Vendetta Nation (Enigma Black Trilogy #2) (27 page)

The crowd drew closer to us, affording me the opportunity to inspect them. There were no guns or other weapons being drawn on their end, though I suspected there were plenty hidden away. This was the rebellion, or at least part of it. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind. They carried themselves much differently than the protesters had. No hesitancy was present in their march, only a well-organized commitment, coupled with raw desperation. A common goal was present in this group, and it wouldn’t go down without a fight.

“You see,” Brooks addressed the crowd without taking his eyes away from the incoming disturbance. “We can’t even gather here together in a peaceful show of unity without being intruded upon by these insubordinates.”

“Listen to this man, and listen well,” a middle-aged man stepped forward, making himself discernible from the crowd. “His lies flow as freely as the river beside us.” Silence befell the crowd. Brooks’ tension radiated from within him; its invisible fingers growing long enough to reach out and smack me in the face. An adrenaline rush flowed through my body, readying me for the inevitable. “He’s told so many of them that he’s beginning to believe them himself,” the man continued. “Look around you. You’ve all allowed yourselves to be controlled by this man’s delusions for too long. It’s time to wake up, to realize that supporting him is like casting a vote for oppression.”

“This coming from a man whose entire cause is devoted to chaos and destruction. Tell me, how many lives have been lost at your and your followers’ hands, Marshall?” Brooks demanded.

Marshall
. The name I’d first heard so many months ago. Marshall Leitner, the leader of the rebellion and the person behind Lucy’s death was standing before me now. My body pleaded for me to run. It begged me to go after the man who’d killed my best friend, screamed at me to take him out the same way she had been. But my head kept me standing firmly on stage, keeping my body virtually paralyzed as though it were for my own good. Besides, something told me I’d have my chance at exacting justice soon enough.

“What are you talking about?” Marshall asked. “It’s not my men and women who’ve been committing the acts of violence that have ran rampant around this country. We’re peaceful people who want to see change and a true leader elected who has the country’s best interests in mind. Frankly, I find blowing up random objects to be counterproductive to
my
cause.
You
, on the other hand, may find that to be more to your liking. After all, the more people fear, the more they hide. And the more they hide, the less they fight back.”

Rumblings reverberated through the crowd. The tide was swiftly turning against Brooks here, and I imagined that would also be the case across the country. Brooks’ face reddened sharply. His anger was close to its boiling point. Soon, very soon, the man would explode, taking out everyone in his path.

“Sir,” Ian addressed Marshall, “I believe a lot can be accomplished if, instead of a confrontation here, we all sat down, talked and worked this out in a more civil, less accusatory manner.” I admired Ian’s attempt at smoothing things over, knowing full well that he could care less what everyone thought of our President.

Marshall laughed. “It would appear as though even our famed superheroes can’t even think for themselves. I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised, given our President’s hand in your creation.”

“Nobody controls my thoughts,” Ian countered. “All I was simply saying was that we need to go about our talks in a peaceful nature. Yelling at each other is going to solve nothing.”

“And all I’m simply saying, dear superhero, is that the world as we know it is too far gone to simply talk our way through it. It’s time for action.” The rebels had advanced to where they were now forming a semi-circle around the group of spectators on one side, with the soldiers forming another on the opposite side. Armed soldiers gathered in closer to Brooks, ready to die if an assassination attempt were to take place. Although I was pretty sure the rebels would get a shot out if they could, something told me that violence wasn’t what drove them here this evening.

They looked unexpectedly normal in plain clothing with not a stitch of visible armor on them. At this moment, they were vulnerable, a fact which I suspected was on purpose. “We have every right to stage a peaceful protest,” Marshall began again. “This venue is in a public park, and it’s well before curfew. Tell me, Mr. President, what laws are we violating?”

“You are causing a disturbance at an otherwise peaceful gathering, and I’m going to have to ask you to leave right now.” Brooks, though visibly irritated up close, was professionally poised with his response, not allowing his emotions to betray his true state of mind.

“We’ll leave the second you tender your resignation,” Marshall countered. Though my hatred for the man burned within me, I had to admire his gall.

They stood staring at each other, neither wanting to make the first move. No weapons were drawn, no words exchanged, just a moment of silence that cried out for all to hear. I scanned the members of the crowd, the innocent attendees to the mayhem unfolding. They were trapped with soldiers on one side and rebellion members on the other, and I could feel their tension. Their fear poured from them; it oozed from their pores like sweat. If no resolution happened soon, I feared they, themselves, would revolt. That’s when my eyes caught someone, a familiar face, albeit in disguise, as he sauntered through the crowd of rebels, casually making his way to the stage.

It took me a moment to place him, as his long hair had disappeared beneath a bald cap—or perhaps the long hair had been the wig—but it all clicked the moment I saw the scar that began at the arch of the man’s right eyebrow, ending at the inner corner of his eye. Brooks’ aide, the man who’d escorted Ian and I to Brooks’ room, had planted himself conveniently among the rebels, unnoticed by everyone except me. At that moment, the thoughts in my head all came together. The resolution to the standoff, the catalyst, was fast approaching. For the first time since taking the stage, I felt my feet start to move in an attempt to douse the spark before it had a chance to erupt into flame. In my earpiece, I heard Ian exclaim, “Celaine, no!” But it was too late, for both Ian to stop me and for me to stop the man from pulling out a gun from inside his jacket.

In a split second, a shot had been fired, one that would be blamed on the rebels. A shot that sent a bullet flying through the air and into the body of one the soldiers guarding Brooks. The stricken man fell to the stage in slow motion as though it had taken his body a moment to realize that it had been struck by a life-ending bullet. He lay there unmoving, the blood pooling around him.

“Are you crazy!” Ian exclaimed after jumping off the stage to join me on the ground. “What was all that about?”

“The shooter, Ian. He was one of Brooks’ men. The man who escorted us to his room last night.”

“What? Are you sure about that?”

“I’m positive.” I stood up on my tiptoes, facing the location where the man had stood when he fired the shot. He was gone, most likely for good, disappearing like a shadow in the night.

“But that would mean…shit.” Ian became enraged. “This thing, this whole event was nothing but a set up.”

“Does that really shock you right now?” More soldiers appeared from nowhere, weapons drawn; a blank yet undaunted stare remained etched on their faces. “It’s like they’re waiting for their order to fire,” I observed.

“That order was given after the first shot,” Ian said. “And it would appear that a similar one has been issued for our new friends over there.”

I turned around to see that even more members of the rebellion had arrived, except unlike their earlier counterparts, these members were armed. We were now standing in the middle of the crowd between the armed soldiers and the armed rebels. On stage, I noticed Brooks eyeing us expectantly as though he were impatiently waiting for us to join him and help whisk him away to one of his many hideouts to revel in his victory. The public now believed the rebels had fired the first shot, so any retaliation by Brooks’ men would be warranted.

Within the crowd, the cries of children struck my ears. All of these people would be considered casualties of war, their identities would forever be labeled as ‘victim’ instead of by their birth names, exactly how my own family had been forever labeled. They’d been reduced to single numbers, to casualties. No. That wouldn’t happen tonight. Forget our training in the simulator, we would escort those whose hands were clean to safety this evening.

Brooks motioned for us with an exaggerated sense of irritation in his gesture. His men had fanned the flames, now it was time for him to evacuate like the spineless coward he was. I shook my head, looking over at Ian who nodded in agreement. We would pay dearly for this, but that didn’t matter now. Turning our backs to Brooks we faced the crowd of frightened people.

“That shot did not come from the rebellion,” I shouted over the screams, trying to appeal to those more sensible-minded people. “It was an orchestrated shot meant to incite a war. Please, don’t let this set-up, this wool that has been pulled over your eyes, fuel the fire that has been set here. There is no need to fight. Let’s all go home to our families tonight, peacefully.”

“A shot was fired,” a recognizable voice shouted through the mass of soldiers, causing my heart to sink. It was the same voice we’d heard the night of the attack on the protesters, and a sure sign that no mercy or chance for civility would be possible this evening. “Don’t let these superheroes deceive you. It’s obvious whose side they’ve chosen. Resistance will be met with swift retaliation, insubordination with imprisonment, and an assassination attempt on our leader with death.”

“Death?” Ian shouted. “What about a trial by jury?”

“An act of violence against our leader is an act of violence against the people. For the good and safety of the people, punishment will not be delayed by the legal process.”

“That’s ludicrous!” Ian screamed. “We just told you, it wasn’t one of the rebels, but one of Brooks’ own men who fired the shot.”

“Impossible,” the leader retaliated. “You and your partner better hold your tongues, for your words speak treason, an act also punishable by death.”

“Then punish me!” Ian answered, standing his ground.

“I’ll leave that to our leader,” he answered back with a sneer. “Soldiers, ready your weapons.” One by one, the solders marched in closer around us, overtaking the stage, their weapons all aimed at the rebels. “Now, listen and listen well,” their leader announced. “I’ll give the shooter to the count of three to reveal himself, to accept the consequences of his actions. If, after the count of three no one has come forward, you’ll all be considered suspects and justice will be rendered as we see fit. Do you understand?”

“You heard them,” Marshall responded, gesturing at Ian and I. “It wasn’t one of us. You know as well as we do the shooter is long gone, most likely under Brooks’ protection right now.”

“One,” the soldiers’ leader began his count.

“Now,” I said to Ian. “We need to begin evacuating them now.”

“How do you suggest we do that?” he asked.

“Two,” the leader shouted.

Off to our side, the rebellion members bravely stood their ground, readying their own weapons.

“We flank them,” I answered. “You take the side nearest to the soldiers and I’ll take the side closest to the rebellion, and we just start running.”

“Well, that sounds as good a plan as any,” Ian agreed. “Let’s go.” He ran to his side of the crowd, shouting for them to follow him. I quickly followed suit, running to my side of the crowd.

“Don’t panic,” I yelled. “We’re going to get you out of here. “Follow us, we’ll find a way out.”

“Three,” I heard the leader shout out their final chance. The last opportunity for the gunman to come forward. Soon, gunfire would erupt, and innocent lives would be lost.

“Follow me,” I yelled at the crowd during my sprint toward the barrier of soldiers that stood blocking us in. The people began pushing and shoving each other forward, creating an opening between the soldiers and the rebels just as the first shots went off. My stomach fell when I turned my head to see the first of the rebels fall to the ground, and I sped up to meet Ian, who was already fighting off an onslaught of soldiers that were refusing to allow the crowd through.

“Orders are that no one will pass,” one of the soldiers said as though he had been preprogrammed to repeat that phrase when tested. When I reached Ian, he was buried in an onslaught of the armed men, struggling to break free.

“We need to make a gap for them to get through,” I shouted at him.

“I’m working on it,” he replied.

With a swift kick, I sent a soldier flying before he could draw his weapon to fire at Ian. Off to my side, another one came barreling at me. In a flash, I jumped up into the air, swinging my foot around, making contact with his jaw. He flew backwards into some of his other cohorts, knocking them to the ground.

“My hero,” Ian said. He punched another armed man in the face, shutting him down for now.

“Anything for a pretty face,” I shouted over the barrage of gunfire. Behind me, I sensed another soldier approaching. Without looking back, I bent forward, allowing him to trip, wherein I grabbed him and threw him over my head into another oncoming soldier.