After his mother’s death, the extent of his parents’ plans was revealed to him. His parents’ friends had continued to use him to gather information, to teach him to use weapons and stay invisible. He’d learned what was valuable to whom and how to get what he wanted or needed through actions and misdirection.
Even his love life was pre-planned. Love, relationships, even marriage weren’t meant for him. They were for others. They would only complicate his life and could be used against him. Until now, he’d been okay with that and had understood their reasoning. They were a person’s vulnerable point. Now though, he wanted more. He wanted to love and be loved. To spend his life with one person. He didn’t need marriage or kids or even to be classified as more than a manual laborer bordering on idiocy for the rest of his life. He needed and wanted Brett.
Metal creaked and groaned, pulling him from his thoughts.
He squeezed his eyes shut then opened them. Dreams were for others.
He turned his attention to the newcomer. Liz. At least, the driver was someone he knew and mostly trusted.
“Ready for this, Sir?” Venom and excitement laced the woman’s voice.
Orion shrugged. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Liz nodded and plugged her headset into the console. “Where are your friends? The others?” She asked. “Are we waiting on them?”
“Coming,” Orion answered flatly. He hadn’t waited on purpose. He wasn’t ready to admit how much he’d fallen for Brett, how much the man’s answer would affect him. He had wanted to go into this battle in ignorant bliss, the illusion of Brett’s affection wrapped around him.
The back doors opened and several men and women climbed in, preventing Liz from saying anything else and Orion from expounding on his feelings. Orion wasn’t ready or able to articulate everything that was going on between him and Brett. He wasn’t sure himself.
Bracing himself, he turned and checked that all the members of his unit were with him. It would’ve been easy to swap with someone else or to use the pending chaos to get into another vehicle, but he couldn’t. He had his mission and responsibilities. What happened between him and Brett could not, would not, deter that.
Relief swamped him when he saw Brett sat behind Thompson. Weapons were checked. An ammo can was kicked. One last check revealed there were three radios among the ten of them. Finally, the noise died down, leaving only the rumbling of the truck.
Somebody pounded on the door and yelled, “Go!”
Liz put the truck in gear and headed out of the underground garage. The garage, like the tunnels and buildings, was part of a city buried and long forgotten when Landry Park was built atop it.
Orion’s body tensed. He prayed they would succeed. Whispered conversations silenced as the remains of the old city came into view before colliding with the new city. Angry shouts and noise from the protesters filled the night air. Sporadic gunfire answered. Thunder rumbled, and darkness engulfed the night.
“What the—” someone asked.
“The lights went out,” a woman answered.
Orion ignored the ensuing conversation and stared into the night. Buildings, light posts, signs—everything was dark. Even the telltale red lights on the cameras were out. The question was who had taken down the electrical grid and how far out did it span? The base was self-sufficient, but would the ease of leaving the city mean heavier security once they arrived at their destination?
Gunfire erupted again, the sounds echoing off the buildings. Orion wasn’t an expert, and it was hard to tell what direction it came from and more importantly who it was aimed at. In an effort to minimize causalities and discovery, multiple routes had been mapped out for once they’d left the underground city. If some of their people had stumbled across security forces, it could be catastrophic.
Orion’s stomach flipped, and he continued to watch the roadside.
The radio crackled to life. “Protesters took out the grid. Taking fire from Security Forces. Delta Company deviate and intercept Security Force. Join Foxtrot. All vehicles reveal CFA logos. Avoid friendly fire.”
Chapter Eleven
Brett sat against the stiff, leather seat, staring ahead at Orion. He still wasn’t sure what he’d said or done to piss off Orion. His lover was an intelligent man. There was no way Orion could miss or underestimate his value and importance to these people. Orion’s life was of the utmost importance and not simply because Brett wanted him in his life until they were both old and gray. Thompson hadn’t offered any insightful information when he’d asked him after the other man came to ask him if he was still fighting or not. He’d merely scowled until Brett had answered he would be fighting. Brett wasn’t sure if it was because the other man genuinely didn’t know how he’d pissed Orion off or if he still didn’t approve of him. Thompson had brought along two other armed men.
Tension wrapped around Brett as they proceeded through the city. He jammed a hand through his hair and stared out the window. The ten-passenger, armored vehicle stuttered to a halt, throwing off Brett’s center of gravity as he sat on the edge of the seat.
“Thompson. Jackson. Strip the decal,” Orion ordered.
“Yes, Sir.”
Both men jumped from the vehicle. The woman next to Brett did the same. Brett followed, flipped the safety off on his weapon and watched the roadside surrounding them. They hadn’t cleared the upscale area of the city yet. Nothing moved. There were no shadows. The harsh lights the government used were dark. Explosions echoed around the city as the few backup generators were destroyed. Even the moon was hidden.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Thompson pick at a spot on the door. Slowly, the words “Citizens for a Free Aelland” appeared along with an eagle shredding black, crossed weapons on a background of red. The logos had been painted on the vehicles then covered until the majority of the group got out of the city.
“DeMarco, get in!” Thompson yelled.
Brett nodded and climbed into the vehicle. Jackson and the woman appeared from the other side. The driver shifted into gear, and the large vehicle lurched forward. With two trucks in front of them and an assortment of four more vehicles behind them, they lumbered along the designated route toward the base that had been his home.
Brett forced the thoughts from his head. Security Forces and the government were no longer his family, neighbors or friends. They were the enemy. Live or die, it would be on the side of a free Aelland. Staring out the window, he listened to the conversations around him. The men and women behind him talked quietly about where they came from and how they got involved with the movement. They talked about a side of life Brett had never seen or experienced, one of constant fear and poverty.
Growing up as the son of a Security Forces officer, he’d never been to a city school, had never lived anywhere but on a base and had never gone shopping off-base until he’d turned eighteen. Even then, he hadn’t seen the reality. Phones were tapped, cameras were everywhere, seventy percent of income went to the government and medical care was nearly impossible to access. The discussion behind Brett turned to underground art and literature and the hope that a new government meant less restrictions.
Brett scrubbed his hands over his face as the city disappeared. It bothered him that he hadn’t known the truth. If he hadn’t driven through the city and run through other parts of it, he might have never known the truth. How many others didn’t know? How many simply didn’t care? He wondered what Taren had known or how he would’ve reacted once he’d found out. Brett already knew Orion’s actions. His lover was prepared to die for the people and the cause. Would Taren be disappointed in Brett now? Or would he be proud? He had been close to Taren, but he still couldn’t tell which side his fiancé would have been on. It was disheartening, leading him to wonder how well they’d really known each other. Orion was completely committed to this cause with or without Brett.
He smiled at the thought. Orion might not need him, but Orion had wanted him safe, to understand what was coming. Brett wanted Orion, and for
that, their mission needed to succeed. Neither would be free if they didn’t. They would succeed or die trying. Orion’s mission had become Brett’s. As the scenery passed, discomfort became tension and anticipation. Fear and adrenaline coursed through his body. Brett bit his lip. The countryside surrounding them was dark, but he thought he recognized some of it.
“Five minutes!”
The buzz of activity was deafening after the near silence. The hatch in the vehicle’s roof was opened, and Brett climbed up. Once a machine gun was secured and loaded, Thompson passed him up a helmet and a pair of night vision goggles. Brett widened his stance to maintain his balance in the moving vehicle.
The first shots came from in front of them, their distinctive sound cutting through everything. Light filled the night sky. The truck in front of them veered slightly to the left. They went to the right. The truck behind them went straight. The metal fencing hung in a twisted mass on either side of the entrance to the base. The gatehouse was empty, free of bodies or debris. One by one, the floodlights illuminating the area exploded as they were shot out. Darkness slowly engulfed the area.
They pushed through the rubble. Their truck turned sharply to the right, heading for the center of the base. Brett took out lights and cameras wherever he saw them. Sirens from security vehicles echoed through the night, the blue and red lights tossing eerie glows against the buildings.
Brett waited until shots were fired before returning fire. He prayed for the innocent, knowing that if they lost this battle, this war, everyone would pay. Bullets ricocheted off the truck. They veered left, and he realized they were headed for Brigadier General Reynolds’ office. He didn’t know what Orion had planned, but Brett knew the general would never surrender. Light flooded the area as men and women ran from the buildings, and Brett was certain everyone was trying to get to their duty stations. Few people were allowed to carry weapons. It was automatically life in prison for any unauthorized person caught with any weapon. Weapons had been banned over a century ago for anyone outside the government.
A bullet pinged off the roof of the truck inches from where Brett stood. Swinging the turret toward the point of the shot’s origin, Brett fired. Screams filled the night air. Brett forced himself to ignore what he was hearing. Far off in the distance, fire lit the sky, casting everything in shades of yellow and orange. The few remaining lights went out, blanketing the entire base in darkness aside from vehicle headlights. Gunfire and shouts followed before quickly silencing.
“Surrender. Lay down your weapons. Stop defending the unjust tyrant General Vanessa Landry, a dictator who cares nothing for our people. Our friends. Our families.” Orion’s voice cut through the silence. “We have lost children, lovers, family and friends to starvation or lack of medical help—things that the rest of the world has.”
Brett held his breath. He spun in a slow circle. Watching. Listening. Some people had stopped moving and were listening.
“Return to your homes.” The voice was slightly difference. The speech had been recorded, but this last statement was said by Orion himself. “Stay there and you will be safe.”
There was no way to know how many people would surrender and how many people would fight them. Their battle wasn’t with the average person. It was with the government. With people like Brett’s father who’d used his position and influence to torture and murder the innocent, like the man with whom Brett had planned on spending the rest of his life. And with people like the men who’d carried out his father’s orders. Briefly, Brett wondered if they’d privately questioned his father’s directives, but dismissed any reservations. He’d seen their faces and their eyes. Taren wasn’t the first person they’d done this to. “Who are you?” someone shouted. “Why should we believe you?”
“We are the Citizens for a Free Aelland,” Orion replied. “You shouldn’t believe anyone. You should learn everything you can about what people say and what they stand for then make an educated decision.”
Brett stared, open-mouthed as dozens of people laid down on the ground. Slowly, he spun the turret in a circle. In the distance, he saw the glow of headlights before he heard the vehicles and called the approach down to Thompson to relay to Orion and Liz. Four sets of lights multiplied as the vehicles wound their way through the base streets. They broke off in several directions. There was more security than a normal detail had at night, but far fewer than the whole companies he expected. Some people had made it to their destination. Others could still be trying to get there.
The approaching convoy was still several hundred yards away from them when it started shooting. A person ran across the street and was hit then run over by the lead truck. Security Force personnel in the open were caught in the crossfire between them and the oncoming vehicles. Brett returned fire, aware of the rattling of other weapons from below him.
The truck lurched forward. Brett lost hold of his weapon and moved with the vehicle. As he fought to regain his footing, pain sliced through his arm. Swearing, he dropped inside the truck. Blood trickled down his arm. There was a tear in his quickly darkening sleeve.
“Somebody help me with this,” he yelled, trying to tear off a piece of his shirt.
Rough fingers brushed aside his hands and tore the fabric.
“Knot it over the wound,” Brett said. “I’ll deal with it later.”
Jackson nodded and did as Brett asked before helping him back up into the turret. Brett took aim at the swarming vehicles. Eventually, the hammering from the gun caused his pain to pass into numbness. Time became irrelevant. With the light only from their vehicles, darkness was both their friend and their enemy.
The truck lumbered to a stop outside the headquarters building. There was no way to tell if anyone was inside. Brett took a deep breath then let it out slowly, forcing himself to stay where he was. Wanting to go with Orion wasn’t enough of a reason to leave his post. He had to trust the men and women with his lover to keep him safe.
A tap on his leg had him ducking down into the truck.
“You want to go?” Thompson asked.
Brett smiled and nodded. “Yes. However, just bring him back to me. Keep your eyes open. There’s no telling how many people are in there.”
Thompson nodded and jumped out of the truck.
Brett returned to his post, watching the group make their way to the building. Once they were inside, he turned his attention to the surrounding area, wondering what was so special that Orion risked breaking into the building. He’d mentioned the archives and the possibility of evidence there, but he’d been willing to send Carter and her team there instead of going himself. Orion’s job as the general’s personal assistant had given the younger man access to incredible amount of information. It seemed more than plausible that Orion knew more than most of the people Brett had worked with in the Intelligence offices.
As he waited, the hair on the back of Brett’s neck stood up. Brett slowly swiveled around in the turret, unable to see anything suspicious. He was grateful Liz had cut the lights earlier. Having them on would make them more of a sitting target. Movement across the parking lot from the building caught his attention, but there was no way to enter through the front of the building without them knowing. Brett kicked himself. There was always a second entry for every government building, and they’d hadn’t secured it. Not from the outside.
Swearing, Brett climbed down into the truck.
“Take the turret,” Brett told to Sergeant Aaron Davis, Corporal Miller’s fiancé and the only other man left guarding the truck. “Watch the parking lot closely.”
“What’s going on?” Liz asked, turning in her seat.
“I saw movement on the other side of the parking lot. I’m going to check it out and secure the secondary entrance then find Or—Hellman.”
Liz nodded.
Grabbing the rifle he’d left sitting by his seat, Brett quietly opened the door behind the driver and climbed down. Hiding behind bushes and against the wall, Brett tried to keep himself out of s
ight and as small of a target as possible as he made his way around to the back of the building.
“Halt! State your name!”
The order came from somewhere to Brett’s left. Silently cursing, Brett stopped. If he answered the way all Security Force personnel were trained, it could either spare his life or kill him. Turning slowly, Brett lifted his weapon and shot at the speaker. There was a thud followed by shouts. Brett dove to the ground and maneuvered into a shooting position. He waited several moments, his ears strained to catch any noise he could separate from the ceaseless gunfire. Security Force soldiers lurked just out of visual range. He couldn’t risk shooting into the dark, not knowing who was where. He could be shooting the enemy, but it could just as easily be a friend. The amount of weapons and ammunition the Citizens for a Free Aelland had been able to gather through the years was astounding, but supplies were still limited and he needed to make each shot count.
Brett crawled forward until he was at the edge of the building. There was little hope of cover until he reached the door. Then he’d have to pray he could get in. Anything that required a thumbprint or scan to gain entry would be off limits to him. His security access should have been flagged by now, if it hadn’t been deleted outright when they’d come to search his room and arrest him. Shots rang out, plunging into the building and ricocheting off the cement while others kicked up dirt and grass several feet away.
“Hey rebel!” a female voice shouted into the night. “Are the reports true? There are no institutions?”
Brett turned in the direction of the speaker and took a deep breath before answering, lowering his voice when he did. “They’re true. There are no institutions. There are just graves.” Brett shifted his weight and prepared to move. He hadn’t seen the institutions and the graves other than in the videos, but he knew in his gut the images were real. He didn’t have to see the bodies in the pits Orion had dug to know the man spoke the truth. Brett had looked into the lives of several dozen men and women who’d gone missing, some from before he’d arrived and some after. He’d never asked about the disappearances. It hadn’t occurred to him to question what the government had told him at the time. “The stories of innocent people being tortured are also true.”
Changing Tides Page 13