The Sons of Liberty

by James Tow

remember some of them saying I was going to be ok—I guess they weren’t lying. What I remember most were their faces. Members of the St. Andrews crew had a mixture of facial expressions. I can mostly see relief and horror in their eyes. The few women with them cried. But what lifted my spirits was when they all started clapping for Paul and me. That’s the most I can recall.

  More laughter and chatter is emitting from another room—wherever that is. I guess I should go where the fun is. I sit up slowly, but I still get a nasty head rush. Stiff muscles and copious amounts of bandages wrapped around my chest and arms make it an extra effort to move. I swing my feet around and bring them to the ground. The cold stone floor feels good against my feet. With one heave, I bring myself to a stand. There were sharp pains here and there, but nothing unbearable. Next to my feet was that damn sniper rifle. I laugh to myself and notice my bolo blade was standing upright against the night stand. I can’t believe it’s still with me. I grab the blade and slide it through my belt—I don’t go anywhere without this thing. I swayed toward the door and swing it open.

  The next room is larger than I expected. The main quarters were only a few feet away, and a large sofa sat in the middle. Just beyond that was a bar with a small, square, wooden table with several matching chairs. The bar marked the division between the immediate living room in front of me, and the relatively smaller kitchen. There were a couple of people in the kitchen talking to the group standing by the bar—all drinking beer and laughing. The square table was hosting an arm-wrestling match, and the clutter of people around them cheering. Paul sat at the right end of the sofa, carrying on a conversation with the beautiful Alyse. Her body was positioned so that it was facing Paul—there arms touching. At the other end of the sofa was another woman, older yet attractive and slender, talking to an older man who was standing in front of her.

  I take a few steps forward, trying to reach the sofa and the loud chatter disperses to oblivion. I pause in my step, and look up. Everyone is staring at me with blank faces. Paul is nodding his head and baring his teeth in a grin.

  “Anybody got any fruit?” I ask half-heartedly; it was the only thing I could think of eating right now. A man in the kitchen disappears behind a wall and reappears, “Oi!” he yelled. In his hand was an orange the size of a softball. He tossed it to me, and I barely caught it after a brief fumble.

  Another man at the bar puts his mug in the air and says, “To Gabriel Reed,” in a Scottish accent. I raise the orange in the air and say, “Cheers,” with a faint smile. Everyone else throws their beers up and cheers. I proceed to the sofa and everyone resumes the cheery atmosphere. The old man, standing in front of the sofa, puts his hand on my shoulder and tells me, “I’m glad you made it. As I told your brother, it’s an honor to meet the legends. I’m still baffled at the fact that you two are only children.”

  “Children, only in the mind’s eye,” I tell him with a smile.

  “Yes, indeed.” He said and I just caught wind of his accent.

  “American?” I asked.

  “I am, yes. I was a professor of engineering at the University of Texas in Austin…”

  “The Longhorns?” I asked the old man while looking at Paul—wondering if Paul knew the professor from one of his classes.

  “Yes, and no,” he said answering my question without me asking. “I never had the pleasure of meeting your brother, until now.”

  “My classes were nowhere near his,” Paul added

  “Ah,” I confirmed. “Sorry to interrupt.”

  “It’s no problem Gabriel,” he said and continued, “When Project Apocalypse underwent, and succeeded, I decided it wasn’t best to stay in America for it was the most hostile place on earth at the time.” I examined him closer and he did fit my image of a professor well. He had on a thick blue cotton sweater and black slacks with black dress shoes. His hair was neatly combed back and he had an epic beard covering his face.

  When he finished, the woman behind him on the sofa stood and came to his side. “So, I suggested that our family move back to my homeland,” she said in a Scottish accent.

  “Ah,” the professor said. “This is my wife, Anna,” I held out my hand but she approached me, smiling, and wrapped her arms around me. I welcomed the hug. It was a sensation I haven’t felt in ages. When she let go, her husband held his hand out smiling.

  “I’m Jack.” I shook it and he turned toward Paul and the attractive young girl. “And the young lady over there, who seems quite fond of your brother, is my daughter Alyse.”

  “Dad,” she groaned, and she shot me a smile and a wave. She had her mother’s narrow face, and her long brown hair. But she had Jack’s intense green eyes.

  “We’ve had the pleasure of meeting,” I tell her parents. “Be careful with him. He’s fragile,” I say to Alyse jokingly.

  “Only in the mind’s eye,” Paul said with crossed eyes and in his mocking imitation of me—the most ridiculous face he could muster.

  I turn back to Jack and say, “That’s what he normally looks like when he’s not trying to impress anybody,” with my thumb pointing at Paul. Anna and Jack laugh, but soon stop as a scruffy, curly-haired man walked between them, shoving them to the side. The chatter faded from the room once again. The man’s face was smug, but the smugness didn’t fit his eyes—they were red, wet, and tired. He was upset about something, and I had a feeling I was about to find out.

  “Gabriel Reed…” he started drunkenly—another Scot.

  “That would be me,” I said flatly.

  “One half of the great Reed brothers. You’ve been through some serious shit. Some extreme experience,” he said and I had no idea where he was going with this.

  “Now…you fought alongside my brother, Alastair, in the prison, right?”

  Ah, shit. My head hung, and I looked him in the eyes, “He died honorably. He died fighting.”

  “So why couldn’t you, with all your experience, do anything for him?” Another man walked from the bar and put his hands on Alastair’s brother’s shoulders. “C’mon Alan, it was unfortunate what happened, and you know Gabriel didn’t want him dead…” the British man said. Alan shrugged the Brit off, and approached me.

  “If it was me and Paul in that hallway, I would have done everything in my power to make sure he made it out alive,” he said inches from my face. He walked passed me and into the room I just left a moment ago.

  “I’m sorry, he…” the British man started but I waved him off.

  “He has the right to be mad,” I tell him. “The loss of a loved one shouldn’t be dealt with any other way,” I finished and went to the sofa. I sat just in front of it, on the ground, my back against the sofa. I bite into the orange peel, and the cheerful atmosphere slowly returns. Jack whispers something in Anna’s ear, and he walks into the room with Alan. She looks at me and takes a seat at my side as I continue to peel away.

  “I’m really sorry about that. If you couldn’t tell, he’s really upset,” she told me.

  “It’s no biggie. I know how he feels,” I reply and tear away a slice and pop it in my mouth.

  “Forgive me for asking, but who did you lose?” she asked. I didn’t mind telling. If you’ve lost something, after a while it’s like you’ve never had it in the first place.

  “My mother and father, and my sister, Mary.”

  She ‘hmm-ed’ and ‘ah-ed,’ “Guessing from your relationship with Paul, I’d assume you were fairly close to them?”

  “Yeah,” I say, putting another couple slices in my mouth. What else could I say? ‘Yeah, they died. My father picked his nose a lot, and my mother had bad gas…’

  I chew on a few more slices and she asks, “There wasn’t anybody else?”

  “No,” I said bluntly. I’m starting to get a little irritated. I turn to see both Paul and Alyse were looking at me.

  “Nobody else close to you, lost their life?” she pushed.

  “No,” I snapped. Was she some kind of fucking psychiatrist or something? Paul shif
ted around, but I was looking at Anna so I couldn’t tell what he was doing. She placed her left hand on my right, “What about your fiancé?”

  I immediately calm down and smile, “What about her?”

  “Where is she?”

  “She’s at home,” I tell her.

  “I see,” she mumbles. “So when are you guys getting married?”

  “As soon as I’m sent home. I only have a couple more months. I can’t wait to see her again.”

  I could only smile. I can picture her beautiful face, smiling back at me. For a moment, all I hear is my breathing. She mouths ‘I’m coming home.’ I want to hear her voice. Her sweet, musing voice.

  I come to and look down to realize I finished the orange, and a fly lands on my hand. I swat it away, but it swerves in quick ‘8’s’ in my face. I shoo it away again, but it quickly returns. I hate you. I fucking hate you.

  “Gabriel…” Anna started, “Paul told me what happened to her…”

  “Okay! Hey Gabriel…” Paul said getting up from his seat, and squatting down next to Anna. “I see you finished your orange. Let me get you a plate of the sheep’s bladder we had earlier. I know, sounds disgusting, but it’s pretty damn good…trust me.” He turns to look at Anna, with concern, and shakes his head, “Please.” Then he strides off for the kitchen.

  Once he brought up food, my stomach started screaming at me. Anna and Alyse start laughing.

  “Get off me,” I say jokingly.

  Their