The Gift of Remembering

by C. L. Shaffer

  Irene sat slowly, feeling as if something important had been left unsaid for a very long time.

  "You see, Irene, we have a man on the inside. In fact, we have numerous men and women on the inside."

  "Are you talking about The Underground?"

  Roger offered her a slight nod. "That's correct, but there was one man in particular who was in charge of your safety."

  "My safety?"

  "I needed someone to guard my right-hand woman, so to speak, and this man was quite devoted to The Opposition's cause, so I gave him the job of protecting you."

  Irene frowned. "Do you mean Charlie?"

  "No, it wasn't Charlie." Roger's focus dropped to the surface of his desk. He fell silent for a second or two. "However, Charlie is fine. He's alive."

  "What?" Irene nearly stood from her chair. Roger had obviously received some very bad intel, and she needed to correct him. "I'm afraid Charlie died from the wounds he received when he tried to escape," Irene said, softening her tone, feeling bad about having to convey the news.

  Roger flapped his hand in the air, directing Irene to take a seat once more. "I know it looked that way. But he is alive. We needed him out of that processing plant before The Firsts got to him. He was as much of an asset to them as you were."

  Irene ran her hands through her hair. "I understand that. But you're saying you got him out alive?"

  "He's recuperating in a log cabin off Main Street. You can go visit him if you like when we're done here."

  Irene smacked her chair's armrests. "You have to realize how much of a shock that is to me, Roger."

  He nodded calmly. "I do, but I wanted you to know that before I told you the rest."

  "There's more?"

  Roger paused again. "Wallace Cunningham."

  "What about him?"

  "He was the man who was in charge of your safety."

  "What?"

  "He was also in charge of infiltrating The Firsts' higher-ups. Your daughter, Tia, for example."

  Irene's confusion came out as a laugh.

  "It was all part of his cover," he continued.

  "Wallace is not a good man, Roger."

  "Again, it was only made to look that way. He needed to appear ferocious, perhaps even more ferocious than The Firsts themselves, so his loyalty would not be questioned."

  Irene tried to recast Wallace as the protagonist in the events that had unfolded, but she couldn't. He'd been too cruel in too many instances. "But he nearly exposed me after I was supposedly processed."

  Roger pursed his lips. "He discovered Chris's plan and was only testing you, making sure you could stand up to the scrutiny. When you thought him cruel, he was merely feeding you information to help. He told you that Chris was your husband. He let you know that Mac Donaldson still held his memories. He informed you that you and Chris would be going to the same location after you'd been supposedly processed.

  "When you returned unexpectedly to Kingston's mansion after escaping, you nearly undid his plan of getting The Firsts out of the house before they discovered the tunnel."

  Irene recalled Wallace walking out of the pantry where the controls to close the tube were located. At the time, she'd thought he'd simply assumed they were an electrical panel. But that conclusion now seemed unlikely coupled with the unexpected look Wallace had given her when she'd been nudged into the library by one of his men. Thinking on it now more fully, the expression had been one of surprised displeasure, which would have been odd if he'd wanted to capture her. The realization of it nearly made her ready to concede to what Roger was telling her, but then she thought of something else. "Wallace was the one who captured Charlie and me at the mill."

  "He was ordered to do so. He needed to go through with it to keep his cover." Roger paused. "I might add that Wallace was the one who arranged to rescue Charlie."

  Irene squeezed the armrests on her chair. "But what about that story concerning you and Wallace? Chris told me earlier about it when he gave me his gun. He said that Wallace was capable of murder because he'd burned down your church and killed two of your parishioners."

  Roger shook his head. "That was a story—a myth we allowed to spread because it helped with his image. After the war, there was a lot of confusion, rumors, and inaccurate news reports. The church burnt down because there was a short in the old wiring. The two parishioners didn't die but left the church on their own accord. It was true that Wallace was there that day—the day the church burned down, but he was there looking for . . . salvation."

  "Salvation?"

  "I tell you, Irene, I have never seen anyone so devoted. I once walked in on him praying on his knees. Praying on his knees. Who does that any more? The war and everything connected with it took the zeal for God out of most. I know you can relate to that somewhat."

  Irene leaned back, feeling slightly embarrassed by the comment.

  "But unlike how your zeal cooled," Roger continued, "the war and its aftermath brought about Wallace’s faith, and he used that passion to go about destroying what The Firsts were trying to create. He understood what The Opposition was fighting for."

  A multitude of emotions came to the surface for Irene. Surprisingly, the most prominent wasn't necessarily anger but something close to amazement at Wallace's apparent devotion. It started to affect her, displacing the doubts she'd carried with her concerning her faith. Could it be that one person could create doubt while another, who exhibited so much faith, could take those doubts away? It seemed it could. But she still couldn't entirely come to terms with the idea of Wallace being a godly man fighting for the city's citizens. "I'm trying to get my head around this," she said, wiping a tear from her cheek.

  "I know it's difficult. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you about him, but to keep you safe, to keep this town safe, you needed to fear the man who protected you. Your reaction to him needed to be genuine."

  "But what about Chris and Tia? Is Wallace with them now?"

  Roger offered her a reassuring smile. "Wallace will get them out. He'll just need to convince Chris he's on his side."

  "Oh, is that all?"

  …

  The view from Chris's gleaming white jail cell that had been recently constructed in the new city was dreary to him, but it was made worse by Lieutenant Cunningham standing in front of him, eating peanuts from a bag.

  "You want one?" Wallace asked and then glanced down the hall toward the guard's station.

  Chris stood from his cot. "Isn't this where you say something horrid and distasteful?"

  Wallace dug his fingers into his little bag. "Like what?"

  "Like how you're glad I'm finally getting what I deserve and that you're not entirely shocked that I've been exposed as a traitor because you've always known, deep down, that I was a traitor. And that you're going to marry my daughter, and I won’t be able to do a thing about it."

  Wallace looked down the hall once more as he munched on his snack. To Chris, he appeared to be distracted, as if he were hardly amused that his disloyal subordinate was finally behind bars. Wallace shaped the now empty bag of peanuts into a ball and threw it over his shoulder. "I suppose I could say all that, but how about if I . . . just help you escape?"

  Chris repeated Wallace's words in his head. "What?" he asked, thinking he misunderstood them.

  Wallace slipped a hand into his coat pocket and pulled out a set of keys. He slid one into the lock and grinned at Chris as he swung open the bars. "I told the guard that while he was on break, I would be escorting you to an alternate site.”

  Chris took a step away from the opening, thinking his life was in jeopardy. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

  "This will be our only chance to get Tia out," Wallace said.

  At the mention of his daughter's name, Chris raged forward, ramming Wallace in the gut. The impact sent Wallace to the ground. Grabbing a piece of the lapel on Wallace's coat to elevate his head, Chris sent a punch across his jaw. He repeated the strike once more but stopped, seeing blood appear on
Wallace's lip.

  Wallace rested his hand on top of Chris's and laughed. "Feel better?"

  Chris shook his hand loose and backed away.

  "I get that you don't trust me," Wallace said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I'm actually glad that you don't. It tells me how well I've played my part."

  Chris breathed in and out heavily from the exertion. "I'm not interested in playing your head games." He peered down the hall to make sure the guard wasn't back at his station. Not seeing any sign that he was, Chris began to make his way out.

  "You won't get to town that way," Wallace said to him, still on the floor.

  Chris stopped dead.

  "Yes, I know about the town. I've been there—many times. How do you think I got the peanuts?"

  Chris looked back at his lieutenant as he attempted to work out what he was saying.

  Wallace got to his feet. "I can see you have a lot of questions, but right now, you need to understand that you won't make it out without me. If I act as your escort, you'll at least make it outside the city’s gate. Can you trust me enough to do that?"

  Wallace's question, along with the revelation about the town, ping-ponged in Chris's head. How could Wallace have known about The Opposition's supposed hiding place and not tell The Firsts? That information would have made him a hero. But he hadn't said anything. Why? The answer seemed too fantastical to believe, but he'd witnessed that sort of thing during the war. In fact, his team had exposed such an operation. "You've been working undercover."

  "You're getting it now, so why don't we just go and get your daughter."

  Chapter 33

  Phillip McAllister's sports car was parked outside Tia's house when Wallace pulled up in a van. "This may hasten things along," Wallace said as he parked alongside it. "Stay in the van. I'll bring her out," he said to Chris, who sat in a single seat in the back of the hollowed-out vehicle.

  "No way, I'm coming with you. You're going to need help."

  "Don't worry. I have people on the inside."

  "I don't care. I'm going with you."

  Wallace rubbed his jaw where Chris had struck him earlier. Apparently, it still throbbed. "This is where that trust I spoke about earlier comes into play again."

  For Chris, it wasn't about trust. During the drive over, Wallace had explained how Tia had begun to develop suspicions concerning Chris and Irene's relationship. Wallace decided to show her the video of Beatrice’s life, hoping that it would turn her. Instead, Tia's reaction was one of indifference, and in fact, watching the video seemed to solidify her support for The Firsts even more. At that moment, Wallace knew he would need to keep up his act. After hearing that, Chris's trust in Wallace improved significantly, and Chris explained this to Wallace. "My concern is more about something going wrong . . ."

  Wallace lowered his hand. "All right. I get it. Come along then. But before I bring her out, you'll need to get back into the van. That's when I'll really need your help."

  With most of the windows positioned at the back of the house, Wallace and Chris seemingly made it to the front door without being detected. "Stay here," Wallace said. He stood still for a moment, possibly to ready himself. He then opened the second set of doors where he was greeted by Henry, Tia's butler. A whispered exchange commenced between the two, and Chris crept forward to hear what was being said.

  "The lady of the house is in the living room with Mr. McAllister," said Henry in a low tone.

  "Thank you," Wallace replied.

  "I see you brought company," Henry said, lowering his voice even more. "What is the plan, sir? If I may be so bold to ask."

  "You and I and the rest of the staff will need to play our parts just a little longer. But having Phillip here today may give us the opportunity we've been waiting for."

  "Very well, sir."

  The two men dispersed, going in opposite directions. Chris moved beyond the double doors to hear the conversation that would be coming from the living room.

  "This is a pleasant surprise," Tia said as Wallace presumably entered the room.

  A greeting occurred between Phillip and Wallace.

  "What brings you out here, dear? I thought you needed to get some work done today."

  "I was able to accomplish the task quicker than I'd thought."

  "How delightful."

  "Well, if you think seeing me is a delight," Wallace said, "then you'll love the surprise I brought for you. If you don't mind, Phillip, I'd like to borrow my fiancée. I have something to show her outside."

  "Of course, our discussion is basically over."

  "Can I assume the topic was on the last batch of reeducated civilians?"

  "It was," Phillip replied. "And I'm happy to report they've all been transferred to the labor camps, minus a half dozen or so of the brighter ones we've set up in the offices. We need to keep our labor numbers high, especially in the coalmines." Phillip laughed. "How else am I going to keep my battery-powered sports car charged?"

  A bad taste settled in Chris's mouth at Phillip's comment. But to his relief, Tia hadn't joined McAllister in his hilarity. Maybe there was still hope for her after all.

  "What's the plan for the reeducation centers now that everyone has been . . . reeducated?" Wallace asked.

  A brief lull seemed to occur in the conversation as if the question was out of character for Wallace.

  "We will always need reeducation camps," Phillip stated matter-of-factly.

  "That's good to hear," Wallace said, apparently recovering.

  "May I bother you for another drink before I go?" asked Phillip.

  "Of course. I'll ask Henry to bring you a refill on my way out." Tia's voice grew louder as she spoke. She appeared to be heading Chris's way. But before Chris had a chance to sneak through the doors, he overheard her ask Henry for that drink.

  "It's time, Henry." Chris then heard Wallace say to the butler.

  "My goodness," Tia said to Wallace, as her voice grew even closer. "What was that about?"

  "That's part of the surprise," Wallace replied.

  As Chris snuck out the doors to the van, he realized that Wallace's plan included not only saving Tia but also, with the help of Tia's staff, capturing Phillip McAllister.

  Arriving at the van, Chris jumped into it with renewed hope. He partially shut the side door before moving to the back. There, in the shadows, he waited.

  "What in the world did you get me, Wallace?" Tia asked as she laughed. A pony?"

  "The surprise is actually not inside the van. But we need to use the van to pick up the surprise." Wallace fully opened the side door that Chris had left half-closed.

  Chris could see Tia hesitate at the van's door. "Why am I sitting in the back?"

  "That's also part of the surprise. Jump in."

  Tia stepped inside without protest. But as she moved, half bent over, to the only seat in the back, it was clear to Chris she'd spotted him. "What is going on?" she asked, seeming stuck in place by the shock. "What is going on!" she screamed when Wallace didn't answer.

  Chris realized he had no choice. He jumped up, covered Tia's mouth with his hand, and dragged her farther into the van. Tia protested by ramming her elbows into his sides repeatedly. "Shut the door," Chris said to Wallace, who immediately slammed it closed and headed to the driver's seat.

  As they drove away, Chris could feel wetness on his hand. His daughter was crying. She had trusted Wallace. Learning he was a traitor to her beloved cause was turning out to be quite the blow.

  When they were at a safe distance, Chris removed his hand. For a moment, Tia just sat there on the floor of the van. Chris remained by her side but said nothing. Her shoulders sagged as she covered her face with her hands. She was emotionally and physically exhausted. He was as well.

  Finally, she let out a scream as if it were the last remaining protest within her. Her face colored to a flaming red, and then she fell silent. She knew she'd been defeated.

  Chapter 34

  Emma threw the Fri
sbee in Vanessa's direction but overshot it, striking Tia, who sat isolated on a blanket near a tree.

  "Good grief, Emma," Tia complained as she picked up the Frisbee, tossing it back.

  "Sorry, your highness," Emma said with a giggle.

  Vanessa twisted about. "Yeah, we didn't mean to upset your throne."

  Irene watched the scene play out from a bench at the town's summer picnic.

  "Nothing like sisters to bring you back down to earth," Charlie said, coming to sit next to Irene.

  "True." Irene cast her face toward the bright sunlight. She could tell something was bothering Charlie, and the warm summer day was doing little to ease it.

  "It's been difficult for Tia, hasn't it?" he asked.

  "It has."

  "Your family was able to forgive her. Do you think others will?"

  Irene noticed Wallace coming to sit with Tia on the blanket. He smiled at her as he put his arm around her.

  Charlie dropped his head. "I'm sorry, Irene. It's just the things she was willing to do, or more importantly, the things she allowed to . . ."

  Irene watched as Tia returned Wallace's gesture with a somewhat reluctant smile. "The town sentenced her to six months in prison, which she's served, and two years under our watch."

  "I know, but has she changed?"

  Irene kept her attention on Wallace and Tia. She suspected for months now that the love that Wallace had displayed toward Tia had been real. Besides feeding Irene information, it was perhaps the only other genuine thing he'd done while undercover. But Irene was not sure if Tia felt the same way.

  During her daughter's time in prison, Wallace would visit her every day, enthusiastically informing Irene if there was the slightest change in her demeanor toward him. He'd double-crossed her, and that would not be so easily forgotten or forgiven. "I'd like to get her processed," Wallace joked one day to Irene out of frustration and possibly a broken heart. But Tia's personal feelings toward him seemed secondary to his need to have the woman he loved admit to what she'd supported.

  Then an idea struck Wallace, and the town council agreed that it was the correct course of action. Upon arriving, Wallace told Irene that Tia just stood there, overlooking the encampment—a life of misery set in a valley filled on one side with wooden, decrepit shacks and on the other hillside, a vast coal mining operation.