Finding Sage (The Rogue Book 1) (9 page)

              “Can you understand me?”

              Ishmael looked the man in the eye and for the first time noticed his eyes.  They were blood-red.  Filled with curiosity and fear, Ishmael nodded slowly.  The young man smiled.

              “Do not fear. You are not in danger.”

              Rolled R’s.  Over-emphasized O’s.  He was Russian.

              “I am Alexander.  This is a place where you can find purpose.  We answer to the man known as Sage.

              The name echoed through Ishmael’s head.  That name.  The name Tariq had been mentioning.  The name he suspected would only multiply their grief and sorrow.

              Tariq, what have you gotten us into?

15.

              “Are you sure about this?” Lilly asked, her eyes glazed with fear.

              They were standing in front of a very large building.  It had dozens of steps leading up to it, clear glass windows from floor to ceiling, and was dozens of stories high.  Three stories up there flew one large flag.  It was a baby blue flag with two intersecting white wreaths bordering a global view of Earth from the North Pole.  It was the flag of the United Nations.  To their left they could see planes flying into the hangar, as well as hear the roar of their engines.  This was the Chicago branch of the United Nations Transcontinental Airport. 

              Silas looked at the flag of the United Nations, feeling both disgust and fear, unsure of the wisdom of their endeavor.

              “No, I’m not,” Silas finally responded.  “But we have to get to London, and this is the only way.”

              “Why is it the only way?”

              Silas didn’t answer her question, but instead pulled her closer to himself before beginning  the journey up the steps and into the building. 

              As they pushed the glass doors  open and stepped past the metal detectors, Silas reached out with his mind.  Thousands of people were traveling through the airport, and everywhere they looked they saw soldiers patrolling the area, dressed in blue uniforms with AK-47s in their arms as well as various pockets on their black belts, no doubt filled with grenades, ammo, and other kinds of weapons.  U.N. soldiers were always armed for war in case of a riot or any other kind of attack.  There were dozens of shops: coffee shops, restaurants, bookstores, and tourist shops.  There were escalators leading to the next floor.  A hundred yards away there were gates where people’s identification and bags were being checked by soldiers. 

              Silas’ heart rate started to rise as he felt sweat forming on his forehead and palms.  He began breathing heavier as his mind took in a flood of information from the crowd.  He closed his eyes and concentrated, blocking out unnecessary connections to the people of the crowd and concentrated on the soldiers.  Their mood was firm but even.  They were accustomed to routine, the steady flow of people,  routine pat-downs and checking bags.  In all of the lines of soldiers, there was no mention in their minds of checking identification. 

              Silas blocked out the connections, bringing him back to full strength.  He took a deep breath and walked forward, still holding Lilly’s hand.  The soldier that checked them appeared to be an experienced soldier.  He had grey and white streaks in his hair and stood at over six feet tall. 

              “Next,” he said in a bored tone with a hint of a Russian accent. 

              Silas and Lilly passed through without any trouble.  As soon as they were through, Lilly grabbed Silas’ hand, holding it tightly.  He placed his arm around her and walked briskly.  Once they passed the shops on either side, they saw large electronic screens hanging overhead that showed the times of departures in bright yellow characters.  They squeezed through the crowds, careful to avoid eye contact with anyone.  Silas looked at one of the screens and made note of the gate number.  Even though they had passed one line of security, there were still soldiers everywhere, keeping an eye out for any suspicious activity.  Silas spotted security cameras from every angle hanging from the ceiling. 

              A man bumped into Silas and stopped to apologize, but Silas kept moving.  The man looked after him with suspicion. 

              “Detective?” asked a soldier next to him.  The detective didn’t answer, but continued watching the man in disbelief.

              “Sebastian?” asked the soldier when he didn’t respond.

              “You see that guy in the grey hoodie who has a young girl with him?”  He pointed at Silas and Lilly.

              “Yeah.”

              “I think that’s the guy we picked up in Moscow.”

              The soldier, Krinsky by name, clutched his AK-47 a little tighter. 

              “Follow my lead,” said Jefferson.

              “GRAYSON!”

              Silas froze on the spot.  He instantly regretted it.  Why did he stop at his alias?  Why didn’t he keep walking?  He did the only thing he knew how to do in such situations.  He clutched Lilly’s hand as tightly as he could and he ran with all the strength his legs could summon.  Before he could run for fifty yards, he found himself in the hands of three strong soldiers.  They held him in spite of his incessant struggling while Sebastian walked up to them.  Silas recognized him as the U.N. officer that made his arrest. 

              “Sedate him.”

              Silas felt a sharp jab of pain in his lower back.  He closed his eyes and allowed his body to go limp.  He waited until they loosened their hold on him, then he threw his elbow under the chin of the soldier still holding him.  He took the AK-47 from the soldier next to him and shot the five soldiers and Sebastian in the legs, grabbed Lilly’s hand, and ran with the gun in his hand.  The entire floor immediately erupted into panic.  People were screaming and running, not knowing where the gunfire came from.  Those that saw Silas immediately ran from him, allowing him a clear path. 

              He did all he could to block out the panic and fear that was beating down the door of his mind.  He knew if he let it in, he would lose consciousness. 
I just have to get to A12.  Just get to A12.
 

              Suddenly a small group of soldiers appeared to his left.  He instinctively threw Lilly behind the railing of the moving sidewalk, knelt down, and fired.  He aimed for their shoulders, hoping to take as few lives as possible.  He heard the dreaded sounds of clunky metal rolling across the ground.  He spotted the grenade about twenty yards to his right and dove behind the railing of the moving sidewalk before it blew.  The explosion blew the glass of the moving sidewalk everywhere and parts of drywall flew through the air, dust clouding the air.  Silas could feel glass cutting into his head and his hands.  He looked at Lilly, who had managed to shield herself from the explosion.  She looked fine aside from the dust on her face and in her hair.  He stayed down to shield himself from gunfire and quickly reached out with his mind to the soldiers, who were now only forty yards from him. Behind them to his right he could see a damaged flight gate sign that read A12. He concentrated heavily and put them all to sleep.  There were more from his left.  He received an epiphany.  He quickly reached out with his mind to ensure that there were no soldiers to his right.

              “Lilly, put your arms around my neck and hold on.”

              “What?!”

              “Do as I say!”

              “Are you crazy?”

              “Yes.  But you have to trust me!”

              Lilly closed her arms tightly around Silas’ neck and held her eyes tightly shut.  Silas ran in a crouched position, being sure to keep Lilly on his back.  He straddled briskly to the right and kept the trigger squeezed, shooting in a broad stream.  The soldiers that were not mowed down by gunfire dropped to the ground, desperate for cover.  Once they passed the soldiers, Silas pulled Lilly off of his back and put her in front of him and they both ran for the gate as fast as they could.  The gate was deserted and Silas started to panic as he realized that the ship might also be deserted.  He did not know how to fly.

              As they ran into the plane, the door immediately closed behind them.

             
Is this a trap?

              “Welcome,” said a voice behind them. 

              Silas turned quickly and pointed his gun at the speaker. 

              “Easy, puma.  I’m a friend.”

              It was a middle-aged man with short brown hair and a muscular physique.  The wrinkles on his face indicated a long and hard life, and he had a scar that came down his face diagonally from the top right portion of his forehead to his left cheek.  Silas did not lower his gun.

              “Who are you?”

              The man smirked mischievously.

              “My name’s Zeke.  I’ve been instructed to bring you safely to London.”

              “I’m not a circus monkey and I don’t trust strangers.”

              “Sage considers you a friend, Silas Knight.”

              Silas lowered his gun.

              “Sage sent you?”

              “Life just got a lot more interesting for you, son.  Unfortunately, I’m not authorized to tell you anything about him, but Eli is supposed to meet us there.  He will give you the answers you’re looking for.  Now buckle up and let’s get this hunk of metal in the air.”

16.

As Silas and Lilly flew over the Atlantic Ocean, Alice and Rodge sailed across it.  They were on a privately hired ship with about fifty other travelers, bound for England.  The two of them were in their room, discussing their current situation.  Alice was sitting against the wall with her gun in her hand, staring at it.  Rodge was sitting on the bed, watching Alice carefully.  Alice looked up and met his gaze.

              “What?” Alice asked.

              “Nothing, I just—I’m just thinking.”

              Alice sighed.  A lot was on her mind.

              “Are you sure about this?”

              “No, I’m not.  I got an anonymous call at a payphone, I can’t be too confident in that.”

              Alice looked down at the gun in her hands again.  Anger was still smoldering inside of her, but her anger was now met with something else: apprehension.  In the midst of her burning desire for revenge, she had overlooked the fact that this unknown man had a daughter.  Before they lost them in Chicago, she saw him pulling her close to himself.  He cared for her.  She thought of how Rodge had come to care for her and what she would do if someone wanted to harm him.  Of course, this was completely different!  Rodge was not a killer, this man was. 
That poor child will probably be better off anyway
, she reasoned. 

              But when the time inevitably came, would she be strong enough to pull the trigger? 

              She looked back at Rodge, who quickly turned away.  He had been looking at her differently for the past couple of weeks.  He was looking at her with a sort of longing . . . a new question came to mind: when she revealed her secret, would he remain with her?  Would he still feel the same way?  She wasn’t sure how she felt, but she knew one thing: she could not bear the thought of losing the only friend she had.

17.

“We can’t stay here,” said Tariq.  “These people are only going to get us into more trouble.”

              “Weren’t you the one who wanted to find Sage to begin with?  Now we find the only link to them we may ever find and you want to run in the opposite direction,” replied Salah, annoyed.  “Will you make up your mind already?”

              The two brothers were in a bedroom in the small house they had been taken to.  Tariq was watching suspiciously out the window as their younger brother appeared to be taking a liking to Alexander, who was teaching him to shoot a rifle at small wooden targets across the desert terrain.  Tariq scowled, uneasy with how his young brother was getting caught up in the whole mess, as well as jealous of the attention that Ishmael was giving a total stranger.  He knew that regaining Ishmael’s trust would be difficult, but he thought he would have made a little bit of headway by now.  Instead of owning up to that, however, he found blame elsewhere for his distaste towards their new companions.

              “See, for some reason, I’m just a little suspicious of kids with guns.  I know that sounds crazy, but I just can’t shake it,” he said sarcastically.  “I can’t imagine you’d know why that is?”

              “It’s a safe place.  Is there something wrong with that?”

              “Oh yeah, I’d much rather be eaten by a wolf than a bear,” Tariq replied.

              “Did you ever think that maybe everyone isn’t as malicious as you?”

              “Come on Salah, how dense can you be?!  They kidnapped us!  It’s not like we went looking for them.  How do we even know that they’re who they say they are?”  He hesitated briefly before continuing.  “I know that you want to keep your innocence, but you haven’t been part of this life like I have.  You can’t trust anyone.”

              Salah sighed.

“Look, I paid attention when we got here.  I was suspicious too, but everything feels right,” he insisted.

              “You do realize that you read emotion and not all the truth in the universe, right?  How can you be sure?”

              “I don’t know; look, you know I can feel deception.  It reeks of adrenaline and the fear of being discovered; like rotten fish.  I don’t feel that in anyone here.  There’s a lot of fear, but it’s the same kind of fear that we have.  They’re scared of the soldiers.  Now if we—”

              “Quiet, Stalin’s coming.”

              “What?”

              “Quiet!” Tariq hissed.

                Alexander and Ishmael came through the door and Ishmael took a seat next to Salah. 

              “Alexander has some news,” he told his brothers.

              Tariq looked at Alexander expectantly.

              “We need to go to England.”

              “England?!  Why?” Tariq asked demandingly.

              “My men are few,” replied Alexander.  “The attacks are growing in number.  Eli is a friend in London who can help us.  I received a message from him this morning.  I believe he can help you more than I.  I and a few of my men will come with you to give safety.”

              Salah quickly grew agitated at Tariq and quickly spoke up.

              “We are happy to accept your protection.  When do we leave?”

              “Tomorrow morning,” Alexander replied.  “We will leave at dawn.”  Alexander left the room, leaving the three brothers alone.

              “What does he think we are, a bunch of circus monkeys?!”

              “Tariq, you’re getting what you want—we’re leaving!”

              “It’s just another group of the same idealist wackos!”

              “Do you have a better idea?” Ishmael remarked.  “It’s better than wandering in the desert, killing everyone we meet.”

              “What did you say?” asked Tariq.

              “Tariq—” Salah warned.

              “Who do you think you are, huh?  You are a helpless child that was bound to die and I came back home to make sure that you stayed alive.  It would have been a whole lot easier for me to survive on my own but I didn’t!  I have given my life to protect you and THIS is how you thank me?!”

              “You don’t act like you care my whole life and you think showing up a couple months ago is going to fix everything?”

              “BOTH OF YOU, SHUT IT!!!”

              Tariq and Ishmael both stared at Salah, surprised.  He never lost his temper.

              “This isn’t helping the situation at all, so shut up and leave it alone.  We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow, so we should get some rest.”

              Ishmael scowled at Tariq, who wouldn’t make eye contact with him.

              “Children,” said Salah, “I believe I said we should go to bed.”

              Ishmael lay on his bed of blankets on the floor while Tariq lay on one of the two beds in the room.  As sleep escaped him and he tossed and turned through the night, Tariq realized that he had a long way to go with both of his brothers to make up for what he had done.  A very long way.