Jaded Warriors book 2 (Jade Series)

Chapter 34

Chapter 34





We slipped quietly through the barren neighborhood streets, hidden by recessed shadows and then clung to darkened storefronts as much as we could as we made our way deeper into the city, deeper into Militia territory. The homeless who usually loitered along the streets, hid in the depths of abandoned buildings as if preparing for what lie ahead, as if they knew what would come.


Militia with black on their faces were stationed at every corner. They stalked the streets with guns strapped to their arms as they watched for anything suspicious. I felt myself tense as we walked past two that stood on a street corner. I held my breath as one gave us a nod. Dante’s plan, just might work.  He didn’t break stride and once past them, I breathed a sigh, thankful the Militia didn’t ask questions or follow.


“You need to relax,” he whispered once out of earshot.


“I’m sorry,” I whispered back as I followed blindly, unsure where we headed or how far we had to go.


We came to a line of trees that bordered a large expanse of grass surrounded by a chain link fence. We stopped at an opening and walked in. The moon shone through large crooked branches and cast long black shadows into the already dark surroundings which made it difficult to see. In the direction we walked across the way I noticed a long building with evenly placed windows and a few outside structures and poles bent in awkward angles and realized we were at an elementary school and headed for a playground.


My feet sank into the sand as we left the border of grass. I glanced at Dante, dark shadows crossed over his face shielding one of his eyes as he stared straight ahead. The black on his face made him hard to see.


“Where are we going?” I asked, finally breaking the long silence.


“To meet Keisha and Justice,” he said, then glanced at me, a reassuring smile lit his eyes.


He directed me into a large plastic tunnel, the biggest of three but I still had to duck to enter. I paused as I glanced around at the swings, slides and monkey bars, the tunnels, part of the playground. With a raise of my eyebrows I gave him a questioning glance. “We’re early,” he said with a smile, “and we need to stay hidden until it’s time… shouldn’t be long.”   


I crouched on my knees and looked inside as I gripped the sides of the opening before me. Dirt and old leaves littered the bottom of the tunnel and I brushed them aside and crawled through. “We’re meeting them in the tunnel?” I asked, doubtful undertones evident in the echoes of my voice.


He chuckled, his laugh also echoed. “No,” he said, then situated himself next to me at a safe distance. I sat in the center and curled my back into the round wall behind me, surprisingly comfortable. “But not far from here and I can watch for the Militia.”


I remembered briefly back to my elementary school, the place where I laughed and played with friends, the place I grew up. Then Morrison, sabotaging my childhood memories by his meetings that filled the school yard with guns and Militia.


Sporadic distant gunshots disturbed my thoughts and I glanced out through the dark night but saw nothing. 


“Let me guess… you went to school here when you were a kid,” I said as I turned back to Dante.


“Yep,” he said, a smirk curled at the corners of his lips, “this very tunnel is where I stole my first kiss from Allie Thompson.”


“You mean you got a girl to kiss you?” I teased.


“Eleven years old and the first of many,” he said, then chuckled under his breath. A bashful smile replaced his smirk. “I don’t always get turned down… some girls find me irresistible.”


I laughed. “Wow… overly confident are we?” I said, superficially hypercritical but not doubting him in my mind. With his warm eyes, olive skin and dimpled smile, how could he not be some girl’s heart throb?


“Nope… just stating the facts,” he said, then blew on his fingers and rubbed them on his shirt as if to polish them smooth or put out some flames. I rolled my eyes. His inflated confident expression changed and I briefly saw a hint of raw rejection in his eyes. “Who did you say you were in love with?”


“Gage Michaels…”


“Hmm… haven’t heard of him,” he said. A rapid burst of gunshot not far from us in the street interrupted our conversation. Suddenly on alert he whirled around and scanned over the darkness with the scope of his gun.


“Can you see anything?” I asked.


“Nothing I can make out… let’s go,” he said, then I followed him out of the tunnel. We crept low, slowly trying to distance ourselves from the continued shots that grew increasingly close. We rounded the corner of the school to a spans of an open field that was once the football field. The matted grass an inky black with a slice of silver down the center from the moon. Goal posts at either end shimmered in the pale light along with a wall of windows to the junior high school not too far away. With nowhere else to go, we crossed the field and followed along the outer perimeter of the junior high as we clung to the shadows and dark recesses of the two story building. 


He tried each door as we passed by the entrance. His brows peaked with intrigue as the last door creaked open. He gave me a nod, a gesture to go inside. I glanced back at the way we came. Black roaming shadows loomed behind orange tracing flares from random gunshots. I stepped inside as the gun battle moved closer and Dante followed me down the long dark hallway. Gunshots continued at our backs but became distant, muffled by our shelter that possessed an eerie calm inside, quiet, too quiet.


I stepped cautiously as I passed by rows of lockers towards the opposite end and hopefully another doorway out. The sounds of my feet became echoing whispers in the vacant hallway, the sounds of my own breaths, loud in my head. We came to an open commons area and six hallways converging like spokes on a wheel, merging at the hub. We crossed through, our footsteps echoed in the vaulted ceiling, and walked down another hallway, the shortest one with doors leading outside at the end. Hopefully, our way out.


Suddenly, headlights flashed through windows, briefly spotlighting the walls. Dante grabbed my arms and pulled me back into the shadows of a recessed doorway as the golden cylinder of light passed by, missing us. It settled on the floor before us, bringing to life a monstrous sized school mascot. A cartooned black panther that carried a purple flag with an exuberant amount of school spirit painted on the tile floor of the hall. Go Panthers… embossed with gold lettering.


The lights flashed against the walls again. A repetitive, high pitched beep sounded as a box truck backed up, then stopped. The headlights shut off and I listened to muffled tones of the men as they stepped out of the truck and walked inside. The doors opened and I froze in place as a breeze from the outside air curled around me. My back stiffened into the wall as I heard keys jingle, a classroom door opened which sounded like the room next door.


“This couldn’t have come at a worse time,” a man said from inside the room. “I’m so close.”


“Well doc, you’ll have to find another lab to play mad research scientist in,” another man said.


“You don’t understand how important this is!” He responded with a sense of urgency in his voice. “I am so close to breaking through… understanding his journals… I have almost all of it, right before me… and I can figure it out if I had more time.”


“Yeah, sure,” the man said, deep doubtful undertones rumbled in his chest.


“Oh… why don’t you go make yourself useful… go stand guard or something, the rebels are getting close.”


“Which is why you need to gather your stuff and let’s get out of here,” he said, his voice grew close as he walked towards the door. If he walked out of the room, we would be discovered. My chest grew tight.


“Shit!” Dante whispered. His breaths became more deliberate as if he were preparing for a fight. “Follow my lead.”


Before I could ask, he stepped out of the shadows, making himself heard as his heavy boots tapped against the tile with each step. I followed.


“Who’s there?” Dante demanded, his voice echoed in the barren hallways. He drew his gun as if he had the authority to ask and came face to face with an armed guard who instantly drew his as well. They both stood hard faced and unmoved, each man staring down the barrel of a gun. Dante’s jaw twitched under clenched teeth, then he spoke. “I have instructions to clear everyone out… that includes you two.” 


“Who’s orders?”


“Morrison’s orders... the rebels have taken the station and the front line has moved. We’re moving back.”


“We need to move quickly… help me load the rest of these boxes into the truck,” the older man said. Neither man moved.


“Put your guns down, we’re on the same side for heck sake,” I said, breaking the tension as I pushed past Dante and walked to the stack of boxes and picked up the first one I came to. The two men slowly lowered their guns and followed suit.


“I can’t stress enough… you need to be very careful with those boxes,” the doctor insisted, the impatience in his voice resembled the panicked look in his eyes. My glance shifted from him to the glass vials and glass covered petre dishes stacked on top of one another. “The chemicals are toxic, you don’t want to breathe them in if one breaks.”


I glanced at Dante as we carried boxes to the truck, curious as to what exactly we helped them move. Dante, unfazed by the man’s comments and unfazed by the not so distant gunshots on the other side of the school.


“This just might work,” he whispered, then gave me a wink. Yeah, if we could keep it together and get out before we find ourselves in the middle of the battle. My insides churned and my fingers tingled to the point they felt numb and I hoped I didn’t drop the box filled with glass flutes, beakers and vials with toxin inside. I didn’t like being so close to Morrison’s men or his crazy lab scientists.


“Where did you two come from?” The doctor asked as we returned to the room. The constant silent interrogation of the guard who stood next to him was unnerving to say the least, we had to play this off.


“We’re checking abandoned buildings for stragglers… the rebels are right outside between schools. We don’t have much time.”


“Why aren’t you outside helping?” The guard asked.


“I have my orders… Why aren’t you?” Dante asked as he eyed him with calloused judgment. “What did you say your name was again?”


“I didn’t say,” he answered.


“Oh, right… and you’re supposed to be here?” Dante questioned. I hoped his attempts to intimidate worked. “Because everyone had strict orders to move out… this area was supposed to be cleared out hours ago.”


“There were a few things I needed to come back for,” the doctor added as he stepped between the two men. “Why don’t you boys get your testosterone in check… there were some tests running that I didn’t want to disturb but we can move them now. I know we’re running out of time and we are wasting time arguing over who’s who… I’m Dr. Ackerman, this is Wilkes, and your name is?”


“Marshal Hightower… and this is Blakely.”


I clenched my jaw to keep from smiling, he squared his shoulders as if to stretch his height. Marshal Hightower. I was about to blow our cover. I swallowed hard to force down the bubbling surge of laughter. At least he gave me a decent name.


I glanced at the guard, my internal amusement instantly squelched by his steely glare, his eyes surfed over me as if he studied every detail, as if he knew. Knew every traitorous thought that went through my mind, knew I would never fight for Morrison and I would do anything to sabotage his efforts.


I moved to the boxes stacked against the wall and reached for another.


“I’ll take that one,” the guard said as he walked up behind me. I whirled around stunned with the box in hand and two composition notebooks slid off the top onto the floor. Before I could react he grabbed the box from my arms and turned and walked out the door. I glanced at Dante, busy taking instructions from Dr. Ackerman on moving some of the heavier boxes filled with more potent ingredients.


I picked up the two black notebooks speckled with white and set them on another box overflowing with more notebooks and carried it outside. They teetered as I turned my back to the door and pushed against it just as Wilkes pulled it open. I staggered back, stumbled and almost fell as he grabbed me and forced me upright. The notebooks slid off the top once more.


Jerk! He shot me a glare, apparently irritated as I set the box down, my own patience thin as I had to force myself to bite my tongue. He shook his head as he stalked through the door and I picked up the notebooks one last time. I glanced at the writing scribbled across the front. Mostly chicken scratch, barely legible as I briefly struggled to make out the words then stuffed them inside my jacket and picked up the box.


A brisk breeze stole my breath and pushed my hair off my face as I pushed through the second set of doors. The scent of gun powder and smoke strong in the air as the sounds of a gunfight pierced my ears and sent a shiver up my spine. Dante and Wilkes walked through the doors as Dr. Ackerman followed behind and they set the remaining boxes in the back of the truck.


“Let’s go,” Wilkes gestured to me, his voice heavy with persuasion, insisting I jump into the back of the truck with him as he climbed in. My heart stilled inside my chest as I drew in a quick breath.


“We have buildings to clear,” Dante said not taking his eyes off Wilkes, “you’ll have to unload this on your own, now get out of here before you get shot.”


Dante pulled on the rope and the door rattled down and slammed shut then he clamped the lever and turned to the doctor. “You’ll need to head south,” he said, then swung his rifle over his shoulder and motioned with his head for me to follow as he walked off.


I heard the rumble of the truck motor as we jogged across another field. I prayed they didn’t follow us as we headed up the side of a hill. Relief settled over me as the sputtering sound of the motor grew more distant. My legs throbbed and my chest burned as cold air surged into my lungs but I wouldn’t slow down. I wouldn’t risk running in to them again so I pushed on. Dante slowed only to glance down a cross street and make sure all was clear. His exerted breathes curled in a white cloud in the frosty air but he looked far from tired as determination set deep into his eyes, darkened even further by the black night.


I followed him across the street and down the sidewalk, an occasional glance over my shoulder to make sure we weren’t followed. My anxiety surged as the resistance tightened the gap between us and them. The ever present sounds of a gun fight still not too far behind us.


He stopped alongside of a wooden privacy fence and peered around the corner then whistled a light airy whistle that sounded more like the chirp of a bird. After a few seconds the same whistle responded.


“Justice and Keisha are here,” he whispered, then pointed down to the truck at the end of the street. “We’ll go in… they’ll cover us if it gets ugly… and they’re our ride out.”


“Okay…”


“Is your gun ready?”


I reached behind me for the cool metal wedged next to my skin and pulled it out. “Ready.”


We moved slowly down the alleyway between two buildings as we clung to the shadows. Distant voices floated on the air from a doorway maybe thirty feet away as men talked and we crouched behind the wheel of a militia jeep. Two militia left the doorway and hovered briefly under the covered dock. Their conversation a muffled sea of words undecipherable to me, then it ended and their footsteps scraped against the cement as they walked hastily down the steps and into the eerie night.


Once gone Dante hunched through the window of the jeep and reached for the keys, then tossed them into the next yard over the wooden fence. He stood upright with postured confidence and strode up the stairs, I followed.


“What’s the plan?” I whispered.


“Just follow my lead,” he said, then knocked on the door. I waited impatiently, unsure what to expect.


Light from inside filtered through the doorway as a man opened the door a crack, a chain tethered it to the doorframe.


“Name?” The man asked.


“James Swann,” Dante said, “and this is Blakely… Yours?”


I flinched unexpectedly, my chest tightened as I held my breath. My mind whirled at the name change, I couldn’t keep up with his constantly switching things up.


“Trevet… You’re earlier than I expected,” the man said, then shut the door. The jingling of the chain muted by the heavy door.


“James Swann… I thought your name was Marshal Hightower?” I whispered totally confused.


“I didn’t like that name as much as I thought I would,” he whispered back.


“Well this isn’t a game!” I whispered, slightly irritated. “Make up your mind and stick with one name!”


The door opened and the light poured out. Trevet, burley in size with a thick dark moustache, dressed in full militia uniform studied Dante. Then his eyes surfed over me, lingering in spots and I cringed under my skin.


“There’s been a change in plan’s… where are they?” Dante asked. The man glanced out behind us then nodded for us to come in. “We need to move them now, the resistance is closing in and we’re moving back.”


“They only brought the woman,” he said, then shut the door behind me as we walked inside.


He locked the deadbolt and slid the chain into place. I glanced around for the second guy. I thought Dante said there would be two men. A chill ran up my spine.


“There is no girl.”


“What?” Dante turned on him, his eyes calloused and cold. “What do you mean you didn’t get her? Do you know how important this mission was? She was practically given to you!”


“I wasn’t there! I’m just waiting for someone to come take this woman off my hands,” he said, then pointed to a large door. “She’s in the locker.”


I bristled inside at their conversation as I wondered if Dante totally made it up, or if he knew somehow about their plan to take me.


The man opened the locker door and chilled air rushed out hitting me in the face. I walked inside, the smell of blood and raw meat wafted through the air as slabs of beef hung skinned and halved from large hooks along a track on the ceiling. A chill ran up my spine, from the cold air in the meat locker or the thought of finally finding Sonja, I wasn’t sure, but I couldn’t control my internal shivering and I gripped my arms to ward off the tremors. I continued to move past the last carcass and gasped unexpectedly as I stopped short at the sight before me.


Sonja, with her feet wrapped tight, sat curled against the far corner of the cooler, her hands cuffed with a chain that hooked to the ceiling, tethered like a dog. Her eyes widened like silver dollars. Above her, three men, dead and strung up to the ceiling like the beef carcasses. A heavy hook pierced through their backs and protruded out the front of their chests covered in blood and jagged, raw flesh. I shuddered at the sight as I swallowed hard at the knot in my throat. Dante walked into the back of me then stopped, cursing under his breath as he saw what I saw.


“What is this?” He asked, his jaw twitched as he clenched his jaw tight, restraining his anger but I saw it in his eyes as he looked back at Trevet. He propped the door with a heavy chair then followed us inside. A carnal expression lit in his eyes, almost proud of what hung before us.


“I got bored… They’re spy’s caught in our territory,” he said as he glanced at me, his expression cold and untrusting. My head felt dizzy, my insides faint as my stomach twisted into a knot at his words and the sight of the bodies. Bruised and beaten, tortured before they met their fate. “Morrison wants every traitor who is caught to be positively identified before the bodies are shipped back to the resistance.”


“Why? He can’t possibly identify every last one.”


“Because he want’s to know who they are… or more likely, aren’t? There’s someone specific he’s looking for.”


“Why send them back?”


“To send a message… I guess. Why do you care?”


“I don’t…”


Their voices trailed off as I stared at the bodies, unable to look at their faces. I felt my insides curl with heat at the memory of my own incarceration. Flashbacks of Damian, his face warped with rage, the unrelenting torture Trey and I were subject to.


I glanced at one man’s hands, congealed blood, thickened by the cold room, pooled at his missing fingertips at the furthest knuckle, a splattering of blood on the cement floor beneath him. I shuddered at the sight as my eyes shifted quickly to their faces to see if I recognized them. Thankfully, I didn’t. I glanced at Sonja, a troubled expression warped across her face. My own expression probably no less than horrified. 


“Blakely!” Dante nudged me with his elbow and glared at me, pulling me from my stupor. “Do I need to repeat myself? Unwrap the prisoner’s feet and get her ready to transport.”


I moved quickly to Sonja. A drop of blood splattered next to my side. I glanced up at the nearest body. They hadn’t been dead long. Hastily, I untied the rope around her ankles and unhooked the chain from her cuffs then ripped the strip of duct tape off her mouth. I gave her a sympathetic glance, sorry for the wax job as she rubbed her fingers over the sensitive parts of her skin around her mouth. Her brows warped into tortuous knots. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, then pulled her up by her arm, her hands still cuffed, as I spoke. “Let’s go.”


I couldn’t get out of the locker fast enough as I followed Trevet and Dante out. I sighed, suddenly relieved as he closed the door behind me. My relief was short lived. “Trevet!” A voice called out. I whirled around and saw four militia waiting for us. Dread encompassed me and sank like a stone in my gut.


With the chain still in place on the door, I glanced around for the second entrance, or better yet an escape route, only to become stunned, completely mortified by the wooden butcher blocks, each lined with sleeves of knifes. I hadn’t noticed them earlier.


“Who are you?” Trevet asked.


“Dusaro… this is Connell, we’re here for the prisoner.”


“What’s going on here,” he questioned the four men who instantly brought up their rifles, aimed directly at us. I heard Sonja gasp as I clenched tighter to her arm. Trevet glanced back at the three of us. Suddenly, Dante bashed him in the face with his elbow. Blood gushed from his nose as Dante shoved him in front of us. Dusaro and his men opened fire sending a spray of bullets into Trevet. His body jerked involuntarily as he shielded us. I pulled Sonja to the ground and crawled under the first butcher block I found then pulled out my pistol as Dante dodged behind a desk. Trevet fell to the floor.


I scanned my surroundings, six Militia filtered in as deafening shots whizzed overhead. I shot several rounds then ducked back behind my cover. Fragments of glass and debris fell around us and paper flittered in the air, disturbed by the rampage. I frantically searched for Dante and found him across the room ducked behind the front counter busy with his own gun battle.


Suddenly, a fierce pounding at the door echoed over the violence through the room. The possibilities of who could be at the door, numerous, none of them a good scenario. The steady constant boom sent vibrations through the floor as they tried to break down the door. It busted open, breaking the chain and the door off its frame. Relief bubbled inside me as Justice, with three other men rushed inside and took cover close to Dante.


I looked up just as a knife flew through the air, end over end and stuck in the leg of the butcher block inches from my neck. The thought that I might die here suddenly became real. The possibility that I would end up on a hook like the men in the locker sent a crippling fear through me. I took a deep breath and forced the thoughts from my mind and took shot after shot at the militia until my pistol emptied with a hollow click. I reached in my jacket for another clip.


“Get these off me!” Sonja yelled as she handed me a meat cleaver and spread her wrists apart against the cement floor. I set my pistol and clip down. I didn’t hesitate as I took it then sliced through the air to the chain that bound her wrists.


A man grabbed my leg and I screamed as he pulled me from under my shelter. The cleaver slipped from my hands and I scrambled onto my belly to reach it. He twisted me around in one swift move and hit me with the back of his hand. I cried out, stunned by the blow and he blurred before me from the impact. I aimed for the one in the middle and kicked him in the face, blood gushed from his mouth.


I glanced up briefly to see Sonja skid the cleaver my way. The stainless steel scraped violently against the cement as it skittered across the floor. I reached out, grabbed it and sank it into the man’s side in one swift move, blood splattered across the wall. He clutched his side, writhing on the floor.


Two more men lunged after me and I threw the cleaver, grazing one in the shoulder. It didn’t stop him and they continued after me. Shots fired from behind me and they fell to the ground. I looked back to see Sonja, my pistol in her hands. A man grabbed her from behind and it dropped to the ground. She struggled to get free as I scrambled to get to her. 


Bullets whizzed by overhead. I ducked, shielding my head with my arms as I weaved through the blocks in an attempt to get to her, then I stopped suddenly.  Dusaro, a sly smile curled his lip as he came after me. I turned and ran but he caught up to me. With a force I couldn’t stop he rushed me toward the back of the room. He twisted my arm behind my back and slammed me, forehead first into the brick wall.


“Who do we have here?” He questioned, his voice tainted with evil next to my ear. I winced in pain as he twisted harder on my arm. I struggled against him. I felt a sharp pinch of a needle in the side of my neck then suddenly unknown forces pulled us apart. I winced again as I reached for my neck and turned around slowly.


“Justice,” I gasped with a weary smile, relieved to see him restrain Dusaro.


Gunshots died and he stopped struggling, a satisfied smirk settled on his face. He watched me as if he waited for a reaction then faded to disappointment as I pulled the needle from my neck with no ill effects. My labored breaths grew loud in my head as the room grew quiet.


“What did you give me?” I asked, my chest heaved, breathless from the struggle as the pinch intensified and the liquid he injected dispersed into my muscle with a slow burn. Warm blood trickled down my neck. I glanced at the needle, then glanced at him.


“It should have worked by now,” Dusaro said, confusion written in the creases of his brows. I’d been drugged enough to know the rapid response was due by injecting it into my bloodstream. I felt no rush, no dizzying effects or blurred vision, just a slow burn. He missed my vein, most likely from Justice intervening at the right time.


“Freeze!”


I whipped around as five men from the resistance spilled into the room. The only Militia uniforms unrestrained or not dead was us. Dante at a standoff with a man from the resistance, both had guns drawn as they faced each other.


“No! Stop! Don’t shoot!” I yelled, my hands held in the air and I took a step closer to the man. Both men paused, exertion forced breaths fanned through the air between them. Their eyes, heated with rage. I placed a gentle hand on the man’s arm. “It’s not what you think.”


His dagger-like stare shifted back and forth between Dante and me. “Little girl… You have two seconds to remove your hand or it’ll be you I shoot!”


“I’m unarmed,” I said as I rose my hands up to my sides. I glanced at Dante. “Drop your gun.”


“I bust in here expecting to see hostages and find a room full of Militia. It wouldn’t be the first time I came across Militia fighting Militia and if they want to kill each other, fine by me! Less of them for me to hunt down. For all I know, this was a trap!”


“We aren’t Militia. This isn’t a trap,” I paused, “thank you for intervening.”


“I am lieutenant, Victor Mahoney, the one in charge of this section of the takeover. I know nothing about you… Besides a select few, all of our insiders were supposed to be moved out of here no later than yesterday. Who are you?”


Justice shoved Dusaro to the ground where Sonja guarded two others with a butcher knife in hand, Keisha armed with a rifle next to her. “Don’t let them move,” he said, then walked up to Mahoney who still held Dante at gunpoint. “I told you, she’s one of us and isn’t to be harmed… you will regret it.”


“I want to hear it from her! What is going on! If you are in undercover, then why don’t I know about it?”


“Okay,” I sighed, then pointed to Sonja, cuffed still at the wrist with chains that dangled unattached. “This is Sonja Rogerson, Charles Rogerson’s wife and we brought food in last night like we’ve done every week for the past six weeks.


“There were road blocks but the Militia let us through after they searched our truck. We were attacked at the first shelter. I got away, they took Sonja. We went undercover to rescue her. There wasn’t any time. We were inside Militia territory and had to find her before they moved her, the resistance was busy with their own problems, pressing them hard… We weren’t here five minutes before these guys showed up to transport her,” I said, pointing to the three remaining Militia, handcuffed and pressed against the wall. Dusaro one of the surviving. My insides curled as his missile guided glare bore into me like a hot branding iron, searing me with his silent threats. I looked away and glanced at Connell and Trevet, among the many dead and sprawled out in pools of their own blood. I shuddered internally. “We barely found her in time.”


“And who are you?”


“I’d rather not say aloud.”


“I don’t care what you’d rather do… tell me who you are or I’ll arrest you.”


“I’m Jade Kennington,” I sighed as I looked at Victor Mahoney and held his gaze. Muffled voices cut through the silence, words undecipherable to me from the men who stood around him. “And this is,” I paused as I looked at Dante. I wasn’t sure how to respond or who to call him. I chuckled sarcastically, a weak, exacerbated effort. James Swann, Marshal Hightower, I wasn’t sure if James Bond here was over his identity crisis. “Dante, Dante Tovar… his father is-”


“I know who Tovar is… you’re his son?”


“Yeah,” Dante said, his voice raspy as Mahoney still had his hand clamped around Dante’s jacket with his elbow at his throat.


“Check it out if you have to… Charles will verify it,” I said.


He nodded to another man who stepped outside. The sounds of his radio echoed in the alleyway in a broken conversation, apparently checking my story. Slowly, he withdrew his gun and released him. I didn’t realize I held my breath and I let out a verbal sigh.


“There are three men, dead in the freezer… men from the resistance. I don’t know how long they’ve been here,” I said to draw attention to something else other than us. “Maybe you know them and can return them to their families.”


Mahoney’s eyes drew a blank as a stunned expression formed, etched into the worn planes on his face. He probably hadn’t slept in days, none of us had.


“Show me,” he said, then motioned for me to move. “The rest of you stay here.”


I walked back to the cooler, the metal handle, icy in my hands as I pulled it open. The heavy door creaked as it swung slowly open sending another rush of cold, raw smelling air.


I walked passed the slabs of meat. With each step, dread wrung my insides, twisting them into knots. My breaths increased in quick white puffs as I breathed in the frosty air and I wondered if he could hear my heart hammer in my chest. I didn’t want to see them again.


I stopped and turned back then bumped into Mahoney. I had to tilt my head back to see his stoic face. He looked down at me.


“Is something wrong, Miss Kennington?”


“No… Yeah… I just,” I said as I fumbled on my words then let out a sigh. “They’re back in the corner… hanging up.”


His brows furrowed as he pushed past me. Against my better judgment, I followed. The sight was more disturbing than I remembered, or maybe I couldn’t react earlier because of the situation I was in, but as soon as I saw them, I had to fight back tears. He looked back at me, his lips pinched into a tight line as his jaw tensed. His breaths became measured as if he had to fight to hold back the anger that I saw brewing in his eyes.


“They have no bounds,” he said, more to himself than to me as he looked back at the three men. Rigid and frozen that looked more like a fake prop in a bad horror film.


“No… they don’t,” I responded.


He ran a hand over his stubbly hair and gripped the back of his neck, then he looked at me. “Does your brother know you’re here?”


“No…”


“That could be any of us… that could have been you,” he said, pointing at the dead men.


“I know.”


With a nod of his head he motioned for the two guards that stood at the entrance. They walked inside. “Get them down,” he said, then glanced at me before his focus shifted to my neck. He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed it on my neck. Blood marred the white cloth. “What happened here?”


I looked down at the syringe still in my hand. It blurred before me and I shook my head to focus. “Dusaro injected me with something…” My voice trailed off as it grew loud in my head. I glanced up at Mahoney. Concern etched into worn crevasses of his face, then he blurred into three before me. I strained my eyes to focus.


“Are you okay?” He asked.


Suddenly the room spun around me in a violent whirlwind. Heat rushed around my insides, thrashing about and my body grew heavy as a tingling sensation started in my toes and the tips of my fingers. My legs grew numb. I stumbled to my knees and reached for the floor to break my fall. It came at me in waves. I glanced up at Mahoney. He looked from me to the locker door.


I struggled to gain focus as I slowly looked back. A dark figure, blurred and warped, filled the doorway, the light behind him cast a golden aura around him as he walked towards me.


“Jade,” he said as he neared. The voice, familiar and safe had to be a hallucination as it echoed over and over again in my mind, the effects of the drug. I shook my head slightly as I tried to focus on his face. He knelt before me.


“Gage?” I asked, strained and barely above an echoing whisper. I felt my insides tighten with emotion and the burn of pending tears grew behind my eyes. I wanted so badly for it to be him. Unease and worry settled deep into his soft blue eyes. I reached out for him, or probably an illusion of him in my mind because I missed. Like reaching out for the fog and touching nothing, just before he blurred into the darkness that consumed me.