Endgame (Book 2): Alekhine's Gun

by W. A. R.

  At this she nodded, finally tearing her eyes from her mother’s tense figure. “Thank you all…for everything.” She stated calmly before sighing. “Everyone rest for now while I think of a plan. Katie later this evening, I will require your assistance if you are still willing.” She said, knowing that Damien was unconscious, and they still needed to gather everything that would be needed to fix his ailments as best as they could.

  She sighed. “Of course.” Her eyes looked at Amber apologetically before she turned and walked down a hall and to a room. Gradually, everyone else did the same, leaving without another word to rest and think about what was just discussed. It was a lot to take in, Buddy knew, and it alone was beginning to give him a headache. Finally, Amber turned away and walked outside, closing the door behind her. Buddy remained stationed where he was, his thoughts running a mile a minute until he looked at George, who had also remained still and silent. The two men locked eyes and quietly, without instruction, followed where Amber had gone.

  They had difficulty finding her for a few minutes, unsure of where she could have gone, wondering where she would have taken off to. It worried Buddy, her disappearance so quickly after having left but they found her sitting on a lowered tailgate, staring into the distance at the old barn across the yard, the three graves also in her line of sight. God knew what was on her mind right then, and judging by George’s hurried steps, he was thinking the same things as Buddy. She was tired, she was scared, and she had a longing for those she could no longer touch. She needed a comfort that none of them could give her and whenever they neared her, they saw the tears trailing across her blood and dirt covered cheeks. She was almost unrecognizable, aside from her eyes, and for some reason that tore at Buddy. She didn’t pay them any mind as they neared her; she only sniffled and sighed, her eyes moving from the barn to the graves. Slowly, they eased themselves up onto the lowered tailgate of the Silverado; Miles’s Silverado. They sat in the quiet as they thought until finally, she acknowledged them.

  “Do you think I am doing the right thing?” she asked lightly, her voice hoarse and cracking.

  George looked down at her tenderly, and Buddy lowered his gaze to the ground below them. “Of course.” George replied, and Buddy nodded, unable to find the words that needed to be said.

  “Is there anything you would do differently?” she then asked, refusing to look at either of them.

  George shook his head then and Buddy answered. “No, there isn’t.” he answered plainly, his throat thick with emotion. She inhaled shakily.

  “I failed them.” She said and both men knew who she was talking about, and both men, both friends, shook their heads adamantly.

  “You have failed no one.” George informed her firmly. “Because of your taking action, we made it out alive. The only ones that failed them are the ones that made us fight in the first place.” Buddy nodded his agreement and things around them grew silent once more. Oddly, the sounds of crickets singing began reaching his ears and he couldn’t help but smile. It had been so long since he had heard them, much less in the late afternoon, and yet there they were, reminding him that he was alive and there were still beautiful things out there.

  “I’m weak.”

  “You are not.” George asserted and she turned her saddened gaze to his. “Do you remember when you found me? How I was?” he asked and this piqued Buddy’s curiosity. He remembered bits and pieces of the story, but he had never heard the details of the situations that surrounded the other group’s coming together. “I was weak, ready to die, broken. You saved me then, too. You are a hell of a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for. I gave up. You haven’t.”

  She sighed. “Do either of you think we actually have a chance?”

  “How can we not with the team we have?” Buddy asked wistfully, and despite herself, he saw a smile grace her lips.

  “I thought you said that a team was…”

  Buddy cut her off. “That was before I was really ever part of one.”

  She turned back to the barn. “I have destroyed that man.” She stated and George inhaled sharply.

  “Amber, if it were up to me, he would be dead already.” He said, trying to assure her that she had shown mercy, that the man had gotten everything that he had deserved.

  “I know; you are far kinder than I am.” Things grew quiet once more and Buddy watched as she easily reached for George’s hand, lacing her fingers through his. The man gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and turned back to the barn as Amber did the same, tilting her head and leaning gently against Buddy’s shoulder. Her boys; her friends. Buddy thought of Lance, and his words regarding how this was all a game. Chess, if he recalled correctly. If this were a game, he reasoned, he and George were her two rooks, and she, the queen. They protected her, led the way and were willing to be sacrificed to do so. She was determined to make it to the other side of the board and receive her missing pieces and they were with her, working together to do so. He smiled a little then, letting her lean against him, George holding her hand in comfort, and her heavy lids began drooping. “Do either of you know about Vincent Van Gogh?” she randomly asked, her words slowing as she spoke and Buddy knew then that she was close to the sleep she needed.

  Buddy glanced at George, who shrugged. Buddy knew some at least, and he knew George did as well. “We know a little.”

  “Remind me of him. Tell me something about him, a painting, his life…anything.” She said and he wondered where she was getting this from, why she was finding peace in this conversation; especially considering the turn of earlier events. Still, he didn’t ask. Instead, he sighed, shifted a little so he could wrap an arm securely around her shoulders to prevent her from falling back, and began talking.

  “My favorite piece by Van Gogh was Sunflowers.” Buddy started, reaching back into his memory banks for thoughts that he had long forgotten in the wake of disaster. His mind was there, the painting behind the dark of his eyelids. It was vibrant and calming. “The asymmetrical design of them, and the texture of it cannot be repeated by any other artist. I actually got to see it once.” He stated, glancing at the graves before them. He swallowed, remembering the artist but something else told him that a small part was also regarding the young children in those shallow holes. “He was brilliant; died before his time. He didn’t become famous for what he had done until his death, which was a shame, really.” And before he was finished, he heard her breathing get heavy. She was asleep. He sighed, tightening his hold on her, George pulled her hand tighter against him and both men sat in the silence, unable to find the words to express what they wanted to say.

  Chapter Six

  Miles knew the tears were there on his face and he felt the anger tearing him apart, rebounding against every part of him, every cutting edge, and it was slashing through him. Her voice had sounded in his ears, begging for something, anything that he could give her and he had denied it all. He refused to let her risk her life for theirs, and he only hoped that Brian and Shelly understood why he had said what he said and why he had done what he did. Before he could finish what he wanted to say to her, the front door had slammed shut and he hurried few last words before the radio was turned off and the microphone set to the side. Quickly, both Cory and Ryder turned Miles from the radio and they settled; their eyes boring into him as the door swung open. The shorter man with the neck tattoo stood there then, studying them. Miles was leery of the man, wanted to hurt him. The hostility on the man’s face only deepened whenever he saw the tears on Miles’s face, curtesy of Kyle’s premature death, of Amber’s pleas and broken voice. Within those two minutes he had come to accept that he would never see them again, and he was grateful he was given the chance to apologize for their misgivings, as well as express how much he adored her. He would die happy knowing he had fought for their safety and had given his all to those that were safe, those he cared about. His only regret was that Brian and Shelly were in with him. That was something he hoped he could change.

  �
��I just heard someone talking.” He stated simply and Ryder straightened his stance, crossing his arms across his broad chest. If Miles didn’t know any better he would say that Ryder was intimidating and had a brutal side to him.

  “No one but us.” He stated simply and Miles shifted his gaze to the man that had interrupted the little semblance of peace that he had had.

  “I heard a woman.” He replied accusingly and Cory shifted on his feet. This didn’t go unnoticed by the shorter man, however, and Miles swallowed.

  “I was mocking them.” He gulped, catching surprised looks from both Cory and the shorter man. He wasn’t even sure why he had said it, why he had lied; maybe it was because he was grateful to them for offering him the opportunity to speak to his people. He knew the answer, however; he was trying to protect his own people. If this man knew the others were alive… “I’ll mock you too you piece of shit.” He bit out and the shorter man narrowed his eyes at him.

  “If you aren’t going to give us any answers, you are more than welcome to join the others.” He replied just as curtly and Miles shifted in his seat, his shoulders aching from the tension. He wanted to hit the man so badly that he struggled against his restraints without even realizing it. Turning to face the man, he grinned mockingly, ignoring the pain radiating through his skull.

  “Gladly.” Miles replied calmly, and he saw the man’s face grow red, the flush crawling slowly up his neck and reaching his ears. He took a step towards Miles and before he could formulate another thought the man reared back and drove his fist into Miles’s cheek. He felt the pain radiate down his neck, a stinging sensation finding him as his cheek slashed open. He grunted from the pain, his mind once again becoming dizzy and he fell from his chair ungracefully. Before he could land on the floor however, Cory caught him, preventing the ache that would have accompanied his tender head slamming against the linoleum. While Cory grunted and struggled with righting Miles back into the chair, Ryder stepped around the two of them and gave the shorter man exactly what he had given Miles, sending the man sprawling to the floor.

  “I warned you, Justin. Whatever you do to them, will be done to you.” Ryder snapped out, his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists at his side. Justin, the shorter man, turned an angry glare to Ryder as Cory finally situated Miles, both men staring in shock at the superior man. Ryder and Justin stared at one another, challenging the other but neither one said a word; instead, they merely waited for the other to make a move and neither did. Justin didn’t make a move to get up and Ryder didn’t make a move to help him do so. Miles swallowed thickly, feeling his jaw clench reflexively against the pain.

  Justin finally made a move to stand, and all three men watched as he straightened before Ryder. “You will regret you ever did that.” he said simply but Ryder never wavered. No, instead, he squared his shoulders and puffed out his chest, towering over the shorter man.

  “Is there something you wanted? Some reason you are in here?” he asked, showing nothing but indifference to the man’s idle threat. The shorter man glanced at Miles then before his eyes roamed over the radio once more.

  “Any news yet?” he asked and Miles swallowed, narrowing his eyes hatefully at the man asking the question. What was he getting at? What answer did he wish to hear? And there it was, the part of him that wished the other two men didn’t mention the fact that they knew that Amber and the rest of their group had survived and killed the rest of the enemy party. It was futile to hope for such a thing, he knew, and the unadulterated agony that came with knowing they would be hunted burned him.

  “None. There hasn’t been a word. When there is I will be more than happy to let you know.” He said and Miles felt the air leave his lungs. Did he just lie? Ryder’s people were dead, killed by Miles’s people and yet he had stood there and lied. He glanced at Cory, attempting to gauge his reaction on this development and he noted how the man did not seem surprised at all about this turn of events. “Now, if you will please leave and let us finish our interrogation, it would be greatly appreciated. Why don’t you go find something useful to do.” He replied, more of a command than a question. With that, Ryder leaned over and placed his hand on the doorknob, opening the door wide enough for Justin to leave through. Justin hesitated briefly, casting his heated eyes over every member in the room before finally storming out. Ryder watched him leave through the front door, the wooden door slamming shut yet again behind him. After a moment, Ryder closed the door to the room they were in and locked it, turning to face Miles head on.

  “What in the hell was that?” Miles asked, torn between feeling genuinely curious and angry, trying to determine what his plot is.

  “I could ask you the same thing.” Cory countered, and Miles was left speechless for a moment. What had he done, defending them? Yes, he was trying to hide the fact that Justin had heard a woman, but what had made him realize that he needed to lie? It was Cory’s nervous shift on his feet that alerted Miles to lie through his teeth.

  Ryder sighed then, rubbing a hand down his face in exasperation. “He doesn’t need to know that your people are alive.” He hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “No one does. It would be better for us and for them if everyone thought they were dead.”

  Miles studied him, and felt a pull in his shoulder as he struggled against his restraints. “Why are you doing it? What is in it for you? If you are going to hurt them I swear I’ll…”

  At this Cory laughed. “You got us all wrong buddy,” he said, running a hand through his hair, “We aren’t going to hurt anyone.”

  Miles clenched his sore jaw, grinding his teeth together. “Then why in the hell are you trying to ‘help’?” and this time he did mock. Amber had asked the same question and it had gone unanswered. Instead, the two men had looked at one another and shoved the microphone in front of Miles’s mouth. Miles didn’t need to be told twice to talk to her. Still, it was unnerving and Miles was unsure of what to think of them, of the situation at all. Cory looked at Ryder, who had opened his mouth to speak. The look in Cory’s eyes was nervous and yet a firm ‘Not the right time, not the right place’ kind of look, shaking his head solemnly.

  Ryder sighed, glancing at the door that Justin had just stepped through moments before. “I’m afraid I can’t give you the answer to that.” At this Miles felt the anger build deep within his gut and everything that had just happened, came bubbling up to the surface. Everything hit him with a blinding white-hot flash and he kicked his feet out, struggling with his feet to tear at the confines that were holding him hostage. His shoulders jerked about wildly and he grunted, his eyes blazing.

  “Don’t you fucking lie to me!” he exclaimed, trying his best to maintain balance. He had promised he wasn’t going to fight and now there he was, Cory wrapping an arm around his neck and taking his air supply away.

  “Calm the hell down, Miles!” He exclaimed in a loud whisper against his ear. “We don’t want to hurt you, or them for that matter, and if you will just cooperate no one will have to be.” And with those words, he hated them all. He hated every single last one of them, including his own son. They were all manipulative, desperate, evil bastards and Miles would have no part of it. He prayed, as his vision grew blurry that Amber and the others would leave that place, find somewhere new. He prayed that she would forget them all, to not come after them, and only dwell on their memory, not the mission to come for them. Something somewhere deep within him told him that they simply could not win. And with that, the darkness claimed him and he fell into unconsciousness.

  He was there again, that damned dream. She was there in her revealing black dress, but so were his memories. The entire thing replayed in his mind just as it had before, even as he continued trying to warn her, to tell her everything that was going to happen. He tried to protect her, and yet still, his son won out, grabbing her hand tenderly and swinging her around the dead bodies that littered the floor. She repeated the same words, and Michael took her life the exact same way and he awoke yet again
, feeling helpless and desperate. When he opened his eyes, he was yet again in the room, staring across at Brian, who was no longer pinned to the ceiling, but instead was secured in chains to the floor, peacefully asleep. Shelly, however, was not asleep, he noted whenever he turned to look at her. She had been crying and was staring across the room at Brian, at her lover. She seemed to know that he had wakened, even as she didn’t spare him a glance. He didn’t mind; his thoughts were on everything that had occurred. He tried to force his mind from it, to will his heart to calm down, but he couldn’t. He was hurting and wanted nothing more than to escape and go to her. Hell, he didn’t even know where she could be.

  “He heard it all, you know.” Shelly’s voice broke him out of his reverie, and briefly he was grateful for it, at least until his mind registered the words that were spoken. He turned to her, and she continued to stare at Brian’s limp form.

  “I’m not even sure how I got in here.” Miles admitted shamefully. “I don’t remember anything past asking Ryder why they were trying to help.”

  Shelly finally turned to him, a curious look on her face. “I have been wondering the same thing. What exactly happened in there?” she asked, uncertain of whether she should be asking him these questions or not. He studied her, trying to reign in his emotions and determine what exactly he should say.

  “You heard it all.” He said bluntly and her eyes flashed angrily at him. He winced, feeling his heart tighten. “I’m sorry. I’m just…”

  “Hurting. I know. I heard you lose your shit in there.” She told him gently and he looked at her curiously. She shrugged. “They drug you in here unconscious. And don’t ask me what happened. That explosion of yours is about all I heard from way over here.”

  Miles turned from her and found that his eyes trailed to Brian. “He didn’t tell you?”