by C
In the Shadows of Freedom
C & C Spellman
Rosemont Books
Copyright © 2021 by Christopher and Cassandra Spellman
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be produced or used in any manner without prior written permission of the copyright owner, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Rosemont Books
www.spellmanbooks.com
ISBN:
EPub - 978-1-7352592-0-8
Mobi - 978-1-7352592-1-5
PDF (for print, paperback) - 978-1-7352592-2-2
Book Cover Design by ebooklaunch.com
We wish to thank the following people for their invaluable help and wisdom in the writing of this book.
Elizabeth Birch
Carlee Collins
Nicholas De Falco
Matthew Gaul
John David Kudrick
Lisa Nicholas
Louise Schrecongost
Cindy Spellman
David Spellman
Mary Spellman
Peter Spellman
To our children
They see only their own shadows, or the shadows of one another, which the fire throws….
Plato
(from The Republic—Book VII)
CONTENTS
1. Commencement
2. The Roommate
3. First Day
4. Living Nightmares
5. Woman’s Plight
6. Mrs. Ramsey
7. At Hell Gate
8. Tripping Tuesday
9. Familiar Stranger
10. Favorite Places
11. Do as You Will
12. The Living Dead
13. Unveiling the Painting
14. Up in Flames
15. Going Home
16. The Hound of Hell
17. A Mountaintop Experience
18. Men without a Country
19. Something to Hide
20. Know Your Enemy
21. A Person of Light
22. She Ought to Be Loved
23. What Is Truth?
24. In the Light of Freedom
Chapter One
Commencement
“Mom would be so proud of you today. You know that, right?”
Amanda froze. Beaming at her from the doorway where he stood, her dad appeared misty-eyed. She quickly turned away. Of course references to her mom would happen today. It was her college graduation—a milestone event. Today should be celebratory. But it wasn’t. Her mom could never be here. She was dead.
Ignoring her dad’s comments, she glanced around her empty dorm room. “I should check again to see if I packed everything.”
Chiara, her younger sister, burst out laughing. “Amanda, you checked the room three times. What you need to do is let me fix your hair.” Pulling a brush from her purse, Chiara stood behind her and began gathering the mass of black curls. “Think about how few people get to graduate from an Academy! You’re the first one in our whole family!” Chiara finished braiding. “You should look beautiful.”
“Well, I think Amanda always looks beautiful.” Their dad laid his strong, rough hands on a shoulder of each girl, looking from daughter to daughter with affection in his blue eyes. “Oh, I knew I’d almost forget. I got a little something for you … just a sec.” He fumbled in his coat pocket for a moment and pulled out a white corsage. “Go ahead and turn around. I’ll pin it on your robe, okay?”
Stifling a sigh, but not wanting to hurt his feelings, Amanda obeyed.
“That did the trick!” Her dad nodded.
Chiara tilted her head to the side. “And, you know, the corsage really distracts from the fact that you didn’t iron your robe.”
Outside the chapel bells began to toll.
“Gosh, we better get moving.” Her dad ushered them toward the door. “Remember to smile when you walk across the stage!”
Amanda rolled her eyes. “I’ll smile when this is over.”
Her dad and Chiara went in search of their seats; Amanda joined the long procession line. It was a perfect May morning: the sun shone in a cobalt-blue sky. There couldn’t have been more ideal conditions for an outdoor graduation ceremony. The various schools processed in, heralded regally by bagpipers. Amanda sat on the outer fringe of the graduates. Through the rows and rows of students ahead of her, she could just barely make out the stage. She spotted her dad and Chiara in the crowd behind her, beaming and waving.
The procession thus completed and the national anthem sung, everyone sat down. The first speaker was a biology professor who began by offering typical clichés and generic life tips. Amanda ignored him and started making a mental list of what art supplies she would need to pack for the Graduate Academy of Fine Art.
The crowd around her applauded politely, signaling that the professor’s droning was done at last. She awoke from her stupor and sat up a little straighter in her metal folding chair. She didn’t know how many speakers they had on tap, but at least they were one closer to diplomas being handed out—and then she could clear out of here.
At the podium, the Academy president cleared his throat and, in his monotone voice, announced, “I now have the privilege of calling forward the Most Reverend Bishop Stephen Fisher.”
Amanda heaved a quiet sigh. Her dad would be sitting on the edge of his seat now; she slumped in hers and gritted her teeth. She had chosen the Academy for its art program, not its religious affiliation. Considering her strong aversion to the latter, it was a testament to the quality of the art professors that she’d even enrolled here in the first place.
The bishop walked across the stage, the sun playing upon the gold cross that hung against his black robe. That gold could probably feed a lot of the Unfit. The church was always giving handouts to the starving masses; it seemed surprising they had any wealth left for their leaders.
His hands now grasping the edges of the podium, the bishop looked out into the crowd, his expression somber, lines of age marking his face. His voice, powerful in its force and passionate in its emphasis, reverberated and boomed through the microphone. “Graduates of Valor Academy, I come before you this morning with no professional or academic advice to offer. Instead, I bring you a grim admonition. The time has come for you to make a choice. I don’t refer to choosing a Graduate Academy or professional future. No, I am referring to your freedom.”
The bishop paused and leaned forward, then continued, his words still commanding. “In this time of unprecedented, so-called liberty in our nation—when so little is restricted or outlawed or punished—you have a choice: What will you do with this freedom? How will you charter your course in a world with no boundaries? Will you seek a ‘freedom from’ or a ‘freedom for’? Why have you been given this free—”
It happened in an instant. An ear-splitting, deafening sound of destruction silenced every other noise. A thunderous explosion came from the stage, obliterating everyone and everything in its immediate environs, and then cascaded outward into the defenseless crowd.
The ground beneath Amanda shook from the force. Her body was ripped from the chair, and she crashed into the ground a few feet away. Everything moved rapidly, like a movie on fast-forward, and she struggled to maintain consciousness. Dense, black smoke filled the air. Past that, massive flames reached into the sky. The fireball roared, and tiny bits of shrapnel slashed through the air, only halting when meeting the defenseless flesh of the victims.
Then came the terrified, panicked screams—a high-pitched, spontaneous chorus of shock and pain … a melody of death.
The spot where the bishop had been mere seconds ago was now vacant, save for the consuming fire. The rows of graduates closest to the stage were a
lso gone, their fragile bodies no match for the explosive shock wave.
Gasping, coughing, and wheezing, Amanda struggled to get up. She had to get out of here, as fast as—No! She had to find her dad and Chiara. They were behind her, somewhere in the frenzy. She started to sit up, but a fellow graduate, his arm pouring blood, plowed through the chairs and trampled her right leg. Amanda fell back to the ground, stifling a cry and clutching her leg. The heat of the flames drew ever closer, and she screamed as her heart raced and chest clenched, her voice joining countless others.
Another person raced by her, this time shoving chairs out of his way. Amanda ducked, covering her head with her arms. Several metal chairs crashed on top of her. Dozens of students emerged from the thick black smoke, racing toward her, entirely blind and indifferent to her in their panic. She stared up at them, paralyzed with fear and horror. If she didn’t die from the blazing fire, she might still get trampled to death.
“Stop!” Amanda yelled. She tried to scramble out of the way, but her movements were clumsy and she fumbled to even stand, pain running up and down her body.
At that moment, two strong hands seized her, pulled her up from the ground, and supported her. Amanda found herself half-stumbling, half-walking. Dazed and wincing, she turned and looked at her unexpected rescuer.
He stared back, the lightest of blue eyes watching her. “Follow me.”
She asked no questions, but let him guide her away from the wreckage. He must have been one of the graduates too. He wore neatly pressed khakis and a crisp white dress shirt with a navy-blue tie. It was distracting to think about him—a good distraction. In fact, there was something about him, something very familiar. She must have taken a class with him. Maybe freshman year?
They kept walking, farther and farther away from the main quad, the sound of sirens now wailing all around them. Her companion strode with determination, as though he had a set destination in mind.
At last, the crowd thinned, and they stopped outside one of the administrative buildings on the fringe of campus.
The other graduate gestured for her to have a seat on the steps. “You will be safe here.”
Amanda swallowed hard. She looked down at her hands: they were shaking. “Wh-What just happened?”
“Evil.”
“Amanda! Amanda!”
She jumped up at the sound of her name: it was her dad calling. Forgetting any pain, she hobbled toward him, falling into his arms. Chiara walked just behind him, and she rushed forward, grabbing Amanda and sobbing.
“Oh, thank God!” Her dad’s voice trembled as he clutched her.
Amanda stiffened in his arms. Thank God? Where was God in all of this?
Her dad stepped back a moment, looking Amanda up and down. “Are you hurt at all?”
“No … I don’t think so. Nothing really serious at least. What about you and Chiara?”
Chiara took a breath between her cries and tried to get the words out. “We were … far enough away … but we saw everything. The bomb exploding, the fire, the …”
Amanda could finish the sentence: the victims.
“Let’s get out of here.” Their dad put his arms around both of them. “I’m sure the Justice and Protection Division will be here soon.” His face hardened with a look of disdain. “Unless they’ve already executed their justice.”
Wanting to thank the other graduate for saving her life, Amanda turned around, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Chapter Two
The Roommate
Nikki took a long swig of coffee. Third cup so far and the day was young. She cracked a few knuckles with satisfaction and flipped through the prints she had scattered on the small space of kitchen counter not already filled with dirty dishes, sticky notes to herself, or magazines.
Now this one … this picture was the stuff she wanted. She picked it up and studied it.
Great lighting, asymmetrical balance, good use of the frame.
She had snapped the photo at a fundraising event for the National Citizens Party last week. Senator Caroline Crauss of Virginia, the party’s newest rising star, had been there, beaming from the podium. Nikki had lucked out and even scored some conversation with Caroline after her speech. They were on a first-name basis now—always a good thing. Nikki drummed her nails on the counter in rhythm to the dance hall music blasting from the nearby speakers. Maybe … just maybe, one day she would be that star.
At least one day. Right now, she’d stay behind the camera and keep building her contacts. She had work to do. The NCP kept her busy, and that’s the way she wanted it. They would put up some big bucks for her snaps of the fundraiser: more money in her pocket and another step closer to her dreams. Money meant influence; influence meant power. She would never be a victim again. The NCP had given Nikki her freedom, the greatest gift she had ever received.
She drank the last mouthful of coffee and glanced up at the empty pot. Damn it, she’d have to make more. She shoveled a few more spoonfuls of coffee into the filter—who even bothered with measuring?—and the bracelets on her wrist jangled with her movements. Her favorite bracelet was the turquoise beaded one that Chloe had given her last year after she went to Greece. Greece. Now that was a dream: getting out of the South Bronx and exploring the world.
The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, and she rolled her eyes. There goes the circuit breaker … again. Well, who really cares? The coffeepot still worked, and that was all she needed. One day, though … one day, she’d bust out of this hole in the wall. It was a crime how much she had to pay for this dump. At least she was getting a roommate.
Roommate! Nikki stopped for a moment and stared ahead. When was the new girl getting here? Putting down her mug, she picked up her cell phone and searched for the messages they’d exchanged. Here was the original alert from the Graduate Academy of Fine Art, connecting them. The school was a good source for roommates: that’s where she’d found her last two. Ah, she found the right message: Amanda Burrow. Right, that was her name. And Amanda would be arriving …
Wait, what was the date today? She checked her phone.
Amanda was coming today!
Nikki took a deep breath. She had work to do. She rushed into the bathroom and began to adjust her makeup. She had her priorities after all. She smoothed her cropped auburn hair (she had better schedule an appointment to get another coloring soon) and applied some more mascara.
Soon afterward, Nikki was clearing file folders and papers off the spare bed when a faint buzzing sound reached her over the blaring music. Throwing everything into a heap on the floor, she paused the song and bolted over to the front door, pressing the Talk button. “What’s up?”
“Umm … it’s Amanda. Amanda Burrow … your new roommate.”
“Fabulous!” Nikki clicked the button, unlocking the front entrance door downstairs, and then waited in anticipation.
A faint knocking sounded. Nikki swung the door open wide and smiled at her new roommate.
The girl was short. Or maybe it was more that Nikki was exceptionally tall, especially wearing her stilettos. Either way, Amanda looked up at her, her face pale and blue eyes wide. She fidgeted in the hallway, shuffling her feet about and twisting her hands together. And, wow … those curls. They were seriously out of control! The girl didn’t do a single thing to even attempt to make her hair look attractive.
Nikki remembered her manners and put on her most encouraging and welcoming tone. “Well, come on in! How was your trip? Sorry I didn’t have time to clean up. I totally forgot you were coming today! But you might as well get used to it.” She stepped aside and gestured for Amanda to come in. “I’m not a complete slob, really. Look at me—I didn’t even introduce myself. I’m Nikki King.”
She held out her hand. Amanda extended a limp hand and gave a lifeless handshake. A corpse probably would have shown more enthusiasm.
Amanda murmured something that sounded like, “Nice to meet you,” and then stood there, staring around the room and avoiding
eye contact.
Nikki was not impressed. Amanda’s plain T-shirt and worn jeans weren’t helping matters any either. Nikki walked over to the kitchen and filled her cup again. She’d need some caffeine to stay awake during this hardly gripping conversation. “So, you a coffee drinker? Can I pour you a cup?”
Amanda shook her head and returned to studying the room decor. Nikki was so used to it that she forgot how striking it looked. She had plastered the walls—ceiling included—with photographs: black-and-whites, neon pinks and greens, people, animals, and random objects such as flaming toasters and foaming pigs … all of them together creating a slew of colors and images. And, of course, the best part was the familiar I Stand With the NCP! bumper stickers, which stood out among the swirling visual noise.
Amanda’s eyes continued to rove about the room. “Wow.”
“I know, right? That’s what everyone says. I like it. It’s my own personal wallpaper.”
“It’s impressive.”
“It took forever to design. I wanted it to be like a mosaic that never creates a unified picture. I wanted it to unsettle people, to make them think.”
“Yeah … you succeeded. You took all of these pictures?”
“Each and every one.” Nikki paused for a moment, and inspiration hit her. “So, you know, since this is your home now, feel free to put any of your pictures up.”
Amanda raised her eyebrows, but looked down. “I’m not really into photography, but thanks.”
“You paint, right?”
“Mostly. Sometimes I sketch.”
Amanda set her book bag and small suitcase down on the floor beside her. There wasn’t really anywhere else to put them. The apartment was tiny to begin with, and the explosion of clothes around the room didn’t help. Nikki didn’t care, though. She had more important things to do besides folding laundry.
She went over and picked up Amanda’s suitcase. “We can stick these in the bedroom if you want. Come on, I’ll show you.” As they walked, Nikki shook her head in wonder. “Two bags! Are you for real?”