Malachi replied, “He did, but he’s getting optimistic now. The war might be over now.”
“We believed that before realizing we had to target the mob.” Tyson sighed. “Ethnic-equality riots, then lower and middle-class uprisings, then political civil war. What’s the mob have to gain in any of this?”
The company had just left the neighborhood, when Tyson started to say, “Probably just seizing an oppor–”
Multiple rockets slammed into the armored truck ahead of them and a couple other vehicles. Those in the driver’s chamber had crouched as low as they could by the time several rockets hit theirs as well. The Colonel prepared his pistol but had not intended to leave the shelter. The rifleman and driver fled, though, and were shot down within seconds. Malachi put a hand on Tyson’s shoulder and said to remain while he helped take care of the situation.
Tyson heard most of his company leave the vehicles and engage the hostiles on foot, but the gunfire and voices coming from their side was rapidly diminishing. It became plain that they were vastly outnumbered, and losing swiftly. A few minutes later, everything had quieted completely, save for some chattering. The only voices he could hear were unfamiliar, and they were approaching. Who survived? he unceasingly wondered. Never had Tyson felt his death was certainly moments away.
The driver’s side door opened. Tyson didn’t look at them; he simply dropped his gun and raised his arms. Those who found him dragged him out by his feet then ripped him from the vehicle. All around him was the sight of dozens of fallen soldiers, ruthlessly massacred. Only he and less than ten others were still breathing, while he found himself surrounded by at least two hundred armed civilians; many of whom looked at him with rage in their eyes. The crowd cleared an opening to make way for a red-haired woman to approach the survivors. He knew who it was…
When she saw Tyson, she said, “There you are.” She stood before him, kneeled, and studied him silently for a moment. “Colonel, right?”
“Krohn…”
“We spoke earlier on the phone. I promised to keep Sager alive, but she didn’t talk, and I couldn’t help myself. Let’s see if you fare better.”
–––––––
Tyson was dragged by his wrists down hardwood stairs into a basement with a bare concrete floor. Cobwebs, spider webs, dried liquids carrying overgrown mold, and a few rat corpses never removed from their traps filled the basement. The space was hardly bigger than a child’s bedroom. Down there, it was only him … and Carrie. He was thrown in, and then his left hand was strapped to a pair of handcuffs secured to the wall.
Lilith Krohn had followed him down there. She stared at him, and then at Carrie, who he looked at as well and saw was unconscious with both her arms hoisted. “She was useful,” said Lilith, continuing to look at the fallen boss. “I’m glad she opposed you. All I had to do was wait for a fight. It didn’t matter who’d have won, because you’d both lose to me.”
“Spit it out, Krohn,” said Tyson.
“My name’s Lilith. I’m a person; an American citizen, Colonel. But if you insist… Where is your General?”
Tyson was stunned at the mob boss’ intent. Tremendous ambition, he thought. She’ll kill me for sure.
When Tyson refused to answer, one of Lilith’s men punched him across the jaw with brass knuckles. Tyson then looked up, seeing one other in the back of the room. Three in total; none of whom were Ethan. Either he had never returned to his sister, or refused to watch her kill him. Perhaps, had it only been Lilith in the room, he would have stood a chance of escape. The handcuff loosely fastened. He made sure not to move that hand much, so that no one would notice.
“One more for good measure, Shane,” she said. Then, the man struck Tyson again, this time on the opposite jaw.
He already felt too weak to resist. He ordered himself to say nothing; not even mention Ethan’s alliance with him, which possibly would no longer exist if he was present anyway.
“Where is General Alexander?” Lilith asked again, surprisingly patient.
Silence…
“Look, Colonel. I didn’t beat you to intimidate you, or cause you to give in to the pain. It’s to know how serious I am. Well, the other things too, but not so much. You see, I want peace just as much as you, but never in human history was peace achieved against oppressors without violence. Power-hungry lunatics will always exist. If you think I am one such person, I’ll have you know that I’ve kept Rosalind Kershaw alive. She’s protected, she’s well-fed, and she’s comfortable. I did … pressure her a little to see things my way, of course. When my time in this war is complete, I don’t intend to be in charge. I would much rather it be Kershaw. But first, the war needs to be won. The horrendous, yet necessary step to peace.
“Did you forget what started this war? What escalated it? Had the military taken a back seat and let the civilians sort out their issues, millions of lives would have been saved. But you follow orders, without question, and without hesitation. I admire that in a solider. That’s … That’s what soldiers are meant for, after all. Nevertheless, your kind contributed to the problem more than any other. I intend to end the war, at least here, in my hometown. We’re nearing victory. All we need now is… Alexander. So, please, give him to me. I don’t want to have to kill you.”
Tyson looked again at Carrie. “What about her? Was she beaten for a good cause?”
“Mob stuff. Some of my people used to belong to her… Well, let’s just say they had a few grudges.”
“We watched you more than you knew…” said Tyson. He thought that perhaps he could instill doubt in Lilith’s savior complex. In his view, nothing unsettled a regime more than fear of losing. “You hid your intentions well. You did nothing to avenge your mother, you did nothing to save your brother’s daughter, and you took the side of no one. Not until now.”
“All in good time. Patience is more powerful than a nuclear warhead. Now, for the last time, where is your commander? You know, by my count, my numbers and resources must match his at least. I might even be stronger than him now.”
“You’re just a man, like everyone else. Flesh and bone. That’s your weakness.” He studied her for a brief moment. “You’ve cut the heads of many snakes, but you’re confident no one will take you out. It might even be your boy here. Shane, yes?”
“I’d never turn on my girl,” replied Shane. “Known each other since we were kids.”
“So, you’re sleeping with him. The only thing that makes a man more loyal than money.”
“Nope, never done that.” Shane laughed. “She’s hot, but she’s like my sister. I couldn’t turn on my sister… Is it weird that I think she’s hot, though? I don’t know. Can someone…”
Lilith rolled her eyes. “Out, both of you.” As soon as Shane and the other left the basement, Tyson began to plot an escape, but without skipping a beat, Lilith reached for the handcuff and tightened it as far as it could go. “Last time, Colonel…” She paused, then reached into her pocket and tossed out multiple photos onto the floor. “Where is your General?”
The photo on top was of a document detailing all the basic information on Tyson himself. It showed that he had a wife named Fallon and four kids, all accurately named. It included their ages as well. With his free hand, he sorted through the other pictures, which displayed dismembered and mutilated corpses of Lilith’s many victims. The worst was one of a mass grave, where at least twenty bodies were dumped naked. “You think this will make me trust you?” He said, nearly starting to cry.
“No, I think this will make you understand that I stop at nothing, for nothing. You can think I’m psychotic, a sociopath, a sadist, or what have you, but I don’t care what you think of me. The only important thing right now is that you give me what I want. Last time: Where is your damn General holed up?”
Tyson swallowed, though his throat started to dry. The images were now burned into his mind. “I… I need…” He knew he would regret these words before he spoke them. “I need a guarantee. T-That
no harm will come to my family. I need to kn-know.”
“I don’t harm the innocent, Colonel. Not intentionally, anyway. That’s the closest to a promise as you’ll get.”
He didn’t hesitate, knowing that he would never speak at all if he did. “He’s in the Rose Garden.”
Lilith scowled. “The Rose Garden? I checked there; my colleagues checked there. It was bombed during the war. Then, it was inhabited by junkies and drunks.”
Tyson spat the accumulated blood in his mouth, then held the bleeding wound with his right hand. “No. That was a front. He stayed close, but he couldn’t have anyone, even most of his troops, know where to find him. Only his guard, his staff, and his Colonels know this.”
Lilith nodded. “Well… Good. Hundreds more would have died, but thanks to you, now it’ll just be a few dozen.”
That was the last she spoke to him before returning up the stairs. Tyson felt cheated, but accepted the fact he never made a deal to be released.
He looked to his right, looking at Carrie Marsden one final time. She was still breathing, but her wrists were rapidly losing circulation, turning purple. For the first time, he examined her, and from her torn clothes saw that she had been bludgeoned everywhere; possibly raped. Her breathing was literally her only movement. No adjusting her position, no opening her eyes. Never had he seen a living body with no life within it.
Tyson scooted toward her, using his full possible reach. Still, she was at least six inches too far. He couldn’t help, nor extend a comforting hand. “Carrie,” he whispered. She didn’t react. “Carrie,” he said again, louder. Still, complete silence. Nothing.
Hours passed. Tyson lost track of time, and could no longer tell when it was day or night. He virtually never heard activity above him, or even outside the house. In time he realized that house was used solely for dumping prisoners, leaving them to die slowly to be finally disposed of later. This was his fate. He did not fight it. He leaned back against the wall and shut his eyes, thinking of his children and wife. He was completely and perfectly content with his final moments being filled recalling memories with them. There was no fear nor disappointment to die in this manner.
–––––––
“Dad, is the world going to end?” little Paige asked.
The two of them were in the living room of their home in Tacoma, Washington. Tyson had just been promoted to Lieutenant Colonel, and the Corwin family was one day from moving to Portland.
“Not if I can help it. I’ve been stationed in Portland because my CO believes I’m one of the few who can keep the city from completely falling apart. One place at a time, honey. Maybe that’s how I’ll save the world.”
“What about Tacoma, and Seattle? They need you too, Daddy.”
Tyson smiled. His heart ached, remembering what happened to those cities and more, which he had witnessed with his own eyes. “Yes, but this is a prevention operation. Plenty of soldiers are already trying to take care of the rest of the country. Portland is on the verge of falling. You think I can keep it standing?”
“Yeah…” Paige quietly, almost shyly answered. “I believe in you… Eh, that sounded cheesy.”
Tyson laughed. “Yes, but it was cute, though.” He kissed her forehead.
“What if you can’t?”
“Hm?”
“What if Portland … you know …, and you can’t stop it?”
“For a soldier, failure is never an option.”
Paige was reluctant, but said, “Yeah, but what if that happens? Will we run away and live in the wilderness like Moses and the Israelites?”
He shrugged. “Well, the Israelites were in the wilderness for forty years as punishment. Escaping populated areas, though… I suppose that’s not a terrible idea. Whatever it takes to keep my family alive… I’d have you all stay here, but Tacoma’s not doing so well either.”
A loud noise woke him. A body tumbled down the stairs; his eyes had opened as soon as it hit the basement. Startled, he sat up quickly. He heard someone upstairs struggling, gasping for air, then was silenced.
Heavy footsteps came down. When the person’s face revealed, Tyson breathed a sigh of relief. “Ethan…”
“I hope you can at least walk…”
GHOST
MAY 2000
One of Phoebe’s security guards, who really just functioned more as a secretary around the house, found Ethan in his bedroom drawing a mountain pasture. “You have a call, Ethan,” the man said. He was a rather new face around the house, so Ethan couldn’t attach a name to him yet.
Downstairs into the living room, Ethan answered the phone. “Hello?”
“Hey, Ethan… It’s uh… It’s Andrew.”
It took a moment, but Ethan remembered the name, and that voice. “Oh hi, Andrew. What’s up?” he replied.
Andrew Sneer was his name. He was Ethan’s age, blonde, and the least threatening face anyone had ever seen. Often targeted for bullying, due to his surname and his overly-nice personality. Kids would pick on him just to see how long it took before he snapped. He never did, and they grew bored of trying.
Ethan and Andrew attended the same school since fifth grade, but they only knew each other for one reason: Kayla. When Kayla came in fifth grade, that’s when Andrew also emerged. He had a planet-sized crush on Kayla. On four different occasions throughout the years, Andrew asked Kayla out, but she rejected him. When high school rolled around though, she started being willing to accept him as a friend. He was smart, but not motivated, which was not a good influence on Kayla. On a few occasions, Ethan and Kayla went to his house to smoke weed, which he was surprisingly skilled at obtaining. Though Ethan had little respect for the guy, he admired Andrew’s dedication. He had eyes for only one girl all those years.
“Is everything okay?” Ethan added.
“Well, it’s about Kayla. She’s been acting weird lately. Have you seen her today?”
“I … saw her yesterday. She seemed fine.”
“Me too. I saw her yesterday, but she said something that kind of bothered me. She went on this long rant about hating her life and that she’s gonna drop out. Then, today she didn’t show up to school at all.”
“I did find that weird, but I figured she’s just sick, or at an appointment or something.” Ethan sighed. “I’m sure she’s fine, dude. Your concern is noted.”
“…Alright. If you insist. Sorry to disturb you.”
Ethan hung up, forgetting about the conversation before he ran back to his room. When he sat at his desk to resume drawing, he remembered: Homecoming’s tonight!
“Yo, sis!” he called.
“What?” answered Lilith across the hall from behind a closed door.
“You going to homecoming?”
“Ugh! Yes, I reminded you at least twice. I’m getting ready right now.”
About a half hour later, Lilith called him from the bathroom.
“How do I look?” she asked. She was dressed in a red and black dress that she had customized months in advance. It exposed her shoulders, arms, and part of her chest. To Ethan, what stood out most was how obviously expensive it was, which would surely make less-fortunate students envious.
Ethan had been seated on her bed, waiting for her to apply the finishing touches to her makeup. When she had stepped out, he stood, examined her for an honest opinion, and said, “You look great.”
“You mean that? Or do you just feel obligated to say that?”
“You’re my sister. I’m never obligated to compliment you.”
Lilith smiled. “So, you mean it, then?” She wrapped her arms around him, squeezing tight. Then she walked over to her shoes by the door. “I wish you were coming. I guess you could next year.”
“Prom? No, that’s not really for me. I’d be surprised if I go next year.” As Lilith fit on her fancy, special occasion heels, Ethan added, “Those don’t suit you, either.”
“Don’t be dissing on my shoes. They cost half as much as the outfit.” She seemed to mean
that as a joke, but Ethan didn’t chuckle. She looked at him, face sunk a little. “What do you have against homecoming?”
“It’s not homecoming I have a problem with. Just large gatherings in general.”
“You never really were a people person,” said Lilith as the bedroom door opened.
In stepped Phoebe, and behind her, Phoenix. “Looking good, girl,” said their elder sister.
While Phoenix and Lilith conversed about the outfit, Ethan watched Phoebe, who was simply standing with them listening; smiling. He had such respect for his adoptive mother, and so much about her intrigued him. So normal, he thought. Except, not.
“It’s time to go,” said Phoebe. “I’ll drive you there myself, so that we can have a long talk about not getting pregnant tonight.”
“Oh please,” said Lilith. “That’s what prom’s for.”
Everyone shared a laugh; everyone but Ethan. “Can Phoenix drive her instead?” he said. “I wanna talk about something, if that’s okay.”
The others were silent for a moment, expressing surprise and confusion. But Phoebe simply answered, “Okay, Ethan. No problem.” Everyone walked out of Lilith’s bedroom and went downstairs to the front door. Ethan received a hug from his twin, then the sisters departed. Once Phoebe shut the door, she turned and asked Ethan, “What is it, love?”
“Do you think something’s wrong with me? I don’t want to go to homecoming. I don’t want to go to anything. Even the social outcasts at school go to these things.”
They came to the living room, Phoebe sitting on her recliner, and Ethan sprawled out on the four-seater.
“Well…” began Phoebe. “I think no two people are the same. I think half the people who go to parties like that don’t really want to, and the other half are just there to get laid, or show off their outfit to friends or something.”
“What about the game? People go for the game, right?”
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