Once Marshall had been paraded out for all to see, another figure emerged from the alleyway, flanked on all sides by soldiers. “Max, you’re a traitor!” Jill screamed angrily. “I hope it was worth it, whatever reward Brooks is going to give you for betraying us all. Our blood and the blood of anyone else spilled because of your treachery here tonight will be on your hands forever. That’s not something any riches will ever be able to wash away.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be him,” Max shouted, dejected from the betrayal he’d been dealt by Brooks. “They were supposed to take them, not Marshall.” Max pointed at Ian and I as though it would somehow add some justification to what he had done.
“Okay, enough with the reunion,” the commanding soldier said. “Soldiers, please escort the prisoners to their cells back at base.”
“Prisoner?” Max said. “How am I a prisoner? I’ve done everything I was told to do. President Brooks promised me—”
“Free room and board, guaranteed safety from all danger, and three square meals a day. We all know what the bounty is, and you’ll get it behind bars. It’s much more than you would have been guaranteed had you chosen to stay with the rest of your rebel family.” The commanding soldier smiled maliciously, chuckling at the defeat in Max’s stature when he was led away.
The commander turned to face the soldiers who remained guarding the rest of the rebels and Ian and I. “It’s trial by fire for the rest of them,” he said, giving his soldiers a final command before turning to join the others on their way back to base.
Each of the soldiers took a step back and readjusted their aim at the rebels. Ian glanced at me as if to silently plead me to come up with a plan—any plan. A thousand scenarios went through my mind, all colliding with my brain, creating a jumbled, confused mess in my head. Think, Celaine, think. Among the line of rebels, faces stared back at us, some frightened and anxious, others shocked. Some of their faces were red and contorted as though they’d been crying or were trying to hold back tears. Yet there were a few of them, most notably Jill, who stood their ground. Reflected in their unwavering eyes, their bravery screamed from the rooftops to be heard by the masses, never to be silenced again.
My hand brushed against the holster at my side where I felt the gun I’d picked up from the hallway in the bed and breakfast that was steadily burning to the ground behind us. I put my hand over the gun, glancing over at Ian, who perked up as he saw me slowly lifting it into my hand. We nodded at each other as though a plan had simultaneously formed in each of our heads. At his side, I saw Ian curl his fingers inward toward the palm of his hand. Moments later, his index finger appeared from his fist as he led a silent countdown. I smiled from behind my mask, watching as his second finger dropped. Adrenaline thrust its way through my body, causing my heart to quicken and my grip on my gun to tighten.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Ian’s third finger beginning to fall from his hand and, as it straightened, officially bringing an end to our secret countdown, I elbowed the soldier behind me in the chest. He fell to his knees, stunned enough to allow me to disarm him and collect his gun in the process. Ian followed my lead, picked his guard’s gun up from the concrete and, together, we aimed our weapons toward the soldiers holding the others hostage and fired.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
A Change of Plans
Our bullets struck two of the soldiers in the arms. Their weapons dropped from their hands to the feet of the rebels in front of them.
“Grab their guns,” I yelled to them as Ian and I took aim at the others, who were turning on us in retaliation. One of my bullets struck another soldier in the arm. I watched as she fell to the ground. Jill snatched up the gun. I smiled, knowing that Jill, unlike some of the others, wouldn’t be afraid to turn the gun on our attackers, thus providing us with additional backup.
Gunfire penetrated the air, once again surrounding us all in pandemonium. A bullet struck the ground just shy of my feet, prompting me to duck behind a dumpster. I took aim and shot an advancing soldier in the foot, causing him to drop to the ground. Once again, Jill retrieved the fallen soldier’s gun. With a gun in each hand, she ran over to me, barely avoiding a bullet that flew over both of our heads.
“That son of a bitch, Max,” she said. “I knew he was screwed up in the head, but I never imagined he’d actually go all Benedict Arnold on us.”
“Really? I asked, peering out from behind the dumpster to disable a couple more soldiers. “Because if you ask me, shady has always been that man’s middle name.” Off to the side of the road, near the alleyway of an adjacent building, I got a glimpse of Ian, fending off an onslaught. Still in visible pain, he managed to usher other rebels safely down the alleyway out of the path of the soldiers’ gunfire.
“He looks like he’s really hurting,” Jill said, following my gaze. “What, were you a little too rough on him or something? You know they make safe words for that purpose, right?” She smiled, chuckling to herself. I admired her ability to extract humor from the situation we were in.
“He was injured,” I said. “We almost didn’t make it out of the bed and breakfast with our lives.” The soldiers regrouped, preparing to advance on us once more. “Marshall mentioned a distribution warehouse another group of rebels is using as a base about a mile or so from here. Do you know where that is?” Jill closed her eyes as though absorbing the pain of hearing Marshall’s name, perhaps trying not to think about the horrors he was about to be subjected to.
“Jill,” I said her name again.
“Yes, I know where it is.”
“Good, because we aren’t going to be able to hold them off again. Not without more firepower, anyway. We need to run across the street and join the others. I’ll cover you.” She nodded her understanding and stood to a stooping position, readying both guns in her hands. “After we regroup, we’ll make a run for the warehouse with you taking the lead.”
With one look down the street in the direction of the soldiers, we ran across the road. Jill kept a step behind me, her weapons raised out in front of her and around me. Upon spotting us, the remaining soldiers sprang into action, each raising their guns simultaneously. In response, Jill and I both fired, hoping to catch them off guard and enable us to make it across the street, but a few of them were able to get shots off in our direction, forcing Jill and I to duck down as we scrambled over the pavement. I fired once more, only to be met with a sharp, telltale punch to the arm.
“Damn it, that stings,” I screamed.
“Were you hit?” Jill asked.
“I think so.” We picked up our pace, me trying not to move too fast for Jill, while we dodged the bullets flying at us, nearly falling over the curb when we crawled into the alleyway with the rest of the rebels. I clutched my arm, surprised to see the bullet wedged in the jacket, its material having stopped it from piercing my flesh. “Sure, now our suits do what they’re supposed to do,” I muttered.
Ian walked over to me, taking my hand to help me to my feet. “Are you injured?” he asked.
“No.” I picked the bullet fragment out of my jacket and handed it to him. “Thanks to you.”
He smiled. “As much as I like being your hero, I can’t wait for the day when all that means is that I remembered to bring milk home from the store, and not because I just literally saved you from imminent demise.”
“Yes, but how boring would that be?”
“I’m desperate for boring,” he whispered, leaning into me. “I’d walk barefoot over broken glass until my feet were reduced to nothing but bloody stumps if it guaranteed me a life filled with nothing but boring.”
“Me too,” I said, my voice in a whisper. From down the street, I could hear the soldiers approaching, cutting our time short. “Is everyone accounted for, Jill?”
“Not hardly,” she answered. “We’re missing about a quarter of our group. Some probably didn’t made it out of the building; some were able to get away and ran off during the attack; and some were captured.”
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I glanced at the rebels in the alleyway, cringing at the number of injured. Off to the side, Brad, ashen in complexion, was unable to stand on his own two feet and was being kept propped up by Bruce and Gage. “The soldiers are advancing for round two,” I announced to the crowd. “We need to move out now if we’re going to avoid any further casualties tonight.”
Jill nodded at me and turned to address the others. “Marshall planned for us to merge our group with another group of rebels based at an old distribution warehouse a mile from here. Since this was Marshall’s plan for us, I suggest we follow it to the letter, regroup, and then devise a rescue plan from there. All those in favor, follow me. All those opposed, draw your weapons and prepare to fight the soldiers preparing to turn the corner any second.” Determined, she turned around and ran down the alleyway. Without question, everyone fell in behind her. Ian and I brought up the rear, partly to help Bruce and Gage with Brad, and partly to defend the remaining rebels against any further attack.
As we rounded the corner onto the next roadway, the thunder of the soldiers’ footsteps grew fainter and fainter, eventually fading away entirely. The storm had passed, our battle postponed for another night. It was time now to lick our wounds, reorganize our group, and prepare ourselves to fight another day.
*****
The door opened. Blinded by the light, Jeremiah squinted to try to catch a glimpse of the figure entering his cell. “Have you finally signed my execution orders?” he asked the dark form entering the room.
“No, Jeremiah,” a voice he recognized immediately answered him. “I’m sorry, but you’ll just have to wait until they process mine, too.”
“Marshall?” he asked. “Oh, no. Not you, too.”
“Yes, I’m afraid me too.” Marshall spotted a container of water at the base of the cell door. He picked it up and looked questioningly at Jeremiah, his face hardening when he noticed the chains that bound him to the wall.
Jeremiah turned his head to get a better look at him. “In true Brooks’ form, he likes leaving little reminders that our needs are always going to be just out of our reach. Brooks will always be in control over the things we need to attain the most.”
Marshall retrieved the container from the floor. Behind him, the cell door closed shut, enveloping them both in darkness. He took the container over to Jeremiah and rested it against his lips, pouring a small amount of water down his throat. Jeremiah coughed and then reached for the container himself, quickly finishing off the rest of the water.
“So this is how it all ends,” Marshall said. “Torture by dehydration, followed by a public execution.”
“Perhaps we should begin rooting for the dehydration to do the dirty deed first, then,” Jeremiah said. He smiled, forcing the dry skin on his lips to crack.
“Perhaps, indeed,” Marshall said with a sigh.
They both looked up upon hearing the door creak open once more. “That was quick,” Jeremiah said. “Brooks must have decided to spare our suffering and get on with the big show.”
“Or he’s come to gloat,” Marshall muttered.
“Leave us,” a man’s voice said to the guards at the door. “I’ve been given explicit instructions to speak with the prisoners alone.” The guards nodded and proceeded to walk side-by-side down the hallway. Their footsteps echoed in perfect unison across the stone. After they’d marched some distance from the door, the man entered, closing the door until all but a crack remained between it and the wall, which gave him nothing more than a sliver of light to navigate the cell. “I don’t know why I even waste my breath with giving them detailed instructions, it’s not like they can argue with me. Hell, I could tell them to do the hokey pokey and they would, no questions asked.”
“Mind control. That’s how Brooks wants to keep everyone under his thumb,” Marshall said. “It amazes me that one of his own men is confirming what we all suspected to be true. I didn’t think Brooks approved of such candor among his ranks.”
“First of all, I’m not one of Brooks’ men. I’m here by duty, not by choice.”
“Being around Brooks out of a sense of obligation or duty is even less admirable than being next to him by choice. It means he’s stripped all of your decency away from you. You know what he’s doing, the atrocities he’s having you commit in his name, yet you do them anyway. He’s stolen your soul, and no amount of repentance on your part will ever be able to reclaim that from him.”
“You misunderstand what I mean by duty. My duty is not to Brooks; it will never be to Brooks.” The man approached them, kneeling down to face them both, eye to eye. They inspected the suit and tie the young man wore suspiciously, identifying him as someone of importance in Brooks’ chain of command.
“Finn, is that you?” Jeremiah asked, suddenly recognizing him as he squinted harder against the light.
“Yes, Senator Delaney, it’s me.”
“You’ve been in Brooks’ inner circle basically since the beginning. How can you sit here and tell us you have no allegiance to him whatsoever and expect us to believe you?”
“I don’t expect you to believe me, or even trust me, really. At the end of the day, no matter what I say, you’ll always have your doubts, and so you should. But my duty has been and always will be to my family and my friends. Innocent people who lost their lives because of that man, whose side I’ve stood next to as his aide throughout the years, calculating my retribution. You see, I’ve always suspected he was responsible for everything that has caused this country to turn to shit, including The Man in Black.”
“Then why align yourself with him?” Marshall asked. “Why insert yourself in his ranks and serve him like some loyal dog?”
“Because it’s the only way I could get close enough to take him down. With his guards surrounding him, I may not be able to murder him in the physical sense, but I may be able to kill him in the eyes of the people, especially with the recordings I’ve amassed.”
“Recordings?” Jeremiah asked. “You’ve recorded him without him knowing it?”
“Yes, through the years I’ve amassed quite a collection. Enough footage to make even the staunchest of Brooks’ supporters rethink their position. Enough footage to turn this country upside down. The only problem I’ve run into is being able to broadcast it and have it reach the masses all at once without one of Brooks’ men intercepting it first. But in light of an upcoming event, I may have found a way.”
“An upcoming event?” Jeremiah asked.
“Our execution,” Marshall said stoically.
“Yes,” Finn confirmed. “That’s one of the reasons why I came here to talk to you. I wanted to let you know that you have people in high places at your side and we will do anything and everything in our power to stop the execution, but—”
“But your first priority is commandeering the airwaves.”
“It has to be. It’s really our only hope, maybe our last hope of finally rallying everyone together to fight instead of cowering in the corner. Brooks plans on advertising the execution, making it mandatory for everyone to watch to show them what happens when you challenge him. It’ll be his biggest spectacle to date, but with the power on and everyone’s eyes glued to the television, it will also be our best opportunity.” He looked up at Marshall, catching a glimpse of the sadness in his eyes in the limited light inside the cell. “I’m sorry, Marshall.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Marshall said. “If the events surrounding our execution lead to Brooks’ ultimate demise, then everything—our suffering, our deaths—will have all been worth it. When I formed the rebellion, I knew I would most likely pay for it with my life, but I didn’t care then, and my position hasn’t changed since.”
Finn nodded. “I promise you I will do everything in my power to prevent him from carrying out the actual execution, but if I can’t, I wanted to thank you both for everything you’ve done for the movement. No matter what happens to you, to me, or to anyone brave enough to stand up for themselves and fight an injustice, your re
bellion will live on long after we’re all gone because of your work and its reach across our country. Brooks, on the other hand, who he is and what he’s done, that will die with him.” Finn stood up, brushing off the knees of his pant legs.
“Thank you,” Marshall said. “Your words are ones I will take with me to my final resting place.”
“Yes, Finn,” Jeremiah said. “Though I’d like to be around to see Brooks being taken down a few pegs, at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter how it happens, only that it does happen. With that in mind, I can live with everything else.”
“It will. One way or another, it will.” Finn glanced down at the empty container on the floor next to Jeremiah. “I’ll have water and food brought down to both of you immediately.” He walked to the door and opened it just enough to allow himself passage. “Until we meet again.”
He closed the door behind him as Marshall and Jeremiah, once again shrouded in darkness, watched him disappear into the hallway.
*****
Just before dawn, we arrived at the distribution warehouse, a hulking mass of concrete that seemed to be competing with the night sky for the rights to utter darkness.
“Are you sure this is it?” Ian asked. “It just seems too deserted. Like everyone just up and left.”
“What, did you expect them to throw us a party or something?” Jill asked with an obvious tension in her voice that had been building the closer we’d come to the warehouse. “This is exactly the way it should be. As still as death, and nothing more than unremarkable. The less attention drawn to you, the better.”
Jill motioned for us to follow her toward the back of the building where we couldn’t be seen from the street. When we approached the door, Jill walked up to it and, with an unmistakable scowl, knocked on its metallic exterior in a series of knocks that had clearly been orchestrated ahead of time for situations such as the one we found ourselves in. She took a step back, crossing her arms against her chest as though she was preparing to shield herself from something unpleasant. It was a side of Jill I’d not seen, nor had I ever expected to see it. “Come on, we haven’t got all day,” she said, tapping her foot rapidly against the pavement.
Redemption (Enigma Black Trilogy Book #3) Page 20