She wondered how she could politely ask him not to mention Jack. “I know. Gabe told me.”
“So where’s-” Gig started to ask her a question – the question, no doubt – then stopped when he saw the expression on her face. “Sorry,” he said. “I bet you don’t want to talk about that.”
Thank God he’d caught on, because she’d been trying to figure out a diplomatic way to run inside the apartment. “No,” she said. “I really don’t.”
“Caroline Gerard,” he said. “Holy fuck.”
So help her if paranoia would kick in from time to time. “Don’t say it too loud. It’s Diana now.”
“Sure, sure. But when I first saw you I had no idea that you were fucking Wonder Woman.”
Caroline didn’t need another goddamn nickname. “Let’s not go crazy, now.”
“You’re an icon in the Underground. You know that, right?”
She hoped there wouldn’t be any Evita-style propaganda posters in her future. “Hadn’t thought about it. I’ve just been trying to stay alive.”
Gig studied her. “You disguised yourself pretty effectively.”
Caroline tried not to scowl. “Having a busted nose and a fucked up face has helped.”
He looked uncomfortable. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.” She silently lectured herself to behave better. He was trying to be nice to her. “I’m sorry.”
“Gabe tells me you’re from around here,” he said. “Suppose I should have figured that out. But I don’t know a whole lot about you aside from what’s happened recently.”
Caroline took another gulp of her now lukewarm hot chocolate. Kudos to Gig for very subtly changing the subject. “I grew up in the northwest suburbs. Unincorporated Deerfield, so pretty much Buffalo Grove.”
“Where’d you go to school?”
Talking about the distant past was much easier than thinking about the last few years. “Stevenson.”
“Got yourself a high class education, then.”
That was one way to look at it. Her high school usually ranked as one of the best in the country. Or it had. She didn’t know what the public schools were like now. “I guess so. My parents lived in a small house in a very modest subdivision. They paid a shit ton in taxes to make sure I went to a good school.”
“Looks like it paid off.”
Caroline looked around the balcony, her expression more than a little ironic. “Yes, because my life is so wonderful now.”
“I didn’t mean that. I meant you actually did something with it.”
Forget reliving happy childhood memories. She hated talking about herself. Always had, always would. “What about you?” Caroline asked. “What’s your backstory?”
“Cicero. Crappy high school. Loyola. Sox fan.”
“You were doing so well before that last one.”
“Bleed Cubbie blue, do ya?”
“A little. It’s funny how the things that used to matter to you seem pretty insignificant as time passes.” Caroline looked toward Wrigley. South of Gig’s place, past apartment buildings, bars, and restaurants, many of which were shuttered closed. She couldn’t see the stadium but knew exactly where it was.
She and the guys had watched some NBA games during her recovery. Professional sports were an effective distraction from the nation’s woes. “Does Major League Baseball still exist?” she asked.
Gig shrugged. “I suppose. The teams from California and Texas pulled out. I hear they’re playing in their own leagues with different players. The Blue Jays withdrew out of solidarity. Canada doesn’t seem too happy with Santos right now.”
“Are they planning on doing anything?”
“Not so far as I’ve heard. But who knows? Maybe the rebellion is plotting with international forces.”
He wasn’t as plugged in as she’d assumed. Another step backwards. She hoped he knew what he was doing when it came to getting them to California. “Maybe,” she whispered.
“You miss this place,” Gig said. It wasn’t a question.
“I do,” Caroline said. “I loved Maryland and D.C., even Pennsylvania in its own way. But my heart is here. The air feels different here. My spirit feels different. Does that make sense?”
“I understand completely,” he said. “This city is my soul. It’ll be hard to leave.”
Gig looked quite unhappy at the prospect. He probably felt the same way she did. His home wasn’t his home anymore.
“It’s not like any of that matters,” she said. “Everything has been altered. I’m not safe anyplace, no matter where I think I might belong. Maybe I don’t belong anywhere.”
“Or maybe that’s why we need to get our asses to California,” he said.
A newly empowering thought. She’d almost forgotten why they’d traveled to Chicago in the first place. “When are we going to leave?”
“We’ll wait a bit, make sure we’ve got a clear path. Then we’ll motor down to Oklahoma.” He nodded toward the door. “We’ll talk about it in greater detail with the guys tomorrow.”
She wasn’t overjoyed at the idea of that journey. Bad things happened to friends who traveled by automobile. Another subject change seemed in order, one that Gig seemed to desire anyway.
“You’re a Rambler,” Caroline said.
“You know your mascots.”
“I went to Marquette. Your school sucks.”
“I see.” He laughed loudly. “I like your sense of humor.”
“Glad somebody does.”
“You’re just pissed because my school’s bigger than yours.”
“Bigger isn’t always better,” Caroline said, then grinned. “When it comes to schools, that is.”
“I’m glad you’re lightening up a little,” Gig said.
She patted his hand. “You too. I was afraid you were a giant asshole.”
He didn’t act offended by her comment. “Even with Gabe’s word I wasn’t sure whether I could trust you guys. Hard to break free of my natural suspicions. Spent too much time wearing the badge.”
“Probably. I’m glad you’re not a jerk. We need to get along in order for this to work.”
“Your friends are worried about you. Maybe we should work on that, too.”
She picked at a stray thread on her sweater. Like she wanted to talk about that with a man she’d just met. “That’s because I’m crazy.”
“No, you’re not,” he said. “You’re going through a rough patch, but you’ll persevere.”
“How can you say that? You don’t even know me.”
Gig turned to look her in the eye. “I don’t,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t matter. You’ll do it because you don’t have any other fucking choice.”
She’d yell at anyone else who spoke to her in that way, another sign that she needed to work on her temper. The way he said it…he didn’t even mean it as a demand. He spoke with resignation, not determination. She wasn’t sure how to interpret that. But she knew she wanted to figure him out. And figure out what he knew.
“Can we compare notes?” she whispered.
He nodded. He knew what she meant. “Not out here. I’m getting cold.” Gig picked up her empty cocoa cup. “Let’s go back inside.”
The three other men were playing another round of cards. Gabe smiled at Caroline. “Sure you don’t want to join us?”
When she was so eager to find out exactly what Gig knew? Not a chance. “Maybe later,” she said.
Gabe looked disappointed. But his mood had changed ever since they arrived in Chicago. Caroline had been keeping her distance from him for most of the afternoon and evening. One of her favorite defense mechanisms, driving people away by being closed off or unintentionally cruel. But she hadn’t been leading him on. He knew where he stood. It wasn’t her fault he couldn’t accept it. That didn’t stop her from feeling guilty about it. Because she knew she’d be content to use him whenever she needed him.
Gig motioned for her to come in the kitchen, washing their empty cups
before taking a seat at the table. Very anal retentive.
“How much do you know?” Caroline asked.
He laughed. “Thanks for letting me sit down first.”
“Did you want to make small talk for a while?”
“Nope.” He folded his hands on the table. “I know enough to be engaged but not nearly enough to be dangerous. I wasn’t in the inner circle or anything.”
“I was.”
He laughed again. “I figured that much out.”
“What was your online handle?”
“‘Bandit,’” he said. “Haven’t been on in a while, though.”
Caroline thought for a minute. “I don’t remember you.”
“I told you I didn’t know that much. But I’ve met some people. The ones who are going to help us.”
That sounded encouraging. “How many are there?”
“I don’t know. No one can really hazard a guess anymore. Things have gone downhill in the last year or so.”
“In what sense?”
He frowned. “When the roundups began. All those prominent people disappearing overnight. When rumors started spreading that you’d been captured and killed. Took the wind out of a lot of sails. People thought you and – that you’d be able to make a difference somehow.”
That’s what she had thought too. “People gave up?”
He rubbed his temples. “I don’t know if people drifted off or were taken away or what. Momentum slowed. Message boards were locked. Even speaking in code wasn’t safe. I don’t want you to think it was all bad, because there were hopeful moments too. People thought maybe California would lend a hand. Or that there were spies on the inside in Washington. Double agents, you know.”
Gig wasn’t referring to people like Jones and Gabe. He meant higher up in the food chain. “Any way to verify that?” she asked.
“Not any way that I can think of.”
“How many people are out there?”
“I have no idea. It’s hard when so many connections have been broken. But not nearly enough. Every fucking American should be in on this shit, and they’re not.”
Was there even a rebellion? If the Underground had tanked and if hardly anyone was left, what did that say about the status of the movement in general? Maybe they were making a mistake by leaving for California.
“What if we told the Underground that I was alive?” she asked.
“That would be extremely dangerous. I’d rather we get out of the United States first.”
He was right. It shocked her that she hadn’t thought of that. She’d been forgetting simple logic more and more lately. Parts of conversations would vanish as soon as they occurred. She’d have trouble concentrating, or experience difficulty with basic cognitive skills. It was worrying but she wasn’t going to mention it to anyone. Not yet.
“I don’t want you to think the movement has died out,” Gig said. “It’s shrunk for sure, but parts are hidden better. There’s got to be something going on somewhere. With people who know what they’re fucking doing and know how not to get caught.”
He was far more optimistic than she. Caroline thought back to their conversation on the back deck. Dare she ask him? Would he know? The spark flickered again. He’d already indicated that he didn’t know where Jack was, but maybe…
“Have you heard anything about my husband?” she whispered.
He stared down at the table. Jesus Christ, no one had the guts to look her in the face when they answered that fucking question. He sat there for so long without speaking that she almost walked away.
Gig finally brought his head up. “No,” he said. “Not a peep. No one has heard from him and most of us assume he didn’t make it.”
“But they’re not sure,” Caroline said. “Right?”
“There’s no concrete proof. But I’d think-”
At least he knew when to stop talking. He refolded his hands and stared down at the table again. Caroline only had one lifeline left.
“Do you have a solid firewall?” she asked.
“As safe as one can be. Still wouldn’t stay online for more than a minute or two. Why?”
“Can I use your computer?”
He eyed her strangely. “Not going searching for folks, are you?”
She wasn’t that dense. “I need to check something. Two minutes, tops.”
* * * * *
Gig hadn’t been kidding about his expertise in security and surveillance. Though the connection was slow it was airtight. Somewhat irrelevant, since she didn’t plan on lingering on the internet for too long.
While they’d been in Washington, Gabe had scrounged up scanned images of the foreign accounts that the government claimed to have tracked. Two of Jack and Caroline’s smaller offerings at a bank in the Cayman Islands. The accounts had enough money in them to look convincing but not enough that discovery would be a huge loss. They had a number of accounts left and Caroline knew the login information for only one of them. The biggest one. The one they’d planned on using if they got into trouble, or if they ran out of funds on their journey from Pennsylvania to Canada and beyond.
She worked quickly, accessing the bank’s website and logging in using the passcodes she and Jack had memorized. Maybe she’d be able to figure something out from the account information. To disprove the rumors. To give herself just a shred of faith when she had none left.
Her heart sank as soon as she scrolled down the page. There had been no activity at all in the past twelve months, save for the quarterly interest calculation. She double and triple checked, using every search function she could think of, but the answer was the same every time.
All that money sitting there unused. Over a hundred million dollars and not a single transaction since the account had been opened. Caroline logged out and deleted her cookies and browser history, just to be safe. Gig and Gabe and everyone else had been right. She should have known. Jack had probably never made it out of the forest. How stupid to let herself hope again after she’d been given sign after sign that he was gone.
She couldn’t even focus on the one positive: that through it all, Jack had done exactly what he promised her after they married. Caroline was guaranteed financial security for the rest of her life if she could get to a safe place where she could access the funds. None of that mattered to her. She’d give every single penny in that goddamn account for five more minutes with her family. For one more hug, one more kiss, one more sweet word from Jack. But she didn’t get to make that bargain. She was simply one member of an unexpected band of budding revolutionaries trying to make its way to California in search of a rebellion that might not even exist.
Gig didn’t say much when she returned his laptop. Just made sure she had a sleeping bag and a pillow. Didn’t wish her a good night. The look on her face hadn’t invited any more talk, and he’d been smart enough not to pursue it. Caroline dragged the sleeping bag and pillow back to her room and didn’t sleep a fucking wink.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chicago
Staying awake had helped. Caroline felt the heavy burden of sadness the next morning but hadn’t been tortured by memories in her sleep. Control. She needed to stay in control.
Gig went to run a few errands and get some supplies before they left the city. They all decided it was safer for the rest of them to stay at the apartment for the time being. Caroline and the three other men hung out and watched TV for most of the day until Gig returned in the middle of the afternoon.
“Stocked up,” he said. “Got some food to last us a bit, some summer clothes for you guys, and I, uh, got Diana something.” He handed her a plastic bag. “Open it up.”
Caroline pulled a hoodie out of the bag. “Oh,” she said. “Thanks.”
“It’s probably a little big for you. Wasn’t sure what size you wore so I guessed.”
She held it up. It was baby blue, with the Cubbie Bear logo from the 1980s on it. “Wow. Did it break your heart to buy it?”
Gig grinned at her. �
�I felt this stabbing in my soul but it passed pretty quickly.”
“It’s great,” she said. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Thought you might want it for the road,” Gig said. “And I thought we got off to a rough start yesterday.”
Caroline patted his arm. The gift was obviously meant to try to lift her mood after their conversation in the kitchen. “I think we’ll be fine,” she said. “This is really nice. I love it.”
“I have a Sox cap you can borrow, in case you change your mind and join the right and proper side.”
“That won’t be happening.” She folded the hoodie and put it on her lap. “But you keep on trying.”
Gig handed out the rest of the clothes, all meant for the change in climate that would come as they progressed in their journey. “We can leave in a couple of days,” he said. “Weather’s clear and my contacts are ready to go.”
They hadn’t really discussed the details the night before. “Tell us again how we’re getting to California,” Caroline said.
“I’ve got a buddy in Oklahoma who’s a trucker who can get us into Texas. We’ll start there. Figure it will maybe take a day or two to get there.”
“Define ‘buddy,’” Gabe said.
Gig pursed his lips. “Let’s just say we’re renting friends for a while.”
The Underground was shrinking and those few who helped were apparently only willing to do so in exchange for gobs of cash. But transport was transport. “It’s that hard to cross the border?” Caroline asked.
“Damn near impossible. Worse than trying to get into California and almost as difficult as trying to cross into Canada.”
She didn’t want to think about the next part. “Then we fly to Tijuana?”
“Figured we could stock up on tequila.”
He was speaking of all of this so flippantly. Odd for a man who seemed so meticulous and measured. Unless he was being dismissive of the process as opposed to the purpose.
“How’s the trucker gonna get us across?” Jones asked.
“We’re cargo,” Gig said.
Crunch didn’t look too happy about that. “Fuck. We’re going in the trailer?”
“Won’t take long,” Gig said. “Maybe sixty miles to Denton.”
The Bellator Saga: The First Trilogy (Dissident, Conscience, and Sojourn) Page 86