End of Knighthood Part III: Ballad of Demise (Reverence Book 4) Read online

  Patrick helped them load the bags into the truck’s back, a Ford 21-70, but he could hardly take his eyes off the telescreen. Despite the position he was in, he was the slowest moving of the four of them. He stood next to the mud-spattered vehicle, entranced just as much as the campers.

  Duncan slapped one of its heavy hands on Pat’s shoulder, giving him a jolt.

  “Let that prick Oswald mouth off as much as he wants. It’s best we get going,” he advised.

  Patrick nodded, seating himself in the back. Soon they were pulling away from Willow Bay Campground and Allegheny Forest, though Pat wasn’t ready to say he was out of danger just yet. Compared to last night, it was a victory of sorts but he couldn’t help being disappointed by it all. All that bravado on the tarmac before we left, and for what? The Chancellor swept the floor with us. He recounted the families seated around that telescreen with their food, blankets, and their children on their lap. He wanted to be angry with them, desperately so. That’s not what Halsey would want.

  Besides, with Robbie seated next to him in the back, with the oldest and Duncan up front, he now appreciated something he hadn’t before: the seeds of hope they’d planted back in April had grown into something.

  “How do you go on doing what you do knowing there are millions more of people out there who would die for the Chancellor?” Duncan asked as they sped past countless trees.

  Patrick had never been asked a question of that nature before. Prior to April, he would’ve probably delivered a cynical response or maybe even not have had a response at all. Yeah, that seems like the more realistic of the two. Biting cynicism was always Jacob’s bit.

  “I think of all the people who fight by my side,” Patrick informed them with pride. “Meeting you guys has strengthened my resolve, too. It’s good to know that there are people out there like you.”

  “Think nothing of it. We’re just doing our part,” Duncan replied.

  Pat could’ve just let it end right there and discuss anything else, but he refused to do so. He had to know the truth.

  “I do believe you’re a good person, Duncan,” Patrick began, “but it takes more than being a simple good Samaritan to have taken all the risks you have. Please, tell me what drove you to help a fugitive like me.”

  Robbie and Jonah were awestruck by the line of questioning. These were questions neither of them ever dared to ask. Duncan himself didn’t show any signs of acknowledging Patrick. Jonah saw his father’s grip on the steering wheel tighten.

  “I did all this for my wife,” Duncan answered. “Long before I ever gave a shit, Iris was a journalist, a damn good one, too. Oswald himself said she could’ve gone far, but when the Expansion started she devoted all her energy to protesting the war. She had so much compassion for people she’d never even met, and there I was making up excuses to avoid going to a single rally with her.”

  Duncan pursed his lips as he tried to hold back the tears to no avail.

  “It all came to a head during the Three-Days War. It was the biggest protest I’d seen in this country since 2044, and as such the PSID didn’t hold back when putting it down. Iris was locked away in the Harrisburg Corrective Center for just four months, but when she came out she was an entirely different person. She didn’t laugh at the same things, she no longer spoke her mind and she stopped pursuing her dream. I miss her fighting spirit. The Chancellor took that from her.”

  With one hand, Duncan caressed the hat that rested on the car’s dashboard. Jonah reached out and held his father’s hand.

  “I’m sorry, Dad,” the teenager said with a shaky voice.

  “No, I’m sorry I never told you boys. You deserve to know.”

  Patrick listened to the confession and felt a fire burning inside of him. A fire ignited years ago by Robert Neeson when he had admitted the truth. It had dimmed after each loss, but now it burned brighter than ever.

  “The UNR took my brother’s whole life away. That’s why I do this. Your wife, all of you, you’re true Crimson Angels. I’m honored by your service.”

  ***

  Gabby and Gael watched over Joseph Halsey. The man was sound asleep on the couch, the two Crimson Angels seated next to him. It was kept frigid in the room, and Gabby fought the inclination to bring him another blanket.

  “Thanks for being our donor,” Gabby said.

  “He saved my ass plenty of times. ’Bout time I paid him back,” the man replied. “I only wish I’d been there alongside him. Like old times.”

  “I’m not so sure it’s like the old days, Gael.”

  He thought about that for a moment and then laughed to himself.

  “Damn right, it’s not. In my day cyborgs were the enemy, and now we got one on our side. There was also a time when you were just a smart aleck.” Gael paused. “You know I never thought the day would come when I was a has-been of the Crimson Angels.”

  Gabby turned in her chair, allowing herself to forget Halsey for just a moment.

  “A has-been? Are you serious? You’re one of the ones who first led the charge!” she argued. Seeing his horrid scars, she could not allow the man to belittle himself. Not now, not ever.

  “Yeah, and once Joe was put away, I hid for years like a rat.”

  “Per his orders,” she reminded him.

  “Did you wait? Your father thought up a plan and acted all on his own. Now here we are.”

  Gabriella was shaken by the statement. It was true, though the statement ignored a number of costs and collateral damage that had come along with the plan. Friends gone and morals pushed to their limit.

  “My father’s ulterior motives tainted that victory,” she said. It was the first time in her life she’d openly questioned her father. The surprise on Gael’s face reflected her own.

  “Wasn’t it Douglass who said, ‘The thing worse than rebellion is the thing that causes rebellion’?”

  Once Gabby’s mind was settled on something, she was restless in its defense.

  “Yeah, yeah he did. It’s also been said that ‘Rebellion without truth is like spring in a bleak, arid desert.’ If you’ll excuse me.”

  By now, Gael wasn’t sure how to react to Gabby’s sudden rhetoric. It was easy to see in him.

  “Yeah, uh, sure.”

  Gabby stood but didn’t leave just yet.

  “Gael, watch him for me, please. Tell him that I’m sorry for not consulting him.”

  “You don’t have to be. He’ll understand. You better get a move on. Good luck, Gabby.”

  ***

  Two soldiers were in Vivi’s munitions room. Alex hobbled in on his crutch as Bri went on ahead. He wasn’t trained to fire half of these and was, quite frankly, daunted.

  “Vivi’s personal stash is somethin’ else, huh?” he said as he gazed at them all. Bri ignored him, making her way around the room.

  “Bri,” he said, speaking louder this time.

  The woman stopped her ruse and faced him.

  “Yes?” she said quietly.

  “Gabby may never say it, but she told Saskia what she thought she would’ve wanted to hear.”

  Bri snapped back at him with fire.

  “She deserved the goddamned truth!”

  “Yeah, and in time we’ll tell her. Don’t you think your sister deserves some peace of mind right now? We’ve lost too many good people,” Alex said painfully. “I don’t want her to have that image in her head. She doesn’t deserve it.”

  Brielle wouldn’t let Noah’s memory die, but she acknowledged she was going about it the wrong way. Contempt for her sergeant was misguided. The real targets were at the International Summit in Manhattan.

  “I hear you, sir,” she said. Bri did what she normally did to level herself out—she focused on the task ahead.

  “We’re gonna need a more secure LZ. How do you think we’ll manage that?” she asked.

  Alex pondered, scanning the room. She saw him pick something behind her. Bri turned to see the biggest gun in the room: an M134 Minigun. The Gatling-st
yle rotating barrels reminded Alex so much of the first time the weapon he’d seen Will use back at UNR HQ. Not quite as big, but we’ll manage.

  “With no Seraph, we have a lot more space in the cargo bay. Maybe we can mount it on a turret,” he suggested.

  “Let’s do it,” Bri said.

  ***

  Will had showered away the grime of last night, but there was no washing away the wounds. The cuts and bruises meant nothing, but his right hand troubled him. The grenade had exposed the majority of the neoartium, all the way down to his wrist.

  It was a reminder of what he sometimes forgot. He wore his pants and boots again and even a new shirt, courtesy of Vivi, but he didn’t put on his armor just yet. He laid it out on the floor of the Peregrine’s cargo bay to inspect it closely.

  “Is everyone ready?” Will said without looking up.

  Gabby walked up the ramp, fully donned in her combat gear.

  “Everyone but you,” she said as she looked over his armor as well. “Gut too big for it now or what?”

  “Sorry to disappoint,” Will said in return. Gabby saw what he must’ve been staring at: the slit in the chest plate. Around it several cracks had appeared.

  “How’s it holding up?” she asked.

  “Luis’ sword went clean through, but it’s held up nicely up until now. Kane is something else. With just one kick he did this much damage.”

  “Neoartium and Kevlar couldn’t stop him,” she analyzed. “Sure you can take him?”

  Will stood now and Gabby followed suit. She noticed he was quick to put his gloves back on.

  “I can handle him now that I’ve seen what he’s capable of.”

  “But you still won’t want a pulse rifle.”

  “It’s too clunky.”

  “Oh, bullshit. As a soldier, you’re all about efficiency. You want to go down, nothing but sword in hand, am I right?”

  “You think I have a death wish?”

  “Maybe, maybe not, but I do know you’re hiding something about this mission.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You’ve never been one for speeches, Will. Neither was my father at first, but when he wanted to rally us for his cause he could speak eloquently.”

  “If that’s how you feel, then why are you still going to help me?”

  “Because with or without us you’d go.”

  “I don’t really have a choice.”

  Gabby put a hand on his chest.

  “You’ve been dealt a lot of pain in your life. There’s no erasing that, but there is more to life than retribution. If we keep acting on only pain and anger, we’ll become monsters ourselves. For too long, I was going down that path myself.”

  “You can still live a life when this is all over, Gabby, but not me.”

  Will was thinking of all the lives he’d taken, soldiers and civilian alike. So many faces and voices fallen to one man.

  “Lately, I’ve been thinking I can never face my son. I’m no father.”

  “You wouldn’t have to face him alone. When that day comes, I’ll be by your side.”

  Will was lost now. In truth, so was Gabriella, but she meant every word. They no longer spoke, and neither felt the need to. All the tension in their bodies subsided. For the first time in years, there was no fear, anger or misery.

  They held one another’s hands. Even through his glove, Gabby could feel the metallic fingers. Her hands were smooth by comparison. She only gripped tighter. The two could have settled for that moment lasting forever.

  Looking into Gabby’s ice blue eyes, Will did truly wish he could relish in that serenity. There was no time, not right now. As he had done before when they talked, he removed his bandana. Gabby was shocked to see him hold it up to her.

  “Will, I can’t—”

  “For luck,” he insisted with a smile.

  She took it reluctantly. Something about seeing that man smile convinced her.

  Chapter 9- Reunion

  October 23, 2051 - Mashhad, Iran

  The toddler ripped up the bread in his tiny hands and tossed the remains like confetti into the pond. Some of the ducks were quick to begin gobbling up the food while others floated about like buoys awaiting more. The child tugged on his father’s pants for more bread and the giggling parents obliged him with plenty.

  Watching them from a bench straight across from the water was Adar. Seeing the bread crumble made his stomach growl, and he put off his hunger with another stick of chewing gum. It was mint flavored, the only flavor he ever bought. Plenty of other families passed him as he sat on that bench, but none caught his attention like the ones by the pond did. Cold and hunger were pin pricks to him.

  “Sir, I just wanted to inform you that Melat Park will be closing in the next ten minutes.”

  Adar looked up to see a pale woman with eyes like sapphires. She had a long and slender face, and her smile revealed large dimples. Only a single strand of her golden hair hung from under her hijab. Adar shook with terror under her shadow.

  The friendly woman had the image of a lion on the breastplate of her armor and a red bandanna with that same image tied just above her elbow. Her overcoat was an olive green. The collar was popped, revealing leather patches underneath. You feel no cold, so why bother? You feel nothing, Adar thought to himself.

  “Are you all right, sir?” said the woman, still as polite before. The strand of hair whipped around in the harsh wind.

  Adar realized he hadn’t said a word and rushed to speak. “Y-yes, yes, I’m fine. Thank you for the notification.”

  “Just doing my job. You have an excellent night, sir” she said before she began to walk way. As she did, the wind lifted the back of her coat and revealed a sheathed saber. Adar’s heart slowed the farther away she got, and he was repulsed to see his hand been clutching the armrest of the bench the whole time.

  He turned back to the pond, but the family was nowhere to be seen. Adar didn’t see anyone in the vicinity anymore. Not one soul behind him playing amongst the trees or trekking by on the path.

  Adar wiped the sparse grass blades off his worn dress shoes. His light coat did little to warm him, especially as the sun dipped lower. I’ll get there within an hour as long as the buses are still running.

  ***

  Adar got to the apartments not long after dark came. He kept his hands shoved into his pockets to keep them from stiffening up. The complexes were on the opposite side of Mashhad. While they were aged in appearance, the building did have a view of downtown. The lights from the clubs, skyscrapers, and restaurants had always dazzled Adar. It reminded him that no matter what happened, he loved the city.

  He found the door he was searching for, apartment 423. At first, he considered leaving without a single knock. In the long run, it would probably do me a whole lot of good. Something within him urged him on and he knocked twice.

  Almost right after, the door was opened and out came a woman just little over half his height.

  “Good evening, Bami,” he greeted. The woman rushed him with a hearty hug and a kiss on the cheek. As much as Adar hated coming here, he kissed the woman on the cheek as well.

  “It was getting so late! I thought you weren’t coming! Come in, come in,” she invited.

  Adar walked inside and Bami took his coat for him. He could smell a phenomenal scent, his mouth watering. It was the aroma of grilled chicken, accompanied by pepper and a hint of onion. To be expected, he grumbled to himself. On the table of the dining area were several dishes, including koobideh kebabs and Tahdig fried rice which had a golden sheen to it. It reminded him of the cyborg he’d run into earlier.

  “There’s still a lot of food left. I can warm some up a plate for you if you’d like,” Bami offered.

  “No, no, thank you,” replied Adar flatly. He’d been strong enough to indulge her hug, but he would not eat her food. Bami caught wind of this and dropped her smile and cheerful tone.

  “I’ll go see how Khalid is doing,” she told him
.

  “If you could, please.”

  Bami went down a hallway, but Adar knew he wasn’t alone. He passed by the couch as he went from the dining area to the living room. There on the floor was a young girl scribbling away with a lead pencil on plain white paper. Adar saw a plethora of colored pens off to the side. Blue and reds mostly, how cute.

  “Little Nusaybah,” he laughed, “shouldn’t you be doing homework instead of drawing?”

  Only at the direct address did the girl look at him. Unlike her mother who wore a full black chador, she wore only a blue roosari headscarf along with her shirt and jeans.

  “Nice to see you, too, Adar. You’re looking a decade older,” she replied.

  A decade? Then he remembered he’d grown a full beard since the last time they’d seen each other. He brushed it off and pointed at her exposed knee.

  “Tsk tsk, you got into a fight again, haven’t you? Most girls your age listen to pop and watch rom-coms, not draw dudes in tights.”

  “They’re not tights, it’s Kryptonian chainmail!”

  Adar was pleased with the Nusaybah’s scowl, but he only got to enjoy it briefly.

  “He’s ready to see you,” Bami said as she returned.

  Adar entered the large bedroom and the woman shut the door behind him. The air was stale and although he spotted many lamps, all of them were turned off. What was on was the telescreen on the wall, but even that light was splintered. There was an enormous set of cracks going across the glass, like freeze frame of lightning. On the carpet was a shattered bowl, the food still there along with it.

  “All they do for you and what do they get for it?” Adar said. He stuck close to the door, treating the man like a leper.

  Khalid was propped up on his bed, eyes on the news report. At Adar’s remark, he shifted.

  “You’re late,” was all he said in return. The burns on his face appeared nightmarish in the dark room.

  “And? When your wife called telling me you’d had a heart attack, I felt content at first. Like a sick legacy was finally being put to rest. Only reason I came was because of them.”