Rebels & Lies (Rebels & Lies Trilogy Book 1)

by Cotton, Brian

  “You find anything in here?” Sullivan asked.

  “No, we haven’t.” Mason replied. “Clever asshole didn’t leave a shred of anything.”

  “That’s just lovely. Let me know if you find anything.”

  Wilcox folded his arms across his chest. “That pussy with the broken nose, he have anything useful?”

  “No.”

  “That’s just great detective work, Sully.” Mason commented.

  “Just keep on doing what you’re doing. Let me know if you find anything. If there is anything to find.”

  Another dead end.

  Thirteen

  Kaspar looked down at his watch. The impatience within grew stronger. Eight-thirty sharp his ass. It was almost twenty ‘till nine now. He looked away from his watch before he zipped up his track jacket. The chill of the night started to get to him. Curfew’s approach moved at a rapid pace and the only thought in his mind was that this man had better show up. Another part of his mind continued to tell Kaspar that the old man was full of shit. Danny, a member of the resistance? Not a shot in hell.

  A large, African-American man started to approach, causing Kaspar’s heart rate to increase several beats. The dim street lamps made it difficult to make anything out of the man. What could be seen, however, would make anybody want to turn and run: USR in bold yellow letters across the chest. Panic took over now and his mind raced for a quick way out of this.

  Maybe he was just on patrol. Kaspar looked away and tried to act natural. Did Danny set him up in a trap? How stupid could one be to listen to a man who built an entire relationship on a lie? That whole erasing you from the system sounded like pure horse shit, too. A glance back over and the Agent continued his approach.

  The thought of running sprang to mind. With all that gear on, not to mention the man’s size, Kaspar had an easy advantage in terms of speed. The problem with that idea was clear. The Agent had a gun and a radio. He knew where the others were on patrol, so he had back up, too. Kaspar erased that idea from his mind and remained still.

  Act cool. Act natural.

  “Can I see your identification, citizen?” the Agent demanded.

  “Yes, sir.” Kaspar replied. He reached into his pocket and handed over his USR ID card.

  The Agent pointed his small flashlight into Kaspar’s eyes. Kaspar squinted as his eyes adjusted to sudden bright light. The Agent moved the light away onto the ID card before he moved the light back on to his face. Kaspar’s heart raced like he just ran a marathon and the thought of running suddenly seemed like a good one again.

  The Agent broke the silence. “Ryan Kaspar?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Follow me.”

  Instincts crept in as the Agent led the way down the street. Kaspar looked for any exposed pressure points he could use to stun the large man in front of him. Once stunned, he could take the Agent’s gun and blow his face off with it. Despite a damn good effort, Kaspar could not keep his legs from shaking.

  What now? What is this Agent going to do to me? They thought Mother was a rebel, they’ll think the same about me. They’ll blame that entire shooting on me and throw me in the gas chamber. Goddamn you, Danny.

  The two men arrived at an abandoned antique shop on the other side of the street. No one bothered to buy the property and the windows had long been busted out. The wooden door in front showed its age and years of non-maintenance. The Agent grabbed the wobbled door handle and forced the door open.

  “Step inside,” he ordered.

  “What for?” Kaspar asked. He felt the immediate urge to slap himself.

  “Step inside, now!”

  The inside proved to be a bigger mess than the outside. The light that penetrated through the broken windows revealed dust, rodent shit, and broken glass on the dirty floor. A pack of brown rats ran down the hall along the floorboards at the sound of the intruders breaking into their home. Maybe they could feast on Kaspar’s flesh when the Agent got done with him.

  “Down the stairs.” the Agent ordered.

  Kaspar moved towards the circular, claustrophobic stair well in front of him. The rusted metal stairs cried with each step down. The feeling that these stairs led to his death could not escape. He hoped it would be quick, like how he imagined Mother’s death. Just give one to the head and be done with it. No need to prolong it. Then again, the USR were inhumane pieces of trash that needed to make examples out of citizens…

  Don’t think like that.

  The unknown was about to be discovered. Once at the bottom of the steps, the Agent behind pressed Kaspar forward. A light bulb hung from the ceiling and only provided a dim light. The sound of glass crunching underneath two pairs of boots and rats clawing through the walls filled Kaspar’s eardrums. A doorway at the end provided a sense of ironic relief. Just get this over with…

  Inside sat a wooden table and three individuals. They all wore the same black getup that the Agent behind had on. One older gentleman sat at the head, two men standing on either side behind him. The man on the right looked out of place with his thick black rimmed glasses and scraggly white hair. The one of the left looked no taller than five foot five and wore a cocky smirk. He stared into the Asian man’s squinted eyes then looked elsewhere to the left and a familiar woman stood leaned up against the wall: Krys. She provided a brief sigh of relief. She did not go through all that trouble today just to give him up…right?

  “You weren’t followed?” asked the leader in a raspy voice.

  “No. All’s clear.” the Agent replied.

  “Take a seat, Ryan.”

  Kaspar sat down on the chair in front of him. The loose legs of the chair made comfort impossible. He looked into the old man’s eyes and didn’t like what he saw. Suddenly, those uneasy feelings made themselves at home once more. The whole room felt like a prison and no one was coming to save him. In an attempt to relieve some of the tension, he looked back at that familiar face. She just looked expressionless back at him. The tension remained.

  “Who are you people?” Kaspar demanded.

  “The name’s Paxton. Danny sent you here?”

  “That’s right.”

  “What are you doing here?” Paxton asked.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You must have a reason for being here to put Danny through the trouble.”

  “Danny told me that he knew the leader of the resist…”

  “You watch that kind of talk, boy scout.” Paxton interrupted.

  “I’m sorry, I…”

  “Don’t be sorry. Just don’t do it again.”

  Kaspar looked around the room. Every single pair of eyes looked with intent at him. There was no doubt that these people would kill him if they deemed it necessary. Kaspar cursed Danny once more under his breath. He breathed in deep and tried to relax.

  “So,” Paxton said. “What brings you here?”

  “I wish to join your…endeavors.” Kaspar replied.

  “Why?”

  Kaspar paused and his mind went blank at the search for the perfect answer. He went with the first thing that came to him.

  “I look around this city,” Kaspar said, “and I don’t like what I see anymore.”

  “Don’t bullshit me.”

  “What do you want from me, huh?”

  “What do I want from you? You came here, remember? What do you want from us?” Paxton demanded.

  In his mind, the scenario played out much different. Kaspar expected to be offered a job on the spot, to which he would respond in a positive manner. What he didn’t expect was to be interrogated and that old ass man did very little in helping to prepare. To hell with this…

  “Maybe this was a bad idea, Mr. Paxton. Sorry to waste your time.” Kaspar said. He tried to stand, but felt two bear claws grip at his shoulders.

  Paxton sighed. “I guess what I’m trying to figure out is if you are working for them.”

  “Them?”

  “You know who I’m talking about.”

 
“You think I’m working for the USR? After they killed my mother? Fuck you.” Kaspar cried.

  “Who knows? Maybe deep down you really hated her and you used her death as a way to get in good with me. Tear us up from the inside.”

  Kaspar clinched both of his fists. “Fuck you.”

  “Or, maybe you are just trying to prove something to that old man of yours…”

  “Enough!” Kaspar yelled. His face beet red with rage and his knuckles white.

  Kaspar looked around the dim lit room and caught nothing but ice cold stares his way. Except for one. Krys, she had this grin on her face, and when Kaspar got a glimpse of her, she bit her bottom lip. She had a half frown, half smile as she tried to hide it. What was her problem?

  “You know,” Paxton said, bringing Kaspar back to reality. “We usually monitor our potentials for weeks before we arrange a meeting. We made a special exception for you.”

  “Why?” Kaspar demanded.

  “Danny vouches for you. And, Danny is one of the few people that I trust.”

  “He did, huh?”

  “Yes, he did. So, what are you really after?” Paxton asked.

  “Revenge. To find each and every one of my mother’s killers to put them in a body bag.”

  Paxton nodded and leaned his body forward. “Anything else?”

  “I’m no patriot.”

  “Money?”

  “I don’t need it.”

  “Serving your community even?”

  “No.” Kaspar replied.

  Paxton nodded once again. “Fine. If retribution is all you seek, we might be able to help you with that. Just don’t get it stuck in your head that this is all about you.”

  “Fine.”

  Paxton smirked and then looked down at his watch. “We need to get moving. We’ll explain everything later. Just know that we don’t have time for loose cannons. You step out of line—and you’re done.”

  Kaspar’s nerves calmed once more. He thought about the strange and unexpected turn of events. He was a prize fighter, he disappointed Mother time and again by entering the ring, and the only reason he did it was to keep her away from the dangerous world. That dangerous world found her anyway. Now, he would live the life of a vigilante, a mercenary. He would look over his shoulder now and every night his job would be to eradicate the USR, taking out the Agents that watched everybody’s move.

  No. His job would be to find those responsible for Mother’s death. All that peace and we are the world shit could come later. He would find those responsible and, if that meant he must masquerade with these people for a while, then so be it.

  “So, that’s it?” Kaspar asked.

  “That’s it, unless you have any questions.” Paxton replied.

  “What is your aim?”

  “Our aim is to bring back a world without fear, without control. I remember, as Danny did, what life was before.”

  “And committing acts of terrorism is the solution, right?”

  It became Paxton’s turn to grow a red face. He squinted his eyes and gave Kaspar a look of sheer anger. Paxton leaned his body forward and slammed his fists on the table.

  “Who said that?” Paxton demanded. “The television reporters? Those politicians out there? Have you really been listening to them?”

  “I’m just saying…”

  “Don’t just ‘say’ anything! If you think we’re just a bunch of terrorists then get out of my face. Go out there and continue boxing or whatever it is you want to do. Go it alone for all I care and see how long your little revenge mission lasts.”

  Serves him right, Kaspar thought while he tried to fight back a grin. After all the old veteran accused him of earlier, a slight sense of satisfaction grew at seeing the leader get flustered.

  “They will brand me a terrorist now, an enemy of the state.” Kaspar said.

  “Yes, they will. Do you know how much I hate wearing this shit?” Paxton pointed to the USR letters embroidered on his chest. “I’d rather be branded an enemy of the state than to be part of the state. Can you live with that?”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Do you have any other questions?”

  “When do I start?” Kaspar asked, anticipation in his voice.

  “Right now.”

  Fourteen

  Kaspar looked down at the bloodied face of Razor. The behemoth lay unconscious on the blood stained mat. Kaspar raised his fists in the air and pumped them up and down in celebration. The crowd cheered him on and a smile broke across his face. The ring official carried with him an oversized duffel bag, no doubt filled with enough credits to live on for a long time. The prize fighter unzipped the bag to examine the contents. Inside, all he saw was Mother’s face. Her eyes were wide open despite the fact that she was dead. He dropped the bag and tears flowed down his cheeks. Something could be felt in his right palm. A bloodied American flag patch rested there…

  The van braked to a stop, jolting Kaspar from his sleep. He tried to get his bearings back as he looked around the van. His left shoulder ached from leaning against the window. He looked towards the bench in front of him and was met with a concerned face.

  “Hey,” Krys said, “you okay, man?”

  “I’m fine. Just a bad dream.”

  “What kind of dream?”

  “You wouldn’t understand.” Kaspar replied.

  “Fine. We’re here.” Krys said. She stretched out her back and let out a yawn.

  The short Asian man stood up and undid the back double doors. He moved out followed by Krys. Kaspar felt a sharp pain in his left eye as he rubbed at both eyes. Another round of ice packs would be necessary before the eye became a swollen mess once again. He stood and ducked his head from the roof and hopped out of the van. His feet landed on the tiny rocks of the driveway.

  Kaspar stretched out his back then looked forward. An old two story building stood in front of him. The exterior looked like it had been abandoned years ago by the look of the chipped white paint and black shutters. There was nothing but forest surrounding the place. It was in the middle of nowhere, not an Agent or another human being in sight. At least they knew how to pick a safe house.

  After a yawn, he followed the others to the front porch. Paxton reached into his pockets and fished out a set of keys. It took four different keys to unlock the four deadbolt locks that ran down the door. With all the deadbolts undone, he unlocked the handle with a fifth and final key. With the door opened, Paxton walked in and flipped on the light switch.

  The others entered the old building first, Kaspar followed behind the Asian. A short right turn took him into the living room. Two well-worn couches rested on the damaged wooden floor. On the coffee table sat newspapers and propaganda letters the USR sent out like clockwork. The couches faced a thirty two inch flat screen television.

  Something caught his eye in the back. There were stairs that led to the second floor and a banister at the top. Over the banister hung that evil flag with its red and white strips, the fifty white stars and blue background on the left hand side. The sheer size of the flag made it look like an idol that these people worshipped. Did he get drafted into a rebellion or a cult? It would be any moment now before they asked him to bow before it or put his hand over his heart. Kaspar stared at the flag and, for the first time, wondered what in the hell he got himself into.

  “Come on,” Paxton said, interrupting Kaspar’s thoughts. “Follow me.”

  Kaspar shook his head and followed the leader through the kitchen into the garage. Paxton opened a door in the garage and led the way into a large storage room. A flick of the light switch and the illumination revealed that the storage room had been turned into a briefing room. There were three rows of tables and chairs, a podium in front, another American flag at the left, and a large projection screen.

  The others filed into the room. They took their places in front of the podium and stared at the new recruit. Kaspar stared right back at them. Nobody made a sound. There were no sudden moves. It was anot
her stare down. Didn’t these people have voices? Were they not allowed to speak unless given permission?

  Another thought crept in as he stared at his new squad mates. What in the hell was this? From all the news reports the USR put out, he imagined the resistance being something on a much larger scale. Kaspar’s initial thought at the abandoned shop was that there would be more rebels to be met later. That thought turned out to be dead wrong, apparently. There were only six of them, including Kaspar. Where was all the high tech equipment, the military grunts, the special ops stuff? Just how full of shit was the USR?

  Paxton took his place at the end of the row, next to the big black man with the shined bald head.

  “Time to introduce you to the team.” Paxton said.

  “Okay.” Kaspar replied.

  “Big guy here is Ron Kilbourne. He’s our specialist in explosives. He did as much for the USR before he defected and joined our side. He’s also my second in command. Come to him if you need anything.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Kilbourne’s gruff voice said.

  “You were with the USR?” Kaspar asked.

  “Sure was. But, I got out when they started asking me to do some wild shit.”

  Kaspar started to ask another question, but Paxton moved down to the skinny guy with the glasses. Glasses man looked up and rubbed at his red nose.

  “Skinny guy here is Robert Clarke. He’s our…eyes you could say. He’s a real high tech nerd.”

  “I’m not a nerd,” Clarke said, he adjusted the glasses on the rim of his nose. “I’m just a guy who happens to be good at what he does. When you guys go out on missions, I’m the one who keeps your rear ends in one piece.”

  “Good to know,” Kaspar replied.

  Paxton moved down the line to Krys. She stood there with her arms folded across her chest and no facial expression.

  “You’ve already met Krys.”