Vendetta Nation (Enigma Black Trilogy #2)

by Sara Furlong-Burr

  “You’d better, Victor, or you can kiss all funding goodbye. She all but ruined me today. Her defiance, though understated, was surely heard by millions. She’s insubordinate, she’s…”

  “Been shot,” Victor stated matter-of-factly.

  “Shot? How? By whom?”

  “By one of the rebels. When she was confronting their leader, brandishing a gun, no less.”

  “Really?” A smile returned to Brooks’ face. “I hope that was caught on camera.”

  “Yes, with a little editing added, Cameron made sure it was broadcast throughout the entire country.”

  “Editing? Why editing?”

  “To make it seem as though the rebel leader—Marshall Leitner—fired the shot himself.”

  “Excellent, Victor,” Brooks laughed. “It would appear as though you have everything taken care of.” He slumped down in his seat, allowing his body to relax comfortably. “And what of the rebels? Were they able to intercept our television broadcasting signal?”

  “They tried, but again, Cameron deflected them.”

  “That boy of yours is worth his weight in gold.”

  “Indeed, it’s too bad he only weighs seventy pounds dripping wet.”

  “And what of Ms. Stevens? Was she mortally wounded?”

  “I don’t know yet. She‘s hurt badly, but so far, I believe she‘s still alive. She, Ian, and a small group of rebels just left in one of the jet boats.” Victor coughed again, more incessantly than before.

  “I’ll just have to arrange a little surprise for them when they reach the shore. You really need to get that cough checked out, my friend.” Brooks opened the mini-fridge, pulling out a bottle of vodka and a shot glass. “Seriously, stay healthy. You’ve been worth every penny I’ve paid you thus far.”

  “I’m working on it. Marty will be over soon.”

  “Good.” He took a shot of the vodka. “After all, The Man in Black can’t be taken out by a mere cold.”

  “Trust me, I have too much to accomplish yet to die. I just hope Ms. Stevens survives to see what I have in store for her.”

  “If she does survive, she needs to be put in front of the camera as soon as possible to prove to the people that she’s still breathing and that the rebels haven’t succeeded in terminating her.”

  “She’ll never go for it.”

  “Who said she’s getting a choice in the matter?” He poured himself another shot. Already, he could feel the last one entering his bloodstream, calming his depleted nerves. “I’ve been meaning to ask you what your big yank is with her, anyway. It seems like you almost have something personal against her.”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Perhaps sometime I’ll find the time to hear it, but now I have a senator to tend to.” With that, he hung up on Victor and dialed yet another number from memory. “Has Delaney been brought in yet?”

  “Yes, sir,” the voice at the other end answered. “He turned himself in shortly after the warrant was issued.”

  “He did?” Brooks found himself shocked by the prospect of the senator turning himself in, knowing the fate that awaited him for his betrayal.

  “Yes, sir, we have him detained in isolation as we speak.”

  “Would you imagine that. I’ll be right there.” Brooks ended the call, settling back down into his seat. It’s time for another announcement, he thought. A steadfast smile overspread his face that was only interrupted by the touch of the shot glass against his lips.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The Shore

  I shivered uncontrollably. Shivered from the wind whipping through my body from the boat speeding through the water; from the spray that jumped up and hit me every so often; from the rain that fell from the darkening sky; from the loss of blood in my body. Ian, by now, had wrapped his jacket and both of his arms around me as to valiantly try and bring my body temperature up, but due to the loss of blood, it would be nothing more than a fruitless effort. Right now, I was the most vulnerable I’d ever been. With no energy left to even hold my head up, I was not only afraid for my well-being, but angry with myself for being careless enough to get in this situation in the first place.

  Ahead of the boat, the shoreline grew closer and closer—or as much as I could tell by the limited vision I had with my head propped against Ian’s shoulder. It was decided among the occupants of the boat—Harold, Candice, and the other three rebellion members, all younger women, who’d come out of hiding and took to staring warily at Ian and I—that we would try to anchor the boat several blocks north of where we’d boarded Brooks’ yacht so as to avoid any potential run-in with him or his cronies. Chances were he’d most likely already docked and left the premises by now. I locked eyes with one of the three women through my mask. Though obviously unnerved by us, she also seemed curious. All three women had roughly the same build with many of the same features. The one staring at me, however, had hair as black as night, while the others were a warmer shade of auburn.

  “How is she doing?” Candice asked Ian, raising her voice above the roar of the motor.

  “She’s hanging in there.” He squeezed my arm lightly to reassure himself that I was still in fact with him.

  “Good. I’d hate to think what it would do to public morale if we were to lose one of you. They seem particularly fascinated by her, like she walks on water or something.”

  “She’s pretty special.”

  Candice smiled. “We’re going to get as close to shore as we can get so that you can carry her without submerging her in water. What hotel did you say you came from again?”

  “The Park View.”

  “If we’re anchoring where I think we are, you may actually be a little closer to the hotel had you been if you’d returned with Brooks. When you get up on shore, you’ll walk about three blocks west and then South another four or five blocks or so. We actually stayed not too far from The Park View last night.”

  “Really? How did you get to the park today?” Ian asked.

  “Hitched a ride with some friends,” Candice answered, looking up at the three women who sat stone silent.

  “What happened to your friends? Are they all right?” By the agonized expression on Candice’s face, I knew that Ian was probably regretting asking that question right now.

  “Not…not exactly,” she answered him, making a motion to the three young women with her eyes. “Their dad,” she mouthed sadly.

  “Oh, jeez…I’m sorry for your loss,” Ian addressed the women sincerely.

  “If you’re really sorry,” the darker-haired sister spoke, her eyes tearing up, “then you’ll turn your attention to the true monster in this country and not stand beside him like some loyal dog.” One of the other sisters—the eldest, I believe—elbowed her sister slightly. “What? Maybe they need to hear it. All I’m saying is The Man in Black isn’t destroying this country half as much as Brooks is.”

  “You wouldn’t say that if you lost someone you cared about to that man, like both my partner and I have,” Ian said. The sisters seemed surprised to hear that Ian and I actually had normal lives once, like they were expecting us to have been created in a lab with no real ties to the human race. “They’re both dangerous, let’s just agree on that, and as long as we’re still drawing breath, we’re going to do everything in our power to stop them…both of them.”

  “That sounds like our philosophy,” Candice said.

  I could feel myself drifting off as though I’d been awake for a week straight, and my eyes couldn’t stay open any longer. My head slid down from Ian’s shoulder, prompting him to grab my arm and shake me. “Celaine. Celaine,” he jostled me, but I was too weak to even acknowledge him. “How much longer to shore?” He was frantic now, with a desperation in his voice that made me wish I could gather together enough energy to show him that I was still with him, even if it was just for a moment.

  “Probably about five more minutes,” Candice answered him. “We’re going further up the river.”

  In realit
y, we’d only been on the boat for a couple of minutes. The river wasn’t that wide, but Brooks had just prolonged our trip to make his appearance more ominous, like his impending approach were a source of power, a way of keeping the attendees of the address under his thumb that much more. My eyes opened slightly, which allowed me to take in the shoreline. Night was fast approaching, making for poor visibility. What was even more eerie, though, was the utter lack—or seemingly so—of civilization. We were in the midst of one of the largest cities in the country, yet it seemed barren. Lights across the shoreline had been shut off, and businesses as far as my eyes could see were pitch black. Roadways had no sign of any vehicles moving in any direction. Something was happening, repercussions were being carried out. After today, our world would never be the same again.

  As we approached shore, Harold turned off the boat’s navigation lights and killed the engine. “The water is probably waist deep here,” he said. “Let’s exit the boat and hope that the shore is as empty as it looks from here.”

  I felt Ian lifting me up into his arms and move to the back of the boat, where he positioned himself by kneeling on the edge of it near the ladder. Slowly, he inched himself into the water. All the while, he held me close to his chest and out of the river while he made his way to shore as fast as he could. Behind us, barely visible in the darkness, Harold, Candice and the three women entered the water as quietly as possible. The only sound around us in the unbelievably still evening was that of the spring rain hitting the frigid river. Thankfully, the journey to shore wasn’t long.

  Ian climbed up the rocks that created a barrier between the river and the shore, which made me feel all the more worse for the obvious physical burden he was carrying in the form of my limp body. Soon, I felt him jumping into the air and his feet striking the soft, uneven surface of the sand. At least we were ashore. Now the only hard part would be getting to the car, and me surviving the ride back to The Epicenter.

  “I’ll be right back,” Ian whispered. He knelt to lay me down on the ground. After seeing the others slipping on the rocks, genuinely struggling in the icy waters, he raced over to them, grabbed their hands and, one by one, he helped them all to shore. “Thank you for letting us hitch a ride back with you,” he said to Harold.

  “You’re welcome,” Harold grumbled under his breath, still not totally convinced that we were on his side.

  Ian scooped me back up into his arms. “Whatever you do, try to remain unseen,” he told the others. “Keep low and in the shadows until you reach a secure location.”

  “There’s no such thing as a secure location anymore,” one of the sisters muttered.

  “We’ll be safe, you just worry about getting her medical treatment,” Candice said.

  Ian nodded and took off in the direction of The Park View while the others ran further up the shore. I wanted him to put me down, to tell him to let me try and run for myself, but my body felt limp, and the best I could do was a low moan.

  When we reached the road, a sudden commotion back down by the river made Ian stop dead in his tracks. “Halt,” a voice off in the distance commanded. Ian turned around to see Harold, Candice, and the others being swiftly approached by soldiers.

  “Shit, Brooks must have had them waiting for us,” Ian fumed. It was naïve to believe that there would be no retribution against us for our disobedience tonight, and even more so to think that Brooks had no idea about our mode of departure. A spotlight was shone on them with no indication that Ian and I had been spotted too, and I could tell by Ian’s hesitancy that he debated running to their aid. But the prospect of leaving me behind in the state I was in kept him rooted where he stood.

  “What are you doing out past curfew?” one of the soldiers asked. “Leading a rebellion against our country, perhaps?”

  “What are you talking about?” Harold asked, surprisingly cool under the circumstances. “It’s not ten yet.”

  “Curfew’s seven.”

  “What?” Candice piped in. “Since when?”

  “Since the attempted assassination of our President and the war you have declared on his people.”

  “His people?” Harold stated incredulously. “That man is no king; he has no subjects. The people of this country are free—or at least they used to be.”

  “As long as people like you exist, they will never be free,” the soldier answered in response.

  “He truly does have you programmed, doesn’t he?” Harold broke away from the group, and approached the soldier. “Tell me, when did you lose your humanity? Where has your common sense gone?”

  “Don’t step any closer to me,” the soldier stated, drawing his gun and pointing it directly at Harold’s forehead. “By order of the President and our country, you all are under arrest for attempted homicide and treason.”

  “Open your eyes, man.” Harold stepped closer to the soldier, undaunted. “It wasn’t our people who fired the gun. It was one of yours. It…” Whatever Harold’s last sentence was going to be was lost to the sound of the gun in the soldier’s hand being fired and Harold’s limp body crumpling to the ground.

  Candice shrieked, “What the hell! You’re all nothing but animals. You…you didn’t have to shoot him…you—”

  “Enough, ma’am,” the soldier aimed his gun at Candice, silencing her. “The rest of you will come with us,” he announced to Candice and the three sisters, who stood huddled together, sobbing. “Cooperate and you may or may not live to see tomorrow.”

  “What do you want from us?” Candice asked.

  “Where are the superheroes who traveled with you, for starters?”

  Tell them, Candice, I thought. Point in a direction, any direction, just answer his question.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. We traveled here by ourselves.”

  No! No! No!

  “You see,” the soldier said with a sigh, “it’s lies like that which make it hard for me to trust you, and even harder for me to justify keeping you alive.”

  Ian turned just then and ran. Maybe he ran because he knew what was going to happen next, or maybe he ran out of concern for me. Perhaps, it was both. Whatever his reason was, and whatever protests I may have tried to make, were drowned out by the sound of gunfire to the tune of four loud pops in rapid succession.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Oppressions

  The damp cells of the underground prison smelled of mold and defiance. Defiance. The air was so thick with it that each of President Brooks’ footsteps felt like they were slicing through the air. Guards stood in front of each of the newly occupied cells, filled to capacity with rebellion members, whose spirits were far from dampened.

  “Look at the big man now that we’re all behind bars,” one man heckled. “There’s no need to run away with your tail tucked between your legs now, is there?”

  “Where’s the guy you planted in the audience to take that fake shot at you?” An older rebel went up to the bars to say his piece. “Didn’t feel the need to lock him up too, to keep the illusion alive?”

  Brooks allowed the jeers to roll off his shoulders, choosing, instead, to let his men handle the situation the only way they knew how. Raising his arm, he signaled them to spring into action, and like trained monkeys, they obeyed their master. One by one, shots were fired into the cells, each one in tune almost perfectly with Brooks’ footfalls down the corridor, ceasing as he rounded the corner to the solitary cell at the end of the hallway.

  “Open the door,” Brooks commanded the soldiers standing guard in front of the solid steel door. Obediently, the men unlocked the cell and pulled the door open. Being windowless on the inside, the pitch black cell became illuminated from the shard of light that entered it from the corridor. In that narrow beam of light, Senator Delaney looked up from behind bruised eyelids to take in his former friend. Having been imprisoned in complete darkness for a measurable amount of time, the light in his eyes was blinding. He tried to move his arm to shield his face from its assault, but the c
hain shackling his arm to the wall ran out of slack, leaving him defenseless.

  “Jeremiah, it’s a pity we have to meet under such circumstances, and a downright shame that things aren’t going to improve much for you here on out.”

  “Just because things are looking up for you, Carver, it doesn’t mean you’ll always have the upper hand. You can imprison me and execute as many rebels as you want, but there will always be more to take our place. You’ll be putting up a fight for the rest of your life, and you’ll grow tired of it soon enough. It’ll beat you down until there’s nothing left of you, ultimately ending your reign.”

  “Bold words, my dear friend. It’s too bad your hands are indisposed at the moment, or else I’d have you write them down to recite at your execution.”

  “What happened to you, Carver? Were you always this evil, or did it consume you the minute you gained the power you so desperately sought? We were brothers once, you and I. There was a time when we held the same ideals. I believed in your passion and in your dreams for our country. At what point in time did those dreams turn into nightmares?”

  “You have yet to experience a nightmare…brother.” Brooks closed the door, leaving Senator Delaney to the darkness. “His execution will wait,” he said to the guards. “I want him to see what I have planned for the rebels. If he thinks he was a part of a nightmare before, he’ll soon find himself in a living hell.”

  With a new determination fueling him, Brooks journeyed back up the corridor to ready himself for his impromptu announcement.

  *****

  “It’s finally quiet out there,” Paige said, leaning into Chase’s arms. In their own little corner of the world, safe in the stillness of the hotel room, they sat alone on the couch. Flames flickered from candles scattered throughout the room. With the power out throughout the city, they provided the only source of light in the room.

  “Yeah,” Chase answered warily, “though I’m not sure how I feel about that.”