Redemption (Enigma Black Trilogy Book #3) (12 page)

“Whatever it is, I’m sure Kara will get to the bottom of it. We’ll worry about it another day.” He stood next to me, eyeing me expectantly.

“What are you waiting for? Hop on.”

“Seriously? You’re going to make me ride behind you? Do you know how emasculating that is?”

“Oh, knock it off. That type of thinking is so nineteen-fifties.”

“It’s not like I’m telling you to ‘get in the kitchen and make me dinner, woman.’ All I’m asking for is a chance to retain a shred of my manhood.”

I eyed him, a sly smile etched upon my face.

“You’re not going to give in, are you?”

Our motorcycle roared down the street on our way to the Capitol. Ian gripped my waist tightly as I weaved around potholes, litter, and other random objects strewn along the roadway from protests and sheer neglect. Soon, perhaps a little too soon, we would arrive at our chosen destination, entrenching ourselves in the belly of the beast itself. A place where superheroes truly were needed and where hope became scarcer by the day.

I pulled over along the barren highway. We’d reached Washington, D.C.—the Capitol. There was no turning back now. Ahead of us, buildings towered over the roadway, blending in perfectly with the night sky. With the curfew firmly in place and the electricity cut off, the once industrious city had been rendered nothing short of a ghost town. And if it had not been for the intermittent gunshots and screams that followed them, it would have been easy to assume that the Capitol had met with the same fate as many other cities across the country and now sat abandoned. But we knew better. We knew there were families residing in the apartment buildings that dotted the landscape, trying to go about life as usual, as though a war wasn’t being fought around them. We knew there were rebels, those bravely fighting for their lives for the sake of their beliefs, and those cowering in the corners of the darkened buildings, praying they would remain undetected. Lastly, we knew there were soldiers patrolling the streets, unwittingly programmed to seek out and kill the rebels—and most likely us now, too—without any time spared for mercy.

“From the sound of those gunshots, it seems like most of the activity is centered around the east side of the Capitol,” Ian said. “I think we should take the first exit we come to and try to ditch this thing as soon as possible, as we’re going to draw too much attention to ourselves, if we haven’t done so already.”

I surveyed the scene in front of us, spotting an exit around half a mile ahead. “That sounds like as good a plan as any, I suppose,” I answered him.

The headlight of our motorcycle illuminated the exit ramp, displaying spent shotgun shells and dark stains resembling blood. I shuddered as I shook off the morbid thoughts racing through my mind, telling myself that the discoloration was nothing more than oil—anything but blood. We turned right, down the first street we came to after exiting the highway, quickly meandering down the next available alleyway. Once there, I looked around the narrow expanse to ensure we were secure. Satisfied, I killed the engine.

“Now the battle begins,” Ian muttered. He lifted his leg and pushed himself off the motorcycle.

I walked the bike over to a stack of empty crates and did my best to hide it so that it wasn’t immediately obvious to anyone who passed by. Then, glancing up at the building next to me, I noticed a fire escape. “What do you think?” I asked, nodding upwards.

“I think staying above everyone would definitely give us the advantage. Let’s do it.”

“One step ahead of you.” I backed up down the alley, gave myself a running start and jumped, catching the last rung. Suddenly re-energized, I pulled myself up and began climbing up. Behind me, I could hear Ian’s hands grabbing onto the steel bars and the rubber soles of his boots squeaking against the rungs.

When I made it to the roof of the building, I stayed next to the stairs, scanning the perimeter and everything in between to ensure we were alone. Besides a dead pigeon, the coast was clear. Silence, piercing and eerie, the kind of silence that precedes devastation, like the calm before the storm, conspired with the darkness to suffocate us. Cautiously, I walked across the rooftop and looked out at the rest of the city.

“It’s too quiet,” Ian said, stealing my thoughts. “Normally I like quiet, but this doesn’t seem natural.”

“We’re just going to have to keep moving until something catches our eye. If we move in the direction of the last gunshots, eventually we’ll find something or someone. Let’s just do what we can to stay above them and maintain the element of surprise.”

Off in the distance, yet close enough for us to pinpoint an exact location, gunfire erupted, more violent than the previous rounds had been.

“I guess that’s our sign,” Ian observed. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” I prepared myself to jump across the gap to the next building over, when I felt Ian’s hand on my shoulder.

“Hold on a minute.”

“Why? Ian, we need to go while we still have a chance to find them.”

“I know. I know. This will only take a second.”

“A phrase no girl wants to hear, ever.”

He rolled his eyes as he removed his jacket. “Do me a favor and keep this one, please.”

“Ian, I can’t. No, you need to wear that.”

“Listen, whether you take it willingly or I hold you down and secure it to your body somehow, you’re going to take it. I’m not going through the experience of almost losing you again. I just—I just—just take the jacket and quit arguing with me.”

“Okay,” I acquiesced, “but I’m not happy about it.” My arms slid into the sleeves of the jacket, which was entirely too big and not tailored for my body. I felt like I was a small child wearing one of her father’s old t-shirts.

“You can yell at me later. It’s show time.” Without warning, he jumped from the rooftop, sailing effortlessly to the next one.

Not to be outdone, I ran after him, easily catching up to him as we proceeded to run side-by-side toward one of the most important fights of our lives.

“Are you ready, Paige?” Dr. Morton asked, touching her shoulder soothingly.

Chase squeezed her hand, searching her blank face for any clue that would reveal what was going on in her mind, as all emotion had fled from her expression ever since she heard the words, ‘there’s no hope’. Three words, harmless when standing by themselves, yet earthshattering when used together, had singlehandedly rendered her a blank slate. Too overcome with grief to cry, too devastated to scream, the substance of what she’d been told rested in her brain until it grew numb, leaving room for nothing but silence.

“Paige,” Chase spoke. She turned her head slowly to face him with empty eyes. “Paige, I’m sorry, but it’s time to say goodbye.”

She nodded, acknowledging his words, her gaze resting on her father’s lifeless form in the hospital bed. “Okay,” she said. “Send him home to take care of my mom.”

Dr. Morton nodded as she strode empathetically to the ventilator, switched it off, and then walked out of the room. In silence, Paige and Chase sat next to each other, watching Paul’s vital signs growing weaker and weaker until, three minutes later, he was gone. Somber, Paige stood up, tears pouring down her face as though she’d finally given them permission to fall.

“Paige,” Chase said, extending his arm to her.

She pushed him away, instead choosing to close the door to Paul’s room, purposely keeping her back to him. Her body shook and she broke down and emitted an ear-piercing wail, the likes of which Chase had never heard before. Devastated, Paige dropped to the floor. Chase rushed to her side and hugged her trembling body tightly against his own.

“He’s gone,” she cried, at last permitting herself to express her emotions. “He’s gone, Chase.”

“I know, I know,” he answered her, holding her tightly, a tear forming in his eye.

“He promised he’d never leave me, that he’d always be there for me.”

“And he will, just not in the way you thought he would be.”

“Will you promise me something, Chase?”

“Anything.”

“Promise me you will never leave me.”

I landed in an alleyway adjacent to where we’d last heard the gunshots moments earlier. A second later, Ian’s boots struck the asphalt behind me. Vigilant, we did our best to traverse the alley quietly to avoid drawing attention to ourselves as we made our way through the darkness toward the roadway. Once there, we scanned the street, looking for any signs of life or clues to the gunfight that had just taken place.

“It’s too quiet,” Ian said. “I don’t like quiet. When things are quiet, it means some serious shit is about to go down.”

“Clearly, it’s not going down here,” I said, my eyes struggling to find movement in the darkness. “Let’s move.”

We walked out into the street, eyeing each of the buildings and their hidden secrets suspiciously. The air smelled of gunpowder and a familiar metallic smell that my brain quickly identified as blood. Yes, it was blood, a smell I’d grown accustomed to after having spilled enough of my own. At that moment, I found myself thankful for the darkness concealing the gore that I was sure stained the street beneath our feet.

A scream pierced the night nearby, startling both of us. “It’s coming from the next block over,” I said, running in the direction of the cry for help. We rounded the corner that led to the next street. Ahead of us, we could make out several dark figures standing in the roadway. Though we knew they had to be Brooks’ soldiers, the darkness concealed their identities. Off to our left, surrounding a warehouse directly across the street from where the scream had originated, stood even more of them, just over a dozen in all.

“Tell me where he is or I’ll shoot the girl,” a monotonic, disembodied voice ordered through the darkness. As I drew nearer, I could make out a woman sitting on the sidewalk, her hands bound behind her back, a gun pointed at her head.

“Why don’t you just shoot me now and save your breath?” the woman bravely answered his challenge.

“In due time.” The soldier paused, giving the other rebels hiding out in the warehouse an opportunity to answer his question. “Well, since they refuse to answer,” he continued several seconds later, “I’ll ask you, then. In the name of our commander-in-chief, I am giving you and your ilk one more chance to answer my question or face the penalty of treason. Where is your leader Marshall Leitner?”

“Okay, let me answer you a different way,” the woman captive said. “Since you clearly misunderstood the intent of the silence your question received from me the first time you asked it, I’ll paraphrase. Go. To. Hell.”

As swiftly as she finished speaking, the butt of the soldier’s gun struck her jaw. A stomach-churning cracking sound preceded the woman slumping to the sidewalk, after which two other soldiers lifted her back up to her unsteady feet.

“The captive has been uncooperative and, along with others in her group, has committed acts of high treason against our president. Collectively, they are harboring a terrorist and have conspired to withhold information that is both vital to his capture and to the safety and security of our people. Therefore, by order of the president, I am obligated to carry out punishment as I see fit.”

The woman’s captor nodded at the soldiers positioned around the warehouse, who sprang into action, programmed to act as soon as their brains recognized the signal. A handful of soldiers guarded each exit of the warehouse, guns drawn, while the rest of them retrieved a small, round object from their utility belts. In unison, they each threw the spherical anomalies through the windows of the building. Moments later, the structure lit up from the inside out.

Fire.

The rounded objects must have been fire bombs. Fire bombs that were being used to burn down the warehouse with the rebels still inside.

“Stop!” the woman screamed in the soldier’s grasp, struggling to break free. “Let them out. Please, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

“Too late,” the lead soldier answered her. “You had your chance, now you must face your sentence. Don’t worry, you won’t outlive them by long.”

“I’ll find a way inside the warehouse, you free the girl,” Ian yelled.

“What? No. No way are you going in there. Ian, it’s suicide. Anyone who was in that warehouse at the time those bombs went off couldn’t still be alive.”

“It’s worth finding out for certain.” Ian sped up before I could protest, and I watched in horror as he surprised a soldier guarding the front door by snatching the helmet from the man’s head and knocking him to the ground before disappearing inside the warehouse.

The woman in the soldiers’ clutches looked up at me, fear overcoming her face. Luckily, her captors had failed to notice me until I was too close for them to take evasive action. Capitalizing on their surprise, I struck one of them in the chest with my boot, knocking him off balance.

“Duck,” I commanded the woman, who complied without question. When she was out of harm’s way, I locked my arm around the arm of the soldier holding her captive and twisted it, which made him loosen his grip on her. She collapsed to the ground, bewildered, while the soldier flailed his body erratically, attempting to break my hold as though an outside force was controlling him. With his arm still firmly in my grasp, I spun around and angled myself into a position that would enable me to throw him over my back. Perhaps sensing what I was about to do, he struggled to break free, but I had too much determination and an iron grip. I wrapped my free arm around his head, overpowered him, and threw him over my back, successfully loosening his helmet in the process. He landed on the pavement as the helmet fell from his head to the ground. It rolled on the pavement in front of him, making a half circle before coming to rest.

“Look out!” the woman yelled.

Two arms gripped me around the waist from behind, strong and unyielding. I elbowed my attacker, striking him in the neck. He coughed and gagged, his grip on me faltering enough to allow me to turn my body around and force the helmet from his head. His eyes, blank and lifeless at first, quickly reanimated as though his soul had returned to its shell.