Battle Cry (Freedom/Hate Series, Book 4)

by Kyle Andrews

  What had happened there? What did they need to do in order to pry the HAND command center out of the grip of the authorities? As bad as things had been outside, Dor knew that the battle inside of the building must have been ten times worse. She didn't know how anyone could walk away from that, but it would be her job to find out.

  ҂

  Rose was only up to the fifth floor of the HAND building and the day was moving along too quickly. She had been looking for Paul for hours, and still hadn't found him. She had passed by a lot of people that she knew—some celebrating and some bleeding. Some were doing both at the same time.

  A lot of those people were sitting behind the desks that HAND office workers had once occupied, sorting through paperwork or just leaning back with their feet up, enjoying the view. She wanted to be able to join the party, but she couldn't do that until she was with Paul and she knew for sure that he had made it through the fight in one piece.

  There was a large, open lobby on the fifth floor, with offices that were separated by glass walls. It seemed like the type of place where visitors would be brought for meetings, or where VIPs would put their own staffs to work while they were in town. It was more impressive than some of the floors. Brighter. More colorful. But of course, it was in ruins now. Glass walls were shattered. Lights—the few that were functioning—were flickering. Windows to the outside were blown out, causing a breeze to blow through the entire level.

  Paul wasn't there.

  He wasn't on the sixth floor.

  He wasn't on the seventh floor.

  By the time she reached the eighth floor, Rose was beginning to feel more and more frustrated. She had spent so long searching each level and trying to get up the stairs that Paul could have passed by her ten times already, going the other way. She might as well start all over.

  Or, he might not be in the building at all. He could have gone to the hospital to look for her. Or he could have gone home. For all she knew, Paul had run away again. It would have been just like him to reach a point where they could taste freedom and the possibility of a real life, breathing fresh air and waking up in a room with a window, only to get spooked and run off.

  The more she searched for him, the farther away he felt. It pissed her off.

  On the ninth floor, she found a lot of damage. Bombs had gone off on that level. Fires had burned. A lot of people had died. Armored doors had been blown off of hinges, revealing server rooms and file cabinets beyond. Freedom would probably spend months or years going through all of the information on the ninth floor, and that would only be the tip of the iceberg. That building would have jail cells, interrogation rooms, weapons lockers, a garage, and all sorts of other things that Rose couldn't even think of. She had seen a lot of offices, with boring desk chairs and cork boards, but what had she missed?

  The ninth floor also had its share of wounded, still waiting to be treated. Rose spotted Tracy sitting on the floor, leaning against one of the doorways that had been blown open. She had a hand to her side, and Rose could see blood on Tracy's shirt from down the hallway.

  She hurried to Tracy and bent down to assess the damage to her body.

  “We did it,” Tracy smiled, with sweat dripping down her face. She looked pale and tired.

  “Yeah we did,” Rose nodded. “Did you ever doubt that we would?”

  “Not for a second. Well, maybe for a second. Right around the time I was being stabbed.”

  Rose pulled Tracy's hand off of the wound and looked it over. It didn't seem to be bleeding anymore. That was good.

  “You'll live,” Rose told Tracy. “As long as you stop getting yourself stabbed.”

  “Not everyone can be a warrior like you.”

  “But most people know enough to not get themselves stabbed.”

  “It's not like the guy asked permission before he did it.”

  “Think you can walk? It could take a while for the medics to get here.”

  “Yeah. Just help me up.”

  Rose put Tracy's arm around her neck and helped her get to her feet. Once they were standing, Rose said, “You should head down to the main lobby. They have everything set up down there.”

  “Screw that,” Tracy replied, as though the notion of going down to the lobby were the most absurd thing she'd ever heard. “I heard that Mek was taking the command level. Thirteenth floor. I'm gonna wanna see what that looks like.”

  Rose probably should have argued with Tracy. She should have told her that her health came first and that she needed to get bandaged up before she went exploring the HAND building. But that wasn't what she said.

  Instead, Rose narrowed her eyes at Tracy and said, “Command level? That sounds like it would be impressive.”

  “Which is why I'm going there. If I wait, we'll have no-name random dudes blabbing about all of the good stuff before I get up there. I hate spoilers.”

  Rose hesitated for a moment, more for appearances than anything else. She then started to walk, with Tracy still leaning on her.

  She said, “Maybe Mek can tell me where my wayward fiance is.”

  ҂

  Things were starting to settle inside of the HAND building. Those who needed to be held in jail cells had been taken to the cells. Those who needed medical attention were being taken down to the main lobby to get it. The elevators were even working. There were a few technical specialists on the thirteenth floor, trying to get the computers up and running.

  Dor was sitting in the back of the floor's large command center, watching Mek and his people as they attempted to gain access to the HAND systems. She told herself that she was meditating and trying to pull her thoughts together for the article that she had to write, but the truth was that she was beginning to doze off.

  Over the course of twenty-four hours, everything had changed. She still couldn't believe it. Part of her thought that it was all a trick of some kind. How could Freedom take the city so quickly, after spending decades under the rule of the authorities? It seemed impossible.

  At the same time, it seemed like a thousand years had passed over the course of that one day. She had done so much and seen so many things that she wouldn't have imagined before. It was overwhelming and exhausting. She wanted to curl up on the floor and fall asleep, but she thought that doing so might look unprofessional or immature, so she decided to sit at one of the HAND computer stations with her back to everyone else, and rest her eyes.

  She didn't see Tracy come in. Instead, Dor heard someone slump down into the chair at one of the stations close to her, and when she looked up, there was Tracy. She looked almost as tired as Dor felt.

  “You ditched me,” Dor said casually, as though she hadn't been worried out of her mind for hours.

  Tracy shrugged and said, “Didn't mean to.”

  “I should kick your butt.”

  “I got stabbed, if that makes you feel any better.”

  Dor looked down at Tracy's side, where blood was starting to dry on her shirt. It looked like a nasty wound, but Tracy didn't seem to concerned about it.

  Looking back to Tracy's eyes, Dor said, “It does kinda make me feel better.”

  Tracy smiled, and leaned back in her chair, taking in the view of the room. She looked at all of the computer stations and the massive wall-sized computer displays, which were filled with computer code that scrolled up the walls like a waterfall in reverse.

  “So, this is where they controlled our lives from?” she asked and then looked to Dor and said, “I kinda thought it'd be bigger.”

  “It's just one floor. There are other levels that I'm sure are very impressive.”

  As she exchanged banter with Tracy, Dor looked back to where Mek was standing. He was joined by one of his soldiers now. Dor recognized Rose, but she didn't know her very well. They'd only met in passing.

  Rose seemed worried. She tried to hide it, like most of the people that Dor knew, but there was definitely concern in her eyes, and she was nervously standing with her arms folded across her chest.
>
  “What's going on over there?” Dor asked. “Is Rose okay?”

  “She's just looking for her boyfriend.”

  More lights came on in the room. Dor heard the sound of computers turning on all around her. Main power had been restored to the building, if not the entire city.

  “We have access,” someone reported from across the room, as all of the computer monitors began displaying various video feeds and HAND reports from around the city.

  Despite what Dor had assumed, the fighting wasn't entirely over. The city was theirs, but there were fires burning and HAND officers taking cover in buildings, firing at civilians who were trying to take them out.

  Mek stepped toward the front of the room and looked over the different images on the massive monitor in front of him. He stood there as though he had been born to command that room.

  Getting to her feet, Dor walked across the room, slowly taking everything in.

  “Get Til and her team to Fifteenth and Baker,” Mek ordered one of his team members.

  That person quickly rushed out of the room as Mek turned to someone else, “We need fire trucks responding to these alarms. Put out a call to the Campus, the Treehouse, the Den and the University. Tell them to move quickly.”

  Then he turned to someone else, “Someone call the damn docks and tell them to stop burning those boats!”

  Mek didn't skip a beat before picking up the nearest phone and dialing a number. He waited until someone picked up on the other end, and said, “It's me. HAND building is secure. I suggest you pack your things and find a corner office before they're all taken.” There was a moment of silence as Mek listened, and then he said, “Will do.”

  When he hung up the phone, Mek turned toward Tracy and said, “Aaron is on his way. You need to get on the elevator and get that wound patched up.”

  “I'm fine, Mom,” Tracy shot back.

  It was an odd contrast to the other people in the room who jumped whenever Mek gave them an order.

  Rose walked over to one of the computers and started clicking through different screens. Dor noticed that she was looking through internal security.

  “Security cameras are down all over the building,” Rose told Mek. She stood straight again and shook her head at Mek. Then she said, “I can't find him.”

  “I'm sure that someone must have seen him,” Mek replied, trying to ease Rose's nerves.

  “I'm sure they have, but... I'm really starting to worry. I've asked a lot of people if they've seen Paul anywhere, and I haven't found one person who has seen him all day.”

  Mek's first reaction seemed to suggest that he didn't have time for Rose's relationship drama, but as she watched the expression on Mek's face, Dor saw a question form, and then concern.

  He walked to a computer and typed in a command. As soon as he was done, an alert appeared on each of the computer monitors in the room: “PAUL HAUSER REPORT TO LEVEL 13”

  The message must have been on every computer in the building. If Paul were anywhere near a monitor, he would see it.

  Dor had nothing to do but stand out of the way and watch Mek work. She had never seen him like this before. She'd watched him train his soldiers and bark orders at them. She had watched him fight with fists and guns. She had even seen him evade HAND in a high-speed car chase or two, but she had never seen him take command of a room the way that he was in that moment.

  Mek read more of the reports of fire alarms that were coming in from all over the city. Finally, he gave up on trying to coordinate the efforts to put those fires out while handling everything else that was going on, and he tasked one of the other people in the room with fire control.

  Another one of his soldiers was ordered to coordinate support for the civilians who were facing off against HAND. A lot of those officers were still sending in reports to the HAND building, expecting more of their own to come in and save them. They were in for a surprise when HAND vehicles pulled up to the scene and Freedom soldiers hopped out.

  “Aaron says that a train managed to get out of the city before we took the station,” Mek told one of the more tech-savvy people in the room. “See if you can find out what was on that train. Weapons? Food?”

  That person got to work, and Mek turned to the large monitor in front of him. He picked up a tablet and put an earpiece into his ear. He began reading through the reports that HAND officers around the city were sending in, and giving them orders to retreat through back exits or charge through the front door of whatever building they were hiding in.

  He was directing them toward their deaths, but they wouldn't realize that until it was too late.

  “I have information on the train,” the techie reported. “It looks like a prison transport. I have them scheduled to arrive at the Pierson detention facility sometime tomorrow night.”

  “Which means that there's a train full of people that we didn't save,” Tracy replied, getting to her feet and walking toward the action in the room.

  “I have the prisoner manifest,” the techie told Mek, as he skimmed through the information on his screen.

  “Put it on the big screen,” Mek ordered.

  A second later, the information appeared on the large monitor at the front of the room. Everyone in the room turned toward it, seeing the names of the prisoners being transferred and the pictures of those people, taken from their Civvies.

  Dor recognized the name on the bottom of the list at the same time that she heard Rose gasp.

  Paul Hauser was arrested for trying to steal a car, a little over an hour before the siege began. He barely made it onto the train before it left the city.

  50

  When Collin arrived at the HAND building, he stopped outside on the front steps and looked up at the place. He stayed there for a while, thinking about the time that he had spent there, years earlier. The building didn't look quite as intimidating as it once had. It was damaged and vulnerable. The people who had turned that place into a world of torture and oppression were gone. Now it was just a building.

  Walking to the place had taken longer than Collin had expected. The citizens of the city weren't ready to call it a day and return to their homes. They attacked street cameras and HAND vehicles. There were some who were not a part of Freedom's fight, who broke into stores and tried to take what wasn't theirs. People tried to stop them, but the effort was pointless. There was nothing to defend. There was nobody who owned the store. There was nobody who owned the items that were being stolen. With the masters of the city having been evicted, Collin wasn't sure how the dust would settle. All he knew was that it had to be better than the way things were.

  People looked his way. Most didn't recognize him right away, but those who did watched him walk through the streets and toward the HAND building as though they were waiting for him to give another address to the city. They were looking for direction and guidance, but Collin wasn't interested in being the new master. He didn't want to tell people where to go or what to do. He was just as lost as they were, and that was what so few people seemed to understand about him. He wasn't a leader in this war, he was a citizen like anyone else, fighting for his own future.

  People were looking to be led, and that was the problem that had gotten them to where they were in the first place. Freedom demanded that people take charge of their own destiny.

  Even as he thought those words, Collin wasn't sure what they meant to the individual. He didn't know where his life would go. He had made his points and stood his ground, and now his home was free. But the trouble with freeing someone who had been oppressed for their entire life was that freedom was more of a vague concept than a functional reality. Collin didn't even feel comfortable walking down the street in broad daylight. How was he supposed to move on from that life and begin anew?

  Inside the HAND building, Collin watched as people rushed back and forth across the lobby. Unlike the streets outside, people didn't look at him as though he should have all of the answers. Most of the people in the building were e
ither members of Freedom, or had been working with members of Freedom all day, so their attitude was different. They didn't have the look of lost souls, wandering through the city. They seemed more optimistic and determined. Collin hoped that it would rub off.

  “Collin!”

  He heard his name called from across the lobby and recognized the voice as that of Kenny, who had been working with Collin on the Secret Citizen since the beginning. Kenny was smiling like a kid who had just tasted chocolate for the first time.

  “Welcome to Freedom Plaza,” Kenny grinned. “Or Freedom Center. Or... Hell, I don't know what we're going to call it, but I'm pretty sure that anything with the word HAND in it is out of the question.”

  When Kenny reached Collin, he put his arms around Collin and gave him a firm hug. Collin wasn't a huge fan of hugs, but he went along with it for the sake of celebration.

  Looking around, Collin said, “I love what you've done with the place.”

  He was joking, but his mind was back on the night of the riot, when the Mayor had pulled him out on stage and planned to shoot him dead if Libby Jacobs hadn't offered up her own life in his place.

  As he turned, Collin glanced through the front doors and imagined that girl's body out there, among all of the other fallen heroes of the day.

  He didn't like thinking about her. He didn't enjoy the idea of someone else giving their life for his, especially when that person was a young woman with her whole life ahead of her. He didn't want to think about why she would do such a thing, when everyone assured him that she had been urged to remain inside the Garden.

  “Freedom Center,” Collin said under his breath, trying to go along with the idea that the building was now working for the good guys, but he couldn't feel it yet. Everything about the place radiated evil.

  On the wall, there was a giant portrait of Mayor Northfolk. Though it was still hanging, the picture had obviously been the target of many Freedom soldiers who had passed through the lobby that day.

  “You want to take a shot at him?” Kenny asked, stepping toward the portrait and tilting his head to one side, evaluating the work of everyone else. “Personally, I think he could use some work around the eyes.”