Redemption (Enigma Black Trilogy Book #3)

by Furlong-Burr, Sara

  Ian and I nodded collectively, each of us sensing a solemnness in Marshall’s voice that hadn’t been present before. “I hate to admit it, lord knows I never will to anyone else, but I fear we’re fighting a losing battle. Brooks has us backed into a corner. We have limited communication with anyone else outside the city, we’re swiftly running out of supplies, and the toll our numbers took at the address was enough to scare even our most staunch supporters.”

  “So are you saying we should all just give up and let Brooks win, that we shouldn’t have any hope for the future anymore?” I asked. The blood ran hot through my veins as a surge of anger overtook me. Every fiber of my being refused to just back down without putting up a fight. It wasn’t in my nature. “What are we supposed to do now, lie down and die? I thought you were stronger than that, Marshall. You’re their leader. They look up to you.”

  “I know they do. Don’t think I’m not grappling with demons of my own. It was because of me so many lives were lost at the address. And it’s going to be because of me we lose many more, which is why I was inclined to seriously consider giving Brooks something I know he wants.”

  “Yeah, what’s that?” Ian asked hesitantly, his body stiffening as though preparing to defend himself.

  “Me,” Marshall said matter-of-factly, like there were no other possibilities staring him in the face. “Brooks has had it out for me since the formation of the rebellion, and the thought had occurred to me to turn myself in to him, to plead for the others so they could go home to their families and salvage something of a life from this mess. But I know that will never happen. They all wear targets on their backs that will follow them wherever they go, no matter what they do from here on out.” He looked down at his feet as if the weight of everyone else’s crosses was forcing his head down, consequently rendering him unable to hold it up any longer. “And that’s why we must fight. That’s why we will fight. It’s our reason to fight.”

  “What’s the plan, then?” Ian asked. “What can we do?” He looked over at me and smiled, though I could sense he really didn’t want me anywhere near another altercation with Brooks.

  “Through communications between our groups here and those that still remain across the country, we’ve been able to gather together a small army, not nearly enough to make a dent in the soldiers, but enough to give Brooks quite a headache on his hands. They’ll be coming to town—little by little—over the next three weeks and will be received at an old distribution warehouse about a mile from here. There we will rendezvous with them and firm up everyone’s marching orders with a plan to storm the Capitol and fight for our lives, our families, our principles, and everything in between. Whatever your reasons are to keep fighting, I suppose then and there would be the time and place to bring them and hold them in your heart as you battle, knowing that you did all you possibly could have done to defend them.”

  “I’d rather die fighting for my life and the lives of those I love than cowering in a corner having given up altogether,” Ian said. He grabbed my hand and weaved his fingers through mine.

  Marshall smiled. “I thought you’d say that. You two truly are the superheroes you were made out to be, despite what the true intentions of your creation may or may not have been. Our plan is rudimentary at best right now, but there will also be a group here and elsewhere who will attack the soldiers guarding the power grids to try and attempt to restore power to enough people for them to see an untainted version of what’s really going on.”

  “How?” I asked. “Is our attack going to be filmed?”

  Marshall smiled. “All of our attacks have been filmed, my dear, we’ve just had all our attempts to air them thwarted by Brooks or those working for him.”

  “Cameron,” I said, his name leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. Marshall glanced up at me, confused. “He works for The Epicenter—that’s what they call the place we came from.”

  “Fitting,” Marshall said, laughing. “It’s probably where everything with Brooks started. The place that made the very earth beneath our feet give out from underneath us.”

  His observation struck a chord with me, unknowingly lifting the veil I’d happily kept over my eyes for the last year. “Cameron—” I began, trying to regain the composure in my voice without betraying the slew of thoughts streaming through my head. “Cameron is the one who keeps interfering with the rebellion’s broadcasts.”

  “Yes,” Ian said, interceding. “If there’s something we can do on our end to prevent that from happening during the attack, we’ll try. We still have friends back where we came from—at least, we’re pretty sure we do.”

  “Well, we reputedly have sympathizers among Brooks’ ranks, but heck of a lot of good that has done us,” Marshall said. “I’m usually the optimist when it comes to people, full of hope that they’ll come through for us in our hour of need. Unfortunately, that hope went up in flames a long time ago, leaving nothing but a pile of ashes in its wake. Hopefully—because there is always room for wishful thinking, I suppose—someone will come through for us, power will be restored to enough people to make a difference, and our fight will be broadcast over the airwaves. Maybe then our deaths will not be in vain.”

  “A person should be more concerned with their life having been lived in vain than their death,” Ian said.

  “Indeed.” Marshall smiled. “As the date draws nearer, we’ll begin more detailed discussions about the logistics. I just wanted you to be aware of what we’re going to be facing so you can begin to prepare yourselves for the fight of your lives. Now if you’ll excuse me, I don’t think I can keep my eyes open any longer.”

  We nodded at Marshall, who stood up from the chair and yawned as he shuffled to the bed. “Thank you for giving us the heads-up,” Ian said. Both of us then turned to leave the room, closing the door quietly behind us.

  “Celaine, what’s wrong?” he asked when we were out in the hallway. “You look like you’re going to be sick. Is it about what Marshall’s proposing? Because you and I, we can suggest other ways to go about it. I’m sure nothing’s been set in stone yet, and—”

  “No, Ian, it’s not that,” I interrupted him. “What he said about The Epicenter, about it literally meaning what its name suggests it does.”

  “What about it?”

  “What if our kind wasn’t the only thing Victor created at The Epicenter?”

  *****

  “Are you two up for a supply run today?” Jill asked Ian and me at breakfast the next morning.

  “Where’s Max?” A young man named Harry interrupted.

  “He’s under the weather,” Jill said, rolling her eyes.

  “Under the weather or at the bottom of another bottle?” John, a veteran member of the rebellion, asked.

  “Well, if I had to guess, I would say his illness is more hops than viral related, but I digress,” Jill said, sighing.

  “Of course we’ll help,” Ian said.

  “Great, thank you. We have a couple of sympathizers, people who have been secretly providing us with supplies, mainly food from their markets, but sometimes ammunition when they can get their hands on it. Starla and Roland are their names. Starla owns a small market on Fifth Street, and Roland manages another one on Main. The two shops are located within ten blocks of each other. We’ll divide up into two groups. Preferably, one of you will be in each group.” She looked at both Ian and myself, bracing herself for an argument, which I was about to make until Ian answered.

  “That seems logical,” he said, ignoring the impact of my foot against his shin.

  “Okay,” she said, relieved. “We’ll leave as soon as breakfast is over. Our food supply has hit critical levels.”

  After breakfast, six of us, consisting of Jill, Drake, Britta, Brad, Ian and me, traipsed through the various alleyways of the city. We chose to stay in our street clothes instead of donning our suits, not wanting to draw any more attention to us, especially since the invocation of the bounty, as there were undoubtedly those in the city sea
rching for us to cash in on it. Though it was early morning, the city streets were practically barren, per the norm since the dawn of the Brooks era. Only occasionally did we find ourselves ducking into doorways and behind trashcans in the alleys to evade detection by other individuals walking the streets and, once, a lone soldier out on patrol. As the day wore on, there would be more of them out marching through the streets, weapons drawn, but for now, our path was quiet. Still, we all kept our guns holstered at our side, hidden underneath our clothes in the event the stillness was broken.

  “This is where we break off into two groups,” Jill said. “People are more likely to question the intentions of a group of six people than three.” We all nodded our understanding. “Celaine, Drake and I will be in one group, and Britta, Ian and Brad will comprise the other. My group will travel to the market on Fifth Street. Starla knows me and will feel more comfortable dealing with me than anyone else. If Max could have gotten his head out of his ass this morning, he would be a shoe-in to deal with Roland, but since he has yet to pry it out of there, I hope that Roland remembers you, Brad.”

  “Yeah, me too, or this could get pretty interesting,” Brad said.

  My eyes wandered over to Ian, who gave me a half-smile. A part of me wanted to protest, to go with him and make sure everything went as planned, but I knew he wouldn’t allow me to break away from Jill’s group. If there was a safe group in the bunch, it seemed as though I was a part of it, a fact that I was sure relieved him.

  Jill checked her watch. “Brad, do you have a watch on you?”

  “Yep,” he said, raising his wrist in the air to show the silver band dangling from it.

  “We’ll meet back here in an hour. If one group isn’t back here at that time, then the other group will go looking for them because it has never taken us longer than fifty-two minutes in the past.”

  Our groups walked together down to the end of the alleyway where we would part ways, each of us running in different directions. Next to me, Ian squeezed my wrist. “I’ll see you in an hour,” he said quietly.

  “You’d better,” I whispered back. Though in the back of my mind, there was a nagging feeling that something was wrong, that this plan of Jill’s seemed too simple to work, especially in a world that was more complicated than a Rubik’s cube.

  At the end of the alleyway, Ian and the others veered off to the right, and our group went to the left. As we ran, I looked back at the others, and at Ian, who ran along with them, and hoped that if anyone came into trouble it would be us and not them.

  Even though the streets were empty and the storefronts abandoned for the most part, I still felt as though we weren’t alone. Eyes from the empty windows, from the alleyways, and from behind abandoned vehicles too ransacked by others to be of any use, surrounded us. A chill crept up my spine, a sensation that seemed to be felt only by me. Beside me, Jill and Drake’s pace had slowed to a fast-paced walk, their demeanors calm as far as their facial expressions revealed. Maybe I was being paranoid, or perhaps they had grown far too complacent, expecting this task to go as smoothly as it always had. I wished I could be as confident as they were, but after everything I’d been through in the last year, any hope of that had been shattered.

  Ahead of us, a block or two down the street, I made out the unmistakable sound of boots striking the ground in unison and with purpose. The same sound I’d heard the night the protestors were slaughtered. Soldiers. At least a dozen of them.

  Quickly, and without a word of warning, I grabbed both Jill and Drake’s arms and pulled them off the street, where I kicked open the door to the first building we came to.

  “What the hell?” Jill asked as I shoved both her and Drake into the stairwell of an apartment building.

  “Quiet,” I whispered, instinctively putting my fingers up to my lips. I stood up and closed the door as quietly as I could and peered outside between the cracks in a small window next to the door. “You didn’t hear that?” I asked them.

  “Hear what?” Drake said, confused.

  “Celaine, we really need to get going. We only have so much time to—”

  “Shh—” I quieted her. The sound of the footfalls grew closer by the minute; the same too-perfect rhythm created an eerie harmony on the streets. My eyes shifted back to Jill and Drake, who remained staring at me perplexed until, finally, their eyes widened as the sound struck their eardrums.

  Jill tiptoed over to the window and crouched down just enough to see the first line of soldiers pass by. “Five…ten…fourteen,” she counted. “That’s quite a mob for this early in the morning.” She turned to me, the fear lessening in her voice. “How on earth did you know they were coming?”

  “We have enhanced hearing,” I said, looking out the window and finding the street once again empty. “Just one of the many side effects we’ve been blessed with. It comes in handy at times, but can also be a real bitch when you have a headache.”

  “I’ll bet. Like a perpetual hangover.” Jill laughed and opened the door, which made an undesirable squeaking sound. After stealing a glance outside, she stepped out onto the sidewalk and motioned for us to join her.

  “Maybe we should abandon this mission and check on the others,” I said, my stomach doing flip-flops at the thought of Ian and the others being ambushed by the mini army we’d just narrowly avoided.

  “No, we have to proceed. We’re practically out of food back at base as it is. The others will know what to do if they encounter the soldiers. After all, they have a former soldier and superhero keeping an eye on them.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about,” I muttered.

  The rest of our journey to the market, a rather unremarkable brick building sandwiched between a bicycle shop and pizzeria—both long-since gone out of business—was thankfully uneventful. As we drew closer, Jill veered off down a back pathway, followed without question by Drake. I brought up the rear, dismayed by the narrowness of the path, which led to the back of the market. On either side of us was nothing but solid brick with no footholds, fire escapes, or window ledges of any kind to offer up the slightest chance of escape in the event of an ambush. My pulse quickened, and I found myself routinely glancing over my shoulder to ensure no one had entered the path behind us.

  When we reached the market’s private back entrance, Jill held her hand up to us, motioning for Drake and I to remain where we stood, and then proceeded up the steps to knock on the door using a series of three raps, a pause, then two more, a further pause, and then four final raps, after which she backed away from the doorway. Several seconds ticked by before the door creaked open noisily as though it were arguing with the person forcing it open on the other side. From inside the building, a shock of bright pink hair, styled in a pixie-like manner, appeared in the doorway. She inspected Jill thoughtfully, recognition evident in her eyes. She then caught sight of me and frowned.

  “What’s with the newbie?” she asked Jill, hesitant.

  “She’s okay, Starla. Celaine here is one hundred percent trustworthy and completely devoted to the rebellion. You have my word.”

  “I thought I told you not to bring anyone else around,” she said, not fully listening to Jill. Her eyes inspected me, scrutinizing every detail of my existence as though she could see right through me into my heart and mind, deciphering what made me tick. I’d never felt more exposed from a simple stare, but I suppose that was the lay of the land now. You either knew everyone you let in your presence inside and out or you would find yourself dead the next morning. “I’ve heard rumors, you know,” she said to Jill, her eyes still fixated on me.

  “What kind of rumors?” Jill asked. She looked at me as if to say, Don’t blow your cover.

  “According to Brooks, your group has taken on a couple of new members in the form of those superheroes, or whatever they are. Word on the street is there’s a pretty sweet deal to be had by turning one of them over.”

  “Is that a fact?” Jill asked, playing dumb. “I hadn’t heard that, but th
en again, I don’t listen to much of what comes out of that man’s mouth. Lies, most of that drivel is.” Starla emerged from the building, revealing a pistol holstered at her side. At the sight of it, I found myself searching for an escape route, not finding a lot of promise. “Besides, what kind of allies do you think we could make out of them?” Jill continued. “They worked for Brooks once, even helping him escape the address unharmed. Why shouldn’t we think this isn’t just another one of his tricks?”

  Well-played, Jill, well-played.

  Starla took Jill’s words into consideration, her hardened expression melting slightly. “Okay,” she said as she turned around and opened the door, gesturing for us to come in. “We need to hurry. I’ve already been visited by a group of soldiers today, and I really don’t want to be caught with rebels in my store if they decide to come back.” The three of us exchanged concerned glances as we followed Starla inside her store. Once inside, she ushered us into a small office off to the side. “Wait here while I go check my supplies. I’m afraid I’m running a little scarce this month. As it turns out, not too many people want to risk delivering down here, what with all the rebels wandering around.” She winked at us before closing the door, her footsteps disappearing somewhere inside the market.

  When we were alone, closed within the tight confines of the office like sardines in a can, I turned to the others. “Is this how this normally goes?” I asked. “Aren’t you the least bit concerned that she’s going to turn us all in and come back with a group of soldiers to haul us away?”

  “Chill,” Jill said. “Starla is practically a rebel herself with the amount of help she’s given to us. She shares the same beliefs as the rest of us, not to mention that Brooks would probably imprison her anyway for all the supplies she’s given to us, no matter what he promises, a fact she’s well aware of, considering he did it to her mother.”

  I leaned my body against the wall near the door, my hand hovering over the Glock at my side, listening to the shuffling taking place around the store. There were no voices, nothing overly suspicious, just the sound of aluminum cans being hurriedly thrown against each other, coupled with a pair of footsteps dancing across the floor. Still, an adrenaline spike made my skin crawl, my body readying itself for an ambush. So it wasn’t a shocker—at least, not to me—when my hand drew the gun from its place at my side and aimed it directly between Starla’s eyes as soon as the door swung open again.