“There’s something else,” Rogan said, interrupting his thoughts.
“What’s up?”
“Cassandra Haskins is back in town too.”
“What?” That was news to him. As far as he knew, Bodhi had traveled west with his brother, not his wife. “What’s she doing here?”
“I ran into her at an abandoned barn outside of Round Rock. She said the CEA attacked their house out in Alabama and killed both of Haskins’ parents.”
“Man, that’s some fucked up shit,” Chris lamented. “He lost his brother and his parents. Is he fired up?”
Rogan shrugged. “The dude is in full-on self-pity mode right now because of his ankle. He was high as a fucking kite on pain killers when I saw him last night. I told him about what happened, but he probably won’t remember it.”
“Cassandra is with him now?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, she’ll have to tell him and help him work through it.” Chris took a pull off of the cigarette he’d neglected for the last minute or so. Fucking Jason Rogan had gotten him started smoking back when they worked for the CEA and now he was hooked on the damn things. He inhaled deeply, then let the smoke out. “Wait,” he grunted.
“I was wondering when that mind of yours would start working,” Rogan said.
Chris chuckled and took another quick hit. “What was Cassandra Haskins doing at a barn in Round Rock? What were you doing in Round Rock?”
Rogan shrugged. “The second part is easy. We got lost trying to navigate around the city after the station raid without GPS. The first question… Well, that’s the fucked up part.”
Rogan relayed the story about how Cassandra had been kidnapped at a rest area and then systematically killed her captors, one on the way there and two at the barn. They’d found an abused woman—an illegal—whom the neo-Nazis had taken prisoner before Cassandra and used her up. It was a terrible story with a happy ending and Chris was glad that she’d been able to snuff out those scumbags’ lives.
“So, that’s how she ended up back here,” Rogan concluded.
“That is fucked up,” Chris agreed with Rogan’s earlier statement. “Is she safe?”
“She’s with Haskins now—both of them are.”
Plummer nodded. That’s all he needed to know. Rogan knew where the safehouse was and visited it often enough, but Chris did not want to know, just in case he got rolled up one day. “Okay, that’s good enough for me,” he said. “They’re safe and together, maybe she’ll be able to help him get out of his funk.”
“Yeah, she’s good for him. I actually think it’s for the best that she’s here.”
“About that.” Chris turned to a large board with a map of Austin. “I want you to plan a little visit to the Rationing Board. They have files and information on citizens that nobody should have.”
“You want us to steal more databases?”
“No. I want it gone. Wiped off the face of the Earth.”
Rogan smiled widely. “Now you’re speaking my language, Plummer.”
His smile was infectious and soon Chris found himself smiling as well. “Oh, and another thing.”
Rogan’s face immediately went blank. “Yeah?”
“We—the Resistance, not the Austin branch of the Resistance—have a mission for you in a week or so.”
“What is it?”
“Washington.”
“DC or the state?”
Chris nodded. “You know which one. This will be way more dangerous than puttering around Austin nipping at the edges of the NAR, but if you succeed…”
“Are we back to the risk versus reward argument?” Rogan asked.
Chris shook his head. “Oh no, my friend. There’s no argument. It’s a fact that the risk will be astronomical. But if you pull it off, the reward might be the checkmate that we’ve been seeking.”
“That big, huh?”
“Yes, sir. Yes, sir.” He rubbed his hands together in anticipation of what the National Resistance Council was planning. They were all chipping in resources to ensure that no group took more responsibility for the success—or failure—of the mission.
It was of the utmost importance to maintain secrecy, even in the supposed sanctuary of the Resistance headquarters. There was too much riding on this. “Sometimes, just sometimes, the end justifies the means, brother,” Chris said cryptically with a lopsided grin.
Too much indeed, he thought.
PART THREE
FOURTEEN
I woke up sometime in the middle of the night. It was completely dark outside except for the street light two houses down. Nobody in Beth’s neighborhood seemed to use their porch lights. My body was numb, except for my ankle, which was absolutely killing me. I wanted to get more of those dog pills. Where were they?
Inside the house, there was a little bit of light from the bathroom down the hallway. Rowan must have left the light on. As I tried to sit up, I realized that I had a weight on my arm. I rubbed at my eyes with my free hand trying to get things to make sense. I was on the couch. That was understandable since that was where I thought I’d fallen asleep. Beth was curled up beside me up against the back of the couch, almost pushing me onto the floor. Dammit. Couldn’t she give it a rest? I understood her need to latch onto something in this crazy world that we found ourselves in, to belong in some way, but how many times had I had to tell her that I wasn’t interested in being that someone? Well, except last night. I remembered being willing to break my vow. Shit. Had I done something?
I tugged at my arm. I needed to go to the bathroom. Dark hair spilled across my chest as Beth turned over, snuggling deeper into my shoulder.
Dark hair? Beth was blonde. What the?
I adjusted myself so I could see better. The woman beside me had a nice round ass that I’d recognize anywhere.
“Cassandra?” I asked in confusion.
“Mmm hmm?”
That sure sounded like my wife. I reached down, feeling for the reassuring bump of her stomach. It was her. Half-memories came flooding back to me about Rogan and Cassandra coming in last night. They had two injured people with them and Beth had helped bandage the men. There was another woman… Was that right or was that on TV? Damn, stupid pain pills.
Cassandra had said something. Something about heaven. What was it? Had I seen Rowan? Then a cold settled into the pit of my stomach that had nothing to do with the need to urinate. Why was Cassandra here in Texas? She was supposed to be back at my parents’ farm in Alabama. Heaven.
“Your brother and parents are in heaven now, Bodhi. They won’t feel any more pain.”
That’s what she’d said to me. I didn’t take her seriously at the time because, well, drugs. But now that the pain meds had worn off, I remembered what she’d said. They were dead—Rowan too. He’d been killed in the police station attack. I was all alone in this world.
All alone except for Cassandra and Bathtub. How the hell had it happened? I eased out from under her and hobbled to the bathroom using Beth’s broomstick as a walking stick to help me out. I wished I had a pair of crutches, but at least I had something.
I went back to the front of the house once I was done with my business and looked through the window. Neither my dad’s nor my mom’s car were sitting out in the driveway, how the heck did Cassandra get here? Then I remembered Rogan and the injured men again. I shook my head. Those damn pills were really fucking with my mind.
Rogan had been here, I reminded myself. He wasn’t here now. He must have moved the vehicle she’d driven here in. That was smart. Leaving an unfamiliar vehicle in the driveway would surely draw the neighbors’ attention and from what Beth said, all of them were the types of people who’d turn in their own children to keep on the good side of the law. They were complicit in the decline of America. This was just as much the fault of those types of people as the NAR was.
“Hey,” Cassandra whispered from behind me, causing me to turn.
“Hey,” I answered. “How are you?”
“I need a pain pill,” I replied, staring blankly at her.
“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure.” She sat up awkwardly. “Um, let me go get you a glass of water, babe.”
I made my way slowly back to the couch and sat down. Cassandra returned carrying a glass of water. “So, where are your pills?”
I shrugged. “Beth hid them from me. I think. I forget how many I’ve taken.”
Cassandra chuckled. “Hmm. Well, I guess… I guess I’ll go ask her.” She pointed down the hallway. “Her room is that way?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.”
I heard her knock softly on the door and whisper something, then Beth’s door squealed on its hinges as it was opened. A few seconds later, Cassandra came back, the pills shaking softly in the bottle. She held it up to the light coming from the bathroom. “Two hundred pound dog, huh?”
“Yeah. The Resistance has a veterinarian, not a doctor. They work though.”
“Ah.” She opened the lid and reached a finger inside the bottle to retrieve a single pill. As she handed it to me, she said, “So, I just got the full view of Beth. She was sleeping naked. Good body.”
I swallowed the pill. “Yeah, she always sleeps naked.”
“What?”
My heart froze as I realized what I’d said. “Uh. I think she always sleeps naked. The few times I’ve needed something in the early morning, she’s said she was naked and needed to put clothes on.”
“Did anything happen with the two of you, Bodhi?”
“No! No. I promise. Nothing ever happened. Rowan and her, though…”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah.” I leaned in. “She was super loud. Little man came through.”
“I’m so sorry, Bodhi.”
I nodded glumly. “Can you tell me again how it happened—my parents too? I was a little out of it before.”
Cassandra talked for fifteen minutes straight. I chose not to interject any questions into her story. I would ask any that I had at the end before the pain pill started taking effect.
When she finished, I asked, “Do you know where Rogan took my parents’ car?”
“No. I suspect he went somewhere to bury the bodies, but that’s just a guess.”
“Makes sense.” By the time they’d arrived here last night, the bodies had been out in the October heat for twelve-plus hours. They needed to get into the ground quickly. “What about the car?” It was all I had left of them and I wanted to know where it went.
She shrugged. “No clue. Wait.” She stopped, then tilted her head. “You do remember that I took the RV and drove that here, right?”
“Uh… Sorta?”
“I brought the RV with all the guns from the dead agents in it.” She rolled her open hand as she talked, telling me to think harder. “You really were out of it, huh?” I didn’t respond, so she continued. “It was the most expedient thing for me to take. Much faster than trying to pack up and move everything to a car.”
“What about our stuff?”
“Geez, Bodhi. We emptied the RV last night before Jason left. All of our clothes—mostly my stuff since you already had yours with you—went into the duffle bags. They’re in the back bedroom. That’s where I thought we were going to stay, but your ass wouldn’t move from the couch, so I told Patricia that she could stay in there tonight.”
The second part of Cassandra’s story peeked its head around the corner of the barrier in my mind. She’d nearly been kidnapped by Nazis? That wasn’t right. She told it last night, but not just now. “Um. Can you refresh my memory about Patricia?”
She picked up the bottle and examined the label once again. “How many of these things have you taken?”
I thought about it for a minute. “Um… Three days, three times a day, except the first day. I only got one dose then. So, what does that—”
“Oh my God, Bodhi. There are only six more pills in this bottle. It started with twenty pills.”
“Uh… I told you that Beth had to hide the bottle from me. My brain gets fuzzy and I can’t remember if I took one or not.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t kill yourself.”
“There’s no way that would have happened,” I scoffed.
“If one pill is enough to make you so loopy that you don’t even remember that you took it, then I’d bet ten or fifteen of these things would send you into a coma. Holy crap, dude.”
She pushed herself up off the couch and disappeared into the guest bedroom where Patricia, whoever that was, slept. She returned, sans pills, a moment later. “Those are put away.”
I lifted my leg. “But my ankle.”
“Will get better in time. Is it broken?”
“No, just a severe sprain.”
“How much walking have you done on it?”
“As little as possible.”
“It’s been three days?”
“Yeah.”
“Then you need to start walking on it some. You’ve allowed the swelling to go down, so now it’s time to loosen the tendons and strengthen the muscles. Take it easy at first, walk around the house for a minute or so, then rest for twenty minutes, then do it again. We’ll do that for tomorrow. Then the next day, we’ll go up to two or three minutes with twenty minutes of rest. The next day, five, and so on. Capiche?”
“Damn, I love it when you speak angry Italian at me.”
She slapped my hand away as I reached for her. “Not gonna happen, loverboy. We’re on a couch in the living room of a stranger’s house—a stranger whom I just saw completely naked.”
I picked up her hand. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Okay, maybe a little bit,” I agreed. “It’s been so long…”
“It hasn’t even been two weeks yet, Bodhi.”
“That’s a long time, babe.”
“Why don’t you get some rest? We’ll talk about this when we have the privacy of the bedroom, okay?”
“Yeah. Okay.” I adjusted my place on the couch and Cassandra crawled on top of me, getting me excited for a moment. Then she continued over me, nestling between me and the couch cushions.
“Good night, babe.”
“Yeah,” I groaned. “Just five minutes? What about if we—”
“No. Good night, babe.”
“Ugh. Good night.”
FIFTEEN
I was ready to go by the next day. It had taken me a long time to fall asleep the night before, even with the doggie pill’s help. My family was dead, all in separate incidents. The only common theme was the NAR. If it hadn’t been for the NAR, everyone would still be alive. I allowed myself to use that anger, to let it build up inside of me and strengthen my resolve to overthrow our tyrannical government.
Cassandra helped me to wrap my ankle properly and we went through the progression of walking exercises that she’d prescribed. It was painful as hell, but I could feel it working, the tendons and the muscles loosening each time I completed a circuit of the house. I chastised myself for not forcing this on my own. I should have manned up and worked through the pain instead of delving deeper into the pain meds. Maybe if I’d done so, I would have been healthy enough to go on the raid that killed my brother.
Fire. Fan the flames of insurrection. Set the NAR’s world on fire.
That’s what I wanted to do. I focused on it with each step, willing myself to heal in time for the next mission—whatever that would be.
We were going through our routine when Beth came out of her bedroom holding up her cell phone. She hadn’t known my brother very long, but I could tell that she was definitely feeling weird about the fact that she’d slept with him and then he was dead only a few hours later. Maybe her and Cassandra could talk through it—or maybe not. My wife had been livid when I’d told her about Beth’s milder advances on me back when she was still in Alabama. I’d kept the sleepin
g naked beside me and insisting on showering with me parts to myself, but even what I’d told her had been enough to make Cassandra fighting mad. Maybe getting those two talking was not a good thing.
“I just got a text from Jason that said to turn on the TV,” Beth said.
I paused my rehab and nodded. That meant that they were likely going to make another announcement. “Okay. I bet Every American is gonna take over the signal again.”
We all made our way to the couch and sat down. I cringed as the girls chose to sit next to each other. Maybe we should try to find a new safehouse, I thought.
Beth turned on the TV and sure enough, Chris Plummer was on the television in his Every American getup. Once again, the only part of his skin showing was just a little bit of his cheeks between his mask and glasses. I don’t know how long he’d been talking but he was obviously in the middle of a statement by the time we’d gotten word to tune in.
“I mean it,” Every American’s voice came from the television. “You have to stay off of social media. We’ve known for decades that everything you do online is tracked and catalogued, but it’s more important than ever right now to maintain our anonymity. Your private messages to one another are not private. The owners of the various social media platforms are in bed with the NAR. They routinely provide social media transcripts to federal agencies like the CEA and FBI. The government has been investigating online interactions as long the internet has existed.
“We got word of the demise of a Resistance cell in Bakersfield, California just this morning. Twenty-six Patriots lost their lives because of someone’s errant social media post, calling for a gathering of like-minded individuals. The NAR’s lackeys assaulted their meeting and murdered everyone in cold blood. We cannot choreograph our movements. Rely on word of mouth. Develop a code system for your group. Vet individuals fully before you allow them access to any of your plans.
American Dreams | Book 2 | The Ascent Page 10