“Your government, by means of brutal terror and punitive, destructive economic measures, attempted to maintain an existence rejected by the vast majority of you, the American people. Thus, the world watched as a small minority, simply by seizing the necessary instruments of power, suppressed more than three hundred million people. And, if that were not bad enough, your political suppression and the deprivation of your freedoms led to an economic decline that was in shocking contrast to the blossoming life in Europa.”
Grandpa grunted. “Europa propaganda.”
I spotted a dark head near the front left of the stage and knew it was Micah. Last night’s nightmare came back to me in a rush, along with all the emotion. The dragon had visited me every night for the past week, always waking me with a start. Now the recurring nightmare revolved around me saving Micah. He died every night in my dreams. How was I supposed to get him out of my heart if I couldn’t get him out of my head?
“And who could blame you,” the praetor continued, “if you looked toward Europa with longing eyes? We are the same people that your forefathers united with for so many centuries. The same people your ancestors once fought shoulder to shoulder with in terrible wars. Our culture is your culture. We share some of our most cherished values with you.
“We have felt your suffering as our own, the suffering imposed on you, our brothers and sisters here, first by your own government, then by natural disaster, and finally by hostile elements within. Therefore, it would be impossible—nay, inhuman—for Europa to simply watch as you die from hunger, lack of medicines, or unsavory aggressions. My good friends, this Devastation, as you call it, has reached to the four corners of the world. Europa has accepted more than four million refugees in through her hospitable borders. And now, we welcome you.”
A great cheer went up from the crowd. The wolves onstage grew restless again, but one firm word from the praetor settled them down. Micah’s tall, still figure caught my eye again. I hadn’t seen him clap once and I wondered why he’d bothered to get a front row seat if he wasn’t one of the devoted.
People around us were high-fiving and hugging; some even started weeping. David was in the latter group.
“Is he actually cryin’?” Milly whispered to me.
He actually was.
“Now,” the praetor continued, “not everyone may feel inclined to accept our charity. There have been millions who have resisted our offer. They have become beggars, reduced to misery and poverty, but who can understand the depths of the human heart?”
The crowd chuckled.
“However, I’m sure that the people here are far wiser than that, far wiser than even your national leaders who have since blown away with the ash. We know that you will welcome our open hand of friendship. That is why we have conquered your enemy the Skaggs and left them as a footstool at your feet.”
This announcement was met with roaring cheers from the crowd. We all blinked at each other.
“Did he just say what I think he said?” Ben questioned.
I closed my eyes and fought down a rush of anger. We had suffered, bled, and died for these people and Europa was taking all the glory.
“Unbelievable,” Jude stated.
“The people are actually buyin’ this,” Tim remarked.
Grandpa chuckled. “Welcome to the rewriting of history, ladies and gentlemen.”
David scowled at us, but kept cheering.
The praetor continued. “I, myself, as the praetor of the Europa Guard, will live here among you, to personally ensure the safety of your rights as free citizens of Europa. The world will see that, for the American people, these new days are filled with hours of blissful joy and deep emotion. Long live Europa! Long live a free America!”
The people in the crowd lost their minds. The sound level was deafening.
“Free,” Jude snorted. “Free to do what Europa tells us to do.”
I stared at my grandfather. He had an odd smile on his face. “You actually look impressed,” I remarked.
Grandpa shrugged. “I am. That was a stunning rewrite of the speech Hitler gave when he invaded Austria.”
David rolled his eyes. “Please tell me you are not actually going to compare him to Hitler.”
“Why?” Ben shot back. “Will that hurt your feelings?”
“Because it’s tired,” David retorted. “Every alarmist since World War II has compared his rival to Hitler.”
Tim laughed. “Well, if the swastika fits….”
As the Europa troops filed off the stage, the praetor commanded the microphone once again. “Ladies and gentlemen, I know that you are very anxious to get to all the yummy food, but first Europa would like to honor our American brothers and sisters who fought tirelessly alongside us against the Skaggs.”
“Now we fought with them?” Ben growled.
Tim grimaced. “He’s rewritin’ so fast I’m gettin’ whiplash.”
To their credit, the crowd applauded, although not nearly as loudly as they’d applauded and cheered for the praetor.
“But I will need some help.” Praetor Stanislov shaded his eyes and looked deep into the crowd. His gaze landed on my grandfather. “Ah. There he is.” He smiled. “The hard-working Mr. Donner. Would you and your lovely family please join me onstage?”
Here it was. The moment I’d been dreading ever since the praetor had asked for the list of soldiers from the 1st Cascade.
David nearly stumbled as he hurried off the picnic table, while Grandpa and I moved more deliberately through the crowd on our way to the stage. The three of us climbed the four wooden stairs and approached the praetor at the podium. I could feel Micah’s eyes following me; I hated that he was about to watch me play puppet to the praetor.
As we approached, the white wolves emitted low growls. They were bigger than they’d looked from the audience; their heads were enormous.
The praetor smiled effusively. He made a great show of shaking Grandpa’s hand. “Mr. Donner, so good to see you.” He turned his smile on me and shook my hand. “Sera, thank you for coming.” His palm was sweaty and I resisted wiping my hand on my jeans.
The praetor’s eyes landed on David and widened like a toddler ogling a new toy. “And this must be David. It is wonderful to meet you, young man.”
David smiled so broadly I thought his face might split in two. “It’s very nice to meet you, too, sir.”
One of the giant wolves sniffed my leg and bared its teeth.
“Never mind my pets,” the praetor said. “They take their job of protecting me a little too seriously sometimes.” He ruffled the fur on the head of the wolf to his right. “Don’t you, Hati?”
The wolf snapped at him and the praetor slapped him viciously on the snout, his smile faltering a bit. When the wolf cowered to the floor, the praetor’s smile reappeared. “Bad tempered brute,” he cooed.
I looked out over the audience. They were buying every counterfeit moment of the praetor’s act. So was David. My eyes landed on Micah’s stony face. He wasn’t fooled a bit.
“Are those Ellesmere Island wolves?” David asked.
“Why, yes, they are. Aren’t you a clever young man?”
David beamed.
The praetor turned toward the audience, who had been hanging on every word. “Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Donner has been kind enough to make me a list of the brave soldiers who fought with us in the 1st Cascade.” He held his hand out to my grandfather. “Mr. Donner, if you would be so kind?”
My grandfather made a show of hesitating, then placed the piece of paper in the praetor’s hand.
The praetor waved the list at the crowd. “If you hear your name, please come up and join us on the stage.”
Soldiers removed the podium and set a small table next to him. Small, blue velvet boxes, stacked in precise, neat rows, rested on top of it. He looked at the list and glanced over the names. They had been carefully chosen, the letters neatly printed to avoid mistakes.
I held my breath and waited as he cal
led the first name. “Jacob O’Neil.”
The crowd broke into murmurs as they looked around, waiting for Jacob O’Neil to reveal himself. At first it seemed as if Jacob was absent. But then somebody shouted, “Here he is!”
David and I stepped back as a very reluctant young man shuffled up onto the stage and tried to hide behind the praetor and my grandfather. The guy was sweating bullets.
Grandpa Donner turned and saluted him. “Son.”
Jacob O’Neil looked at my grandfather as if he’d never seen him before—because he hadn’t ever seen him before. Jacob O’Neil was a Skagg, one of many who had infiltrated our community after the battle of Widowmaker Hill to avoid arrest by Europa.
Confused and alarmed, Jacob O’Neil didn’t dare correct the mistake. He would soon be joined by thirty-seven other guinea pigs, all of whom would, unknowingly, help us test Europa and their intentions toward the 1st Cascade.
The praetor, wearing a broad smile, shook Jacob O’Neil’s hand. “Thank you, young man. Thank you for your fine service to this community.”
He picked up a blue velvet box from the table, opened it, and showed it to the crowd. Inside, the polished gold medal had ‘EUROPA’ embossed in blue around the edge and a woman riding a bull imprinted in the center. It was all topped with a crisp blue and gold ribbon.
The crowd “oohed” and “aahed” over it, which pleased the praetor. He handed the medal to Jacob O’Neil and then directed him to stand at the back of the stage.
The praetor read out the next name. “Erica Cauldwell.”
The crowd looked around for their next hero. Murmurs were heard here and there, but no one stepped forward.
“Come now,” the praetor said. I could tell he was growing impatient and his wolves could, too. They both shifted restlessly. “Why so shy?” He tried to maintain his smile. “Where are you, Erica Cauldwell. Raise your hand. Up, up, up.”
Finally, a single pale hand emerged from the crowd, slowly and with little confidence.
The praetor smiled. “Ah. There she is. Come up. Come up now. We have a medal for you.” He turned to share a terse laugh with my grandfather. “Perhaps we should have offered confectionaries?”
The crowd chortled.
This went on for almost a full hour. The praetor would read a name, the crowd would fall silent, and then eventually the Skaggs would either reveal themselves or be revealed by somebody standing near them. Finally, thirty-eight Skaggs stood on the stage, all of them holding tiny boxes, all of them white as sheets.
The praetor gestured to them. “Ladies and gentlemen, the heroes and heroines of your 1st Cascade Militia.”
The crowd applauded and cheered.
Grandpa made a grand gesture of saluting them all. “Thank you for your service.”
They all looked so dumbfounded that I almost laughed out loud.
“And now,” the praetor announced, “as is custom in Europa, we will leave the stage and allow the soldiers a few moments to be honored by the crowd.”
We followed him to the stairs and exited the stage, leaving the Skaggs standing there staring awkwardly out over the cheering throng. We moved to the right and stood off to the side. I stole several glances at the praetor. He seemed completely fooled by the list.
David tugged on my arm. I bent down toward him. “What is going on?” he hissed in my ear. He’d met enough of the 1st Cascade to know that none of the people on stage were part of the militia.
I kept applauding. “Just smile and clap.”
He did as I said, but I could tell he was angry that he hadn’t been in on the plan.
A loud gunshot suddenly punctuated the whoops and cheers. The mood of the crowd changed instantly. Jason O’Neil separated himself from the others onstage. He’d shot one of the Europa soldiers standing in the front row.
He pointed his gun at the praetor. “Pledge or perish!” he shouted. He fired again.
Lucky for the praetor, Jason O’Neil was a terrible assassin. Unlucky for Jason, the praetor’s wolves were not. Jason’s shot went wide, hitting another man in the crowd, but the largest wolf broke free of his restraint and was on Jason in seconds. With a shocking ferocity, the animal dragged the man down and tore at his throat.
The other Skaggs attempted to flee, some even jumped into the audience to get away from the vicious beast. The praetor barely had control of the second wolf and, for a moment, it seemed as if it, too, was going to break free and tear into the crowd.
And then an explosion ripped through the air, hitting my eardrums like nails. I felt it in my bones. It shook the ground and knocked us all backwards. I slammed into the dirt and snow. A hard, heavy rain of debris fell over the top of me. The smell of plastic, burnt wood, and gunpowder stung my nose.
After a few moments, I managed to sit up and look around. The world had gone muffled and sideways. Everything was in chaos. The stage was now a charred hole full of debris.
I stumbled to my feet, my ears ringing, my head throbbing, my vision blurred.
Micah.
I moved like I was dreaming, slow and fluid. Screaming people shoved past me, going the opposite direction, tripping over each other to get out of the park. I passed charred, mangled bodies, and images from the church on the day of the quake flickered through my mind.
“Endure,” I heard my mother whisper.
I climbed over a mound of debris several feet high, his name rolling over and over in my head. Micah. Micah. My foot slipped and stuck in something soft and sticky. I looked down to see my shoe planted in the scorched remains of a man’s chest.
I screamed and everything went black.
Chapter Fourteen
I woke up on the sofa in Grandpa’s house. Staring at the ceiling, I blinked to clear my vision and moaned at the ache in my head.
Milly sat beside me. “She’s awake.”
Tim’s face appeared in front of mine. “Did he say anything to you?”
I wasn’t sure what he meant. “H-how did I get here?” The last thing I remembered was standing on stage as the praetor handed out medals.
“Give her a minute,” Milly instructed.
“What the hell have you done?” David shouted. I squinted across the room and saw him pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace.
“Chill out, David.” Ben, standing by the front door, slammed a banana clip into his M16 and lifted the edge of the curtain to look out the window.
Jude had his rifle loaded and shouldered. “Anything?” he asked his brother.
“Nothing yet,” Ben replied.
I tried to sit up, but my head instantly rebelled and I laid back down. “W-what happened?”
My brother stormed toward me. “I’ll tell you what happened! You just destroyed any chance this town ever had at survival!”
Milly surged to her feet. “At least give her time to catch her breath before you go blamin’ her for the end of the world!”
I held my aching head and tried to clear the haze. “Could somebody please tell me what’s going on?”
Milly turned and looked at me with tears pooling in her eyes. “They’ve arrested Grandpa.”
The world fell out from under my feet. It all came rushing back: the festival, the stage, the bomb. I pushed into a sitting position, ignoring my spinning head.
“Arrested!” David yelled savagely. “And for what? Trying to kill a man who wants to help us!”
This time Jude stepped in front of him. “Calm down—”
“Calm down?” David laughed. “You blow up a stage full of people, and you want me to calm down?”
I stared at him in shock. “You think we blew up the stage?”
“Of course he does.” Ben’s opinion of my brother had hit rock bottom.
Tim couldn’t believe it either. “How can you think we’d be capable of doin’ somethin’ like that?”
“Because his new best buddy is Europa,” Ben snarled.
David threw up his hands. “I give up. What do you have against them? Is it
the abundance of food and water?” He flipped the switch on the wall, turning on the lights over the fireplace. “The electricity, perhaps? Or are you just jealous that nobody needs the precious 1st Cascade Militia anymore?”
“They’re an invading force!” Ben shouted at him. “Wrapped up in a pretty bow!”
David snorted. “Next you’re going to tell me that the praetor planted the bomb, hoping to kill himself.”
“It was obviously the Skaggs,” Milly interjected. “They found a red ‘S’ painted on the roof of the park gazebo, just like at the café.”
David laughed. “Well, score another one for mindless Milly. You think the Skaggs blew up a stage full of Skaggs?”
Jude bent down to look David in the eye. “You talk to her like that again and I’m putting my foot through your face.”
David waved him off, but moved further across the room.
“David’s right,” Tim stated. “It don’t make sense. Even if the Skaggs planted the bomb, they wouldn’t set it off with their own people on stage. The praetor’s obviously pretty fond of himself. I don’t see him knowingly standin’ on top of a bomb—even if the plan was to set it off after he left.”
“But if the Skaggs didn’t do it,” Jude answered, “and the praetor didn’t do it, then who the hell did?”
Milly chewed her lip. “If the ‘S’ doesn’t stand for Skaggs, then what could it stand for?”
That’s when it finally clicked in my head. “Spathi.” They all looked at me. “It stands for Spathi.”
“Spathi?” Tim repeated. “Where would Spathi get bombs?”
“Where do they get rifles and ammo?” I said.
“Off dead soldiers.” Jude answered. “If they’re the bombers, then they’ve upped their game.”
The Goliath Code (The Alpha Omega Trilogy) Page 16