Vendetta Nation (Enigma Black Trilogy #2) (28 page)

“These jackets, they actually work pretty well,” Ian said.

“What, did you get shot or something?” I asked, only half serious.

“Yeah, I did, actually.” He turned to face me, displaying the bullet that had lodged itself in the fabric.

Thank you, Marcus
. “Are you all right?” I jumped up into the air in a back flip just as two soldiers came rushing at me. They collided with each other and collapsed in a heap on the ground.

“I’m fine,” he answered. “It only stung for a second. Personally, I think it makes me look pretty bad-ass, right now. Adds a little plausibility to the whole superhero thing.”

More shots were fired behind us. I glanced in their direction, witnessing a couple of soldiers fall to the ground. Although relieved to see the rebels making some progress, another part of me felt for those men and women who seemed trapped behind the confines of their mission. Behind their…helmets.
“Your brainwaves are picked up by receptors in your helmet…”
Again, Cameron’s words struck me as though instructing me, guiding me to act on my hunch.

“Their helmets,” I shouted to Ian. “Try taking their helmets off.”

“What?” Ian called back, elbowing one of the soldiers in the stomach. “Why?”

“I just had a thought, and I want to test my theory.”

“Can’t we save experiments for another day?”

“Just trust me on this, Ian, please.”

“You know I trust you,” he answered. He made a flying leap at one of the soldiers, a woman, and caught her helmet in his hands. Struggling with her, he broke the strap that held it in place under her chin, freeing her.

At the base of the stage, the soldiers called for reinforcements, and a wave of men and women near us went running to their aid. This created a gap in the blockade, which would be enough to allow for the passage of the crowd. “Come on,” I yelled, motioning for them to escape the battle going on around them. Without having to be told twice, the masses swarmed the gap, pushing, screaming and clawing their way around each other, their primal instincts winning out over any basic concept of humanity. Shaking my head, I looked back at Ian to see him kneeling down on the ground, talking to the woman soldier, her helmet in his hands.

A sudden cry prevented me from joining him. My eyes searched in the direction from which it came, where I noticed a small child, a girl maybe five or six at the oldest, laying on the ground, shielding her head from the terrified mob. Somewhere in the chaos, she’d been separated from her parents, who were no doubt going frantic with worry at this moment. Angered, I ran into the mob, pushing my way to the fallen child. When I reached her, I scooped her up in my arms and ran with her out of the crowd. On the outskirts of the mob, I set the girl down on the ground and inspected her for any sign of visible injuries. Besides some minor scrapes on her arms, she seemed to be okay.

“Are you hurt, sweety?” I asked her.

“I’m scared,” she began crying, and I took her into my arms.

“I know, I know, honey, but everything is going to be okay.” My fingers brushed the hair out of her eyes, dampened by tears, their creases caked with dirt. “I promise, everything will be okay.”

“I thought bad things couldn’t happen when you guys were here. You were supposed to protect us from the bad guys.” Tears fell down her cheek, matching my own. “At least that’s what my daddy told me.”

I wiped away a tear from her cheek. “Sometimes there’s too much bad for the good to handle all at once, and for a moment, it looks like the bad has beaten the good. But, do you know what?”

“What?” she asked with a sniffle.

“No matter how bad it looks, no matter how hopeless, the good always wins in the end. It may not be today, or tomorrow, but it will happen.”

“Really?” she asked, perking up a bit.

I hope so.
“Really,” I said. Near where we stood, more gunfire erupted, causing her to cry once more. “If I give you something, will you promise to keep it safe for me?” I asked, hoping to distract her.

“What is it?”

I slipped my jacket off and helped her put it on. It hung loosely on her petite frame. The sleeves fell at her sides, almost touching her knees. I zipped it up, making sure it was securely fastened. “This will help keep you safe until you find your mom and dad,” I told her.

“Even from the guns?”

“Especially from the guns. Just don’t take it off until you get home. Do you promise?”

“I promise,” she said. I picked her up in the hope that she would recognize some of the faces in the crowd.

“Let me take her,” a man’s voice stopped me in my tracks as recognition kicked in. My breath hitched in my throat; my heart sank into the pit of my stomach. “It looks like you’re needed back there. I’ll help her find her parents.”

I turned around to find myself facing Trey. What was he doing here? Politics weren’t exactly Trey’s thing; neither was Brooks, for that matter. A thought occurred to me then. Was he alone? Trey hardly ever went out without Chase in tow. Surely, that was still the case. And what if he was here? That would mean his life was just as much in danger as everyone else’s. A sickness overtook me; one similar to the day my family was killed. I looked frantically around Trey, trying not to make my distress too obvious.

“Um…are you okay?” he asked.

Flabbergasted and completely speechless, which was probably a good thing considering my state of mind and the fact that Trey may recognize my voice as easily as I had his, I passed the girl over to him.

“Thank you, Ms. Superhero,” she said to me, remarkably comfortable in Trey’s arms. I nodded at her, giving her a small wave as I hastily turned back around.

“Don’t worry,” Trey told her, “I’m sure we’ll find your mom and dad in the crowd.” Who knew that Trey, the perpetual bachelor, had a way with children.

I pushed my way through the crowd, back to where the fighting was intensifying. Another onslaught of soldiers was fast approaching the rebels, whose numbers were dwindling fast. Bodies of the dead, both soldier and rebel, were strewn across the perfectly trimmed park lawn, their blood staining the petals of the cherry blossoms a grisly red. The wind had picked up, blowing more blossoms off the trees and onto their lifeless forms as though nature itself were mourning their passing. As far away from the fray as was possible for them to amass, the wounded rebels huddled together on the side of the stage, where they were being nursed by other members of the rebellion and what looked like volunteers from the crowd.

That’s when I saw him. My suspicions were confirmed, much to my despair. Among the wounded, Chase knelt, rendering aid. His materials were crude, or so it seemed from my vantage point. With not much to work with, he’d torn apart clothing to use as tourniquets and to cover wounds. Leave it to him to completely disregard his own safety in order to help someone in need. When he took that oath, it was like it had embedded itself into his soul.

And so I stood, rooted between him, the battle being fought around us, and Ian, who’d resumed taking down soldiers in order to keep the crowd flowing out of the danger zone. A part of me told myself to run in the opposite direction; to never look back at that stage. To forget about the fact that a piece of my heart was standing just a matter of feet away from me, putting his life in jeopardy just as I was. That part of me, the David to that Goliath of a notion, was winning out regardless of how much I tried to fight it.

“Chase, let’s go,” Paige said, urgently pulling on his arm.

“It looks like the superheroes are making an opening for everyone to get through. Come on, I don’t want to stay here a moment longer.”

“I agree, man,” Trey said. “We need to make a break for it while we can. I don’t think they’re going to be able to keep the opening from being blocked.”

Chase looked behind him at the devastation, and at the people falling to the ground, wounded and dying. “No,” he answered, bluntly.

“What? Chase!” Paige pleaded.

“Look, this is non-negotiable,” he said, swiftly turning around to look her in the eyes. “I highly doubt there are going to be too many willing volunteers to help these people. The whole reason I went into medicine was to help people, not run away with my tail tucked between my legs when an emergency presents itself. I mean, think about it, if I had that mentality back at Hope Memorial, do you honestly believe your father would still be alive?”

“No,” she replied, her eyes watering. “He’d be dead if it hadn’t been for you. All I’m saying is that you don’t have to be the hero all the time.”

“It’s the last time, Paige, I promise,” he said, gently kissing her forehead. “After today, things are going to be different.”

She studied him for a moment, wanting to do everything in her power to try and talk him out of the actions he’d already been mentally performing. “Under one condition,” she finally said begrudgingly.

“Okay…sure.” The ease in which she relented took him by surprise.

“I’m coming with you.”

“Ok…wait. No. No, you’re not, Paige. You’re going to go with Trey and get as far away from here as you can.”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Matthews, but my decision is non-negotiable,” she smirked, exasperating him further.

“Not fair using my own words against me,” he sighed. “Fine, but just stay somewhere off to the side, away from the wounded and the people who made them that way.”

“Deal.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” he said. Chase noticed Trey eying the crowd. “Go, Trey, we’ll be behind you shortly.”

Trey nodded his understanding. “Actually, it looks like they could use someone to help make it orderly up there with all the pushing and shoving going on.”

“Well, get on it then,” Chase said. “Paige and I will meet you by the car soon.”

“You’d better,” Trey said before he disappeared into the crowd of people fighting their way out of the venue.

“Come on.” Chase grabbed Paige’s hand and led her back with him to the stage. An opening in the satin skirting along the edge of the platform revealed a crevice underneath. “Here,” he pulled the skirting back and motioned for her to crawl underneath it. “If you insist on staying near me, at least humor me by staying as safe as possible.”

“No. I can’t just hide like some coward while you go out there dodging bullets and saving lives.”

“You’re not a coward. Please, Paige, if not for me, then for your dad. I promised him that I would take care of you. Don’t make me break that promise.”

“Fine,” she glared at him, “but I’m not too happy about it.”

“I’ll stay close.” He kissed the top of her head and stood up to survey the casualties. Dozens of bodies, those of the dead and of the dying, lay on the ground. Most—not surprisingly—belonged to members of the rebellion. Nearby, a man moaned on the ground in pain. Chase ran over to him, having to quickly duck and cover as more gunfire exploded around him. Crawling the rest of the way, he reached the now silent man and placed his finger on the carotid where he picked up a faint pulse. Further assessment revealed that the man was breathing, though it was labored. “It’s going to be okay,” he said, trying to sound as reassuring as possible given the circumstances.

He located the two bullet wounds, one through the man’s left shoulder, near the clavicle, and the other underneath the rib cage on the same side. Chase removed his jacket and, with a small Swiss Army knife from his pocket, he proceeded to cut through the material until the jacket had been cut in half. Taking one half of it, he wrapped it around the man’s shoulder and tied it off, applying pressure to the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding. The remaining half was tied off around the midsection, wrapped as tightly as possible. The injured man needed emergency medical attention in a hospital equipped with the proper medical equipment if he were going to survive, as Chase suspected internal bleeding for which a blood transfusion would be needed.

“How does he look?” Chase looked up to see Marshall looking down at him, concerned.

“Not good,” he answered. “He needs emergency medical attention with equipment I don’t have.”

“Well, then he’s as good as dead, because there’s no way Brooks is going to allow any hospital to touch our wounded.” Marshall knelt down to the ground beside him.

Chase could feel the anger surging up inside him. “I’ve taken the man for a lot of things, but never a murderer.”

“That’s the purpose of today, my friend,” Marshall responded. “We may suffer casualties in the process, but if the people’s eyes are opened, it’s worth the sacrifice.”

“I highly doubt this man’s family would agree with that sentiment.”

“Perhaps if they were still alive themselves, they would agree with you,” Marshall eyed the slowly dying man mournfully, reliving his life for him in a series of memories that flashed through his mind. “Charlie here lost his entire family in a blast in Baltimore a couple of years ago. The more you lose, the less you care about your own life. Revenge is a fire that can never be put out. It’s a burn that slowly consumes you until there’s nothing left of you but the dark thoughts it implants in your mind. It drives otherwise normal people mad. Hell, we’ve had people leave their lives to join us, removing themselves entirely from everyone they knew and loved.”