image that every one of them was living a life of luxury, despite the war. But I knew different. Headquarter soldiers and staff seemed to have that life. The rest of them were struggling—not as much as members of the Resistance by far, but enough.

  Peace. All I wanted was peace.

  Both within and without.

  I’d been distracted lately. Not by the war or lack of supplies or anything like that—no more than usual, anyway. But by something churning within me. This undeniable feeling o
f being Other. I wondered if Lloyd had noticed.

  But I had to focus. The mission came first. It had to.

  “Lloyd, I want you to grab Miranda, McIntyre, and Stephens and circle around the western side. Draw their fire and take out as many of those bastards as you can on your way to the next outpost.” The word bastards had come out as a growl. Too many of my men had been lost fighting in Caleb’s war—and it was his war. Not ours. We hadn’t asked for the bloodshed. We hadn’t started the fighting. Like anyone with the grit to stand against tyranny, we’d merely resisted. “Miranda and Stephens can handle that one. You and McIntyre continue on to number four.”

  Behind Lloyd, Collins was slipping the gun free from Johnson’s corpse. Every weapon was a valuable commodity. We couldn’t afford to leave one behind—even if it was covered in our fallen comrade’s blood. Tearing my gaze away, I told myself to stay focused. There would be time for pain, time for reflection, later. Right now, there was only time for action. Lloyd nodded in acknowledgment of my orders. He said, “What about you?”

  “Collins, Thompson, and I will work our way to number one while Jack and Simmons cover us from here, before we proceed east to number two. Don’t stop until the job’s done. No matter what happens, we need to take out all four outposts, and we need to do so at the same time. After the detonators are hit, Collins, Thompson, and I will head inside, locate the leader of the Allegiance, and haul balls out of there. We’ll regroup at the old windmill we passed two clicks back and return to base together.” My jaw was clenched in determination. “Now let’s blow it all to hell, grab that asshole, and go home, soldier.”

  “For Johnson.” A spark of sorrow and fury flashed in Lloyd’s eyes. I recognized it for what it was—a yearning for vengeance. I’d seen it in my reflection countless times since this madness had begun four years ago. He pursed his lips and added, “For Millie and the twins.”

  Gripping his hand in mine, locking our thumbs together, I held his gaze. “For freedom.”

  This fight was bigger than one family. It was bigger than one battle, bigger than every life taken. If we surrendered . . . if we failed . . . all hope was lost. Freethinking would become a memory. Conformation would become expected. Silence would become the norm. No greater horror threatened us—all of us, those under Caleb’s rule as well—than total, complete submission to one madman’s dream.

  No one knew that better than I did. First my parents, and then Kai, had chosen to go over to the side of the Allegiance, tempted by their promise of a safer America, with stronger borders, even before it was clear that when it came to the Allegiance, there was no real choice. It was join or die. Conform or perish.

  I was thirteen when the war began four years ago, but I didn’t feel seventeen now. I felt like I was in my forties. War ages you. It rots you from the inside out.

  Before the war had begun, my life had been simple. Happy, even. I had friends, family, and the understanding that no matter what I felt, thought, believed, my loved ones would support me. Just days before the fighting began, before everyone over the age of ten was pulled out of school and handed a weapon, I’d decided to tell my mother that I understood that I was different, that the gender assigned to me at birth wasn’t quite right. But then the Allegiance ripped that moment away from me before I could utter a word. The same way it had ripped my family from me.

  Stop it, Quinn. Just stop it. Shake off the self-pity, get your shit together, man up, and take the outpost down, no matter the cost. People are counting on you.

  Lloyd gathered his team and led them west. He was a good man. A good friend. So why was it that a sickened, angry feeling bubbled up within me as I watched him dart from cover to cover? For a moment, I felt wronged by him, bullied by him. The sensation passed, but it shook me. I’d never questioned Lloyd’s loyalty before—not once. He was the guy who’d walked me through how to disassemble, clean, and reassemble rifles and pistols countless times, until I got it right. For three years, he’d been my best friend and number one. If anyone was loyal and trustworthy, it was him.

  Jack and Simmons each had their eyes on their scopes, taking inventory of any trouble ahead. This outpost, number one, was the newest, and therefore the most solid. It’d be the toughest to take down, I was certain—which is why I wanted to oversee the infiltration of this one.

  Simmons squeezed his trigger and took a shot, sending a bullet whizzing past my right ear. Instead of the predicted return fire, only silence followed, which put me on edge. Caleb’s men had stopped shooting altogether, stopped sending ordnance our way. Why? Experience had taught me that there was always a method to one’s madness, and always a motive behind one’s method.

  Jack shifted his attention to me just long enough to give a nod. Our path was clear. It was time to move.

  I hand-signaled to Thompson and Collins before taking point and advancing north, winding my way around trees with care. Every ten yards or so, I’d gesture to pause under cover. The silence was deafening. I doubted Caleb’s men had retreated. They had a reputation for do or die. But if they were still in the outpost, what the hell were they doing? They had to know we’d expect an ambush. Did they honestly think they could surprise us?

  Thompson mouthed the words “I can’t see them.” Just twenty yards from the outpost, the tree line broke, leaving nothing but forest floor between the three of us and our unseen enemies.

  Unseen. A strange shiver slid up my spine. The word itself invoked a sense of fear in me, but I wasn’t certain why. Shaking it off, I examined the outpost’s doors and windows for any sign of life. Finding none, I braced myself and moved forward, keeping low. Behind me were the soft footfalls of boots on the ground—there was a reason I chose these two. Both knew how to move in silence and had excellent instincts when shit went sideways. And when it came to fighting, shit almost always went sideways in one manner or another.

  Especially lately. My mind had been all over the place and it was starting to affect the missions, but I wasn’t sure what to do about it. If things quieted down for a while, maybe I could discuss it with Lloyd. He’d understand. He always understood.

  An arm locked tight around my neck from behind. A blade pressed into the seams of my vest. My ribs ached from the pressure. Whoever had me knew the weak spots of my uniform. Kevlar lined my chest and back, but along my sides was only cloth. By the pressure of his weapon, I knew he meant business. I gripped my attacker’s wrist and twisted hard but couldn’t break free. My back grew warm, and it was only when their grip relaxed and I turned around that I realized I was covered in blood.

  But not my blood.

  My assailant fell to the ground with a gurgle. Thompson stood over the body, his bowie knife in hand—its polished blade gleaming red. It wasn’t the first time he’d saved my life, and I was certain it wouldn’t be the last. I looked at the face of my would-be assassin and cursed under my breath.

  Collins. Of all people. One of my most reliable. One I never would’ve expected of betrayal.

  No wonder the shots had ceased. Caleb’s men must have received word that their man on the inside was in place and ready to take me out. They didn’t need to waste time and bullets on killing me. They’d handed that task off to someone I thought was on my side.

  An intense heat spread over my body as my fury rose. Caleb’s cancer had spread into my team, the people I’d handpicked. You had a man’s back in battle. You counted on your team. And you never turned on your own.

  How could Collins betray us like that? How could he betray me? Had the Allegiance’s doctrine gotten to him on some level? What was it that made a man shift loyalties in such a violent way?

  Days before the mission we’d been drowning our sorrows in whiskey and gin. I don’t think I’d ever been so drunk before. My words were slurring. It was a miracle he could understand me. “I have a secret, Collins, but you can’t tell anybody, okay?”

  “Sir, yessir.” He grinned, his eyes glazed by the effects of alcohol.

  I leaned clo
ser and whispered, but looking back, I probably spoke louder than I’d intended. “Nobody knows I’m queer, Collins. Nobody but you, and nobody but me.”

  The next morning I awoke with the worst hangover of my life and the terror of knowing that I’d confessed my deepest secret. Collins never said a word about that night, other than a comment about how much we’d had to drink. Had he remembered what I’d said and decided that I wasn’t As God Intended? That I had to die?

  I kicked his corpse hard, my boot slamming into the meaty remains with a thud. “You son of a bitch! Why? Why?!”

  I was so full of anger that I barely noticed when Thompson put a hand on my shoulder and said, “Sir?”

  “What?” I snapped—I knew I’d snapped—and immediately felt bad for having done so. It wasn’t his fault one of our own had changed loyalties.

  “The mission.”

  “Right.” My heart was hammering so hard inside my chest that it pounded in my ears. I searched my memory for any sign that Collins might have been an Allegiance sympathizer, but came up empty. He’d been a model soldier.

  Taking point, I kept low and hurried across the forest floor to the two-story building. I could just barely hear Thompson moving up behind me. He had my six—unlike that bastard Collins. I trusted Thompson. Of course . . . I had trusted Collins too.

  Maybe I was a fool to think I knew them, that I understood them. After all, can you really know and understand anyone but yourself? No. Which drove home a lesson I’d learned over and over again. In the end, you’re the only person you can rely on.

  Slinging my rifle over my shoulder, its strap across my chest, I withdrew my pistol. The suppressor was already on, because nothing says amateur like being unprepared for the unexpected. When I looked back at Thompson, I saw he’d done the same. I signaled him to cover me as I made my way up to the wall of the outpost, and after receiving his nod, I took a breath, held it, and kicked open the door.