Patriots & Tyrants (Rebels & Lies Trilogy Book 2) (2 page)

“Yes, Father.”

“We’ll talk about this
back at camp.”

Christopher Caine looked
down from the top floor of the sky scrapper that he called home. The rising
morning sun beamed through the dark tinted windows. He stood in his expensive,
Italian made, custom tailored black suit and smiled. Caine was the unquestioned
leader of the USR. He looked down at the citizens that were under his control.
They looked so tiny from all the way up here, which was fitting, because that
was how Caine viewed those down below. They were too small, and too small
brained, to be at his level. Watching them scurry about with their
insignificant lives brought great joy to the seventy year old.

The feeling that his
mental capacity was superior to everyone else around him was unavoidable. He
often thought about his great scheme which kept his identity a top secret. All
those citizens, and his various puppets in the political spectrum, had no idea
who the true ruler was. The only ones who did were few and far between. The
majority of those that did were about to join him for a necessary meeting. It
still puzzled Caine that he even had to call these things “necessary”. When
would his puppets learn that he had everything under control? 

All of this
frustration was alleviated by one simple truth: he loved living in the top
secret USR Headquarters. There was nothing better than being in control.
Control over politics that he had in the old days weren’t enough. He needed
absolute control where he was the supreme ruler, dictator, fascist, whatever
you wanted to call him.

On top of that he also
had his private penthouse on this top floor. Everything he ever needed was
provided to him. Food, wealth, sex…not a day went by that he didn’t get to
enjoy the best things that life had to offer. In fact, he knew that those
weren’t really luxuries at all but what he deserved. Never satisfied, there was
always more than he could take. People often say that they lived life with no
regrets. When Caine said it, he meant it, with all his fiber. The only sadness
that he felt was that he wouldn’t be around that much longer to further indulge
in his perfect life. For a god amongst men, the only thing that would defeat
him was time. Caine’s health and shape were in tip top condition. As was his
mind. It was unfortunate that with all the advancements in medical technology
that death was still to be met by everyone.

He shook his head at
that awful thought and continued his preparations to give his briefing to his
Board of Elders. They all seemed to get bent out of shape over some new attack
on a USR complex just hours ago.

Everything, and everyone,
was under control.

Caine turned his attention
to the door into the Boardroom. The thirteen Elders began to file in and take
their designated seats around the large table shaped like a football. Their
dress was elegant. Each Elder in three piece suits from the finest foreign
outfitters. Caine smirked as they looked at them filing in. It amused him so
that they all tried to be like him. Dress like him. Copy his mannerisms. Some
even tried to mimic Caine’s voice to sound like him. As if that would provide
them with the mental capacity that he enjoyed. It was pathetic, truly, but they
were a necessary evil so he tolerated the bastards.

All the Elders lived
in this high rise. Everyone under Caine lived two stories below him and their
digs were not nearly as good as Caine’s penthouse. That was how it should be.
They had to earn their right to be at his level, and as far as Caine could
tell, none of them ever would.

“Thank you all for
attending,” Caine said once all the Elders took their seats. They all gave
their full, undivided attention to their leader. “I’ll try and make this
short.”

“Well,” a middle aged
man named Travis Johnson said. “We can start by going over that damned
terrorist attack last night.”

Caine pointed his
finger. “I’m tired of telling you to not speak out of turn. Now, going on to
that point, it was actually the reason for this meeting. I’ve heard some
rumblings from some of you that you feel like this whole resistance thing is
getting out of control.”

Johnson raised his
hand this time. When Caine pointed he said, “That’s because it is getting out
of control. I knew from the get go that this whole ‘Committee’ idea was shit.
We armed our enemies and…”

“And, what?” Kerry
Blake, Caine’s second in command, demanded. “What have they really accomplished?
They’ve blow up a few buildings, sure. Maybe they have caused more damage than
we anticipated. But, in the grand scheme of things, we have accomplished
our
goal. We have spread fear on the citizens and it is those
Americans
who
have taken the blame.”

Caine clapped his
hands together. “Well spoken, Kerry. Gentlemen, everything is under control.”

Johnson raised a hand
again before talking. “You can’t be serious. We’ve got to take care of this
problem. They’ve exposed our population control scheme. They’ve discovered each
other and the different rebel groups
we
armed will one day band
together…”

“Enough from you,”
Caine said with a sharp voice. “You have forfeited your right to speak.”

Caine had to pause for
a moment. This Johnson was inching closer and closer to his own very public
execution. He never grew used to another person questioning his authority as
much as Johnson did. There were times when Johnson did make a valid point. Not
that it ever mattered anything to Caine. He could be dead wrong and he still
expected the Elders to buy in. Lucky for them they never had to experience
Caine being wrong. When he was a successful politician in the old days, and now
during his time as supreme ruler of a country, nobody ever questioned him. If
someone did, there were always dire consequences. He continued once he
collected himself.

“Now, yes, these
terrorists have caused some damage. And, like was just said, they have gotten
just a little bit out of control. And, yes, we will take care of the problem.”

A younger Elder raised
his hand and was given permission to speak. “How do you propose we deal with
the problem?”

Caine thought about it
for a moment. Days like today reminded him of how much he hated the Elders. It
pained him to realize that he did need them. Getting his teeth drilled on
without numbing medication was more tolerable to him than this fact. If he lost
even one of them, save Johnson who was too stupid to do anything about it, his
sphere of influence would drop. To reassure them was vital. Their puny brains
just couldn’t comprehend his plan. No matter how many times he told them, how
many different ways he explained to them, they still couldn’t get past how the
resistance doing damage was a good thing. It created chaos which the USR would come
in and clean up. Fear that would be purged. Multiple opportunities to step in
as the saviors. More ways to tighten their grip on the citizens below. But, as
usual, most of the Elders were just too damn short sighted to see it.

“We’ll let them run
loose for a little bit longer. Then, we will break their spirit completely.”
Caine responded.

“What do you mean?”
the young Elder asked.

“They think they have
an ace up their sleeves…”

Johnson rose from his
chair. “You are getting reckless, Caine! We might need that in the future!”

“That’s it, Johnson!”
Caine screamed. “Get him the fuck out of here. You are going to be charged with
aiding the resistance. Enjoy your public execution!”

Johnson’s jaw dropped
to the floor. Caine reached under the table and pressed a red button. Instantly
a group of five Agents entered. Silence took over the Boardroom. This type of
thing was unprecedented. They watched as the Agents grabbed the scared shitless
Johnson from underneath his arms and dragged the man out. Johnson started to
yell obscenities and how Caine couldn’t do this. What Johnson didn’t understand
was that Caine
could
do this.

And, he took great
pleasure in it.

Kaspar searched
frantically for Krys in the wide open empty field. His heart raced and the gun in
his hand shook along with the trembles. She was just here a moment ago. Where
the hell could she have gone? He ran through the empty fields and found her
black Speed Triple parked against a dying tree. He investigated the area for
any signs of her. There were no foot prints in the grass. He felt the bike, but
it was cold, as if it hadn’t been ridden in years.

“Krys!” Kaspar
cried. “Where are you?!”

But, he knew that
she was gone.

Kaspar opened his eyes
and his head shot up from the pillow. He moved his frozen blue eyes from left
to right and realized he was back in the tan colored tent that he shared with
Krys. Their blankets and pillows damp from the wet grass beneath them. He
looked over and found her next to him. She was still asleep in her black tank
and panties. Kaspar reached over and pulled the green comforter over her. As he
did, she rolled over and faced him. Her tired eyes opened and he was greeted
with a smile.

“Hey,” Krys said.

“Hey.” Kaspar replied.

Krys noticed the
concerned look in Kaspar’s eyes. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just had a
nightmare.”

To say that his dream
had been a nightmare was an understatement. The last six months that Kaspar
spent with Krys were the best of his life. During that time, apart from their
battle with the USR, Krys had shown him love like he never experienced before.
All those times Mother told him to find someone special and he brushed it off.
He could see why she wanted this so bad for him. Without Krys, his heart would
have that black hole again, but he swore once again that he would not lose her.

Just like with
everything else in Kaspar’s life he had been dealt a bad hand. She had that
poison inside of her still. That drug which the USR dumped into the water
supply in the hopes of wiping out a woman’s ability to bear children. It was a
horrible evil committed by the USR that Kaspar would never understand. Not just
to genetically alter the female population but to release it knowing the
potential casualties.

“Was I in it?” Krys
asked, her smile gone.

“No,” Kaspar lied. “I
was stuck in a battle and couldn’t move. My voice was gone, too, so I couldn’t
call for help.”

Krys’s smile returned.
“No Krys to save your ass again?”

Kaspar moved his body
closer to her. He loved the feel of her skin as he rubbed up and down her arms
with a soft touch. Why couldn’t moments like these last forever? Kaspar moved
his head down and kissed her on the forehead. Something on the back of her neck
caught his eye while he played around with her black hair. Kaspar went from
stroking it soft to moving it out of the way. When he got a closer look he
wished he was imagining things. He wasn’t imagining it at all. It was a small
lesion with jagged edges. On the inside was a brownish yellow crust with cracks
all around. Small droplets of blood leaked through them. The reality of their
situation hit home once more.

“Is it bad?” Krys
asked, noticing Kaspar’s face.

“It’s not too bad,”
Kaspar lied again. “You in any kind of pain at all?”

“Just a little bit
here and there. Not enough to stop me, though. You know how it is. I have my
good days and bad days.”

Kaspar hoped that
today wouldn’t be another bad day for her. Maybe she had started to lose track,
or didn’t want to face the truth, but her bad days had begun to far outnumber
the good ones.

“We’re going to find
that cure,” Kaspar replied.

“We can’t even be for
sure that there is one.”

Kaspar rubbed his
fingertips slow on her cheek. “There has to be one. They couldn’t have made a
drug with this kind of an effect without a contingency plan. If all the women
got sick, then there would be no one…”

“Isn’t that the
point?” Krys interrupted. “To save the world from over population? Look, I just
want to live out the rest of my life as best I can. I want to spread the word
to as many people who will listen. But, I don’t need to lie to myself with
false hope. And, I don’t…”

“There is a cure,”
Kaspar’s turn to interrupt. “We just have to find it.”

“Ryan, please.”

Kaspar kissed Krys on
her forehead once more and rolled over. She moved in close from behind him and
wrapped her arms around his waist. He had to come to the conclusion, at some
point, that maybe he was lying to himself as much as to Krys. No matter how
many complexes they stormed not a shred of evidence even hinting at a cure were
found. Kaspar just loved Krys so damn much that he didn’t want to lose hope.        

He was going to save
her…somehow.

***

While everyone else
was gathered around for some breakfast chow, Kaspar stood beside Robert Clarke
as he feverishly typed away at his military grade laptop. Clarke was such a
fast reader, and so fast with typing and mouse moving, that Kaspar had a hard
time keeping up. It was a battle within to not interrupt the computer nerd by
asking what he saw prematurely. Kaspar had learned his lesson the hard way
months ago: never interrupt Clarke while he’s doing his thing. The only thing
to do was sit, wait, and try to keep up.

Clarke still had the
same scraggly, salt and pepper hair which never seemed to see a bottle of
shampoo and conditioner. He was like a hermit. All that was missing was a long,
scraggly beard to match the hair. For his part, Clarke took the constant
ribbing he got from Kaspar and the others well enough, only occasionally taking
offense to it. There was no fight in the leftover hacker even when he did. He
would merely say he didn’t appreciate it. Then he would disappear somewhere
with his computer. Truth be told, Kaspar grew a healthy respect for Clarke. He
might not have been a warrior, but his role in this fight against the USR was
one which Kaspar understood as vital.

It had been Clarke who
introduced Kaspar and Krys to this new rebel team. After the incident with the
lab which left only the three of them, and Greg Boler who later disappeared
without a trace, the Wizard (as Kaspar came to call him) hacked the databases
of the USR to find out if there were others, like them, who had been used.
That’s when he found out about Sam Harvey and his squad. They operated a few
hours’ drive away from their old safe house. It didn’t take much to gain
Harvey’s trust. Just the mere mention of the name John Paxton did the trick.

It was finally safe to
talk. Clarke shut the lid of the laptop and bit down on his lower lip. Kaspar
paused before talking to him. He didn’t want to know the answer, but he needed
to know. There was always this sense of hope after Clarke went through these
USR documents. It was becoming more and more apparent, however, that that sense
of hope was a false one.

“Anything?” Kaspar
asked, after taking a deep breath.

“Nothing. All those
documents you got from that hard drive were explaining how to assemble the new
drug. How that drug would be dispersed. How that the new drug has been altered
to get rid of the bugs from the older strain.” Clarke replied. He took off his
glasses and rubbed a soft cotton cloth on the lenses.

“You think this whole
talk about a cure for the old drug is just wishful thinking?”

“I don’t know what to
believe to be honest. It wouldn’t be out of the question, given the nature of
the USR, to not develop a cure and just let the women die off…”

“But…”

Clarke refitted his
glasses on the bridge of his nose. “But, I could also see them developing the
cure so they could make themselves the saviors. The women would praise them,
all the while unaware that they were still being used as guinea pigs. We’ve got
to get our hands on it if it exists, though. Not just for Krys, either.”

Here we go again,
Kaspar thought. Clarke wanted to see her cured as much as he did, but Kaspar
also knew that there were underlying political interests that he cared little
about. The others wanted to get their hands on the cure to show that the
resistance could be trusted. It was something that Clarke and Harvey always
talked about. It wasn’t enough to broadcast about the experimentations the USR
conducted. That could all be wiped out with propaganda by them. But, if they
had their hands on a cure…

“If there is a cure,
how come none of the databases you’ve hacked say anything about it?”

Clarke took a small
sip of water. “If there is something out there, it would be of the highest
security level. Only the cream of the crop within the USR would know about it.
They wouldn’t want somebody like me finding out.”

Kaspar smiled.
“Anything useful on that thing at least?”

“Not anything that we
haven’t already discovered.”

“Ain’t that some
shit?”

“How’s Krys doing?”

He just had to go
there. As much as Kaspar loved her, he knew that Clarke had known her longer
and cared for Krys, too. Krys, she just loved everybody it seemed, and she made
the computer nerd feel good about himself. Clarke’s personality, life style,
and lack of social skills led to a life absent from female attention. But, this
strong willed, attractive woman would actually give him the time of day and
spend time talking to him. There was no sexual attraction between the two, of
course, but there was a bond which grew stronger once it was learned that she
had been infected with an experimental drug which was taking her life away.

“Those lesions on her
body are getting worse. She…doesn’t have much time.” Kaspar replied, the words
almost too hard to say.

“We’ll find it.”
Clarke replied.

“We better soon. If it
exists…”