The White Warrior

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The White Warrior Page 16

by Marilyn Donnellan

“I need to contact some BL members who are working on plans for Tuesday’s parade. I’m going to personally invite them to participate in the planning this afternoon. We can’t afford to make any electronic contacts.”

  “My parents are the only ones of the prisoners, I’m sure, who know we are part of the founders of BL,” Brogan reminded the group. “If the major forces them to talk it will jeopardize all of you, too. And, we need to move the other BL members out of prison.”

  Sunday, the team spent brainstorming various scenarios. Monday’s efforts would focus on finding the location of the prisoners and finalizing prison break plans. Tuesday would be the prison break. Juan led the discussions related to dealing with guards and laser fences, if needed. Janice, because of her knowledge of underground spaces, sewers and caves, mapped out a tentative escape route through the underground sewers connected to Leon Creek, based on an old map she discovered while looking for caves for book storage in the area. Allison would coordinate the parade and protests associated with it to cover the escapes, since she knew the area better than the rest of them. Brogan and Bryan needed to wait until after they saw the inside of the prison before deciding how best to help her parents and other prisoners escape.

  Local vid news reports indicated the major and his entourage were scheduled to arrive by jet at old Fort Sam Houston runway about 8 pm Monday night. The major would hold a press conference on the tarmac, spend the night at military barracks, and then arrive at the prison at 10 am Tuesday. Allison, Brogan and Bryan decided to attend the press conference to hold a peaceful protest and see Marco.

  The old Alamo mission, Fort Sam Houston and Riverwalk were all within about a one-mile radius, which made planning the escape logistically easy. The prison sat further away but still within a reasonable distance.

  The real stickler in planning occurred when they tried to figure out how 50 people could be moved safely out of San Antonio, without jeopardizing the safety of local BL members. Allison had a suggestion which made sense.

  “Why even try to get them out of San Antonio? The suburb around the prison intake center is densely populated. We should be able to hide them safely in barrios all over the area. If we focus on getting Brogan’s parents and other council members completely out of the area, the rest will be easy.”

  BL members would supply clothing for prisoners to change into to help them blend in with residents or the parade crowd and then melt into the barrios.

  “Let’s face it,” Brogan said, with a catch in her voice, “We have no idea what kind of shape my parents are in, so we don’t know if they can travel very far. Let’s play this part of the plan by ear. We will know more after tomorrow’s visit to the prison.”

  Allison put a hand on Brogan’s shoulder. “You know we’ll do everything we can to help your parents tomorrow, but don’t expect too much. We won’t know what the situation is until we see for ourselves. But I’ll do my best, sweetie, to get us to them. Now, I need to return to university and pick up some uniforms I hope will fit the two of you.”

  “I know, Allison, and that’s all anyone can ask for.” Brogan turned away, swallowing a huge lump in her throat and steeling herself for the realities of what they might find inside prison.

  A BL member found an old book showing the original plans for St. Luke’s Baptist Hospital, the building now housing the prison intake center. The original building, built in 1903, was torn down and modernized in the late 1900s, and again in 2058. Surgery units were turned into B-chip installation centers, while patient rooms in two, three-story buildings became housing for inmates awaiting transfer to prison farms across the empire. Two intake centers were located on the ground floor of the building, closest to the surgery units, according to Allison.

  A three-story security tower sat in the center of the two intake centers. Security towers were also located at the corners of each of the buildings, which Brogan and Bryan saw from the railyard the night they arrived. The one-story administrative wing contained a large kitchen and cafeteria, laundry, storage rooms, recreation facilities, interrogation rooms, infirmary, and administrative offices. No one ever escaped from the prison, at least it is what the empire bragged. Maybe it was because anyone who came into prison was either executed or given a behavior chip and sent to prison farms, never heard from again.

  Bryan reviewed the old sewer plans Janice dug up, comparing them to the building plans. He noticed the original sewer pipes came up through the west side of the building, just to the north of the main entrance, probably because it was closest to the city’s sewer system. If the plans were correct, it meant there would be an entrance under the floor of the current kitchen, close to the west wall and to the kitchen’s liquid waste disposal area. He called Alejandro over, the BL member who gave him the building plans.

  “Alejandro, look at this. What do you think this is?”

  Alejandro, in his 40’s and who spent the last twenty years working at the prison in the kitchen as a cook, looked down at where Bryan pointed on the old plans. He squinted and looked more closely.

  “It appears Senor Hernandez was correct. A way to get everybody out, amigo!” he said as slapped Bryan on the back. “I know right where it is. There is a very large walk-in refrigerator right there. If we move everyone into the refrigerator, no one would ever think to look for them there. Tonight, we go in underneath from the sewer and start working on cutting a hole in the floor up through the refrigerator floor.

  “My uncle, Pedro, he has a laser saw which should be able to cut quietly through metal, but we’ll need to wait until the kitchen crew changes shifts about midnight. There is a window of about an hour when no one will be back there to hear the saw. I work the midnight shift, so I can go in and make sure to pile boxes in front of the hole; that way no one sees it before the escape on Tuesday. Now, all we need is a plan to transfer prisoners into the kitchen refrigerator. I’ll also see if I can work an extra shift on Tuesday morning to help you move the prisoners.”

  Janice wandered over and listened to the excited conversation between Alejandro and Bryan. “You realize,” she said, “The prisoners may be in bad shape. Taking them through sewers means they will become very wet and very filthy. We need lights to show them the way and make sure there is help for them along the way if they need it. Alejandro, any idea how deep sewers may be in the area?”

  “No, senorita, I do not.” He looked dejected he hadn’t thought of the problem.

  She laid her hand on his arm. “Hey, you have some great ideas. Don’t be discouraged. It is my job to consider every issue to make sure everyone gets out alive. Can you find enough people willing to risk their lives to help lead the prisoners through the sewers?”

  He stood up straight and said. “Si, senorita. We are all very upset at the way the empire has tried to destroy our Catholic faith. I know there will be no problem finding enough people to help. You leave it to me.”

  He turned and started to walk out the door, on his way to recruit more help for Tuesday’s prison break. Janice decided to go with him. She wanted to see the sewers for herself.

  “Wait, Alejandro!” Bryan said anxiously, “What time do you want to start work on cutting through the floor? Do you need my help? Can you find the spot on the kitchen floor okay?”

  “Si, Senior, I will mark the spot on my shift tonight. My uncle will start tomorrow on making the hole. We’ll go through the sewers tonight to check depth and to find the spot so can start work at the shift change. Volunteers will wade through the sewers to the spot Tuesday morning to be ready when the prisoners escape around 10 am.”

  After Alejandro and Janice left, Bryan sat down in front of the table where just a few hours ago, they had breakfast and then a working, standing lunch. His mind whirled with everything needing to be done, desperately trying to anticipate problems. Brogan sat down beside him, putting her head on his shoulder.

  “Why don’t you take a break, honey?”

  “I can’t, sweetie. There’re just too many loose ends.
We still do not know how to break the prisoners out of their cells, once we find them. Alejandro told me about two small holding cells on the floor of the prison, but we don’t know for sure if the prisoners are there or somewhere else in this huge arena.” He slapped his hand helplessly down on the plans sitting in the center of the table.

  Although people who did not know Bryan, initially thought he was shy, he was not; just reserved and very intense about everything he did. Brogan knew he needed a break from what he was doing. He would think more clearly after some rest.

  “Bryan, look at me.”

  He turned and looked at her, his eyes red from strain.

  “This is not just your fight. We have help. Now, I insist. Let’s go for a little walk around the block with Herman and Marco Junior. We both need a break.”

  He reluctantly stood, and she pulled him toward the door. The two dogs eagerly bounced around them, somehow sensing an adventure afoot. When they stepped outside, Bryan was surprised to it was already twilight. Where did the time go? At first, he started to panic, thinking of everything still needing to be done, but a gentle tug from Brogan and he turned and followed her down the broken streets of the barrio. Tomorrow’s problems could wait a little while.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Flight and The Fight

  Quickly throwing some toiletries into his backpack, Marco made sure he had the vid-phone from the emperor in his pocket and his AR eye implant was working. He verified he had his personal vid-phone in one of many pockets of his uniform and closed the door of his apartment behind him. The prime minister insisted he wear the gray and red uniform of the empire’s service corps. He had no need for any other changes of clothing. He guessed it was 1600 hours, or 4 pm, Eastern Time and 1500, or 3 pm, Central Time in San Antonio.

  Who am I kidding? I have no idea what time it is in San Antonio. The only thing he needed to pay attention to was what time he was supposed to be at Logan airport and be on the jet. He looked around. There were a few chilly snow flurries, even though it was spring. No sign of the military robo-car yet. He sent a quick message to Allison to let her know his arrival time. He couldn’t wait to see her. It had been too long; almost a year.

  His new boss, Prime Minister Altero, required his attendance at Major Riley’s House of Lord’s committee testimony earlier in the afternoon. The House of Lords, located one floor below the prime minister’s office, had committee hearing rooms in a spoke formation off House chambers. It was the first time he attended a committee hearing. The room was decorated like something out of a 20th century courtroom. Paneled in dark wood, with a half-moon elevated dais for council members, the room oozed power. Each member’s chair was designed to accommodate his or her physical size. Behind the members, a huge tile mural depicted a scene from World War III. Each hearing room had a different scene.

  Communication vids sat in front of the members. House members wore identical off-white tunics and black slacks with imperial crests on their right breast pockets. Women wore hair pulled back into severe buns or short haircuts, and men had no facial hair. They, too, had short hair.

  Anyone presenting testimony to the committee did not sit but stood in front of the elevated dais, forced to look up at committee members. Audience members sat behind a clear window made of security glass and kept silent. If they made any noise, they were immediately evicted by guards stationed at exits.

  The hearing turned out to be very boring. But, it gave him an opportunity to confirm the identity of the Major as he testified.

  Afterwards he introduced himself to the major’s aide, a ramrod stiff marine, wearing first or second lieutenant’s bars on his collar. His name tag said “Benson.”

  “Excuse me, sir,” Marco said as he walked up to him.

  The lieutenant, about the same height and age as Marco but outweighed him by about thirty pounds of muscle, sneered at him as he turned to look at him.

  “Yes?”

  “Sir, my name is Marco Anton. I’m on Prime Minister Altero’s public relations staff and I’m supposed to travel with you and the major to San Antonio tonight.”

  “This is the first I’ve heard of it. Do you have anything from the prime minister’s office indicating this?”

  Marco held up the vid-phone from the prime minister. “His Excellency suggested you simply download his orders from this phone to verify them.”

  Without a word, Benson synched the two vid-phones. As soon as he saw the face of the prime minister conveying the instructions, he visibly paled and swallowed hard.

  “Wait here while I inform Major Riley of the prime minister’s instructions.”

  While he waited, Marco recalled the report Major Riley gave to the committee. He knew enough about what happened in Van Horn to be incensed at the way the major reported it. He gave the impression the Finlay’s and other energy grunts were violent and treasonous protesters he was forced to “put down,” to protect the empire. Riley made it sound as if they were animals. As instructed by the prime minister, Marco kept the AR eye implant recording and the vid-phone on during the hearing and while talking to the lieutenant.

  He was startled out of his reverie when Major Riley strode up to him, wearing a crisp empire marine uniform of gray and red, his military cap tucked under one arm.

  “What is the meaning of this, and who do you think you are!”

  “Sir, my name is Marco Anton. I am here at instructions of His Excellence Prime Minister Altero. He has asked me to accompany you to San Antonio. You should have received orders from him already.”

  “I’ve seen no such orders. Why are you going with us?” The major sputtered indignantly.

  “I am simply following the prime minister’s instructions, sir. If you somehow did not see the order or disagree with those instructions, I suggest you contact him directly. He is on vid-phone if you want to talk to him directly.”

  Marco received a buzz from the prime minister to put him on vid-phone as soon as he saw Riley’s reaction. Marco held up the vid-phone showing a scowling prime minister looking directly at the major. The major’s face turned red.

  He took a step back, saluted, and said firmly, “Sir, yes, sir. Just wanted to verify your orders, sir!”

  The prime minister did not say a word. Marco managed to hide his smile and transfer the phone back to his jumpsuit pocket. He kept his own vid-phone on his wrist.

  “What time should I be at Logan airport, sir? And exactly where am I supposed to meet you at the airport?”

  “The lieutenant will handle arrangements.” The major turned smartly on his heels and stomped away.

  Lieutenant Benson scowled as he told him a military robo-car would pick him up, what time, and then asked for the address of his apartment.

  “Will this be your first jet plane ride?” the lieutenant asked with a smirk.

  “Yes, it will be, sir, and I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Don’t forget your barf bag,” he said with a cruel laugh and walked away.

  Marco wasn’t worried, since he never got sick on fast carnival rides. He doubted this would be any different.

  Marco awakened from his musings in front of his apartment as a military robo-car pulled up and the door opened. He hopped in. Obviously pre-programmed, the car zipped along, easily skirting around traffic and arriving at the tarmac in less than 30 minutes. Since airplanes were generally only for military or government use, there were only a few airplanes sitting on the runway. Snow flurries were light.

  Instructions from the prime minister’s office said he would be flying on one of only a few synergy aircraft in use in the empire. In contrast to old-style military jets, synergy jets used 10% of a regular jet’s fuel, seated five and still flew at around 750 miles per hour.

  The robo-car drove on to what used to be Logan International’s airport tarmac, and now served as a military airfield. The car stopped in front of the only synergy jet he saw. The futuristic, sleek design made other planes look clunky and outdated. His view was only s
poiled by the prick Benson walking up to the jet.

  Marco sighed and stepped out of the car, pulling his backpack on to one shoulder. Plastering a politically correct smile on his face he walked up to the plane, his AR eye implant recording everything.

  “Hello, Benson. How’s tricks? And where do I store my gear?”

  The lieutenant turned, a scowl on his face. He walked right up to Marco and moved so close they were nose to nose.

  “You may be here on prime minister business, but it doesn’t mean I like it. So just stay out of my way.”

  “Well, old boy,” Marco said with a grin, “That’s going to be kind of hard to do several thousand feet up in the air, isn’t it?”

  Marco, because of his small size, had to contend with bullies as a kid and learned not to allow them to intimidate him. He was determined to show him he wasn’t afraid. He pushed past the lieutenant, climbed up the stairs into the plane, placed his backpack into an overhead bin and settled into one a window seat towards the front, the seat automatically forming around him to secure him. He had never flown, but he’d read enough about airplanes to know the drill.

  He looked around. He didn’t want to miss a thing. The simple but luxurious interior had roomy body-molding seats upholstered in white leather. He expected the plane’s interior to be claustrophobic, but it did not feel that way at all. Maybe for someone tall, like Bryan, but not for him. Windows were not large but adequate, providing him with a great view of everything outside on the tarmac. He looked above his head; some type of console. He reached up to touch it and a vid-screen came down. Cool! It should be a fun trip, at least until he arrived in San Antonio and figured out a way to help Brogan’s parents.

  The trip to San Antonio was truly spectacular. Except for periodic taunts from the lieutenant, which he managed to ignore, the trip was uneventful. Major Riley sat in the co-pilot seat, talking with the pilot the entire trip, while he, Benson and one other military attendant had the cabin to themselves.

 

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