***
“You hear about that plant last night?” Little asked as he played around with his fingernails.
“How could I not hear about it?” Sullivan replied, not in the mood for stupid questions.
The sun was already set and all that remained was a black sky. Nothing was going on inside the warehouse, which was not a good thing for Sullivan. He had convinced Fitzpatrick to hold off the dogs while he and Little completed their investigation. Somehow he reasoned with his superior that they could catch the factory workers off guard if they didn’t feel the heat coming. However, Sullivan knew that this would not last forever, maybe not even past this week. He needed to come to Fitzpatrick with something, anything, to keep the USR Agents off their backs so he could get some answers. He knew what would happen if the dogs were sent in there…they all would die and that would leave Sullivan with nothing.
“Just trying to make conversation, boss. This stakeout shit’s for the birds, ya know?”
“I agree,” Sullivan replied. “But, we gotta do what needs done.”
“When are we going to put an end to them…the resistance I mean.”
“Once we compile enough evidence to find where their leaders are hiding, how else do you think?”
“I say, once we find them, we bomb the shit out of them. No need to put our brave men at risk.”
“Well, that’s an excellent strategy, Kevin. Remind me to give you a call if I ever make it in the military.”
That comment got the brat he sat in the car with to shut up for a moment. Those comments from his partner did engage his mind with thoughts regarding the resistance, however. The more and more he thought about it, the more he thought that, for whatever reason, the USR didn’t want to totally destroy the resistance. He remembered back when he gave a damn about his job. Whenever he really felt like he had something, the powers that be would call him back, then threaten his family should he try anything on his own. It was only after he was on suspension, when he took the law in his own hands, that he came face to face with one of their top weapons dealers. And, it only took him a few hours.
It made sense why the USR would let the resistance run loose. It could justify them all sorts of tactics to bring them down, but to actually not bring them down, but create a nation full of fear, to keep their citizens in check. A few months ago, he wouldn’t have believed it. He was so far up the USR’s ass that his line of thinking was different. Maybe he was wrong now, too, but that was how he felt.
The chatter on the inside grew louder. Someone accused another card player of cheating. Both Agents leaned forward with great interest. Finally, something was happening. The bickering went on and on until they all decided to leave the game for the night and sleep on it. Sullivan knew that they were using some form of coded messages on the inside most likely to do with the playing cards. The fact that they were starting to get angry with each other told him that they were about to do something. What that something could be was lost on him. They were doing a damn good job of hiding their code. In his previous professional life, he would have immediately ordered one of them captured so they could torture the poor son of a bitch and break the code. Now, he had to be more rational.
“Let’s go get ‘em.” Little said as he grabbed his pistol and cocked the chamber back.
“Put that gun away, Agent.” Sullivan ordered.
“Come on, what are you thinking, let’s take them. You know something just went down in there.”
“Take them on what, cheating at cards?”
“Please, boss. You think they are really playing cards in there? Something’s about to go down, I know it.”
Sullivan breathed in and fought back his anger. “What is taking them in going to do? We’re outnumbered and, if they are resistance, then they will gun us down. Chill the hell out.”
“Let’s call for backup, then.”
“They won’t get here in time. Just shut the hell up and calm down.” Sullivan ordered.
Little pointed at Sullivan with his index finger, “The Captain will hear about this.”
“The Captain isn’t going to hear shit.” Sullivan shot back.
“You wanna…”
Sullivan pulled out his Glock 17 and aimed it at the now scared face of his partner. It was time to show this brat that he meant business. He was so close to finding some kind of answers and he wasn’t going to let anyone, let alone some punk kid straight out of the Academy, screw this up.
“Now, you aren’t going to say anything, are you?” Sullivan demanded.
“You wouldn’t dare shoot an Agent.” Little replied.
“What do you mean, kid? I’ve got so much seniority over you that I could blow your head off right now and claim you were sending in a coded message to them. Now, put your gun away, we are leaving.”
“Yes…sir.” Little replied.
“And, keep your damn trap shut.”
The two Agents put away their guns, Sullivan after he made sure that Little had his fully strapped in to his belt holster. After that, Sullivan breathed in deep and calmed his nerves. Half of what he just told the kid was bullshit, but the kid would have no way of knowing. The trust factor with the senior detective within the department had gone down over the past few months. If he did shoot the kid, unlike back then, there would be a thorough investigation upon which they may or may not find him guilty. He wasn’t going to shoot the kid, anyway. But, Little didn’t know Sullivan well enough to know that.
The only thing that mattered now, though, was that he was still without answers.
.15
The cool night air crept its way into the medium size tent. Harvey sat on a folding chair at one end, his shaken son sat at the far end. Once the team escaped the compound they set up camp about one hundred fifty miles to the west. While they set up the camp, everyone was quiet. There was no conversation at all. Harvey felt that it wouldn’t be the appropriate time to go over what happened on the battlefield, they could do that later. Steinner was a well-respected and well-liked member of the unit. Buck, he stayed the quietest during the set up time. All that could be heard from him were the occasional sniffles as he fought back tears.
Harvey knew that feeling all too well. During his time in the Marine Corps he lost a countless number of men that he respected and liked. Some died that he didn’t really care for, but everyone who fought with him and under him were his brothers. Buck didn’t even look up from his seated position. His head was straight down at the grass.
“Son,” Harvey began, “I know how you must feel.”
“Do you?” Buck demanded.
“Don’t you forget that I’m a soldier, always have been, always will be. Death is a part of war and something that never gets easier.”
“Yeah, well, it was my fault, okay? You don’t have to lecture me on that.”
“I didn’t come here to lecture you. I didn’t come here to tell you it wasn’t your fault, either. Those are your battles and yours alone.”
“So, I just deal with it, that’s it?” Buck demanded.
Harvey began to feel a bit guilty for not being able to console Buck. It wasn’t in his nature to do so. The battlefield had hardened him to the point that he lost almost all emotional connections to the world. He still loved his son, loved him with all his heart, but he didn’t know how to be a father.
What he really wanted to do was pull his son close and convince him that it wasn’t his fault, but the way he was trained and the way he lived his life didn’t make that come naturally. He picked up his folding chair and moved in closer. Buck’s head moved up slightly before going back to the ground. Harvey reached over and started to rub at his son’s back.
“Listen to me,” Harvey said. “Steinner, he was a good soldier, no doubt about that. We will all miss him. But, this isn’t the first time we’ve had someone die on us.”
“It’s my fault, though. All the others, they died, and it wasn’t anyon
e’s fault.” Buck replied.
“You can’t go around blaming yourself, though. You guys got ambushed. You had to worry about those Agents pouring into the room so no wonder it took you longer to…”
“It wasn’t that I was slow,” Buck interrupted.
“What exactly happened in there?”
“We heard the Agents moving around so we hid behind those black boxes. My heart was beating so fast and my breathing was fast, too. I thought I was going to pass out. Dexter kept squeezing my arm, trying to get me calmed down, you know?”
“And?”
“And, well, they heard me breathing. So they moved over and that’s about all I remember until the others showed up. The guns started going off and I tried to get that bomb put together in time. I’m sorry, father.”
Buck started to cry again. Harvey pulled his son close to him and let him cry. He moved his fingers around his short, black hair and tried to think of the right words to say. While he thought about that, he grew angry that he had been lied to by Dexter. Dexter’s story was completely different. Perhaps he was trying to save the kid from a tongue lashing, but that was unacceptable. He would make sure to have a good, long talk with him later. Right now, he had to focus on his boy.
“Did I ever tell you about Scott?” Harvey asked.
“No…” Buck replied.
Harvey almost couldn’t believe that he had never told his son this story. It was probably the most vivid memory in his mind, something that he could never forget, yet had never told Buck about it. This caused him to question his fathering skills even further. How could he have not told this story?
“Well, Scott was my best friend. We served together for several years. We got into a fight in Korea and, after I messed up when we were scouting the area, he was ripped to shreds. He was still alive when the battle was over. He kept calling for his mother.” Harvey had to pause for a moment before he continued. “I will never forget the look on his face. His eyes were full of disbelief that his life was about to end. I don’t think he even talked to me at all, during those final moments, and I was his best friend. He just kept calling and calling…”
Harvey had to stop. He rubbed at his son’s head. The assumption in his own mind was that Buck would understand the moral of the story. During this, Harvey’s darkest hour, he blamed himself and still blamed himself to this day. However, he kept fighting because he knew what was worth fighting for. He knew that he was on the right side.
“I guess…”Harvey continued. “What I’m trying to say is, you can’t let one mistake ruin you.”
“I don’t think it’s this mistake that’ll ruin me. I’m not like you. I’m not a soldier.”
“Buck, don’t give up on yourself.”
“What do you think I should do, then?”
“Keep fighting,” Harvey replied. “If you ever have a family in the future, and you witness them living in tyranny, you will regret not fighting for them. I have no illusions. We are not fighting in a war that we can realistically win. But, you still have to fight.”
Buck thought about what he had just been told. As he did, his father looked over him and remained silent. He wanted his son to think long and hard about what he had said. Deep down, Harvey knew that he didn’t want to fight. It would just be a shame if he quit over the loss of a friend. The reason why Steinner died might not ever be known. Harvey wasn’t there to witness it and was being fed two stories: one from a hardened rebel and the other from a boy who was scared of the fight and took on too much of the blame.
The father and son’s quiet moment was interrupted by Dexter popping his head in the tent. The two looked up and Harvey could feel the anxiety in Dexter from his facial expressions. The rebel leader put on a slight grin and moved his right hand forward, letting his solider know that it was okay to move in.
“Clarke wants to see you, boss.” Dexter said.
“Is it urgent?” Harvey replied.
“He seems to think so.”
“I’ll be there in a minute.”
.16
Kaspar began to circle around Clarke’s desk as the computer nerd worked on gathering the Intel from the flash drive. Clarke adjusted his glasses then told the man behind him to stop. He almost felt like he was talking to his old friend, Paxton, when he told Kaspar to calm down and let him work. It was hard enough to concentrate on gathering all the information from the drive without someone in the room making him nervous.
Of course, Kaspar couldn’t help it. He was worried about Krys who seemed to be getting worse and worse every day. She was asleep in their tent, too exhausted from the physical and mental stress of the last mission. Not to mention the loss of another friend, something that she said was getting more and more of an ugly habit of theirs. She just wanted the resistance to make enough progress to where she could just rest. They both knew, however, that there was a lot of work to be done.
“Anything, yet?” Kaspar demanded. He walked up behind Clarke and looked over his shoulder.
“No, now stop looking over my shoulder.” Clarke replied. “Just…try to relax or something.”
“You know that’s impossible for me, right now.”
“Well, you circling around me and looking over my shoulder is only going to annoy me and make the wait longer.”
“Okay, just try to hurry up.”
Kaspar patted the old hacker on the back then found Clarke’s cot in the corner. He laid his back on it then rested his hand on his forehead. The wait was excruciating. Most likely there would be nothing to find, but there was still hope. Krys needed advanced medical attention at this point. Those adrenaline shots and whatever else they were pumping into her system were losing their affects. She looked horrible after the mission, barely able to hold her head up or keep her eyes open. Kaspar knew that if nothing was found now that the love of his life would be doomed to an early death.
Clarke continued to pound away at the keys. With the tent now a dead silence, the constant clicking of the keyboard started to crawl under Kaspar’s skin. Kaspar tried to get his mind off of it, but there was little else to occupy it with. Other than Steinner’s death, Krys’s trip to that same destination, and fighting against the USR, there was nothing more to his life. He started to think about Mother for a moment when Clarke rose up from his chair. Kaspar began to stand up when Clarke suddenly ran out of the tent.
“Get Sam, now!” Clarke’s voice was heard saying.
Kaspar walked up to the screen and glued his eyes to it. A lot of what was on there was gibberish, technical mumbo jumbo that probably only Clarke could decipher. Clarke ran back into the tent and, without saying anything to Kaspar, sat back down and started to click away at the screen. The fact that he had someone over his shoulder the entire time didn’t seem to faze him any longer. There was something of great interest on there and that could only mean one thing.
Could it be?