Enemy Lines (9 page)

Noah stopped his work on the bike and put down the tool. He turned and knelt down in front of her, cupping her delicate face in his large strong hands. "I don't have a lot of experience with love, but I know it's what I feel for you."

"How? How do you know?" Rachel breathed.

"Because I can't imagine ever being separated from you. I could never have enough time with you - I want to learn everything there is to know about you - every thought in your head, every dream you've ever had. I want a lifetime of your laughter and I want to be the one to make you happier than you've ever been in your life." Noah's eyes never left hers.

"If that's what love feels like, I think I love you too. And I don't have any experience in that department either - but I'd be so willing to learn with you."

Noah kissed her hard. It wasn't romantic. The kiss was full of terror and desperation - and it also tasted like hope.

"But we can't
…" Rachel whispered when they parted.

"Can't what?"

"We can't run away, not yet. I've come to know you enough that you'd live guilt ridden."

Noah turned away with pain stricken eyes, "I
have no way to find her, Rachel. I've tried."

"The Rebels do."

"What do you mean?"

"We have Rebel sources and intel embedded within each Selection. Great care is taken into learning the identities and alias' of the hidden - all photographs, copies of documents, they are safe guarded." Rachel assured him.

"You mean the Rebel's could have documentation that would lead me to her?" Noah dared to hope.

Rachel nodded.

A new smile lit Noah's face, "You give me so much hope!"

Old Detroit

Noah had been right - the motorbike did work and as they held possession
of a map and night glasses, they were able to drive watchfully on back roads that followed the highway. About two a.m. they entered the inner city ruins of Old Detroit. They stopped the bike, got off and began walking.

"I'm not familiar at all with this city," Rachel admitted looking around
at the fire-consumed rubble.

"But we are. Nice and slowly lower your weapons." Said a man's voice behind them.

"Not a chance," Noah challenged. "Identify yourself."

"You're the strangers, not us." Insisted a new voice.

Noah knew they didn't sound like Sovs, but they could have easily been drifters. "I'm going to turn around. See my hands?" He held them out in a non-threatening display. "I don't have a weapon drawn. Let's just get a look at each other." Noah turned without permission.

Rachel followed Noah's lead. Four men stood at a ready stance with guns drawn - they were dressed in Rebel uniforms.

"I'm Lieutenant Lawton from Northeast Division. Rachel was ecstatic that they found help so quickly. .

Ten more men who were hidden showed themselves. "
Lieutenant Rachel Lawton?"

"Yes, I am Lieute
nant Rachel Lawton. We were sieged at Old Chicago…"

"GET DOWN ON THE GROUND!" One of them shouted.

Fourteen assault rifles were aimed at them.

"Keep your hands where we can see them, or we'll fill your skulls with lead!"

As they knelt reluctantly, Rachel asked "What the hell is this about?"

"Just shut up
… and big guy, you better not so much as twitch." Noah felt three rifle barrels push into his scalp.

"Rachel you okay?" Noah asked defiantly.

"We'll be fine - I'll get this worked out." She whispered as the soldiers zip tied their wrists behind their backs. "What is the reason for this treatment?" Rachel insisted from the men.

"Treason and conspiracy," came the answer as black sacks were placed over their heads.

~ ~ ~

"Noah?" Rachel called out softly from the darkness of the cloth still over her head. "Noah, can you hear me?" There was no reply.

She was laying bound on a cold concrete floor. Rachel wondered if Webb could have really pulled off such a complete deception. Of course he had, or they wouldn't be in this position now. Where was Noah? And what were they doing with him?

She tried to calm herself. She imagined a vast
field with tall waving grasses. Mountains stretching boldly into the sky with trails of cold snow over there rugged stone peaks, her homeland in Old Montana when she was little. This is where she would want to bring Noah.

She had made the worst mistake by coming here - she had given them death sentences.

Some hours later, she heard boots stepping against the concrete as they drew closer. She listened to a key enter the lock and the door opened.

"Please close your eyes, Ma'am." Said a voice. She did and felt the sack being removed from her head. She pressed her eyes closed harder against the intrusion of light.

She heard the snip of the zip ties as her wrists came free. One of the men helped her to her feet. She rubbed her wrists.

"We are very sorry
Lieutenant. Too many rumors were circulating about your participation in the Old Chicago sweep. We had to verify the information - until we got down to the truth."

Rachel blinked her eyes until they were accustomed to the light. "And what is that truth?" She asked.

"That you succeeded in the implementation of the large scale evacuation of Old Manhattan." The soldier smiled.

"Where is my companion?" Rachel demanded. "And what happened in Northeast?"

"Please, let us move you to more comfortable quarters. Our Commander - John Lockport - wants discuss everything with you himself." said one of the soldiers.

"Fine," Rachel conceded. She followed them through the hallway where they stopped at a door and knocked.

"Enter," insisted the voice.

The Rebel soldier opened the door and the three of them walked in.

"Lieutenant Lawton," said the tall and lanky man. He had a handsome seasoned face and was probably in his mid-forties. A soft growth of light brown hair over his head indicated that it had been recently buzzed military style. He wore a Rebel uniform decorated with stripes, bars and medals. "I am Commander John Lockport, and you Ma'am are a hero." He smiled. "I apologize for the way you've been treated and the conditions in which you were contained, but we had to follow precautions given the circumstances."

"What is going on, Sir?" Rachel asked, her
expression stern.

"Commander Webb - of whom I know you are familiar - sent word to all Divisions of your covert activities with the
Sovereignty and had placed the blame of Old Chicago and Old Manhattan's downfall square on your shoulders.

"What happened to Old Manhattan?" Rachel strained.

"Don't concern yourself. Your heroics and early warning saved the citizens and soldiers of O.M." He reassured.

"How do you know?" Rachel wanted proof.

"Retired Colonel Smith, Ma'am. You revealed your suspicions to him of Webb, Connor, and the attacks. He was able to get all the inhabitants onto the ships in the harbor and clear out of Sov range." Lockport went on. "Kain of course destroyed the subway tunnels, but the boats were sent to Old Maine, where the first above ground colony had been formed and is protected."

"Smithy," The realization of her plan having worked spread through her in waves of relief.

"We've sent word throughout the Divisions of Webb. He slipped by them when he was almost apprehended; he's on the run. It's only a matter of time before we find him." He assured.

"Connor? Noah Connor, my companion?" Rachel pressed.

"Colonel Smith informed us that Connor was in on the plot with Webb." He informed.

"No, Connor is innocent. I expressed the allegations to Smithy, but I was mistaken. Connor played no part in the Old Chicago or Manhattan sweeps. And in fact, he saved my life and the lives of others." Rachel implored.

"Are you verifying that Noah Connor did not work in conjunction with Webb?" A puzzled expression crossed over Lockport's face.

"The Sov sent Connor in to aid Webb under the threat of harm to his family hidden with the Selections. However, he did not release information to Webb or other Sov officials. In fact, he came to my defense against Webb." Rachel explained.

When she had finished, Lockport removed a radio from his hip and brought it to his lips, "Johnson… Lawton has verified that Connor was not working with Webb. Get him cleaned up and brought to my office. Let him know the charges have been dropped." He chuckled. "But I suggest you keep the zip ties in place until he has visual confirmation of Lawton's well-being. We don't need him putting any of our men in the infirmary."

Lockport caught Rachel's concern. "He's a big boy and has been quite concerned for your safety. In fact, he took down three of our men while zip tied and head
bagged. He'll be quite an asset to the Rebels."

"Sir, Connor's sister age nine has been threatened for public execution in the event that he defects."

"What do you want to do?"

"Locate her and pull her out." Rachel said matter-of-fact.

"We'll match the intel, and go forward once Connor is calmed and ready for talking." Lockport agreed.

"What do you mean by calmed?" Rachel wondered.

"You'll see. Let's get you some food and clothes. How about a cup of coffee?"

"How about a shot of whiskey!"

"You've got it."

Soon, four Rebel soldiers escorted a bound, zip
tied and ankle cuffed Connor into the room.

"Rachel, are you hurt?"

"No, I'm not hurt - can you get him undone, please?" She said as an order. "Webb called us out."

"Yeah, they told me in so many words." Noah was pissed.

"What happened to your eye?" Rachel gently touched the formed bruise.

"Forget about my eye, I'm fine." As soon as Noah was freed from the bindings he pulled Rachel in to him.
Fuck protocol,
he thought. "Are you sure you're okay?" He glared around the room.

"I promise, I'm fine." She smiled up at him. She looked tired but not injured. Noah was satisfied. "This is Commander Lockport. He's going to help us find your sister."

~ ~ ~

"This is Tech Sgt.
Davids," Lockport introduced. Five of them - Lawton, Connor, Lockport, Johnson, and Davids were standing in a dimly lit room filled with wall-to-wall computer systems. Satellite surveillance, monitors, and information feeds from various Divisions flashed across a few of the screens.

"While the two of you were setting up quarters, I provided Davids with the name and composites you provided." Lockport informed.

"I've come up with a lot of information." Davids spoke in a raspy tone. His hair was short, thick and dark brown. He was a small man and wore a white lab coat with wire glasses. His eyes were intelligent and focused.

"David
s the best," said Lockport. "If there is intel on a database, he'll find it. If he doesn't have access to it, he'll hack it."

Davids qualified, "The young female approximately nine years old, blue eyes, blonde hair, first identified as Emily Michelle Connor was removed from her base home in Building Selection #123 and delivered to Farming Selection #19 under the alias Jenna Ladd for two years. She was sent back to Building Selection to reside with mother Sophie Connor who was fifty-two years of age. She was removed two years later and placed into various Selections for four years. In transit her mother passed away, cause of death
…"

"Suicide," Connor whispered. "Move on."

"Emily Connor is Sov ward #15831956401 and is now in Food Preparation Selection #401 under the pseudonym Fiona Weston. House #5943." David paused and took a deep breath. "She is red tagged as activated."

"What does that mean?" Noah asked suspiciously.

"It means the Sov has a certain amount of time to locate you before she is…" David swallowed.

"What territory is #401 located?" Lawton asked quickly.

"Southern," Davids answered.

"Old Georgia to be specific. In a rural area." Johnson had shorn red hair and a light complexion. He was well built and looked like he could take care of himself.

"What Rebels do we have placed in 401?" Lawton went on, her jaw set.

Two teachers - but they are only able to supply intel. They have no authorization to exit the Selection." Davi
ds replied.

"We can go in as Sov soldiers to move her," Rachel decided.

"Excellent," exclaimed Connor.

"Not you, Connor. They'll recognize you a mile away." Lockport quipped.

"I'll do it," Rachel volunteered. Female transports are required to be moved with a female officer."

"Johnson has experience in extractions." Lockport said.

"Yes, Sir - glad to assist." He said.

"I will be back up force. I'll stay hidden in case of emergency." Connor insisted.

"You have to hurry," Davids pushed. "This activation only lasts for three days."

We don't have time to argue, we don't even have time to sleep!" Rachel smashed random supplies into a pack.

"There are other female soldiers here," Connor wouldn't give it up.

"None as good as me, Connor! You know what happened in Old Manhattan?" She challenged.

Noah's face contorted in pain.

"I saved them all with Smithy's help. They were boarded onto ships in New York harbor as soon as the convoys took off. They are all safely tucked away in Old Maine. At the first above ground colony no less! I can do this, damn it - it's who I am!" Rachel was done talking. "Now fill your pack, we have got to go."

Someone knocked at the door, "Got your uniforms here."

Rachel opened it and took the hangers from the deliverer. "You are expected to report in two hours to the garage. I'll come back to show you the way." The private said.

Rachel closed the door.

"I can't lose you too, Rachel." Noah implored.

"You're not going to lose me. You need this… we need this." She reminded him as she secured close her pack.

"Then go over the plan again,"

"We have been over the op. We only have a little time, come into the shower with me."

"Rachel
…"

"It'll relieve the tension, now come on." She pulled his arm and led him into the bathroom. She turned on the water, regulated it, and quickly took off her clothes as he watched holding his breath. She stepped into the water. "Your turn, Connor."

He remembered how he felt when he thought he had lost her when the Rebels separated them. He pushed the fear and the pain into action. He looked hungry as he backed her up against the shower wall.