Finding Sage (The Rogue Book 1) (19 page)

33.

              Gamble rode in the back of a pristine black van. He held his AK-47 pointed toward the ceiling and stared at the wall of the van behind the head of the soldier across from him.  All six of the soldiers did the same.  The men in their royal blue uniforms held perfectly indifferent gazes, a command given to them since their first day of training. 

              Gamble concentrated on his breathing to avoid thinking of what they must do.  Breathe in.  Breathe out.  Breathe in.  Breathe out. 

              He felt the van pull into a parking lot and park.  He squinted his eyes shut for a moment and dreaded what he knew was coming.  The next three seconds felt like an eternity.  Then the back door opened.  Light flooded into the back of the van.  The soldiers filed out, Gamble at the back.  On his way out, he pulled out a large black case that was on a shelf underneath the van. 

              He looked to his right and saw a tall brick building.  It was the same as all of the buildings on the block, three stories and brick with a flat roof and black metal stairs on the side.  He started to scale the stairs, making his way to the roof while the rest of the team crossed the street.  Once on the roof, he set the box down and opened it.

              The sniper rifle’s jet-black color shone in the sun and a knot formed in Gamble’s stomach. He reluctantly set the rifle on its stand and lay prone with his sights on the building opposite him.  He pulled his phone out of his pocket and laid it next to him.

The soldiers were silent as they made their way through the building, using hand signals, so as to be careful not to alert their subject of their presence.  They filed up the old wooden stairs carefully, trying to avoid the obnoxious and revealing creaking sounds. 

They got off of the stairs at the second floor.  They filed down the long hallway until they reached room 2114.  Commander Locke gave the nod.  The wooden door crashed to the floor and the soldiers flooded into the room, splitting off into the separate rooms of the apartment.  Their commander found the target sitting in a chair against the wall, facing them without any sign of surprise or fear.  He was about twenty years old with blonde hair and a medium build.  He had a thick goatee and a diamond stud earring in his left ear.  He was wearing a grey A-shirt, revealing a Chinese dragon tattoo on his right arm.  And he looked bored.  Completely and utterly bored. 

One of the soldiers kept a gun at his head and the commander pulled a small black cartridge from his belt with two small metal spikes on top.  He jabbed it into the man’s forearm.  The man did not make eye contact, but stared straight ahead with a small smirk on his face.

The box’s screen lit up.  The commander looked at the readings.  The box emitted a robotic female voice: “
Target positive.”

The commander aimed his gun at the target’s head.

“Can you shoot one that isn’t running, Commander?”

Now he was making eye contact.  The commander didn’t hesitate.  He pulled the trigger.  All he heard was a click.

“Oliver Weston,” the man said.  “Born in Theresa, New York at 11:23 p.m. on September 8.  I enjoy playing the piano and films from the early 1900s.  Of course those are illegal, but hey, if my existence is illegal, what’s a couple of movies?”

“Shoot him!”

A chorus of clicks filled the room.  Oliver continued.

“When I was eight years old I met my father for the first time.  My mother was forced to go into hiding and hadn’t been able to contact him.  That reunion was the best day of my life.  I ran away from both of them last year because I wanted to protect them.  Good thing I did, eh?”

“Beat him to death,” The commander said.

“You can kill me if you want, Commander,” Oliver said, his voice raising.  “But I will not let you escape without blame.  Know this: I.  Am.  Human.”

The Commander changed his mind. 

“Gamble, execute Order 1161.”

The fear that followed in Oliver’s eyes showed his surprise.  He didn’t calculate for a sniper.  He only had milliseconds before a bullet pierced the back of his head.  He never should have sat in front of a window. 

Gamble wiped vomit from his mouth and breathed slowly and rigidly as his arms and legs shook.  Once he stopped shaking, he stood and started to put away his rifle.  He snapped the case shut and descended the steps back to the van. 

On the way back to base, he was silent.  He stared at the opposite wall with no expression and no emotion.  When they got back to the base, he kept his head down.  He changed out of his uniform and went back to his dorm room.  Once he did, he closed and locked the door.  He climbed into bed and covered his head so that the cameras could not see what he was doing. 

Once he was covered, he cried.  He cried bitterly.  He controlled the volume of his voice to avoid being heard, but tears flew down his cheeks, creating small wet spots on his sheets. 

His tears were for the blood on his hands.  Even more so, however, his tears were for himself.  When he killed the first time, he vomited multiple times throughout the remainder of the day.  He couldn’t eat properly for the next three days.  But now, he vomited once and then felt fine.  He felt no nausea.  No weakness.  No physical signs of sickness whatsoever.  He was becoming a heartless assassin and it was only a matter of time before he was completely gone.

34.

              In the all-too-crowded hotel room, Alice sat on the couch with Lilly next to her.  Silas watched his daughter out of the corner of his eye with a smile on his face.  He hadn’t seen her bond with anyone like that and  Alice’s sacrifice, which he now knew was intentional, had solidified the change in his own mind, that she was trustworthy.  He believed that it was even healthy for Lilly to develop a close relationship with her, seeing as she was missing a mother figure, which he knew couldn’t be good for her.

              Lilly was recounting a story to Alice from memory without stuttering for even a moment.  Alice watched her with a smile on her face and enjoyed the interruption from their chaotic and defeatist lives. 

Lilly told the story with feeling, slowing when she reached the emotional parts and raising the pitch of her voice when the characters were excited.  The story, surrounding a family of bears who went on a vacation to the waterfall, ended with a happy family going back home.

“And they all came home and were a happy family once again.”

“Is that the end?”

“Yes,” Lilly responded.

“Are you sure?” Alice teased.

Lilly smiled.

“I would remember if it wasn’t.”

As the story came to an end, Lilly’s smile faded slightly.  The end of the story was bittersweet for her, a reminder of how things could never be for her.  She didn’t want to be closed up, but she didn’t know how to be open.  Despite this, she felt comforted simply by being with Alice and especially with the man she had come to know as her father.  Even with the constant attacks and the running, she still somehow felt safe with these people.  She trusted them.  She knew that they wouldn’t let her down.

  In the next room, Eli sat at the wooden kitchen table, staring intently at the wall, trying to think of a way out.  His every plan had blown up in his face; his every intent blocked by a proverbial wall.  For the first time in several years, he was beginning to question his ability to lead. 

Prior to the attack in Indiana, he had successfully rescued rogues and fought the enemy for years; more years than he cared to admit he had been alive.  Yet here, on the run, he was without purpose or direction.  He had taken his orders form Sage for so long that he had lost the ability to find his own way. 

His doubtful meditation was interrupted by Tariq, who had to speak a few times before Eli registered the fact that he was talking.

“Eli, I said get away from the window!”

He became cognizant of Tariq’s warning and realized that his back was to a window.  He moved quickly and stepped behind the armed Tariq.

“What’s goin’ on?”

“This was slipped under the door.”

Tariq handed Eli an envelope.  It had Eli’s name on it.  Eli snapped his head up.

“Where’s your brother?”

“Sleeping in the bedroom.”

“Go to him,” Eli said abruptly.  “Make sure we’re all accounted for.”

Inside the envelope was a piece of notebook paper which was tri-folded.  Eli unfolded it.  It was a letter addressed to him.  He immediately looked at the bottom to see who it was from.  His eyes lit up and he looked around him, expecting to see the man himself.  The name rang through his head.  A name he never thought he would hear again, at least not in a positive circumstance.

“What’s going on?” Silas asked.

Eli had been so engrossed in the letter that he hadn’t noticed Silas approaching him.

“Silas . . .” Eli said.  “Look at this.”

Silas looked at the letter and he also met it with excitement.  He swallowed, trying hard to think logically in his heightened emotional state.  He wanted to believe it.  He wanted to believe it badly; but after so much tragedy, it was hard to believe something good could have come their way.

“Do you know that he wrote this?”

“No,” Eli admitted.  “It was slipped under the door.”

Silas tried to read the letter, but he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the bottom line, with the accompanying signature.

As always, Eli, I urge you to remember the phoenix, and remember the others.  You must remain with the brothers.  I am eagerly awaiting the arrival of Silas.  You will only be able to find me if you know where to look.

Sincerely,

Sage

              “Do you think it’s him?” Silas asked.

              “It has to be.”

              “How do you know?”

              “The phoenix,” Eli responded.

              “What’s the phoenix?”

              “It doesn’t matter,” Eli said.  “No one else could know about it.  No one.  This is Sage.  He’s alive.  And he wants to see you.”

              “Wait a minute, how could he know about all of us if he hasn’t been in contact with you?” Silas asked with suspicion.

              “You have no idea what he’s capable of,” Eli said.

              Silas stopped for a few minutes to think. 

              “The problem,” Eli said, “is where he’s referring to.”

              “You don’t know?”

              “No.”

              Silas knocked this around in his mind, trying to decode the message.  Then he looked at the rest of the letter. 

              “What do you make of this?”

              Eli looked at the random statements in the middle of the letter:
I’m doing well here.  I consider it a kind of safari.  It’s refreshing and unusual, almost like having kangaroos in your back yard.

              “Eli, how long have you been alive?”

              “A long time, bro,” Eli said.

              “Good,” Silas replied.  “Now I know this is going to sound crazy and I know that it goes against everything I’ve ever been told, but I have to ask.  Is Australia real?”

              Slowly and intentionally, Eli nodded his head.

              “The U.N. never was able to subdue it.  Instead, they deleted it from the maps.  I never thought of it before because they supposedly nuked it after they tried a surprise attack about 75 years ago.”

              “So do you think—?”

              “Yes.  Sage is in Australia.  And he’s waiting for you.”

              “How does he know who I am if he’s been so far away?”

              “You’ll understand when you meet him,” Eli said.  “We’ll sleep here tonight and move in the morning.  We need to find a pilot willing to fly you there.”

              “I think I know someone who will.”

              Eli raised an eyebrow.

              “From my dealer days,” Silas explained.  “When I was living in Russia, she would fly merchandise to me.  In return I gave her a share of the profits.  She lives in London.”

              “Do you know where?” Eli asked.

              “Yes.  I visited her once.”

              “Excellent.  We’ll go there first thing in the morning.”

              That night, Silas lay in bed for a couple of hours before drifting off to an uneasy sleep.  The pressure of meeting Sage and having to soon be on the move again stressed him to no end, but he was eventually able to push his worries aside.  In his dreams, however, more problems arose.

              He found himself in complete blackness.  He waved his hand in front of his face, but was unable to see it.  He tried to remain calm, but panic began to take control of his body.  He had no idea where he was or how he got there.

              As suddenly as he had appeared there, a white spotlight shone on a lone figure about thirty feet from him.  It was a bird; a black raven whose coat of black feathers seemed to glisten in the light.  The light placed a hint of optimism in him, though he was suspicious of the black bird.  It was larger than normal, though not quite large enough to be cause for alarm.  It stood at about three feet and looked him curiously in the eye.  He began to walk slowly towards it, but then things took a dreadful turn.

              The bird screeched a horrid, bone-chilling shriek and spread its wings.  Silas needed no further encouragement.  He turned and ran.  He ran with all the energy and speed he could muster.  It seemed pointless, like running in quicksand.  As he ran away from the light, the darkness returned.  He saw no light and he met no walls.  He was running from death into death.  Yet run he did.

              As he ran, he heard the bird screech behind him and a surge of heat met his back with a scorching pain.  He ran harder and faster, knowing his end was only seconds away.

              “Alice!  Alice, wake up!  Alice!”

              Alice slowly opened her eyes and pulled her black hair back behind her ears.  She squinted and saw Lilly’s scarlet hair and full cheeks looking back at her.

              “Lilly?  What’s wrong?”

              “It’s my dad.  You have to come see him, now!”

              Alice pulled herself out of bed and followed Lilly.  Lilly led her past Tariq and Salah’s respective places on the floor to the bedroom, where Silas was lying on his back in one of the beds.  He was clenching the bedspread so hard that the skin on his knuckles had begun to crack.  His nose had begun to bleed and he was trying to scream, but sounded as if something was blocking the noise; like a scream within a whisper. 

              “You have to help him!”

              Alice looked at Lilly and saw the pain in her eyes.  She looked at Silas and felt pity for him in his suffering and helpless state.  She shook the bed in an effort to wake him.

              “Silas?  Silas, wake up.  Wake up!”

              Alice heard Lilly behind her, crying uncontrollably.  She felt a tear fall down her own cheek.  She could not bear to see Silas like this.  Not after all they had been through.  She thought of all of the near-death experiences and all of the times that he rescued her.  And the time that she rescued them.

Then she got an idea.

She carefully placed her hands on his head.  She closed her eyes, and with all of the sensitivity and caution that she had, she pulled.

The force of the nightmare threw her back against the wall.  She pulled herself up to her knees and shook as the pure fear and adrenaline ran through her mind.  She held herself and rockedF back and forth, trying to maintain control.  She saw Silas awake and rushing toward her and with one last shiver, she fell to the floor unconscious.