Rebel (The Alliance Chronicles Book 4)

by SF Benson

  I have no idea where I’m going other than down. The air in the windowless stairwell is frigid—it must be an exterior wall. At the next platform, I look over my shoulder. So far, so good. I’ve traveled down at least three flights of stairs. A metal door sits to my right. I can’t tell what’s on the other side. I push the handle and prepare for the worst.

  Crisp air hits me in the face. It’s still nighttime. Too hard to make out anything. There aren’t any cars and the security gate isn’t visible. This must be the rear of the building. Keeping my back pressed against the rough wall, I start moving toward the far edge. I’m guessing this will lead me to the front. My boots crunch over the frozen snow a bit too loudly. The possibility of discovery only adds to my anxiety.

  I hear male voices heading in my direction, and my stomach sinks.

  “Rumor has it we captured a former lieutenant,” a heavy voice announces.

  “A lieutenant?” A much lighter voice laughs. “Traitor or did he do something stupid?”

  “Supposed to be a straight-up traitor. The dissidents he worked with are here as well. Brought them in earlier—a guy and a couple of girls.”

  I hold my breath and pray they keep moving.

  “Who captured the lieutenant?” the younger sounding soldier asks. “Anyone we know?”

  “Heard it was Private Miller.”

  The soldier with the lighter voice roars with laughter. “Someone’s messing with you. That bitch is dead. Heard she died at a safe house in town. Besides, she couldn’t catch a man even with his dick inside her.”

  “Damn, man,” the brusque voice says. “Why so harsh?”

  “Miller couldn’t be trusted for shit. We dated once. I made the mistake and told her something in confidence. She blabbed as soon as we got back on base,” the younger man starts. “I have it on good authority she was a fucking spy. Supposedly Miller went down in a blaze of bullets along with Compton and Kowalski.”

  A low whistle comes from the first soldier. “Not Compton and Kowalski. Damn. They were good men. I grew up with Kowalski.” He clears his throat. “So who’s the lieutenant?”

  “Remember Jones?”

  “That fucker? Ain’t he the one who looks like he should be riding waves somewhere?”

  “That’s the one,” the soldier replies. “Sad thing is he just had a change in rank to captain. More pay and shit.”

  “Man, that’s tight. Jones did Corps with me.”

  Their voices fade away as they keep moving. I realize the two soldiers were talking about Asher. If Riza caught him, good. He shouldn’t have run off with the SIM card. Friends don’t do that kind of shit. Unfortunately, there’s no time for me to dwell on Asher’s fate. I need to get my ass in gear, find Zared, and get the hell off this island.

  I’m almost at the front of the building. The area seems clear. I offer up a quick prayer and take off running toward a copse of trees. Seconds later, I duck behind a thick trunk and sink to the frozen ground. Where I sit, I can see part of the illuminated statue dedicated to a Union general, Alpheus Starkey Williams. Too bad the horse is a statue.

  I need to get to Zared, but I have no idea where he might be. Should I go back inside headquarters, or do I make my way to the White House? That’s where we were kept last time. It would be easier getting there while it’s still dark.

  Heavy footsteps crunch across the snow.

  Shit!

  My hand goes to the gun.

  I sink further into the shadow of the trees and ready the weapon. My heart ricochets in my chest. No more killing, please. I reach behind me to steady myself, and my hand lands on the raised ground behind me.

  Wait.

  When did frozen ground feel rounded and smooth? It’s not a rock. I look down. My heart plummets to my gut. There’s a shiny black shoe beside me. I drag my eyes up the dark pants leg, past the equally, dark wool coat, and up into the face of a man. I can barely make out his dark eyes. But there’s something about his smile that reminds me of someone else.

  “Well, well. If it isn’t Truly Shara Shepard.” His deep voice rattles. “We finally meet.”

  “Sir?” A man’s voice asks from a distance.

  I’m speechless gazing up at Leader Venter, the gun forgotten about. A soldier comes to my side, grasps my elbow, and drags me to my feet. Distracted, the man easily disarms me. My hands hang by my side.

  “I applaud your escaping my soldiers. Your killing Bartlett was done with expert precision.” Venter juts his chin, and his hands go into his pockets. “Too bad you fight on the wrong side. I could use someone like you.”

  I find my voice and reply, “Haven’t you used enough people already?”

  He purses his lips. “Silly girl. We really must talk. Take her inside.”

  “When you complain to your doctor, you’ll be directed to have your child report back to the inoculation center. Your offspring will spend a week away from you under the guise of treatment. Unfortunately, you won’t get your child back. Instead, you’ll pick up a clone.”

  —from Tru Shepard’s Address to the American Republic

  Tru

  The soldier, a tall dark-skinned man, leads me to one of the many interrogation rooms inside the Centers for Human Advancement’s main building. It’s another sterile, cold place with drab white walls, a polished white floor, glaring fluorescent lighting, and a two-way mirror. In the center of the room is a lone metal chair.

  “Miss Shepard.” Venter removes his navy wool coat and tosses it to the soldier. The man catches the garment and hangs it on a hook near the door. Our exalted leader brushes unseen dirt from his dark-blue suit coat, leans against the wall beside the mirror, and gestures toward the vacant chair. “Please sit.”

  My brain locks up. I’m unable to comply with the malevolent leader’s wishes. Memories of my last time in one of these rooms come to mind—my injury, my fear, and my subsequent argument with Zared.

  Where is he? I hope no one has hurt him.

  Stay focused. Once the baby and I are safe, I can find Zared.

  “Miss Shepard, you will soon learn that I am not a patient man,” Venter warns, a menacing tone creeping into his deep voice.

  This isn’t the time for me to test boundaries. I ease my butt onto the chair, staying close to the edge. The soldier’s position in front of the door lets me know a quick exit won’t happen.

  “That’s better.” Venter strokes his salt and pepper beard. The corners of his eyes crinkle as he stares at me. His shapely lips, reminiscent of Zared’s mouth, turn down. He is the embodiment of patriotism, at least that’s what we’re supposed to believe. “We have some things to discuss.”

  “Like what?” As far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing I care to say to this man.

  He breaks his stare and loosens his tie. “Let’s start with your ridiculous attempt in keeping something that does not belong to you.” Venter taps his expensive-looking shoe against the floor. “Where’s the SIM card?”

  I hold my head back and stare at the ceiling. White tiles splattered with dark red spots of varying sizes catch my eye. I shudder thinking about what happened to the people those came from.

  “Miss Shepard,” Venter says sharply, “what did I tell you about my patience? I can assure you, you will not like me if it gets much thinner.”

  News flash—I don’t like you now. But incurring wrath from this man is not my goal. I keep that in mind as I swallow the snarky comment on the tip of my tongue. “I don’t have it.”

  Venter uses his shoulder and pushes himself off the wall. “Common knowledge. Who did you give the card to?”

  I fold my arms across my chest. I’m finding it difficult to find anything redeemable about this man. “I gave it to your son.”

  A smile, which doesn’t reach Venter’s eyes, creeps across his face. “So you know who I am. Good for you. I’ve spoken to Zared. He doesn’t have it.”

  I cock my head. “I’ll tell you the same thing I’m sure he said.” My tone grows snippy. “
It was stolen by one of your men. Don’t bother asking me. I have no idea where Asher Jones is.”

  Venter claps his hands and walks toward me. His voice softens as he leans down. “I can see why my son favors you. Such mesmerizing strength.” His fingers touch my jaw, and I flinch. “Too bad there’s a great age difference between us. You’d be a much better partner for me.”

  Bile surges up my throat. Snippets of Holden Pratt blur my thoughts. It takes every fiber in my body to keep from vomiting at this man’s feet.

  Venter straightens up, goes to the mirror, and raps his knuckles against it. His voice rises, “You heard her. We have confirmation.”

  “What was that?” I ask.

  He tugs at his crisp white shirt sleeves before adjusting his tie. “We started this process with Lieutenant Castaneda.”

  Ko has her position. I’m glad somebody got what they wanted.

  Venter continues, “She told us Captain Jones was responsible for the disappearance of the card.”

  What? Did Asher get an upgrade or did he mislead us the whole time?

  “My son, in his haphazard manner, gave up Jones as well.” Venter crosses an arm over his chest and props an elbow in his hand. He taps his mustached upper lip with an index finger. “You confirmed it all.”

  My stomach turns right along with this conversation. Every discussion, one way or another, seems to come back to me. Unfortunately, I have a feeling this might be my finish line.

  Prepare for the worst.

  I clench my fingers together in my lap and swallow down my apprehension. “So, what happens next?”

  “Ah, Miss Shepard… As much as I enjoy your company, I’m afraid we must part ways.” Venter crosses his arms and rocks back on his heels. “You’re a valued part of the Helix program. So, your life will be spared. For now. A transport has been arranged to carry you back to North Woods where your DNA will be harvested.”

  Be brave.

  I let my hands relax. “And after that?”

  Venter stands a little taller. “Nothing personal, my dear. But when you’re no longer needed, you will be exterminated.”

  My throat aches, but this man is not entitled to see me crumble. Tremors move through my body. Somehow, I must stay strong. Contrary to his belief, I will not be dismantled like a car for parts. I bite my lower lip and remain silent.

  He gives me a curt nod. “I have places to be and people to meet. It has been a pleasure—”

  The door creaks open interrupting Venter’s words. Sharp heels click across the floor.

  What the hell is she doing here?

  “This is a surprise,” Venter announces. His flat voice and polite smile contradict the words.

  “You knew I was here. As usual, you are trying to keep me in the dark,” Taa replies. “This involves me as much as it involves you.”

  “Sheereen-am.” Venter’s voice softens. “You stopped being a part of my decisions the day you walked out of my life.”

  “You left me no choice,” Taa exclaims.

  “Taaliba, we both know that isn’t true,” he counters.

  Enough of the soap opera.

  My gaze darts from Taa to Venter. “Listen, as much as I’d like to see you two kiss and make up, you’re giving me a hell of a headache.”

  Taa faces me. Her smoky-gray eyes narrow to slits. “Your demise will put an end to my headache. I gave you a chance to walk away and disappear. You insisted on coming back and endangering my son. Thought you could ruin my plans.”

  I’m speechless.

  Venter, however, picks up the slack. “Speaking of ruining plans…” He motions to the soldier. “Taaliba, you know me well enough. I do not tolerate insurrections nor betrayal. You, my love, have done both. Oh, how I loved you. I saw the sun, the moon, and the stars in you. But you tossed it away.”

  The short rifle clicks.

  Taa’s eyes widen. Her mouth forms a perfect circle as she slowly shakes her head. “You wouldn’t. Jacob, sabhee ke baare mein socho jo mainne aapake lie kiya hai.”

  “And there’s the problem, my sweet. I have thought about what you meant to me,” he admits in a quiet, forlorn voice. “For years, it’s all I thought of.” His eyes close for a moment. They pop open abruptly, and Venter shakes his head slowly. “It makes what I must do difficult, but not impossible.”

  He kisses her on the cheek and steps away.

  Silence fills the room. Time slows down. The soldier squeezes the trigger.

  I jump off my seat as Taa’s body jerks forward. Her eyes widen in a mix of pain and surprise. Blood spews across her chest before she falls to her knees. A second more and her life is lost.

  Time speeds up and moves on.

  Venter stands over Taa’s lifeless body. His eyes glaze over as he rubs a palm over his heart. “My sweet, you shall be missed.” He points to the corpse and addresses the soldier, “Make sure this gets cleaned up. Take the prisoner out of here.”

  Zared’s father doesn’t look back as he grabs his coat and leaves the room.

  Protracted battle benefits no one.

  —from “An Introspective on Combative Strategies” by Dawa Zhu

  Zared

  I watch Venter walk out, his words weighing on my shoulders like a sack of bricks. Strong family unit my ass! He must think I’m an idiot. If he wanted a strong family, he should have taken actions years ago. Acknowledging I’m his son doesn’t erase the years of neglect.

  It’s too late to pretend to be the caring patriarch. His concern doesn’t make up for the damage done by him and his fellow commanders to me or this country. Only way to fix it is to remove all the leaders from office. Start over. And the first thing to do is forget the man who donated his seed and made my life possible.

  “Zared, it’s time for us to go.”

  My eyes lift. Niang stands in front of me. His careful, articulated voice shakes me from my thoughts. I almost forgot he was still in the room. “Yeah, man? What’s going on?”

  Niang’s eyes dart to the mirror and then to a far corner. A security cam is perched across from us. He announces flatly, “As I said, we need to leave. Now.”

  Reluctantly, I nod and follow him out the room. He leads me through the maze of corridors leading back to the outside. My mind drifts back to the last time I walked these halls.

  Tru and I turned left at a corner and walked up another hall. It was like walking through a maze. Every hall dead-ending into another. The last hall led us to a metal door. I reached for the handle but didn’t get the chance to open it.

  “Make one move and I'll blow your damned head off!” A pistol clicked behind me.

  I raised my hands. One soldier took my weapon while another apprehended Tru. All I could do was stand there, clenching my jaw like an idiot. I didn’t believe the man I saw on the monitor was alive. Either my eyes played tricks on me or it was a cruel joke.

  “That will not be necessary,” the voice came from inside the holding cell. “Let them go.” It was Katsuo, a man I thought died a long time ago.

  There’s something about this island which invites unpleasant jolts to the system. Frankly, I could do without another one. Niang and I round another corner. Thank God there are no surprises.

  Minutes later, we’re in a Jeep heading to the White House, the place my stepfather called home. Curiosity eats at me like a festering wound. I face Niang. “Want to fill me in?”

  He maintains eye contact on the road ahead. “My orders are to save you and Miss Shepard.”

  “Who gave the orders?”

  Niang side-glances at me and clears his throat. “Lieutenant Carter.”

  I scratch my head. Why would Carter’s hostile ass care enough to rescue us? “I’m obviously missing something, Niang. What aren’t you telling me?”

  Niang ignores me. He maneuvers the vehicle around the statue of a man on a horse and continues up Inselruhe Avenue. Time creeps by, and the silence is suffocating.

  I’m losing my patience with this man when I bark, “Niang
!”

  “It isn’t my place to tell you,” he mutters. “Just know everything is not as it seems.”

  “Cut the cryptic shit! Who gave Carter his orders?” I demand. It occurs to me, for a moment, I may have acquired my quick temper from Venter, an unfortunate family trait.

  Niang makes a left into the driveway for the White House. He pulls past the skeletons of trees and the remnants of a wooden fence. At the top of the lane, Niang cuts the motor. The mercenary glances around the area, takes a deep breath, and says, “It was Captain Jones.”

  Asher? What the fuck is going on with him? One minute he’s stealing from me. The next he wants to be our fucking savior.

  “I don’t get it. Why did he do it?”

  “To clear up your confusion, Captain Jones is not your enemy. The SIM card Miss Shepard guarded was supposed to be delivered. Did you forget your instructions?”

  Actually, I did. The SIM card should have gone to Malcolm. Knowing the truth about him, however, makes me glad I didn’t turn it over.

  “Zared, your mission failed,” Niang admonishes. His fingers trace the grooves on the steering wheel. “The Alliance understands why it happened. But the card was never meant to stay hidden. Captain Jones acquired the card and—”

  “Acquired? No. He stole that shit from me!” I exclaim.

  Niang doesn’t seem to notice my outburst. He tells me, “Captain Jones made sure the intel was leaked to the DarkNet.”

  The DarkNet.

  I collapse against the seat and bring my hand to my forehead. In all the uproar, I had completely forgotten about the layered encryption system separated from the Ubernet. If I had accessed the DarkNet, I could have prevented all the agony we’ve dealt with. I might have spared Tru the pain of losing her mother. My emotions got in the way and kept me from doing my job.

  “Was that Asher’s mission all along?”

  Niang checks over his shoulder before continuing. “Not exactly. Leaking the intel was his way of saving the mission. I’m sorry, but I cannot share the details of his assignment. You should know we are all on the same side.”