Redemption (Enigma Black Trilogy Book #3) (7 page)

“What have you done?” I blurted out, my mouth in a sneer. “Really, how are you able to look yourself in the mirror every morning?” He looked away, unable to look me in the eye or counter with any response in his defense. Very unlike him. “Answer me,” I pressed on. “How are you able to do nothing but lie for a living, knowing full well that your lies cause the deaths of countless innocent people?”

“Come on,” Ian said, pulling me along.

I glared at Cameron for as long as he stayed in my line of sight. Victor must have warned him to keep his mouth shut, for I’ve never seen him so quiet before. His demeanor almost made him appear truly ashamed of what he had done, but if that was the case, why did he do it? Why does Victor have such a hold over him, or anyone else, for that matter?

“Remind me never to piss you off,” Ian said when we were further down the hall.

“I really wish you hadn’t held me back. All I wanted was one shot, just one shot at that smug little face.”

“You know this isn’t about Cameron, right? He was just carrying out the orders he was given. In a sense, he’s a victim, too.”

“A victim? I’m not sure I would go that far.”

“Just because a person doesn’t cry out in pain doesn’t mean they aren’t dying on the inside.”

We stopped in front of Ian’s door, growing silent, an awkwardness present that hadn’t been there before. “What happens now?” Ian finally asked.

“With what?” A knot steadily formed in my stomach with the thought of the ‘what’ being the status of our relationship. That was a question I wasn’t prepared to answer, but I knew I could only dance around it so many times before the rug was pulled out from under me entirely.

“Here. Surely, with tensions being so high between you and Victor, our utter lack of focus on The Man in Black, and our orders to stop a rebellion whose ideals we both agree with, something has got to give eventually.”

“It already has,” I agreed. “What that means for us, I don’t know, though. It’s something we’ll have to figure out.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “we’ll figure it out.”

When I turned to go back to my room, I felt horrible for having lied to Ian. In reality, I had already figured out what I was going to do. I’d made a choice; one that would have dire consequences for me, and one that I couldn’t allow Ian to be a part of. No one else would suffer because of the decisions I made.

Tonight I would leave The Epicenter and join the rebellion.

Jeremiah Delaney awoke to the screech of the steel door of his cell scraping against the concrete floor. Instinctively, he shielded his eyes—as much as the shackles around his wrists would allow—from the invading light, a sight his eyes had not seen in several days. His stomach growled from hunger, his mouth painfully parched as though he’d been chewing on sandpaper.

“What is it, Carver?” he called out, his voice ragged. He’d correctly acknowledged his visitor’s presence without having looked at him. “Have you regained a sense of humanity and finally come to put me out of my misery?”

“In due time, my friend,” President Carver Brooks said with a laugh. “Actually, I’ve come to see whether you’ve come to your senses about Marshall Leitner.” Brooks leaned against the doorframe of the cell, flanked on both sides by an armed guard. “He’s a very dangerous man, Jeremiah, and I would really appreciate you telling me where I can find him.”

“The only person he’s a danger to is you, Carver.” A dry cough escaped from his lips, sending pain shooting through his body, over skin that was losing its elasticity, bruises that weren’t permitted to heal, and open wounds from the whip that had been used to strike him into submission. “What makes you think I know where he is, or better yet, what makes you think I would tell you if I did know?”

“You try my patience, Jeremiah. After all I’ve done for you, and you turn on me at the drop of a hat. And for what? Power? Some self-righteous design to make the world a better place?”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Carver, because you turned on yourself. Somewhere along the line, you allowed the power to get to you, so much so that you became intoxicated by it. It’s like a drug that you refuse to get out of your system, no matter who or what you take down in the process.” As he lifted his arm, Jeremiah’s eyes adjusted to the light enough to allow him to look in the direction of the doorway. “Look at you,” he said, his voice shaking. “Look at the evil you’ve become. The lives you’ve destroyed; the murders you’ve taken part in. It will all catch up to you eventually. Whether it happens weeks, months, or years from now, it will all catch up to you.”

“Thank you for those riveting words of wisdom, but I suppose all they mean is that you still are not willing to cooperate with me and make your death a little more dignified.”

Jeremiah released another cough from the core of his throat, further intensifying the dryness, like a breeze blowing across a desert. “Screw,” he said, coughing once more, “you.”

“Very well. You’ve made your choice, and come execution day you can rest assured that your convictions carried you far in life, as you die next to and forever become associated with the face of terrorism in this country. I will find Mr. Leitner without your help, and you will die together as the faces of the rebellion.”

“At least I still have convictions. I’d rather die fighting for a cause I believe in than serving a lie.”

“If you say so,” Carver Brooks replied with a sneer. “Have it your way then,
brother
.” He turned to back up and leave the room, when a thought occurred to him and he paused in his tracks. Brooks reached into his coat pocket, where he took out a bottle of water and left it by the doorway, just out of reach of the maximum slack allotted by the shackles. “Here you go. If you can reach it with those bonds locked tightly around your body, then it’s all yours,” he said, a laugh escaping from within. The door shut behind him, leaving Jeremiah alone in the dark.

“Where are we on finding Marshall Leitner?” he asked the younger guardsman.

“Our sources have located a couple of potential hideouts within downtown Washington, D.C. It’s believed he is in one of them with another group of rebels and former soldiers, sir,” the guardsman answered.

“Good. Dispatch soldiers to both locations. I want him found and captured as soon as possible. We have our first televised execution to plan in which both he and Delaney are going to be the stars. If that doesn’t help deter the rest of the rebels, I don’t know what will.”

“Yes, sir. I will dispatch men to both locations immediately and make sure you have a status update within the hour.”

I dug the backpack I brought with me when I came to The Epicenter out of my dresser drawer. In it, I would again pack only the essentials and those items I refused to leave behind: my photographs, Chase’s necklace, a change of clothing, toiletries, and whatever food and water I could sneak out of the kitchen undetected.

At this point, most people would have formed a clear plan, meticulously pouring over every last finite detail of it before daring to embark on what I readied myself to do in the next couple of hours, but I wasn’t most people. And there simply wasn’t enough time for such careful preparation. All I knew for sure was that I was leaving alone, and as soon as word of my defection got to Brooks, I would be wanted. Hunted down like an animal. I wouldn’t subject Ian to that kind of life or the danger my decision would put us in.

After packing everything I needed from my room in my bag, I put a windbreaker on over my suit. I’d leave wearing the suit, with my helmet on, and with my gun in the holster on my belt. Despite my disdain for Victor and everything The Epicenter stood for anymore, the suit would come in handy, especially in battle, and I figured it was the least I was owed for the price I’d paid to come here.

When the door to my room slid open, I peeked out into the hallway, looking for any signs of life. It was late, too late for any of the normal Epicenter staff to be lurking around the building, too late even for most of the stragglers and inhabitants of this place to be working still or up roaming the halls. In other words, it was now or never. Quietly, I walked out into the hallway, making my way to the kitchen to grab whatever food I could find. Just as I suspected, there wasn’t a soul in sight in the hallways, though the television and lights were still on in the sitting room. Strange, but not overly so considering the weird hours we kept here.

Moments later, I found myself alone outside the dark kitchen. Satisfied that no one would be coming any time soon, I made my way inside, careful not to disturb the pots and pans that hung above the counter. A rather wide, stainless steel refrigeration unit stood toward the back of the room, near the food preparation counter. Inching my way across the room, I used the wall and what little light that came into the room from the hallway to guide me to the refrigeration unit without incident. After what seemed like hours, I finally felt its doors in my hand.

Light shone into the room when I opened the door to look inside. Right away, I spotted bottles of water on the bottom shelf of the unit, of which I grabbed roughly a half dozen. After I packed the bottles away in my backpack, I scanned the rest of the unit for food that would keep outside of a refrigerator for a small length of time. Not finding any such items, I quietly closed the door and found myself once again bathed in darkness. Near the refrigerator, I noticed a bulky cabinet-like structure that resembled a pantry.

I guided myself back along the perimeter of the kitchen toward the pantry, opening its doors when I felt the handles in my hands. Inside, a host of canned items and other nonperishable goods stood on a multitude of shelves inside the cabinet, all meticulously labeled and ready for consumption. Greedily, I snatched up everything and anything I could fit in the limited space available in my backpack, until it was stuffed full and became quite heavy.

When I was satisfied that I had taken enough food to get me started on my journey, I peeked out of the kitchen doorway to look into the hallway, and after seeing no one walking down the hall, I was about to step outside when I heard voices around the corner. With no time to run, even with my enhanced speed, I scoured the kitchen for a place to hide. A steel cabinet under the food preparation counter caught my eye. With any luck, there would enough space free for me to squeeze myself into it. Hurriedly, I ran over to the door and slid it open just as the voices drew closer. Pots and pans lay stacked neatly inside. With my arm, I slid a stack of them over, giving myself enough room to squeeze into the shelf. There was just enough space for me to squeeze in with the upper half of my body lying flat against the shelf and the bottom half bent upward. The backpack rested uncomfortably on my abdomen, its weight making it difficult for me to draw breath into my body.

With my free hand, I felt around the door for the handle and slid it over until I had closed it as far as I could get it, just as the light to the kitchen came on.

“Let’s just hurry up and get this stuff put away so I can at least get some sleep before we have to get up at the butt crack of dawn for breakfast service,” Becca’s voice said. I heard the sound of paper bags rustling and then a loud thump right above my head as they were set on the counter. “Man, my feet are killing me already. I can only imagine what it’s going to be like when I’m further along.”

“Why we can’t just find a food service place to deliver half this stuff, I’ll never know,” Colby moaned.

“Victor has been making a lot of cuts lately. It’s kind of scary because it’s almost as though he doesn’t expect this place to be around much longer.”

“It doesn’t help matters when he has his own people turning on him,” Colby said.

“You’re telling me. I was there when Celaine blew up on him,” Becca acknowledged, opening the refrigerator. I heard the rustling sound of an egg carton. “I almost wish Ian hadn’t stopped her from hitting him. That would have made for an interesting fight.”

“Oh, come on,” Colby said, laughing. “Who are you kidding? You just wanted to see Celaine get her ass handed to her.”

“Am I that transparent?” Becca said, laughing. The bags above my head rustled as she dug through them. “Seriously, though, I just don’t get what Ian sees in her. She’s just so, so—”

“Hot in a crazy kind of way?”

“Not what I was going for, Colby.”

“Don’t worry. If she ticks off Victor anymore, I’m sure she’ll end up dead like the rest of them. Then Ian will be all yours.”

“That ship has sailed, I’m afraid,” Becca responded. A loud slap resounded next to my ear, startling me. Turning my head, I peered through the slit of an opening that remained in the door and noticed that a package of bacon had fallen to the floor. Seconds later, Becca came into view when she bent down to pick it up. Cautiously, I held my breath, trying not to make a sound. As Becca retrieved the bacon from the floor, she looked up, practically making eye contact with me through the opening in the door. Sure she had seen me, I began to concoct a story in my head to explain why I was hiding in the shelving unit when her hand reached over and slid the door shut all the way, blinding me in darkness.

“I swear,” she said, “is it so hard to shut a door around here?”

I breathed a sigh of relief. So far, so good.

“Anyway,” she began again, “it’s not as though I want to see anything happen to Celaine. After all, as a woman, I should be rooting for her to succeed and all, but she obviously doesn’t know what she wants, and Ian deserves more than that.”

“So, you’re saying he totally deserves you.”

“Exactly. Though I’m afraid it doesn’t matter what I think. Even when I was practically throwing myself at him before I found out I was knocked up, all he talked about was her. Oh well, there’s no accounting for taste, I suppose.”

Classy, Becca. Real classy.
A feeling hit my stomach, a strange combination of nausea and the sensation of butterflies, like you get when meeting the one you were meant to be with for the first time. Maybe it was all due to the backpack violently pressing against my innards, or maybe it had something to do with the deep-seated feelings I’d been keeping bottled up inside, too afraid to unleash for fear of what they may do to me.