The Alliance (20 page)

 

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins
Publishers

....................................

Chapter
53

We are crossing the year mark of the new America and there are now close to one hundred children waiting to enter this world. I hope their generation does a better job of cleaning up this mess than we have.

—­The journal of Isaac Ryland

Holding the black suit jacket was getting annoying, but Andrew didn't want to stop to put it in the luggage he dragged behind him. He debated tying it around his waist but even that small gesture would require a pause in their steps.

“I need more water,” Agent Quillian said.

“We need to ration it now,” Zack said.

“This is the mountains, not a desert,” Agent Quillian said. “There are freshwater streams everywhere.”

“And I don't want to stop to look for one until we have to,” Andrew said.

He kept his eyes glued on the gravel road; the tire tracks from their SUV were visible. They had to stop eventually and then the group would find their car.

“I warned you guys about the mountain ­people,” Agent Quillian said. “But you thought I was bluffing and I'm the one being punished? Untie my hands, where am I going to run anyway?”

“We moved them to your front,” Carter said. “That's good enough.”

“Excuse me for not saying thank you,” Agent Quillian said. “I'd rather not die of starvation before the mountain ­people get me if that's all right. I look forward to living long enough to prove you fools wrong.”

Andrew gazed ahead and the tire tracks still continued.

“We've been walking for hours,” Agent Quillian said. “We're closer to sunup than sundown. We need to stop for the night.”

“Relax, Agent,” Andrew said. “If you keep talking you'll only exhaust yourself more.”

The corner of Zack's mouth rose into a half smile.

“Maybe we should rest,” Zack said. “I need to take my medication anyway.”

The tall blond man went to a rock on the side of the road and took a seat. Andrew and Carter stood their suitcases up next to him. Carter went to his bag to pull out Zack's medication and Andrew went to the middle of the road and put his hands on his knees trying to stretch out the pain in his back.

“I would kill for a pair of tennis shoes,” Carter said.

Andrew turned around to see Carter pulling off his sock; a large blister had formed and opened on his big toe.

“That is nasty,” Agent Quillian said.

“Your feet aren't hurting?” Carter asked.

“Not like that,” he said. “I'm used to wearing the required RAG uniform though. These are broken in.” He pointed to his own footwear.

“How far do you think we've walked?” Andrew asked Zack.

“On average, one mile every twenty minutes. Three miles an hour,” Zack said. He looked at his phone. “Approximately twenty-­five miles, give or take.”

“This is the worst idea ever,” Agent Quillian said. “You know that SUV can go about ninety miles an hour?”

“The road is too rocky,” Andrew said. “They would crash if they went that fast. My guess is they're not going more than thirty.”

“Plus the tire tracks are deep,” Carter said. “So that means the car is going slow. I would even guess twenty.”

“Great,” Agent Quillian said. “We're only forty five hours behind them, approximately.”

The plan had been to walk until they could hitch a ride, but not a single other car had appeared on the road. Andrew knew the agent was right. The car was as good as lost.

“We were about two hundred miles away from crossing the region,” Andrew said. “If we make it that far our phones will work again. We can call for help.”

“Seven days of this?” Agent Quillian asked.

Carter let out a wince as he poked his blister. Andrew was about to yell at him when a group of rocks slipped down the mountain about twenty feet in front of them. The whole group froze. They hadn't seen any movement all day. Andrew's first instinct was mountain ­people, but then he told himself it was probably an animal. There was a cliff, about forty feet up, and it was sloped. Andrew knew he could scale it.

“Hello?” Agent Quillian called. “Mountain men?”

“Shhh,” Zack said.

The agent stood up. He shouted toward the cliff.

“I am Recovery of Abducted Girls agent Trent Quillian, of the South Area. My badge number is one four one five six five three. These men are traitors and are holding me hostage.”

“Shut up,” Andrew said.

Carter had already stood up and was trying to cover Agent Quillian's mouth. The agent elbowed Carter in the gut and ran out toward the middle of the road. Andrew went after him.

“There will be a huge reward for my life and bringing these traitors to justice,” Agent Quillian said.

Andrew grabbed the agent and tackled him to the ground. Andrew covered his mouth but the agent bit down hard on Andrew's fingers. He groaned in pain and pulled his hand away instinctively.

“Oh, thank you,” the agent said.

He forced himself up to his feet and was staring at the ledge.

“Thank you,” the agent said again.

Andrew looked up and saw five men standing on the cliff. All of them had rifles pointed down at the group. There was no way for Andrew's team to get the upper hand. Andrew looked to Zack and Carter; both men came to the same realization and raised their arms in the air. They backed up toward Andrew.

This wasn't the first time Andrew had been at the mercy of a group of renegades. He thought back to his time in the militia. Mia had rescued him then, but now there was no way she could know his location. He spent so much of the day worrying about her safety that his own had never crossed his mind.

The men on the ledge were speaking to each other, but not loud enough for Andrew to hear. He decided to use this chance to reach for his weapon. He was lying on the ground and some of the strangers' sight lines were blocked by the ­people standing.

“He's moving,” one yelled.

“Fire,” said another.

There was a whisk through the air and Andrew felt a piercing pain in his arm. He moved his head to the side and saw a small dart sticking out of his arm. Then he heard two bodies drop. Agent Quillian's fell last, and his eyes were filled with confusion. Andrew smiled at that fact before everything went black.

 

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins
Publishers

....................................

Chapter
54

­People are starting to want to return to familiar ways, including using a monetary system. The grand commander has tasked me with creating our new bills and giving them worth. I am thankful he has put this trust in me and hope not to let him down.

—­The journal of Isaac Ryland

The former RAG agent stayed close to Grant as he marched him through his mansion.

“There will be time for a full tour later,” Grant said. “I find your background quite impressive. Eight years in ser­vice and three under your belt as a RAG agent. I must ask one last, personal, question though.”

Grant neared the rear of his home. He stopped before one of the doors that led to the rear grounds.

“Have you ever taken a man's life?” Grant asked.

“Several,” Agent Hansen replied.

Grant spun around and saw a small smile on Hansen's face. This man was a fine replacement.

“Then I would like to show you to your new home,” Grant said. “It is occupied at the moment and I would like a demonstration of your expertise in removing the tenant.”

Hansen reached for his firearm.

“I think an element of surprise is more in order,” Grant said. “I trust you will know when the time is right.”

After Grant opened the door he felt the sun beating down on him. Grant decided that once this was over with he'd change back into shorts. The summer season was ending but it wasn't over yet. Agent Hansen did not say a word as they made their way toward Rex's home.

“I am a fair employer,” Grant said. “I require no uniform. You can dress yourself as you see fit.”

They reached the spare house on the property and Grant did not knock before entering. He expected to see Rex seated in the main area. It should have been a living room, but outside of the two couches and coffee table it looked more like a tactical center. Agent Hansen seemed alarmed at the silence and started to unholster his weapon again. Grant raised his hand, signaling the agent to keep it down.

“Rex?” Grant called.

There was no answer.

“If nobody is home we'll have to wait for his return,” Grant said. “Funny he did not mention leaving the house today.”

Grant made his way to the table. He started to bend down to go through the stack of paperwork Rex had left out, but his concentration was broken.

“Sir, get down,” Agent Hansen said.

The sound of a bullet whizzing by gave Grant more motivation than the agent's words. Grant dropped to the floor behind the couch, certain the bullet had come from the other direction.

“Agent Hansen, are you alive?” Grant asked.

“Yes, sir,” the agent said. “The shot came from the kitchen. About twenty feet behind you. I can't get a good look without exposing my location.”

“So you were home, Rex?” Grant asked.

Grant stayed on the floor and went through his pockets. He had a small pistol on him and was grateful for the firearm.

“If I am going to die I am taking you with me,” Rex said.

“Tell me,” Grant said. “What did they do to make you betray me?”

Two shots were fired from the kitchen. Grant heard them hit the couch. The bullets or the gun wasn't high-­enough grade to shoot through the stuffing and wood. He wasn't firing rapidly enough for it to be a high-­powered weapon either. Grant assumed that whatever gun Rex had, it was capable of nine or twelve shots. Three had been fired already. Grant's weapon only had six. Grant turned himself around and fired over the couch three times, not trying to hit Rex, only aiming to elicit more of a response. Agent Hansen fired too and Rex returned with three more shots.

That meant Rex had between three and six bullets left, and that did not account for an extra clip.

“How did you know?” Rex asked.

“Your phone,” Grant said. “One of the nice officers from the militia called and told me of your bravery in rescuing the girl and her friends. That roused my suspicions at first. Then your delay in returning, your lack of information, and the random power outage in my security system.”

Agent Hansen fired another bullet and Rex returned the shot.

“I answered your question,” Grant said. “Answer mine. I deserve that much.”

“
They
didn't do anything,” Rex said. “You did with your arrogance.”

“This whole thing is because I punched you in the gut?” Grant asked.

“You still can't see the bigger picture,” Rex said. “Your mission became too personal, your vision cloudy. You are no longer an effective leader.”

“So you replace me with someone who drives a nobler cause?” Grant asked.

Grant fired two more shots. Agent Hansen fired another and Rex returned with three shots. Grant didn't know about Agent Hansen, but Grant was down to his last bullet and Rex likely had two left. Agent Hansen pulled the trigger again and Rex returned fire.

“We are down to our last shots,” Grant said. “Agent Hansen, please go outside.”

“Sir, I still have five more rounds,” Agent Hansen said.

“I appreciate your diligence,” Grant said. “But this is best handled between myself and my former confidant.”

There was no sound of footsteps.

“Rex, you let him leave. If you fire on him I will rush over to you and blow this last bullet straight through your skull.”

Rex did not respond.

“Besides,” Grant said, “there is no honor in killing a retreating soldier, and I know how you value that sort of thing now.”

“Agreed,” Rex said.

“Hansen, leave,” Grant said. “In the event this man walks out of this house alive I order you to let him go. He can take whatever he wants with him. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Agent Hansen said.

Grant's ears rung from the sound of the bullets, but not intensely enough for him to miss hearing the sound of footsteps as the young agent walked out of the house.

“How do you want this to end?” Rex asked. “I'm a much better shot than you.”

“First, I want to know what your plan was,” Grant said. “If I'm about to die I have that right. I'm giving you free rein to leave if you're the victor here.”

Rex was silent.

“I know Amelia and her men came in with the prime minister of France,” Grant said. “That woman and the rest of her party perished in a fire. Amelia is inside this country, on the run. I know they're coming here for Roderick too.”

“No,” Rex said. “Saving him is not part of the plan.”

This was news to Grant. Amelia and her motives had changed. She was leaving those who'd helped her to burn and not bothering to rescue others who had given her aid. She was turning quite ruthless in her pursuits.

“Then tell me the plan,” Grant said as he reached behind his head and pulled one of the cushions off the couch.

“She is in the country,” Rex said. “It was my job to come back here and find the file you kept on her. The next step is to blow up the capitol building, retreat, and broadcast to the rest of the world who she is and who you are.”

A smile spread across Grant's face. Even if the Mission were destroyed the room housing the master Registry and ser­vice records would remain intact. Mia's group of rebels was filled with idiots.

“I am not stupid,” Grant said. “If that was your strategy it would have been too risky bringing her inside America's borders.”

Rex let out a sigh. Grant wanted to keep him talking; that way he could be sure Rex wasn't trying to move closer to him.

“The broadcast will happen from inside the borders,” Rex said.

“Interesting,” Grant said. “And who knows how to take over our airwaves?”

“Outside computer hackers,” Rex said.

“Should I have Rod killed then?” Grant asked.

He rolled up his pant leg and removed the dagger he had attached to his calf. He looked at the handle and saw the poison through the small window. It was Grant's newest invention and he knew it worked.

“They aren't coming for him,” Rex said. “I didn't even know he was here until you introduced us.”

The initial night of Rex's return he had not appeared surprised to make Rod's acquaintance, and Grant did warn Carter against sharing his knowledge. That was a possibility. Even if Rex was lying, Grant did not think he would get any more information from the man.

“How should we do this?” Grant asked.

Grant heard the sound of Rex's footsteps as he ran toward the couch. Grant dropped his gun and repositioned himself on his back. He saw Rex tower over the back of the couch and threw the couch cushion in the air. Rex fired his bullet and the cotton exploded. Before Rex could rethink his attack, Grant lifted the knife upward. Rex brought his arm forward to block the weapon and the dagger went straight into his forearm.

Rex went to pull out the knife, but it had worked. Grant could tell as the confusion set in on the man's face. Rex dropped to his knees on the opposite side of the couch and Grant stood up. He brushed the cotton off of his clothes and picked up his small gun before walking to Rex.

The large man was lying on his back. The sight of the stab wound was inflamed and foam was starting to come out of the corners of Rex's mouth.

“I made this while you were gone,” Grant said. “If I hold a small button down, the knife injects deadly poison, causing almost-­immediate paralysis. Your nervous system is shutting down. I hear it's painful.”

Grant gave Rex's gun a kick away from the man before bending down and wiping the loose cotton off of his face.

“If I leave you like this, with your stature it will take you about six hours to die. Your internal organs are starting to turn to mush as we speak.”

Rex's eyes were starting to water. Grant had never thought he'd see this man so vulnerable.

“Lucky for you I still feel I owe you something for all your years of servitude,” Grant said.

He pushed this tip of his gun in between Rex's eyes.

“And by the way,” Grant said, “I am a much better shot.”

Grant smiled before he pulled the trigger.

“Ugh,” Grant said.

He stood back up and dropped the gun. Agent Hansen came rushing back inside. He stopped in his tracks once he saw Grant.

“I don't know what I was thinking,” Grant said. “I should have stood much farther away.”

Grant tried to brush off some of Rex's brain matter and skull fragments from his shirt.

“I wanted to change clothes, but I didn't want to have to burn this shirt.”

Agent Hansen did not speak. Grant clapped his hands together.

“Welcome to your new home,” Grant said. “Please take some time to get acquainted. I will send someone to collect the body and clean this mess up. We have some work tonight, so you might want to take inventory of what's upstairs in case you want anything. I can send someone to get your things later.”

Grant nodded and Agent Hansen did the same, but his lips were still parted. Grant didn't know if it was in awe or shock.

“Please excuse me,” Grant said. “I am much in need of a shower and some fresh clothes.”

Grant squeezed Agent Hansen's shoulder as he walked past the man. He wouldn't be a perfect replacement for Rex, but if Hansen could stomach this mess he would do just fine.