by Adam Bender
Seven did the introductions this time. Eve felt thankful he was taking charge. Speaking to the president–even though he was now the former president–was…well, it was weird.
“I’m done talking to reporters,” Drake said.
“We’re not reporters,” Seven said. “We’re much worse than that.”
Drake narrowed his eyes. “Are you threatening me?”
Seven smirked. “I guess it depends on what you have to say.”
Eve fought back a giggle. She liked the confidence in his voice.
The president shuddered heavily. “I’ve had enough of this,” he said. “It was never supposed to be like this. I’m the goddamned president!”
Interesting choice of words, thought Eve.
“We spoke with Susan Levi earlier tonight,” Seven continued. “She said that she was chosen by God to run for president. Were you chosen by God, Drake?”
He scratched the stubble surrounding his frown. “I thought so once.”
“And did someone tell you that?”
“I-I don’t understand what you mean.”
“Who chose you, Drake? Was it God? Or was it the Headmaster?”
Upon hearing the name, a peculiar expression appeared on Drake’s face. It turned to one of incredible pain. Suddenly he was gripping his chest with a shaking, white hand.
“Oh, my God,” gasped Eve. “I think he’s having a heart attack!”
Seven caught the former president and brought him gently onto his back. Hoover started barking again, louder than before. One by one, lights went on in the houses.
Seven got out his phone. “I’ll call for an ambulance.”
Eve bent down to help the president. Drake was shaking. “He…told me I had to resign, said it was the only option. But then the people…my own family…everyone hated me…It wasn’t fair!”
He gasped for air. “I’m so sorry. Please tell them it wasn’t my fault.”
“What wasn’t your fault, Mr. President?” Eve asked as nicely as she could.
“The surveillance…The executions…The war…” he rasped. “They were always his ideas. I was just…the man in front of the people.”
He said no more. President William T. Drake died right there on the pavement, with Hoover whimpering at his side.
Seven clicked off his tape recorder.
Eve felt disturbed and upset as they walked back to Seven’s car. She was having great difficulty accepting that the President Drake had just died in her arms. She knew now that he was not a good man, but still, Drake had been someone she looked up to for so many years. It was hard to let go of that image in her head of the brave and handsome leader who would not stand down to anyone.
Now she saw it was all fiction. Drake was a puppet and his strings had been cut. The paramedics told Eve that Drake’s heart attack was likely induced by an overdose of painkillers and anti-anxiety medication. Whether Drake intended to kill himself was an open question; what was clear, though, was that he had been in agony and had tried to make it all go away.
The good news was that Eve and Seven got what they came for. They had recorded everything Drake said. Combined with the Susan Levi interview, the Underground now had enough material to raise a pretty fair amount of questions about the legality of the Headmaster’s involvement in national affairs. The only thing left to do was to take down the Church leader and his Saints once and for all.
Eve watched for cracks in the concrete sidewalk. She realized she hadn’t played that game since she was a little girl. How many cracks had she stepped on since then?
“I need to ask you something,” she said. “How is it you can be so sure you’re doing the right thing?”
Seven looked at her curiously. “What do you mean?”
“Somehow, you’ve seen through the president and the Church from the minute you became you. You always seem to know what’s right and what’s wrong, who’s good and who’s evil. You see it more clearly than anyone else. How do you do it?”
“I don’t see good and evil,” he said. “I just see a divided nation. The Patriots are completely bent on ridding the country of the Heretics, but for every Heretic they arrest or drop they unwittingly inspire more people to become Heretics. It’s this never-ending, masochistic cycle making the country weaker and weaker.
“So I guess I decided that the bad guys are the people who perpetuate division in our country. People like the Headmaster, who use fear to make people worry about every little thing they say or do. People like Drake, who got away with invading his own citizens’ lives by citing this blanket authority to protect national security. Those are the bad guys.”
“I spent my whole life believing in the bad guys,” said Eve. “I was the bad guy.”
“So was I,” said Seven with a reassuring smile. “But people can change. We can unite the Patriots and the Heretics. It’s already begun. That’s how we’re going to win.”
She was stunned by how much he had changed. Jon had been the ultimate Patriot. Never once did she remember him questioning a superior’s commands. He enjoyed his work hunting Heretics, enjoyed it so much that it scared her sometimes. He didn’t blink an eye when they dropped Joanna. He discussed it at the dinner table like any other trivial event that had happened in the work day. When Shaan had seemed to commit suicide, Jon barely seemed to care.
“I hope the dog will be all right,” Seven said with surprising apprehension. “What do you think will happen to the boy?”
Eve snickered. “You’re worried about the dog?”
Seven shrugged. “He seemed nice.”
“Drake had a family, right? I’m sure they’ll take the dog. Shouldn’t we be worried more about the family?”
“Oh, yeah, you’re right.”
She couldn’t help but laugh.
After a few more paces, he looked over again like he had something to say.
Eve bit. “What’s on your mind?”
“So, would we have gotten a dog?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“If we had got married, would we have bought a dog?”
“No way. Sorry, but no.”
Recollection rushed through Seven’s face. “Oh, that’s right! You’re afraid of dogs, aren’t you?”
She sighed. “We can get a kitty if you want.”
Realizing with some shock what she’d just said, Eve blushed and corrected herself. “I mean, we could have gotten–”
Seven waved her off calmly. “I know what you meant.”
She shook her head and focused her attention on the horizon. At the top of the street a police car was approaching, probably on its way to the scene of Drake’s collapse.
“They’re a little late,” she commented.
“Take cover!” shouted Seven. “It might be the Saints!”
The two of them jumped a white picket fence and fell into the yard of a darkened house. Eve peered over the top as the vehicle cruised by. She got a look at the driver and…he looked pretty ordinary. A run-of-the-mill, buzz-cut Guard. He was even chewing a donut.
Seven shut his eyes and grinned. “So…I think I might have overreacted.”
She laughed. “Hey, I’m the one who followed you over the fence.”
“At least this time it happened after we accomplished something. Do you remember our first stakeout together?”
Eve felt the blush return as she recalled that golden evening on the Luna Coast. “I remember.”
She felt acutely aware how close his face was to hers. She couldn’t hold her eyes on him and looked at the grass instead.
She hated herself. She was sorry she let Jon get away, but even more disgusted with herself for the way she’d tried to get him back. That wasn’t her. How could that be her?
The change had been good for Jon. She could see that now. Seven was the better man. And yet she had treated him like a virus.
“Seven,” she despaired softly. “I’ve been so selfish.”
Eve felt his hand on her cheek and then the firm grip of
his lips against her own. Her heart beat like it was trying to break out of her chest. She bit Seven’s lip gently and let him take her down into the grass.
The guns rattled against the inside walls of the trailer as the eighteen-wheeler started its ascent up Heaven Hill. Seven felt a bit like he was sitting inside a dryer. They were in a box made for cargo, not people. The closest thing to seatbelts were the various hooks, straps and poles placed about in an arrangement Seven was sure made sense to truckers, but not to a former Elite Guard. They chose the eighteen-wheeler for two reasons. First, the size allowed the Underground to bring a large team, weapons, and computers. Second, in spite of its size, the truck provided camouflage. The outside advertised a grocery store called Doyle’s. Their driver had been instructed to tell anyone who asked that they were going to pick up food and deliver it back to the Capital.
Their true destination was the Head Church. The name was somewhat of a misnomer. While it was indeed a great and fully functioning cathedral, ordinary people were only allowed to explore the church’s famous gardens and snap pictures of its mammoth bell tower. The building was home for the Headmaster and the only people he let in were subordinate clergymen and, Seven assumed, the Saints.
Beside Seven in the truck were Eve, Ana, Shaan, and three other Underground rebels from the Capital that he had just met. They were all dressed in black from head to toe. The newcomers were a merry but rough-looking bunch and seemed eager to fight. One had shown Seven a battle scar earned fighting the Enemy on the coast. He had forgotten the woman’s name. To be perfectly honest, he had forgotten all their names.
Luckily, Ana was a natural at that kind of thing and she was going to be in charge of coordinating the B-Team. Seven had to say he was impressed by the way she could grab their attention and clearly lay out what she needed them to do. Even when he was working for the Guard he had always been something of a loner. Eve was the first agent Jonathan Wyle had ever worked alongside. The fact that he ended up proposing to her made him think that team-up didn’t really count.
The job of Ana’s team was to provide cover for Seven and Eve while they retrieved the Headmaster. Seven hoped they wouldn’t need it. In a perfect world, he and Eve would get inside the church and capture the Headmaster with no problems. But deep down he knew that Rodriguez and the Saints would be there waiting for them.
Katie. He was pretty sure the scarred lady’s name was Katie.
Shaan called out to Seven. “Hey, I want to say something to you, before we roll the dice on our lives.”
He had a tablet in his free hand that Seven could see showed a map of the church grounds. Shaan’s role was running communications and providing other technical support. In a way, Seven envied him–he got to stay in the truck. Seven’s own job seemed a hell of a lot messier.
They hadn’t talked since Shaan stormed off on V-H Day, angry at Seven for his role in Joanna’s arrest and execution.
“About the other night–” Shaan began.
“–I’m really sorry,” said Seven.
Unexpectedly, a deep laugh erupted from Shaan’s belly. “Listen to us, man. If Talia could hear us, she would call us a couple of sissies.”
Seven grinned. He could practically envision the look of absolute disgust on her face. Talia had wanted to come, but they agreed she didn’t quite have the fighting experience. Anyway, Danny said he needed her back at the base to help him prepare his upcoming statement to the press.
“No, man,” continued Shaan, “I’m the one who needs to apologize. I was in a bad way the other night. I overreacted. Truth is I’ve known for a long time you were the guy who watched Joanna. I made it my business to know who was watching her.”
Seven felt a weight lifting. “I guess that explains what happened in Loganville.”
“It might have had something to do with it,” Shaan returned with a vicious grin.
“Loganville?” asked Eve.
Shaan explained. “I sort of beat him up.”
“Yeah, right before drugging me and tossing me into the trunk of my own minivan.”
Eve grimaced. “Ooh…”
The other man cackled again. “No, you know, when you told me the truth, I guess it just caught me off guard. I never thought you would tell me, so I didn’t know how to respond. I didn’t know the right way to respond. And that night I was depressed and, worse, drinking depressants.”
“Talia told me afterward that you had planned to propose on V-H Day,” said Seven. “I didn’t know.”
Shaan waved him off. “Truth is I hated you at first because I knew who you were and what you had done. But since we’ve known each other, you’ve done nothing but good for this country. I can see you’re a different person, and I hope you see it, too. Don’t feel guilty for anything you did in the past.” He laughed and in a deep voice boomed, “Jonathan Wyle is dead. Long live Seven!”
The others in the trailer cheered. He looked over at Eve and saw her beaming at him, cheeks flushed red. He thought she looked beautiful.
“Thanks, everyone,” Seven said with some embarrassment. “Uh, let’s go kick some ass?”
The team roared in approval.
The sky was still black when they reached the Head Church. The truck squeaked to a halt and idled for a few minutes. When the engine finally shut off, all the sound in the world seemed to go out.
Shaan wheeled a chair in front of the computer bolted down at the front of the trailer. He tapped a button and it came to life. There were multiple screens besides the main monitor. One television displayed the view from a hidden camera installed on the side of the truck right in the middle of the “o” in Doyle’s. The image was muddy so Shaan flipped on the night vision, bathing the scene in neon green.
They could see the Head Church at the north end of a great field, landscaped with round-cut bushes and white marble benches. The building itself was only about two stories high, but a bell tower in the front left corner stretched far past the top of the TV screen. Two long stone paths cut the gardens into four equally sized quadrants, with a large statue of the Headmaster standing in the middle where the paths crossed. The north-south path connected the road where the eighteen-wheeler was standing to the statue, and then to the front entrance of the Head Church.
“Coast looks clear,” said Eve.
Shaan tapped at the keyboard and a yellow-on-black map appeared on the screen.
“This is a blueprint of the Head Church.” he explained. “Once you get inside, it’s a straight shot through the sanctuary to a door behind the altar. The Headmaster will be in one of the two rooms back there. He should either be asleep in his bedroom or awake and heavily caffeinated in his office. But keep your eyes open. I’ll be tracking you, so if you get lost or there are any complications I should be able to walk you out of the building.”
“Good stuff,” said Seven, clapping him on the back. He turned to the rest of the group. “Shall we?”
In two pairs, Ana and her squad jumped out the back of the truck and spread out across the field, taking cover behind bushes, benches, and other objects. Seven and Eve cut down the center and ducked behind the Headmaster statue.
“Still looking clear,” Shaan said over the radio. “Proceed when ready.”
Seven looked at Eve to confirm their next move.
“Ready,” said a new voice in his ear. One of the new guys?
Eve’s face was filled with horror. “Rodriguez,” she whispered.
“It came from the tower,” exclaimed Shaan. “Oh sh–!”
There was a flash and a loud pop from high above. Seven looked up and saw a small rocket from an RPG screaming over their heads. At first he was confused how it could be so poorly aimed. Was it a warning shot? Then he realized where it was headed.
“Shaan! Get out of there!” Seven yelled into the radio.
The Doyle’s truck lifted briefly into the air and combusted into flames. Thick steel splinters burst from the exploding vehicle. One shot straight for Seven and he had to fall t
o all fours to avoid getting hit. The gunfire began while he was laying down there on the grass.
Over the radio, he could hear Ana’s panicked voice. “Oh, God, they’re everywhere!”
Moving quickly but carefully, Seven tossed himself over a short stone wall surrounding the Headmaster statue. Eve was waiting on the other side.
“Were you hit?” asked Seven, retrieving a semi-automatic pistol from a hip holster.
“Negative. You?”
He breathed a sigh of relief and shook his head. Speaking in the radio, he said, “Ana, pull your team in closer to the church. Rodriguez isn’t going to risk blowing up the building.”
Next he directed Eve to handle the attackers coming from the west while he took the east. He determined that the Saints could only be coming from those two sides of the grounds. Except for the bell tower, there was nowhere on the face of the Head Church for someone to fire from. Meanwhile, the eighteen-wheeled fireball across from the church had at least temporarily prevented the attackers’ approach from that angle.
He used the stone wall for cover and tracked the Saints by the flash of their guns. He soon fell into a rhythm of ducking and blasting. Once he got a glimpse of the sleek Ana rolling from a bush into cover behind a bench. She popped up, fired a couple shots, and moved on.
Suddenly he saw Katie, the Underground agent he had met earlier. She was shaking on the ground with fresh blood dripping over the old battle scar.
How many Saints were out here? For every ghoul that went down, another seemed to pop up in their place. Seven caught himself at one point worrying that they couldn’t be killed, that they were something more than human. But a few well-placed shots helped to chase the irrational thought.
Ana reported in. “Seven, I think my team can hold the rest of them back. You guys should move ahead, continue with the plan.”
“You all will burn in the infernal fires of Hell,” radioed Rodriguez.
There was another pop from high above.
Seven didn’t look. He grabbed Eve and together they hopped the wall and sprinted madly for the Head Church. He felt a boom and a hot rush as the Headmaster statue exploded behind them. The blast sent dust flying into the air, obscuring his vision and making him cough uncontrollably.