Rebels & Lies (Rebels & Lies Trilogy Book 1)

by Cotton, Brian

  No answer from the inside.

  “USR,” Sullivan called out. “We only want to talk Ms. Kaspar, please open up.”

  Nothing but silence.

  Sullivan banged his fist against the door three more times. When there was still no sign of life, he nodded towards Wilcox. The bigger of the circle jerks walked over to the door and took in a deep breath. His left boot shattered the door’s foundation. The three men moved in with swiftness, guns drawn.

  “USR!” Sullivan cried out. “Nobody move!”

  The target sat on the couch in a stunned silence. A yellow knitting project lay on her lap. Sullivan’s eyes narrowed onto her. He aimed his Glock at her fast beating chest. The mark looked at him and tears welled up in her eyes. The sight in front of him penetrated his soul. The image forced the Agent to lower his handgun.

  “Sully, what the hell is going on?” Mason called from the kitchen.

  “We’re bringing her in.” Sullivan replied. He holstered his pistol and extended his right hand. “Ma’am, I need you to come with us.”

  “Why?” Mother asked. “I have done nothing wrong.”

  “Ma’am, we have evidence against you. Evidence which links you to the resistance. We need you to come in and…”

  “Bitch, drop that ugly piece of shit and put your hands behind your head!” Wilcox demanded. He moved in and brushed against his superior’s shoulder. His right hand with his pistol aimed at the head, his left arm extended reaching out for the old woman.

  “Wilcox, lower your weapon and stand down!” Sullivan ordered. Wilcox did as ordered and backed away.

  “Are you with us, sir?” Mason asked from Sullivan’s left. “You’re sure you’re not working for them?”

  “What makes you think that?” Sullivan asked, turning his body to face Mason. “We need answers, information, and she is going to give it to us. Isn’t that right, ma’am?”

  “What answers?” Mother replied. “What have I done?”

  “You’re a fucking leftover,” Mason said. He inched his body closer to Mother. “We know that you’re sensitive to the rebels. Don’t play dumb shit with us.”

  “What?” Mother asked again.

  “You’re sending out letters, you worthless whore.”

  “Letters? I have no idea…”

  “I think that’s resisting arrest, sir. I’m going to have to use necessary force.”

  “Mason, if you don’t stop undermining me…” Sullivan said.

  “You’ll do what?”

  While the two Agents bickered back and forth, Wilcox kept his eyes on Mother’s lap. She was fidgeting with something underneath the blanket. What it was, he did not know, but he trained his eyes on it. The Agent moved his gun towards Mother’s head and her eyes grew to the size of softballs.

  “She’s got something underneath…” Wilcox began to say.

  BANG BANG BANG!

  Sullivan looked with horror to the terrible sight in front of him. The smoke from the barrel of Mason’s gun could be seen from the corner of his left eye. His partner executed the poor woman: two to the chest and one to the head. He couldn’t hold back any longer. He fell to one knee and felt like passing out. Behind closed eyelids, Sullivan told himself to pull it together.

  Sullivan opened his eyes. “What the hell was that?”

  “She had something under there.” Mason said. “Self-defense.”

  “Self-defense?”

  Sullivan got back onto his feet and walked with wobbled legs to the dead woman. He pulled the yellow blanket back. The knitting needles once held with weathered hands lay flat on her thighs. Sullivan wiped the sweat from his brow. How was this possible?

  “Knitting needles?” Sullivan cried. “Are you kidding me? Were you afraid she was going to rub your skin with them?”

  “How was I supposed to know?” Wilcox demanded. “She could have had anything underneath there.”

  “Why didn’t you ask her to freeze and show you what she had?”

  “She’s working for them,” Mason said. He moved closer to the body. “Who gives a rat’s ass?”

  “I do,” Sullivan replied. “Now, we’ll never get anything from her because you two fucked this whole thing up.”

  “I’m sorry to say this, sir,” Wilcox said as he approached. “You seem a little…I don’t know, disappointed in this result.”

  “She was an aging woman.”

  “Who cares? She was a leftover and she was working for the enemy.”

  “Let’s just get out of here. Report back to Fitzpatrick.”

  “What about the evidence?” Mason asked. “Don’t you want to find the evidence?”

  Sullivan turned, “Like it matters, now. We’ll get a cleanup crew to come here and find all that. Let’s go.”

  The three Agents left the apartment. Sullivan led the way, making his way past the terrified tenants that started to crowd the hall. He heard the two neophytes behind him bark orders for the citizens to all to return to their units. After giving the order for a cleanup crew through his walkie, Sullivan pushed the down arrow by the elevator and waited for it to open up.

  What have I done? What have I become?

  Ten

  Kaspar saw a black and white pull off the side of the street in front of his building. He watched it speed off into the distance. Not many reasons existed for Agents to be in this rotten place and none of those reasons were good. With tired legs, he willed himself to the front step of the entrance way and pulled the fogged glass door open. The blast of cold air felt good against his hot, bare arms. He glanced over to the lobby attendant who looked like a ghost.

  Kaspar approached the boy. “What’s up with those Agents?”

  “I don’t know, man.” the boy replied.

  “What were they doing here?” Kaspar persisted. He moved himself over to the desk.

  “I don’t know…all I know is that they were asking for your mother.”

  His heart sank and mind raced. What would Agents want with Mother? Did Razor’s people have something to do with this? Ridiculous. What would an illegal street fighter want to do with the authorities? Then, like a streak of lighting, it donned on him: her age.

  “You told them where we lived?”

  “Yes…yes, sir. They were Agents. I wasn’t going to lie to them. They didn’t ask about you…”

  “I don’t give a shit about myself. Did they leave here with her?”

  “No.”

  Kaspar’s eyes grew wide. He cut off his conversation with the boy and ran straight for the stairs. The once tired legs no longer ached. He pushed with all that was inside of him up to the fourth floor in record time. He opened the door and fought his way through the tenants and noticed the horrible look in their eyes. Their faces gave away that something very bad happened.

  When he arrived at his apartment, he noticed the door had been knocked off of the hinges. His stomach turned and he didn’t want to walk in. With reluctance, the prize fighter moved his legs into the apartment. It didn’t take long for him to arrive at the couch where the most horrifying sight he ever saw came into view.

  Mother lay motionless on the couch. A half made yellow blanket on her lap, two bullet holes in close proximity on her chest. One matched them right between her eyes. Her eyes…they were opened wide despite the fact their owner was dead.

  Kaspar approached Mother’s dead body and fell to his knees. He sobbed without control. Every time he tried to breathe his lungs collapsed. He was forced to breath in small breaths. His lungs contracted with violence each time. When the sight of Mother’s opened eyes could no longer be handled, Kaspar shoved his eyes into his opened palms. The tears saturated the skin with a vengeance.

  When he finally poked his head up, he saw something lying on the floor. Out the corner of his tear filled eyes, the yellow blanket could be seen. Knitting was Mother’s one true passion. The only thing she lived for other than her son. Kaspar grit his teeth together and the tears flowed once more. What had she ever done to de
serve this? A loose piece of the blanket hung from the lower left hand corner. After a slight tug, it separated from the rest of the project. Kaspar placed the torn piece into the right pocket of his sweat pants. He stood up and gave a slight kiss on Mother’s cheek.

  “I’m sorry,” Kaspar cried. “I’m…so sorry.”

  Kaspar rubbed his damp right hand across his buzzed hair. What now? He thought about what Mother had told him, about quitting fighting altogether and finding a higher purpose in life. He disappointed her by going through with the fight anyway, despite her pleas. Did she die disappointed in her son?

  Thoughts raced to the nameless father. If there was any justice in this world, Kaspar knew that he would have suffered a similar fate years ago. Mother was the only person…the only one who would always be there for him. Now she was gone; taken by the USR for nothing…for her age. Being a leftover had cost her life. Now, Kaspar had nothing. Would never have anything.

  Kaspar looked down with closed eyes. “They will pay for this. I swear to you, I will find them and…”

  Footsteps.

  His eyes darted toward the front door. Kaspar hoped with everything inside that the person responsible would walk through. A figure wearing a black jacket over top a black shirt walked in. He recognized the dark clothing from the alleyway in front of Danny’s gym. The intruder wore a black helmet with tinted glass over the eyes giving no hints towards the owner’s identity. From the looks of the intruder’s figure, Kaspar could tell it was a woman. She held a second helmet in her left hand. Kaspar’s eyes grew in both shock and anger. What the hell was going on?

  “Put this on,” a female voice said as she held up the helmet. Was she the one from earlier?

  Kaspar did not move. “Who the hell are you?”

  “I don’t have time to explain.”

  “Were you the one from this morning?”

  “Look, mister, put this on and…”

  A USR Agent moved in from behind her, three more behind him. They each held their black pistols at the ready. Kaspar remained in his knelt stance but put his hands straight up in the air. The woman was more defiant and stood, her body remained stiff as a board. The lead Agent walked past the woman and slowly approached Kaspar. Two approached the woman on each side. The last one approached her from behind.

  “Put your hands up!” the Agent behind the woman shouted.

  She remained still. The Agent moved in from behind. When he touched her back shoulder, the woman’s helmet covered head flew back. The force of the blow broke the Agent’s nose and he fell to the ground. She lifted the black helmet in her hand swiftly to stun the left Agent. She spun the helmet violently to her right. The battering ram knocked the right Agent out cold.

  The intruder dropped the helmet. She spun to reach for the right Agent. She grabbed him underneath the arms and held him up before he fell to the ground. The Agent in front of Kaspar turned. He raised his handgun then pulled the trigger five consecutive times. The rounds ripped into his partner’s midsection. The woman pushed the human shield forward with her left forearm. With her right hand, she reached into her jacket.

  She retrieved a P99 hand gun. She placed the gun beside the shield’s ear, muzzle pointed forward. Three rounds rocketed out of the gun. One round hit her target’s shoulder. The other two tore holes in the wall. The intruder shoved her shield forward into the man in front. The force of the impact knocked the gun out of his hand. She fired three more shots: two the chest, one to the head.

  The Agent that was to the woman’s left regained his composure. He aimed his pistol at her. The woman dropped to the ground and rolled across the floor. The Agent fired consecutive shots which ripped through the old wooden floor. She finished her roll. She raised her weapon and fired. One shot between the eyes.

  Kaspar looked at the carnage in front of him. A fear he had never felt before froze him. Who this woman was no longer mattered. To get the hell out of here was all that mattered. The screams of the tenants outside filled his ear drums. He wanted to join them in their screaming. Nothing came out. His mouth just stayed open. The woman retrieved the spare black helmet and approached.

  “Put this on.” the intruder ordered once more.

  He obeyed this time. The helmet fit snug over his head. It became a minor struggle to get it all the way down. He flipped the tinted visor down and followed the woman out into the hallway. All the tenants who were out of their units before retreated back to them. The woman continued to lead the way. She held her P99 up with her right hand, poised to kill any Agents who might linger through the hall. She walked to the elevator and pushed the down button. It took an age for the old doors to open. The two walked inside. She pressed the L button. The doors struggled to close once more.

  The two said nothing while the elevator shook and rattled its way downward. Kaspar’s mind was scrambled. He looked over to the woman through his visor. Who was she? What the hell just happened? What about Mother?

  A strong jolt from the elevator left Kaspar stunned. He could not remember the last time he used this damn thing. The doors opened with a screeching cry. The woman walked out with her gun held up. Kaspar once again followed close in the rear. Behind the desk, the lobby attendant dropped to his knees in fear. He reached up for the phone…

  “Don’t.” the woman said. Her tone was strong enough that the skinny hand left their sight.

  Her pace quickened and Kaspar’s matched her from behind. Once outside she sprinted towards a black motorcycle parked against the sidewalk. The woman replaced her hand gun back into the holster inside her jacket. Kaspar did not know the model of the bike. It had two head lights in front and a silver inscription which read “Triumph” along the gas tank. The bike’s sleek design told him that this particular bike must have cost this woman a small fortune.

  “Get on.” she said. The engine roared to life.

  Kaspar lifted his left leg over the seat cushion and inched his behind onto the seat. Before his right foot was off the pavement the bike roared forward. The bike raced like a rocket out of hell. The woman maneuvered the bike along both sides of traffic. She avoided the cars on either side with sweeping turns from left to right. The sound of the car horns were deafened by loud roars of the engine. Kaspar’s grip on the woman tightened. He could feel the firmness of her breasts along the top of his forearms. He was never a ladies’ man, yet here he found himself, groping this one and holding on for dear life.

  Sounds of sirens came from behind. Kaspar heard a loud curse. The woman turned left down a one way street: going the opposite way. He closed his eyes and buried his covered head into the woman’s back.

  “Get off me!” she screamed.

  Kaspar moved his head off her head just in time to see a honking car speed in their direction. The woman veered left onto the empty sidewalk. She maneuvered back onto the pavement and took the next right. The two were with traffic once again.

  The sirens returned. The squad car’s tires screeched along the pavement as its driver took a hard right to follow the bike in hot pursuit. What now? The woman’s right hand jerked downwards on the handlebar. She tried to say something that Kaspar could not hear.

  “What?” Kaspar yelled.

  “Reach in my jacket!” the woman screamed. “Take a gun!”

  Kaspar moved his right hand inside her jacket and felt around. His hand reached the shoulder holster. He took hold of a gun, yanked it out, then his arms returned to their death grip along her midsection. The woman took another right.

  “You have to shoot the tires out!” she yelled.

  “What?!”

  “Shoot the…”

  A sharp left turn. The car in front slammed its brakes and pulled to the right. On the opposite side of traffic, a car blared its horn. A sharp right avoided that car. The driver of the squad car remained in hot pursuit as the desperate citizens in front got out of his way.

  “The windshield is armored!” the woman cried. “You have to shoot the tires out! You can do it!”


  Kaspar gripped the handle of the gun. He prepared to turn his body around. What the hell did she think he would do? The handling of a gun was completely foreign to him. The idea came to his head that all he would have to do was point and shoot. After a deep breath, he moved his index finger towards the trigger. He wasn’t ready to die, but what choice was there? Kaspar, still trying to get a firm grip on the handle, felt his thumb hit some type of lever by the trigger guard. The magazine went crashing to the pavement.

  “Are you kidding me?!” the woman screamed. “Hold on!”

  A jolt propelled the bike forward. Kaspar held on as the force of the acceleration sent his body into her back. His heart never beat faster. The sirens got closer. The woman continued to accelerate. The cars in front moved to the right at the command of the squad car’s sirens. It made a clear path for whatever the woman had in her mind.

  “Don’t you move!” she yelled.

  She gripped the brakes. Kaspar could feel the bike’s tail start to move up. He closed his eyes and squeezed the wild person’s midsection. The back tire lifted off of the pavement. The tail continued its rise. Kaspar’s grip on the woman was now so tight that her circulation was cut off.

  The woman rode the bike on its nose tire for several feet. She steered left and a car on the opposite side blared its horn before the driver narrowly avoided them. Kaspar could feel the weight shift and his head go light. She completed the 180 endo and pulled out a P99 from her left holster. The back tire slammed onto the pavement.

  She fired consecutive shots into the front and back tires of the squad car. The Agent started to roll his window down to fire back. Control of the car had already been lost. A car coming on the opposite side of traffic slammed into it. The woman accelerated the bike forward and steered right into an alleyway.

  “Are you crazy?” Kaspar yelled.

  “If you weren’t such a…”

  She slammed the brakes. They just missed a speeding car once out of the alley. Without taking time to breathe, she accelerated the bike at a lighting pace onto the street. The bike rocketed past both lanes of traffic into another alley straight ahead. Another set of sirens could be heard, but the bike was long out of sight. She took a left once out of the alley and sped along traffic. She took the next left before finally taking a right hand turn onto a quieter street.