Rebels & Lies (Rebels & Lies Trilogy Book 1)

by Cotton, Brian

  All that remained now was the wait. The long and seemingly unattainable time when…

  The van’s brakes slammed down hard. The force of the stop caused Kaspar to slide down the bench a few inches. The engine cut off, nothing but silence for a few brief moments. The double doors in the back flew open with Paxton and Kilbourne waiting outside.

  “We’re here,” Paxton said. “Remember, in and out fast, this is a simple job so let’s not get ourselves killed. Game faces.”

  Everyone reached down and slid their masks on. Kaspar was the last one out of the van. Paxton parked it in the large backyard, with its tall weeds and brown grass. The large tire marks from the vehicle added to the wonderful scenery.

  “How many inside?” Kaspar asked.

  “We don’t know. Can’t be too many, not many cars parked in front.” Paxton replied.

  “They all going to fit in there?”

  “We’ll make them fit. Let’s move out.”

  The team moved to the front. All of the homes in this abandoned neighborhood were run down. Kaspar wondered what this place must have looked like before. He imagined kids playing in the streets, everybody with a smiling face, not a care in the world. The target house seemed to take the worst of it. The once yellow paint long since rotted away, along with the wood underneath. The front porch had seen better days, evidenced by the gray wood and deep holes.

  “Li, you watch our asses out here,” Paxton said. “Everyone else inside.”

  Li stood watch out front, both hands attached to the PSD. Kaspar kept up with the brisk pace of the others as they entered the deserted home. Shards of glass from the broken windows were scattered all over the decayed wooden floor, which caused a crunch with each step of the team’s military boots. They moved to the basement door and the joyful sound of singing could be heard from down below.

  Paxton opened the door with caution. He gave a hand signal for the others to move down. Kilbourne took the lead, followed by Krys and Kaspar, with Paxton taking the rear. A sudden burst of screams interrupted the music. Shouts of calm down were ignored and only intensified the cries.

  “We’re not here to hurt you!” Kilbourne shouted. “The USR are on their way right now.”

  Twenty-Five

  “Who are you people, then?” a middle aged man with thinning hair asked.

  “We are the real police.” Paxton said as he moved to the front. “The real protectors of this city.”

  The congregation looked to have spent a lot of time turning this basement into a church. A large cross made of thick tree branches hung by the back wall. The floors were remodeled, the glossy wood shined from the lights above. There were ten people huddled down here, seven seniors, three middle aged. No one under the age of thirty gathered in this makeshift church. They were all dressed in their best clothing. Though, for some, their best wasn’t all that attractive. Most of the elderly wore old suits with holes and stains. Everyone grew silent upon Paxton’s approach. He moved his right arm over and pointed to the American flag patch. There were gasps then, for most a sigh of relief, but a few grew more fearful at the sight.

  “They’ve found us? How?” an elderly man asked.

  “Who is your leader?” Paxton asked.

  “I am.” the man replied.

  The aged man, with no hair left on his head, wore an all-black suit with a white square over top his wrinkled throat. A cheap, weathered cane helped keep the man upright. He walked towards Paxton, his aged legs shook with each step. The shakes in his hands on the cane seemed to be in rhythm with his legs.

  “How did you find us, my son?”

  “What’s your name?” Paxton replied.

  “Father Mark Francis.”

  Paxton grabbed Francis by the shoulder. “Look, Father, we’re here to get you and your people to safety.”

  “Take off the mask,” Francis said. “Let me see your face.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that. You’re just going to have to trust me. Gather your flock. Tell them to go to the van out back.”

  “Don’t trust him, Father!” one of the women called out. “How can you trust a man that won’t let you see his face?”

  “Yeah,” a man chimed in. “We’ve heard about you people on television, you’re nothing but thugs.”

  “Listen!” Paxton cried. “If you don’t trust us, then that’s fine. Let the USR deal with you. If you want to live, you’ll go outside into our van.”

  “He’s right,” an old woman said. “We have to leave now.”

  “Let us preach the gospel to the USR!” a middle aged man cried out. “That’s what God would want!”

  “The USR,” Kilbourne said as he walked towards him, “doesn’t care about your god. They will torture you—make you denounce your faith—before they kill you.”

  “If that’s God’s will then let it happen!”

  Paxton sighed and shook his head. So much for a simple extraction, he thought the mere mention of the USR coming would scare these folks into escape. He should have known better, though. He remembered the churches at the beginning of the USR, how defiant they were. He once saw with his own two eyes a church burnt to the ground with the members still locked inside. Paxton had never been a religious man, the horrors of war stripped that from him, and so he couldn’t bring himself to understand it. Was it out of sheer stupidity, hard headedness, or something even crazier like faith?

  Paxton raised his hand. “Okay, we can try this the easy way, then. Whoever wants to stay, stay. Whoever wants to escape, escape. But, we must hurry, so if you are leaving with us, go up the stairs now.”

  “You all should leave,” Francis said. “I’ll stay behind.”

  “No, Father,” a elderly man pleaded. “I’ll stay with you.”

  “You must go on, Fredrick, to spread the Word. I will stay and spread the gospel to our captors.”

  “I’m staying,” Fredrick said. “I’ll teach them with you.”

  “We don’t have time for this.” Paxton stated. “We’re leaving now.”

  “Father,” the elderly woman said, “you take care. I’ll go on. We will build another church.”

  “Everyone who’s leaving,” Kilbourne said. “Raise your right hand and follow us up the stairs.”

  Seven of the worshippers raised their hand and followed the rebels up the stairs, Paxton in the lead. Kaspar stayed behind for a moment. Why didn’t the three save themselves? What good would it do to rot in prison before their execution? The three men stared back at him, Francis the only one without fear in his eyes. The Father stood straight, stiff as a board, unafraid to stand up for his faith. Francis motioned with his head for Kaspar to leave.

  “You guys better hurry,” Clarke’s voice said through Kaspar’s ear piece. “They are about a mile away.”

  “Move it!” Paxton shouted from upstairs. His PSD held high, the stock rested on his shoulder, he moved fast towards the back door. “Li, you see anything, yet?”

  “No,” Li said through the ear piece. “But, I hear sirens from afar.”

  “Okay, meet us in the back right now.”

  They all burst through the back door. Paxton moved towards the van, lowered his gun, and then opened the double doors. The worshippers all took their seats on the benches, Krys and Li sat on the floor. It sure would be a tight fit, Kaspar thought to himself, he wondered what would happen next.

  “They’re pulling in,” Clarke shouted. “Get out of there now!”

  The sound of high pitched sirens came from the front of the house. Kaspar could hear the rumble of the tires over top the gravel driveway. He reached behind and slung the PSD over his chest. Visions of Mother’s dead eyes filled his mind. He looked down at the yellow piece. He knew what he had to do. He switched the safety off on the PSD then moved the latch to full auto.

  “What the hell are you doing?!” Paxton yelled from the front of the van.

  “Making things right,” Kaspar replied. “Maybe one of those men out there was involved…”
r />   “Snap out of it!”

  “You guys can leave,” Kaspar yanked back the slide next to the chamber. “I’m staying behind to preach a little gospel of my own.”

  Kaspar moved towards the house, but Paxton’s strong hand formed a death grip on his left shoulder. He looked back and swung his left shoulder free. He moved forward once more and the death grip returned, this time with a clicking sound. Kaspar turned and stared into the barrel of a handgun.

  “You’re coming with us,” Paxton ordered. “Or, maybe I should just kill you myself.”

  The sirens ceased. The sound of the heavy vehicle doors slamming shut echoed in the night air. Clarke said something through the ear piece, but Kaspar paid no attention to it. Right now, Paxton and his gun had it, full and undivided. The Agents kicked in the front door and shouted inside.

  “Would you really?” Kaspar asked.

  “Care to find out?” Paxton replied. “Get in the van, now.”

  Reason finally set in. Kaspar ran towards the opened double doors. He found himself a spot on the floor near the back before the doors slammed behind him. The engine roared to life as Paxton floored it towards the old dirt road near the back yard. Kaspar’s rear end jumped up and down from the bumps in the road, nearly matching his heart rate.

  “What is wrong with you?” Krys demanded before she slapped Kaspar’s covered cheek.

  “I was trying to save those people in the basement.” Kaspar replied.

  “Sell that to someone else, cause I’m not buying it.”

  “Don’t worry about it, then.”

  “We will worry about it,” the elderly woman said. “You could’ve gotten us killed back there.”

  “She’s right,” Li, the man who never spoke, said.

  “Fine,” Kaspar said. “Then I apologize, whole heartedly.”

  Kaspar could feel his body shift right along with the sharp turn. Clarke filled the ear piece with instructions for Paxton on what was going on. None of the Agents caught on to the fact that the resistance was just there. Nobody followed.

  “You guys were lucky,” Clarke said. “And, when you get back, I need to give Ryan a piece of my mind.”

  ***

  “Hello, gentlemen,” Father Francis greeted the uniformed Agents. “Have you come to worship the Lord our God with us?”

  There was laughter from the men. They wore digital urban camouflage with thick Kevlar vests with the bold white letters “USR” across their chests. They held their P90 submachine guns against their shoulders, aimed at the three men who stayed behind. The leader of the assault team stepped towards Francis. The Agent grew disappointed when the little man didn’t waiver or bow to his knees and beg for forgiveness.

  “I’m afraid not,” the leader said. “We’re here to bring you to justice.”

  “Under what crime?”

  “Spreading your evil, tyrannous views on the good citizens of this city.”

  The third man spoke up. “We’re here under our own free will. What tyranny do you speak of?”

  “I can think of several acts, but we don’t have time for that.” The leader replied.

  “Have you found God in your life, Mr…” Francis started to ask.

  “No, because there is no god. And, if there was, it would side with us versus your…hate mongering.”

  “Hate mongering?”

  The leader smiled. “Yes, hate mongering and exclusion of those who believe different from yourselves. Now, let’s go.”

  The third man lost it and ran towards the stairs. The Agents let loose automatic bursts from their weapons. The barrage of bullets tore through the man’s back and he crashed to the floor. The blood from the bullet wounds stained the once pristine floor. Fredrick gasped. He looked over in fear to Francis. Francis shook his head no and held his finger to his lips.

  “I’m not ready to die,” Fredrick said.

  “You should’ve thought about that,” the leader replied. “I’m afraid there is no way out for you…unless you denounce your god and this filthy religion you practice.”

  “Okay,” Fredrick pleaded. “I denounce it. What do you want me to do?”

  “You no longer believe? After all this time you’ve been worshipping? I don’t believe you.”

  “I swear it…” Fredrick cried. He fell to his knees, hands behind his head.

  “Fredrick!” Francis shouted. “Get up. Stop saying that nonsense.”

  “I don’t believe, I swear it, I don’t believe any longer.”

  “Then,” the leader persisted. “Why do you come here?”

  “I was going to report them. I swear on the almighty USR I was.”

  “Fredrick!” Francis shouted again.

  The leader pointed his handgun in Francis’s face. The Father’s lips shook and he went north, south, west, east with his right hand. He expected to be gunned down at any second. The leader just laughed at the sight in front of him.

  “Stop with that and keep your mouth shut,” the leader ordered. “I’m not going to kill you, yet.”

  “What about me?” Fredrick asked as he picked himself up off the ground.

  “You have proven yourself.”

  “Really?”

  The sound of a gunshot echoed through the basement. Fredrick fell face first to the ground; the bullet tore straight through the front of his skull. Francis looked away. A stream of warm tears escaped his closed eye lids. The leader laughed again as blood leaked through the bullet wound.

  “To be a coward,” the leader said. “Let’s see if your god will forgive you for your betrayal. As for you…”

  “What is it?” Francis asked, his head still looked away.

  “You are coming with us. We have some questions for you. Boys…”

  Four Agents moved in. Their P90’s were now slung over their shoulders. They had their night sticks out and ready. They hit Francis over and over again until his frail body hit the floor. The frail man, tears flowing from his eyes, felt two Agents pick him up from his armpits. They carried him up the stairs and out to their truck. Francis said nothing, he only prayed.

  Not just for himself…but for the men who captured him.

  ***

  The bodies were dumped somewhere downtown. The worshippers would have to figure their own way home. There was no chance for them to get their vehicles back. Kaspar wondered what they would do now…and why the team took the risk of rescue in the first place. Another thought crept in: what if Paxton had let him go?

  “Another successful mission,” Krys said. She took the Balaclava off of her head and shook her hair loose.

  “You call that a success?” Kaspar asked. He took his own mask off.

  “Yeah, we got them all to safety.”

  “Not all of them.”

  “That was their decision, not ours. We can’t make that choice for them.”

  “What are they going to tell the USR people, then?”

  “Nothing,” Krys replied. “They didn’t see anything.”

  “They’ll be able to tell them how many of us were there.”

  “The USR has no idea how many of us there are. Remember, we have rebel forces everywhere.”

  “But, you can’t see any of them or make contact, right?”

  “Exactly. I thought John explained all of this to you, already.”

  “He did.”

  Krys played around with her hair. “So, what then?”

  “It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “It doesn’t have to make sense,” Krys replied. “It’s just the way it is.”

  The back of the van remained silent until it screeched to a halt in front of the safe house. The team filed out and headed for the front porch. Kaspar started to walk through the front yard before that damned death grip returned to his right arm. He turned to face Paxton, who stared deep into his eyes.

  “What the fuck was that?” Paxton demanded.

  “I already told the others,” Kaspar shook his arm loose. “I was going to save those people in the
re. Maybe bring some actual justice to them.”

  “You just get something straight, you little bastard: we don’t have time for loose cannons on this team. I thought I went over this with you before. Do you get me?”

  “John…”

  “You will address me as ‘sir’, soldier, now answer the question.”

  “The USR took my mother from me, so please forgive me if I…”

  “Let’s get another thing straight,” Paxton said. He pointed his index finger in Kaspar’s face. “We, all of us, have lost something in this war. It’s not just you, not just your mother, and you need to get that in your head. Now, do you get me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Paxton nodded, lowered his finger, and aimed it at the front of the house. “Good, now go inside and think about what could’ve happened had we been caught.”

  How much more of this could he take? Kaspar told Paxton the day that they met what his true intentions were and the old veteran let him in anyway. Now, all of a sudden, he was made to look like the bad guy when he tried to exact some small amount of revenge. The more he got to know Paxton, the more he grew to hate him. He had long since passed the dislike stage. Where was all this help that Paxton promised…and why did he let him in the first place?

  He felt anger towards himself, too. Who knows, maybe that squad that raided the church was the same one that killed Mother. He would never know now, all because he was too chicken shit to go in there and do the right thing.

  “Were you really going to shoot me?” Kaspar asked.

  “No,” Paxton replied. “But, maybe I should have considered it. Get some sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

  “What’s going to happen to them? The ones who stayed behind, I mean.”

  Paxton looked straight down. “They are not our responsibility any longer.”

  “Bullshit they’re not. They are going to die, right? And we just left them there.”

  Paxton looked up and smirked. “You know, individual free will was one of the first things they took from us. I wasn’t about to take that from them. They wanted to stay so I let them stay. You have a problem with that? Fine. Just don’t ask me to apologize for it.”