“How so?” he asked incredulously. “Are you serious? My entire legacy is on the line here, Dennison. This is a rabbit hole we’re staring down, and with my actions, I have just stepped off the edge and started falling.”
“You are doing the right thing, sir, for the country as a whole. They need your leadership, now more than ever.”
“Am I?”
“Of course, sir. Have I ever steered you wrong?”
“No,” he had to admit.
“Then trust me now, sir. You are on the right path, the righteous path. This is your destiny and you should not have to pay for the sins of the past, sins that could plunge our country back into the darkness again.”
“And my father?” he asked without looking up.
“I think that he would be very proud of you. After all, sir, ‘the father of a righteous child has great joy; a man who fathers a wise son rejoices in him.’”
Clermont looked up at that. He had never known his aide to quote the Bible before; in fact, they had never discussed religion at all in the many years that they had worked side by side.
“You know, you sound a little like her,” he offered warily.
“Her, sir?”
“Cynthia Arrow,” he clarified.
“Well…, I believe that she makes some good points, sir. I have taken the liberty of reviewing the information that she has supplied us with. It would appear that Rosemary Williams did far more than simply facilitate a conflict between the government and Miss Arrow’s organisation. It seems that the late prime minister was responsible for far more heinous a crime than we first thought.”
“Such as?”
“It would seem that she perhaps even created SOUL. She created the myth, the terror… she was behind the whole organisation.”
“Wait a minute. Now look, I can just about see that she might have exaggerated the threat in order to help shape a narrative where she was the good guy, but I cannot see her being behind the threat personally. No, that’s a step too far.”
“And yet it would appear to be so. Think back, sir. Think back to Cynthia Arrow’s constant denials about being a part of the violence. She had always denied that her organisation held anything but peaceful protests. Her position has never changed on that fact. What if she was right? What if it was, in fact, the government who were behind the terror attacks in order to remain in power?”
“That’s… that’s crazy, Dennison. I cannot picture that at all.”
“Well now, sir, I would say that we should ask her, but…, well suffice to say that she was booked to appear on an ARK television show. She was going to… I believe the expression is ‘spill the beans.’”
“And now she never will,” Clermont finished.
“Perhaps the Queen’s Guard got wind of her betrayal of them. Perhaps they decided that it might be better for her not to start telling the truth, including, I might add, the truth about what really happened to your father.”
Clermont thought about the words from his aide and had to admit that perhaps they did add up after all. Rosemary Williams had poisoned the well for his party and could ruin his re-election chances as the public would never even try and look past their association. They were part of the same political party, and as such, they were all the same.
While there were still a great many questions to be answered, there was only one thing clear here: the whole thing was a complete mess and only a complete bleach clean would cleanse the conversation.
“How’s the raid going?” he finally asked.
“My understanding is that it is going to plan, sir. Be assured that I am on top of the situation.”
“I want them brought in for questioning, understood?”
“Perfectly, sir, although…”
“Although what?”
“Well, sir, these…people, they might not want to come quietly. They might choose not to surrender at all in fact.”
Clermont thought deeply about the situation and the ramifications. He thought about his own future, that of his party, and the far more important one of his country, and in some small corner of his mind he thought about the death of his father. He thought long and deeply before he spoke again.
“We shut them down tonight, Dennison, whatever it takes. You hear me? Whatever it takes.”
Dennison didn’t answer, he didn’t need to, but while his master spoke with his head bowed due to the seriousness of his decision, his aide merely smiled.
----------
Jamie-Lyn could only watch on as those around her flexed their metaphorical and literal muscles.
She was still kneeling next to Doc; one hand gripped her friend’s while the other held an automatic pistol pointed at the doorway and the masked police strike team that were blocking it.
The official SCO19 unit stood in the doorway, both shielding Cynthia Arrow and aiming at them. Crimson had confirmed that there were more officers gathered below, preventing their escape.
Doc was down and surely dying fast as her blood continued to seep out of her body and pool on the floor beneath. And of course, just for good measure, CJ was still incapacitated – unconsciously drunk and offering little more than an occasional mutter, mostly to himself.
The firepower staring them in the face would cut them all to pieces in seconds and she couldn’t even see Crimson making it out alive this time.
Cynthia had painted them all into a corner with expert ease that spoke of a plan devised over the past decade or so. While they had moved on with their lives after Havencrest, it appeared the cult leader had not.
She knew that none of them could be allowed to leave here alive. Cynthia’s plan would allow them all to be painted in the shade that she chose, just as long as no one was around to offer any alternatives.
While she didn’t personally have Link’s faith in the general public’s intelligence and ability to shift through the collective bombardment of the media’s attempt to smear them and find the nuggets of truth, she knew that a woman like Cynthia Arrow would not allow the mere possibility of something as unhelpful as the truth to get out. Once the team were all dead, then Cynthia could shape any message she wanted to sell.
Her own hand was shaking with the automatic pistol she held but had never fired; she wasn’t even sure that she could despite her impending death. It wasn’t as easy as the movies made out, to potentially take a life, no matter how clear and obvious the scenario of self-defence was.
No one had spoken for what seemed like an age now, all sides not quite prepared to start the slaughter just yet, no one seemingly in a rush to die.
She could feel the electricity in the air, a crackling of power around them searing the moment and rising steadily until she was sure it would explode.
The tension rose and she could feel the hairs on her arms standing up on end as though static was coursing through her veins.
Instead, the world outside the base suddenly erupted into noise and light. Sirens started to blare, echoing in the distance as multiple vehicle headlights began to emerge out of the darkness, driving towards the facility.
“Seems like the cavalry is coming after all,” Link announced happily. “I got a message out, and now you won’t be able to write your own version, Miss Arrow.”
Cynthia didn’t reply, but they could all feel her annoyance from across the room. The SCO19 officers started to shift uncomfortably as the sirens outside grew closer.
“You won’t be able to silence all of them,” Link yelled triumphantly. “Whatever these goons are prepared to do or go along with,” he said, pointing at the SCO19 officers. “No way you can cover up killing us with a hundred new witnesses!”
Jamie-Lyn tried to see what Cynthia was thinking by her appearance but the woman seemed to be backing further away into the shadows, possibly in retreat.
The armed police officers were also starting to glance at each other, shared expressions behind their masks that she didn’t have to actually see to know that they were nervous.
“Just leave,” she c
alled out to them. “Whatever your reasons for being here, if you’re following her or if you’ve been told that you’re doing the right thing, you hear that?” she said as the sirens grew ever closer. “Because this whole thing just got a hell of a lot messier.”
“She’s right,” Jesus echoed. “You really think that anyone’s going to go along with our execution now? Listen to those sirens. I can hear not just police ones but fire and ambulance as well. That’s a lot of people coming up here any second… a lot of people and a lot of uncontrolled thoughts and minds.”
Jamie-Lyn watched on hopefully as a couple of the officers started to back away out of the room. She felt rather than saw Crimson start to move and quickly flashed him a harsh warning glance, advising him not to do anything stupid. Mercifully, he seemed to relax his shoulders slightly.
The air seemed to be momentarily sucked out of the room as the sirens were nearly upon them now. Part of her knew that more people meant more problems, but at least they shouldn’t be fatal ones, for now. More problems probably, but more witnesses definitely, and the brighter the spotlight right now, the more chance they stood of making it out of here alive.
She didn’t dare breathe too loudly as the SCO19 men began to retreat; their weapons were still raised as they backed away and she knew that any sudden movement could still set the fireworks off.
She looked down at spider-egg-sized goosebumps rising under her flesh, and for a moment, she thought that she could actually see the electricity, then she realised that she could and that it was purple.
Her eyes slid downwards until she found that her hand was still holding Doc’s. The woman on the floor was barely breathing, but her eyes were now fluttering and offering an occasional glimpse of the purple light flickering in there.
“Doc?” Jamie-Lyn whispered as loudly as she dared, but Doc didn’t answer.
She knew instinctively what was happening. There was no cavalry coming to their rescue. Doc was somehow summoning up enough strength to transmit a mass hallucination to everyone despite her mortal wounds.
Jamie-Lyn held her breath and prayed that Doc had enough to keep the illusion going until the SCO19 officers and Cynthia left. After that, they would have a whole new set of problems to contend with, but living right now was the first obstacle to overcome.
She couldn’t see, or thankfully hear, Cynthia anymore. Hopefully the woman had already left the building without ordering the men to attack; perhaps she wasn’t quite so crazy after all.
Doc had been squeezing her hand tightly this whole time, and Jamie-Lyn hoped that she was sending her enough of her own energy to finish the job, but the grip was starting to fail.
She squeezed Doc’s hand tighter, willing her to keep going, but she could feel the woman’s strength weakening as her wounds took over.
“They’re leaving,” Crimson called out as he looked out and down over the roof’s edge to the ground below. “Never thought I’d be so happy to hear a bunch of wailing sirens before.” He laughed.
“What the hell do we tell them when they get here?” Link suddenly asked.
“One problem at a time,” Jesus answered. “Just let them get here first.”
“Come on, Doc,” Jamie-Lyn whispered. “Just a minute longer, that’s all we need.” But Doc didn’t have a minute left.
She coughed and spluttered and Jamie-Lyn saw with dismay that Doc’s eyes had lost the purple glow and were now just the normal eyes of a dying woman.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped as her chest hitched and her face creased with pain. “I couldn’t hold it.”
In that instant, the sirens and lights outside died as though someone had just flipped a switch.
“What the hell…!” Link exclaimed as he stared out again into the sheer black and empty night.
“Oh shit, it was Doc, wasn’t it?” Jesus asked as he suddenly understood what had happened.
“I’m sorry,” Doc whispered again, her voice almost spent.
Jamie-Lyn held her hand tightly. “Don’t you dare apologise,” she said back, smiling with her mouth but starting to cry with her eyes.
“They’ll be back!” Crimson yelled out.
“You did more than any of us could have.” Jamie-Lyn smiled, speaking gently.
“I wish Marshall was here,” Doc said quietly.
“Well, thanks a lot,” Jamie-Lyn replied, joking softly.
“I never… I never got to tell him that I… loved him.”
“He knew, Doc, he knew.”
“THEY’RE COMING!” Crimson yelled from the edge of the roof as his senses alerted him to the sounds of returning combat boots rushing back towards the building.
“I don’t know what I’ve got left,” Doc said in a voice so low now that Jamie-Lyn had to lean down to hear her.
“We’ll get you out of here. Crimson, help me with her!”
“No,” Doc replied. “It’s too late for that.”
“No, it’s not,” Jamie-Lyn responded instantly. “You gave us a window, and we’re going to carry you through it.”
“No… too… late,” Doc said, and she was almost gone.
Crimson reached their sides. “What are we doing, Doc?” he demanded as Jesus and Link merely looked on.
“You’re… leaving…”
“No!” Jamie-Lyn yelled as her tears fell. “Not now, not like this. That bitch doesn’t get to take you from us!”
“Remember what you promised,” Doc said to Crimson as she coughed again, her lungs continuing to fill with her own blood, suffocating her from within.
“I’ll remember,” he confirmed fiercely.
“I’ve got one last… trick up… my sleeve,” Doc managed with one of her last breaths as she slipped her hand away from Jamie-Lyn’s.
Jamie-Lyn tried to grab it again, but Crimson reached down and stopped her, pulling her up to her feet.
“GET OFF ME!” she shouted at Crimson, trying to break free.
“You have to respect her decision,” Crimson said, holding her tightly as he pulled her away. “Whatever she’s got in mind, I’m guessing we don’t have much time and we need to make it count.”
As it turned out, he was right.
----------
Sergeant Nick Brown led his team back from the vans and charging towards their targets.
His own pride was stung hard and he couldn’t believe that he’d been so stupid as to not know that they were being played by the witch inside.
All of the government files on the Queen’s Guard had been made available to him and his men, and he had insisted that they all study them religiously, and then he’d been taken in by a simple ruse.
While his team’s orders appeared to be coming from less than optimal sources, he cared little; as far as he was concerned, all of those freaks had a condition, one that required a cure, by the way of a bullet to the head, and one that he was more than happy to administer.
He had never bought into the hero-worship culture that had sprung up around the Queen’s Guard. His father had been a hero, a real one.
Jeremiah Brown had been a policeman – not a flashy one, nor a detective. He didn’t track serial killers or hold shootouts on rooftops. He was a beat cop. He wore a uniform to work every day and he tried to help people; that was his super power. He was an ordinary man in a blue uniform who put his life on the line for the sake of others.
His father had worked for over 20 years on the streets of his local neighbourhood, a man who knew his people and they knew him. It had been a rewarding life for his father and he watched the man shine his boots every night, so clean that you could see your reflection in them.
His father hadn’t bought into the bright and loud adventures of the Queen’s Guard. As far as the man was concerned, it was all a lot of unnecessary noise.
The second love of his father’s life was his religion; he was a committed Christian raised to live his life by the teachings of God and to spread his love and understanding.
By the time that the SOUL
war had taken hold of the country by the throat, gripping it in a fear vacuum powered by the government and the media, his father had started to find that simply being a Christian had started to become something to apologise for.
The country had become scared and it had turned in on itself, lashing out at anything it could find in order to keep the fear at bay. Churches on his father’s beat had been burned as the SOUL organisation demonised an entire religion based on a few fanatics voicing a twisted message.
His father had watched on as his own community had torn itself apart as frightened people lost their senses and descended into panic. The man had tried to reach out to both sides, to bring people together, to try and show the insanity for what it was, but in the end, that desire to bring people together had gotten him killed.
The gathering at St Justin’s had started out as a small protest after a bombing in the capital had been claimed by SOUL. The protest had grown into a mob soon after rumours started to spread about the number of casualties including multiple children.
The mob had grown angrier despite his father’s best attempts to inform them that in fact the bombing had resulted in a small fire at a government storage facility with zero casualties, but the mob hadn’t been interested in the facts. They had stormed the church and set it alight, and when his father had tried to stop them, he had been badly beaten and suffered a heart attack, dying in a hospital bed three days later.
Putting on the uniform had been a way of honouring his father, and he hoped that would have made the old man proud, but their methods were very different.
Nick Brown had no intention of being anyone’s punching bag, and in SCO19, they were always the biggest dogs in the room.
When he’d first been approached by Cynthia Arrow, he’d wanted to put a bullet in the woman’s face; as far as he was concerned, her mob and the Queen’s Guard were every bit as much responsible for his father’s death as each other – two sides of the same coin with equal disdain for the law and both pushing their own agendas which helped stoke the fires of the other. But then she had shown him the files, the evidence, the corruption of the government at the time, Prime Minister Williams’ desire to exploit a small harmless religious movement into a full-blown threat to scare the country into turning to her for leadership.
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