The Bellator Saga: The First Trilogy (Dissident, Conscience, and Sojourn)

by Cecilia London

  Jesus Christ, how many familiar faces were in this place? Or on the run, one step away from capture? The parade of agony continued. Jen had been brought here for an inevitable demise. The guards were getting desperate, though.

  They’re going to run out of people soon. I don’t have many friends left.

  What a sobering thought. She closed her eyes, remembering Ellen’s screams. She shook her head. She was not to burden Jen with it.

  Caroline studied Jen’s clothes. They were dirty. Ragged. And the deep reddish brown stains could only be one thing. She shuddered as the other woman continued to cry, and turned so that Jen was facing the light. She was bloody and bruised from head to toe.

  “Calm down,” Caroline said softly. “It will be okay.”

  “The hell it will,” Jen snapped. “You’re going to sit here and tell me that, when I can see the condition that you’re in? When I know what they’ve already done to people I love?” Her voice broke and she stopped.

  Jen wrapped her arms around herself, shifting away from Caroline, who decided to start rubbing her back anyway.

  “Are you thirsty?” she asked. “There’s a sink in the corner. I assume it’s safe. I haven’t gotten sick yet.”

  Jen didn’t respond, but began to shake violently.

  “Jenny,” Caroline whispered. “Please talk to me. I need – I just want to talk to you.”

  “About what? Want to relive old times? Maybe talk about what it was like when we had control over our lives?”

  “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

  “I’m not okay. And neither are you.”

  “It might not be this way forever.”

  “You think we’re gonna get out of this?” Jen asked. “Jesus Christ, Caroline. I can see your face. How long have you been someone’s punching bag?”

  “I don’t know,” Caroline said. “I don’t know what day it is or how long I’ve been here.”

  “You think it’s gonna end, don’t you?”

  Caroline closed her eyes. “It has to. One way or another.”

  “No,” Jen corrected. “You think someone’s going to end this, get us out of here. Don’t you?”

  It was painful to be reminded that she was in the presence of someone who knew her so well. Who loved her. “Is it wrong to hope?”

  “When there’s nothing left to hope for, yes.”

  “Don’t say that, Jenny.”

  “There’s no good left in the world. Haven’t you figured that out? California and Texas cut bait. No one is going to stop this.”

  Caroline thought of the doctor who had tried to help her. Maureen. Her name was Maureen. It seemed important to her to remember a name instead of just a title. “There will always be goodness in the world.”

  “No,” Jen said. “Everyone’s out for themselves now. The sooner you come to terms with that, the better.”

  “They’re not. There are still small acts of revolution to be had.”

  Jen scowled. “That time will never come. I know what you’re thinking, Caroline. But all your sappy movie moments, all your inspirational quotes, all your idealistic visions of a greater nation aren’t real life. At all.”

  It had always boggled her mind how Jen could correctly analyze her words and read so much into them. “These things happen in real life,” Caroline said. “Not just in the movies. Tiananmen Square. The democracy movements in the Middle East. The overthrow of the communist regimes in Eastern Europe. People quietly fighting for change.”

  “That’s not going to happen here,” Jen said bitterly. “We’re complacent. Always have been, always will be. We threw together a document that was far too advanced and far too perfect and after almost two hundred and fifty years we’ve gotten used to being the beacon for the rest of the world. We don’t know any better. We’re like dandelions in the wind. We’ll latch onto something for a few seconds and then blink and the moment is gone. It’s over, Caroline. It never started.”

  Jen had never been a bleak person. But her words were stark, depressing. “What happened to you?” Caroline asked.

  “I could ask you the same fucking question. Maybe being in here has made you batty.”

  There was no doubt of that, but Caroline hoped a bit of her sanity remained intact. She shook her head from side to side and Jen laughed. At her. Jen was laughing at her. Jen had never laughed at her before, not really. It made Caroline feel ashamed.

  “There is no humanity left,” Jen said. “It’s all been snatched away. God knows how they managed to do it so quickly. Maybe we’ve been primed for this longer than we thought. I stupidly hoped we’d put up more of a fight.”

  “There are good people left,” Caroline insisted.

  Jen grabbed her arm. “Yeah, and they’re all in here sporting tattoos. Lambs for the fucking slaughter.”

  Jen was no cynic. Caroline had never heard her talk like this before. “There’s a rebellion,” she whispered, hoping the guards weren’t listening in. “There are people fighting to stop this.”

  “No, there isn’t,” Jen said. “The states that seceded are perfectly happy to leave the other forty-eight alone in exchange for not being bothered. Just like every NATO country, every disaffected and apathetic citizen, every person who’s somehow still allowed to live as long as they don’t mess with the status quo. There’s nothing left.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “And neither do you. You don’t know what it was like driving across the country. It was surreal. It appeared normal, but it was like there was this weird film over everything. Nothing was quite what it seemed. But I noticed one thing – you don’t mess with the government and they won’t mess with you.”

  “As long as you’re not gay, or rich, or an atheist, or a member of a minority group.” Caroline grew frustrated. “Have you forgotten about Katie?”

  As soon as she said the words, she realized the obvious. Jen was alone. Where was Eric? And where was Kathleen?

  No matter, for the mere mention of the name was enough to snap Jen back to attention. “Don’t talk about her!” she shouted.

  Caroline’s stomach churned as a wave of nausea swept through her body. “Where’s Katie?”

  Jen shoved away from her, leaning against the wall.

  “Where’s Katie?” Caroline repeated.

  Jen put her head in her hands and started rocking back and forth, humming to herself.

  “Where’s Katie?” Caroline yelled. She yanked Jen’s head up, the pain in her broken fingers forgotten. “Tell me where she is, Jenny.”

  Jen bit her lip. “No,” she said. “No no no.” She stared at Caroline, her eyes vacant.

  Caroline tugged at Jen’s shirt. “Tell me what happened.”

  It took a minute. A little more prodding. A few soothing words, a reassurance that Caroline, her friend, was here with her and they’d both be okay. A dirty lie, especially considering Jen’s previous statements, but it was enough to make her start rambling. At first Caroline couldn’t make out what she was saying. She could only hear bits and pieces through hiccups and sobs. A hail of gunfire as Eric tried to ram his way through the border stop. The bullets ripping through him when he reached for their weapons. Jen and Katie being yanked out of the car and hustled onto a plane. Being shackled together inside a transport van. Katie being given some highly offensive ultimatum, and resisting it all the way.

  Caroline grabbed Jen’s upper arms. “What did they tell her? What kind of ultimatum?”

  Jen took another heaving breath. “They called her names. Bad names.”

  It was like talking to a child, constantly having to repeat herself and speak slowly. “What kind of ultimatum?”

  “They have programs. Secret camps if you’re…not straight.”

  One rumor Caroline hadn’t wanted to believe. The idea of a government camp conjured up images too disturbing to perceive as real. “Because she’s gay?”

  The question broke Jen out of her daze, and she looked at Caroline as if she
were quite unintelligent. “Of course because she’s gay. Jesus, Caroline.”

  “What happened?”

  Jen cradled her head in her hands. “She refused to go.”

  Of course she did. “And then what?”

  “She landed in my lap,” Jen said.

  That was a strange transition. “Excuse me?”

  “They gave her one more chance, put a gun to her head, told her she had to see a psychiatrist. And she rattled off exactly how she felt about their bullshit conversion therapy crap and they…got rid of her.”

  Jen had blood under her fingernails. In her hair. All over her, from head to toe. How had Caroline not noticed that before?

  “She landed in my lap,” Jen repeated.

  Caroline shook her head. Kathleen was fine. She was in another part of the building, in another cell. No, that wasn’t like her. She would have done more. Jen was mistaken. She’d fought off all those assholes and made a run for it. Kathleen was safe. And she’d come back with a boatload of rebels and get the two of them the fuck out of there. “Where’s Katie?” she asked.

  Jen tugged at the sleeves of her shirt, rubbing the material together. “She was in my lap, and I couldn’t move, and I was screaming at her to get up. There was all this blood and bits and pieces of bone, and they left her there for a really long time even though I was screaming, and then they finally took me out of the van.”

  Jen was rambling again. She’d keep rambling unless someone knocked her to her senses. Caroline slapped her face, ignoring the sting radiating through her mangled hand. “Where’s Katie?”

  “She’s dead.” Jen started crying again. “How many times are you going to make me say it?”

  Caroline didn’t have time for grief, but she could fit a little rage into her calendar. White hot, blinding, frenzied rage. Someone had to pay for this. Someone had to die. How could she trick an agent into coming back into her cell? She was ready to tear someone apart with her bare hands. Did she have anything she could throw, or break? She could tear her bedframe apart and make a shank and stab the hell out of all of them. Watch them bleed to death. Cut their dicks off and shove them down their throats. It wouldn’t be nearly enough justice, couldn’t satisfy her need for retribution, but it was a damn good start.

  Caroline started pounding on the wall, staring at the camera. She didn’t care about the pain in her hands. It was all relative now. Her voice was clear and strong, ringing through the cell. “Come in here, you bastards! Fucking cowards!”

  There was no response, so she continued. They’d have to come in to shut her up sometime. And then there was no telling what she would do to them. Heinous crimes had to be avenged.

  Jen draped her arms around Caroline. “Stop.” She wrestled Caroline to the floor, hugging her tightly. “If they come in here they might take me away from you.”

  Caroline threw her arms around her and started weeping. She wasn’t sure how long they sat there with their arms around each other, choking out their sorrow. It didn’t matter. There was no bringing Kathleen back, no reconciling what had happened. That kind of heartbreak couldn’t be alleviated.

  Jen let out a small sob. “I’m sorry. I promised you I’d keep her safe.”

  She hadn’t had a whole lot of options when up against the vast resources of the government. The cards were stacked against all of them from the beginning. Caroline hadn’t wanted to admit that until now. “We promised each other. You tried, Jenny. You and Eric tried. So did Katie.”

  Jen started crying again. “I want to go home.”

  A pure and innocent desire, as simple as it was impossible. “I want to go home too.”

  The two women were only a few years apart, but Jen sounded decades younger when she next spoke. “We’re not going home, are we?”

  Caroline hated herself for even thinking what she was about to say out loud. She couldn’t deceive Jen. She had to be straight with her. “I don’t think so.”

  “Do you think they’ll let me stay in here with you?”

  Almost certainly not. Caroline was surprised they’d given the two of them what little time they’d already spent together. She leaned back against the wall with Jen in her arms and closed her eyes. “Don’t think about that. Let’s just appreciate what we have now.”

  Chapter Thirty

  The Past

  They were indeed invited to the president’s funeral, and spent most of a humid summer morning at the National Cathedral. After the services were over, Christine, Ellen, and their husbands met up with Jack and Caroline at their brownstone in Georgetown. The women were lounging in the upstairs sitting room with the men presumably doing the same thing downstairs. Caroline couldn’t explain the gender separation but suspected that Jack was keeping Daniel and Tom hidden away so that she could spend some time alone with Ellen and Christine.

  “Hell of a reason to get together,” Ellen said, nodding at Caroline when she handed her a glass of scotch.

  Christine settled into an easy chair with a drink of her own. “It was a lovely memorial, though.”

  “The president’s brother gave a nice eulogy,” Caroline said. “Better than I expected. Very Kennedyesque.”

  Ellen practically spit out her drink. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  Caroline grinned. “Reaganesque?”

  Christine nearly choked on her drink too. “Clearly not.”

  Caroline sat down next to Ellen on the couch. “I’m glad you two are here. I’ve missed you.”

  Ellen gave her a little hug. “You too, kid.”

  Caroline stared down at her own glass of wine. Everyone was comfortable, which gave her the perfect opportunity to blow it all apart. “What’s your impression of Santos?”

  Ellen took a sip of her drink. “I don’t like him. And I get the feeling he doesn’t like me.”

  “I talked to him at the convention,” Caroline said. “He rubbed me the wrong way.”

  “In what sense?”

  “Like, creepier than Murdock, more ambitious than Langlade, more dishonest than just about everyone I’ve ever met. I can’t really put it into words.”

  Christine frowned at her. “Caroline, you spent about five minutes with the man.”

  “It was more like thirty. And I had a couple of interactions with him on the Hill.”

  “That was a long time ago. We all change.”

  “He hasn’t. Oh, and he has really freaky looking eyes. It’s like he has no irises,” Caroline added.

  “As if that has any bearing on anything,” Christine said. “One half-hour of total conversation and he’s a sinister charlatan with bizarre features. Fantastic analysis.”

  “I spent less time than that with you and Ellen the first time I met you both. Was I wrong about you?”

  Christine smiled. “The jury’s still out on that one.”

  Ellen turned to her. “What do you think of him, Christine? You were on a couple of committees with him, weren’t you?”

  Christine shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I wasn’t all that impressed.”

  A swift turn. “What does that mean?” Caroline asked.

  Christine took a big gulp of her drink, a sign that she didn’t want to pursue the subject further.

  Caroline decided to push a little. “Seriously, Chrissy. What gives?”

  “He’s said things. It may have just been my imagination.”

  “You are naturally suspicious.” Caroline tried not to smile.

  “It’s not funny,” Christine said.

  “What did he do?”

  Christine lifted her drink to her lips again, then placed the empty glass on the coffee table. “I think I heard him use an ethnic slur once.”

  “Well,” Ellen said. “I guess that isn’t the worst thing in the world.”

  “He said it about you.”

  “Oh.” She stared down at her scotch. “I see.”

  “I could have been wrong,” Christine said hastily. “I might have misheard.”

  Caroline g
lared at her. “You’re one of the most observant people I know. You didn’t mishear anything.”

  “He’s a big supporter of Israel, Caroline. Maybe I did.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything,” Caroline said. “He probably holds that position out of political expediency. Doesn’t mean he’s not a racist.”

  Christine leaned back and folded her arms. “So now he’s creepy, dishonest, ambitious, and racist? Want to make him a misogynist just to be inclusive? Maybe throw in some homophobia?”

  He had made a number of troubling comments about what he dubbed the gay agenda during the campaign. But anything involving sexual orientation tended to be a sore spot for Christine, so Caroline decided to let it alone. “Don’t dismiss my interpretations.”

  “He’s a member of a minority group,” Christine pointed out. “What would he have to gain from bringing down fellow minorities?”

  Caroline rolled her eyes. “Chrissy, I don’t mean to malign the Republican Party, but you’ve got some strange bedfellows in there. You really think he wouldn’t put his own ambitions and goals above those of other Senators, particularly those of different races or religions? Come on. You’re not that naïve.”

  Ellen stared down at the floor. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Christine gripped the armrest on the chair, barely able to conceal her discomfort. “I just – I wasn’t – we’re not that close, Ellen. I wasn’t sure if you’d believe me, and it felt weird to even say it to you, and I-”

  “That’s such bullshit, Chrissy,” Caroline interrupted.

  Christine whirled on her. “It’s so easy for you, isn’t it? I don’t think the two of you realize how well-liked you are. People want to believe you. They hang on your every word because they trust you. I don’t have the same reputation.”

  “We’re not talking about taking this to the press,” Caroline said. “You should have told Ellie.”

  “I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.”

  Ellen gave Christine a small smile. “It’s okay.” She turned to Caroline. “Don’t get mad at her.”

  “I’m not mad. I just wish she would have said something earlier.”

  “What did he say?” Ellen asked.

  “I can’t remember for certain.” Christine shifted in her chair again. “But I’m pretty sure the ‘k’ word was used.”