Rebels & Lies (Rebels & Lies Trilogy Book 1) (13 page)

“We’ve got two more stops to make.” Paxton said.
He took a right turn when the light turned green.

“Where to?” Kaspar asked, his head rested against
the window.

“A friend is waiting for us at this small
sandwich shop downtown. That’s stop one.”

“What kind of a friend?”

“His name is Greg Boler,” Paxton said as he took
a left. “He works for the USR.”

“
For
the USR?” Kapsar asked, puzzled.

“Relax, he’s undercover. He really works for me.”

“He just gives you information, then?”

“That’s correct. We meet every week…here.” Paxton
said. He pulled the USR van into another alleyway and drove to the end. The
alleyway connected to the back lot of the sandwich shop.

Kaspar opened the passenger door while Paxton
moved to the back. In the back, the old veteran fumbled around with a duffle
bag. He grabbed two black jackets that read “USR” in bold yellow letters. He
exited the van and tossed one of the jackets to Kaspar. Both men slipped theirs
on before they walked into the shop.

Inside, the dim light from above accented the
maroon colored carpet and the rusted yellow paint of the walls. There was a
good crowd this day, with about twenty or so citizens scattered about for the
lunch rush. Kaspar looked around and noticed how everyone seemed to grow
uptight at the sight of men who wore USR attire. One lady in particular refused
to look up from her plate of salad and watery dressing.

Paxton found his undercover in the far back
corner. Greg Boler sat alone at the table with nothing but a half empty glass
of water in front of him. Kaspar got a good look at Boler before they reached
the table. The undercover had a clean look about him, a fresh crew cut and a
smooth face with not a strand of facial hair to be found. There was something odd
about the man, though. He kept looking around from side to side like he was
going through a nervous breakdown. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead and
dripped onto the table.

“Greg,” Paxton said, “nice to see you today.”

“Oh, John, what took you so long?” Boler
demanded.

“Had things to do today.”

Paxton took a seat in front of his mole and slid
over for the new recruit to take a seat beside him. Boler got a look at Kaspar
as the two made eye contact with one another. His face went expressionless,
then turned to the look of a man ready to pull his gun out to blast somebody.
The two remained dead locked in a staring contest…the type where no one gave a
shit who smiled first.

“Who the fuck is this?” Boler demanded.

“Who the fuck are you?” Kaspar demanded right
back, his eye brows scrunched together.

The other customers inside heard the
confrontation and turned their attention to the table. Kaspar immediately
cursed himself for letting his temper get the best of him once more. He also
knew that the same question going on in his mind went on in the rat’s brain:
what if one of the customers happened to be an Agent?

For his part, Paxton remained calm, as he had to.
He ignored the other customers and kept his focus on Boler. He reached over the
table and patted the mole on the back. The situation must be put to an end
before it escalated. It would be a damn shame to be thrown in prison, getting
Boler killed in the process, over a little tissy fit.

“It’s cool, Greg,” Paxton said. “Compose
yourself.”

“Sorry, sir. Who are you, anyway?” Boler asked
again.

“I’m Ryan,” Kaspar replied. He stuck out his
right hand which Boler embraced. “New guy.”

“New guy, eh? Where’d you dig this one up at?”

“He was a prize fighter. Danny’s friend.”

“You know Danny?”

“Yep.” Kaspar replied.

“He’s a prick, ain’t he?” Boler asked with a nervous
smile.

“Sure is…sometimes.”

A young waitress walked over to their table. She
wore a pleasant smile on her face while she approached. Two things jumped out
at Kaspar from the very start: her emerald green eyes and auburn hair and his
heart started to do that thing again every time he saw a woman he found even
remotely attractive. She carried a note pad and a pencil in hand. Her smile got
wider upon approach.

“How are my Agents today?” she asked.

“Just fine, Traci,” Paxton replied. “How about
you?”

“I’m here. What can I get for you fellas today?”

“I’ll have the usual.” Paxton replied. Traci knew
exactly what to write down on that cute little notepad of hers. He really liked
her, not only was Traci good at her job but she was good looking to boot.

“Usual here, too.” Boler replied. She wrote down
his order.

“And, for you, sweetie?”

Kaspar picked up a menu and flipped through it at
a rapid pace. His mind raced for something, anything, to say to the attractive
waitress, but nothing came to mind. He found something he might like towards
the middle of the menu.

“I’ll have the BLT, please.” Kaspar replied.
“And, how are you? Your hair looks really nice.”

“I’m here and thank you.” Traci said. “I’ll get
that order out for you guys in just a second.”

Paxton looked over at Kaspar and made a gun out
of his index finger. He pretended to shoot the thin air and then made a motion
with his other hand. The hand flew out of the sky and crashed onto the table
which caused a laugh from Boler.

“Crash and burn, kid.” Paxton said.

“Ha ha.” Kaspar replied.

Paxton turned his attention to his mole. “So,
what do you have for us today?”

Boler took a sip from his water and moved his
nervous glance around the restaurant. It took a few seconds, but he grew
satisfied that there were no off duty Agents in the café. Kaspar sipped at his
water and tried to get a feel for this Greg Boler guy. He felt…uneasy about
this whole situation. Boler did work for the USR, so what were the chances he
was…

You’re thinking too much, Kaspar told himself. He
took another sip of the water and let the cold liquid run down his throat.
Chill
out, Paxton seems to trust the guy, so it’s cool
. Then again, how much can
the old bastard be…

Stop it.

“I think…” Boler said, then hesitated.

Traci came out with everyone’s order. She slid
the bowl of Garden Vegetable soup in front of the mole. Paxton’s salad was
filled with thick leafy lettuce and what looked skim milk poured on top. Then,
the BLT for the new guy. The sandwich contained three large slices of Tomato, a
healthy amount of lettuce, and one slice of that tofu shit in the middle. He
took a bite and grimaced. These damned rebels ruined him.

“Go on,” Paxton ordered.

“I think there is something going down tomorrow
night.” Boler said.

“What do you mean?” Paxton demanded. He swam his
fork around the salad for a little bit and contemplated taking a bite. He
thought better of it.

Boler looked around with that nervous glance
again; the one that started to get on Kaspar’s last nerve. This guy was nothing
but a giant pussy. Kaspar wondered just how difficult it was to get into the
USR as an Agent. This guy, from his too clean look to his jitteriness, managed
to get in. He didn’t seem to be the type of guy cut out for this spy stuff. He
seemed to be more at home doing nothing.

“There’s this underground church,” Boler said
with a voice just above a whisper. “They meet up in this abandoned house…in the
basement once a week. The USR has found out and they keep a watchful eye over
them. They have confirmed that this is, indeed, an illicit practice of
religion. They plan on taking them out tomorrow.”

“You got an address for me?” Paxton asked. He
pulled out a pen and slips of paper from his jacket pocket.

“Sure.” Boler said. He gave him the address.

Paxton jotted down the address then placed the
pen and paper back in his pocket. He took a bite of his salad and regretted it.
The big gulp of water didn’t do a good enough job to wash out the bitter taste.
He wondered why he always ordered this piece of shit salad but, then again, no
matter what he ordered here would taste like shit based on USR health
regulations.

“Anything else I should know? Names?” Paxton
wondered.

“No, not really. Access to their names is above
my pay grade.”

“Greg,” Kaspar said, he placed his sandwich on
the glass plate.

“Yes?”

“Let me ask you something. You work inside the
USR, right?”

“Of course, why?”

Kaspar’s eyes were focused solely on Boler. “You
ever hear the name Jenna Kaspar?”

Boler bit his bottom lip. “No, can’t say that I
have.”

“Really—name doesn’t ring any bells?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Can you look into that name for me?” Kaspar
asked.

Boler placed his spoon back into the steaming
bowl of soup. He shook his head no. Did anyone know about Mother’s death?

“No, no, and no.” Boler replied.

“What do you mean, no?” Kaspar demanded.

“Look, I’m putting my ass on the line enough as
it is. I don’t need to be drawing any extra attention to myself by snooping
around in someone else’s department.”

“But, you just told us about this church, I don’t
understand.”

Boler started to answer, but Paxton held up his
index finger. He sighed and looked over at the kid, the poor bastard who was
more ignorant about how the world worked than he anticipated. Paxton took a sip
of water and patted his new recruit on the shoulder.

“Greg works for another department separate from
the Resistance Unit, so he’s not privy to what goes on in there. He works for
Citizen’s Affairs. He finds out about missions, like this church, from his
superiors.” Paxton said.

“Why can’t you just…” Kaspar started to say.

“Because…” Boler said, his face turned pale. “I’m
having panic attacks, okay? I don’t know how much longer I can…I can’t do this
spy shit anymore. John, when can I get back into the unit with you?”

Paxton sighed, “Greg, we need a man in there, and
you are the best man for the job.”

“How do you figure?”

“Because, you know how to keep your mouth shut.
You’ve just got to hold on…just a little bit longer, okay?”

Boler slammed his fist on the table. “Really?
Just a little while longer?”

“Speak your mind.”

“You’ve been giving me that same song and dance
for the past seven damn months. I can’t take this anymore, always looking over
my shoulder. I even sleep with my gun. Let me tell you something. From where
I’m standing, it doesn’t look like you and the boys are making all that much
progress.”

“We will,” Paxton reached over and rubbed at
Boler’s shoulders. “Just have some patience, son.”

“Patience?” Boler demanded. He hunched his back
and leaned in closer to Paxton. His voice was low and shaky, “They are going to
find out, sooner or later.”

“What are you suggesting, then?”

“Let me quit. Join the frontlines with you guys.”

“You are on the frontline,” Paxton replied. “More
than any of us, I can guarantee you that.”

“I’m not cut out for this.”

“If you don’t believe in our cause anymore…”

“It’s not that,” Boler said. “I assure you it’s
not that.”

“Like I said, we need someone on the inside. If
you quit your current job, you will need to find a replacement.”

“I can’t trust anyone in there. Besides, that
would mean exposing myself…”

“It’s a tough call, I’ll give you that. But, you
do know who you can trust, right?”

“Yes, sir.” Boler replied, he took another
spoonful of soup.

“Well, then.”

“I guess I can hold out a little while longer.”

“That’s a good soldier.” Paxton replied, unable
to contain the smile.

“Make sure you tell Krys hi for me.” Boler said.

“Will do.”

The old veteran turned to Kaspar and motioned for
him to get up. Before he left the table, Paxton reached into his pocket and
threw some credits down. It was enough for all three lunches plus the tip. He
winked at Boler who put away his own wallet. Paxton told him to cheer up and
exited the café with Kaspar. Outside, the thick gray clouds began to leak
moisture down the atmosphere. The two jogged towards the van to escape the
approaching down pour. Kaspar scratched at his head while the engine roared to
life.

He met The Committee, the arms dealer, and the
rat. What next?

On the way out of the grocery store, Paxton told
Kaspar all about how the USR did their best to starve out the poor. With their
high taxes, low wages, and high unemployment rate, a lot of people were forced
to take to the streets without a place to call home. The two picked up several
items from the grocery, not much, but enough for at least some of the homeless
to get by on. Upon approach at an old park, Paxton talked about how beautiful
the place used to be, how it was once a haven for parents to take their
children to. Now, it became a slum, a place for the homeless to congregate and
fight for everything they could get.

“These people,” Paxton explained, “have nothing.
You think that rinky apartment you lived in was bad? You haven’t seen anything,
yet. You ever make it out to the park?”

“No, I guess I never really had a reason to.”
Kaspar replied.

“Too busy preparing for your fights?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, prepare to have your eyes opened.”

Paxton pulled the van over and parked it to the
side of the front entrance. Once out of the van, he ordered Kaspar to take off
the jacket. When the kid pointed towards the sky, Paxton re-enforced his
command. They did not want to be seen here, in this place, wearing USR attire.
Not here. With reluctance, Kaspar threw the jacket into the van and felt the
rain dribble at the top of his forehead. Paxton pulled out a hooded sweatshirt
from the back.

“Where’s mine?” Kaspar asked.

“Should’ve been more prepared.” Paxton replied.
He pulled the hood over his head and took the lead.

“Son of a bitch.”

The two men each carried a brown paper bag full
of groceries in each hand. Paxton took the lead down into the park. Kaspar
followed behind and awaited the eye popping, jaw dropping sight that his new
boss promised. The once green grass of the park now had become overrun with
dead weeds and thick mud from the rain. The USR failed to maintain this once
rich property because their eyes, and money, were on other things. At least,
that was how Paxton put it.

Once at the top of the hill, the promise that was
made came true. Kaspar’s jaw dropped wide open at the sight. He mouthed, “holy
shit”. There were poles of rotting, splintered wood which held up cloths of
different colors. It was like a concentration camp; almost as if the USR
gathered up all those who were unworthy and forced them to live in those make
shift tents. Suddenly, Kaspar’s own life didn’t seem so horrible. He couldn’t
fathom living in something like this, but apparently that’s what the people
down below did. How could he have never heard of this place? Nobody, not Mother
or Danny, not even the news which seemed to cover everything talked about it.

The two men treaded down the hill, careful not to
let their asses fall into the mud, and approached the tiny huts. Kaspar saw
nothing but skinny, starved men, women, and children huddled together. One
little girl got up and ran towards them, a bright smile on her face. Paxton
laid his bag on the wet ground and picked her up. He gave her a little kiss on
the cheek. He reached into his bag and pulled out a loaf of bread. The girl’s
eyes brightened up even more as she snatched the bread from Paxton’s hand and
ran back into the hut.

“Thank you, John.” the girl’s mother called out
from inside.

“It’s no problem, Margie.” Paxton replied.

“Who’s that with you?”

Kaspar looked down at the middle aged woman, her
face covered in dirt. When she stepped out from the hut, the rain drops caused
the dirt to run down her face like make up. He wanted to give her a smile, but
he felt too sorry for her to do so.

“This is Ryan,” Paxton answered. “New guy.”

Margie put her smile on, “Well, Ryan, it is so
nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too, ma’am.” Kaspar replied.

“Come on inside, you two, before you catch
something.”

The two men ducked their heads under the cloth
and took a seat on the once soft, now crusted blankets. Kaspar leaned his body
back unto a wooden pole and felt the whole structure move. He moved back up and
hunched his back over in an attempt to get comfortable. There was no way to get
comfortable, not in this place, he wondered how its residents did it. Paxton
sat Indian style beside him and started to pass around loaves of bread and
vegetables to the hungry.

Kaspar did the same. He turned to his right and
saw an old man lying down on his back. It looked to be a struggle for him with
every breath. Kaspar pulled out a loaf of bread and handed it to him. His smile
revealed that all of his front teeth rotted out a long time ago. He tore open
the plastic covering and dove in. He shoved two pieces of bread into his mouth
a time.

“Slow down, Charlie,” Paxton said. “That bread’s
not going to run away.”

“Yes, John.” Charlie replied.

All of the homeless inside worked together to
pass around the food. They each made sure that the person beside them had at
least a little something before he or she dove in. The rain started to come
down hard, with loud cracks of thunder from the distance. Kaspar felt a sorrow
he never felt before while he watched the hungry devour the food. How could
this have happened? How could fellow human beings allow it? Where was the USR?
All that preaching about what great society this was? How could
they
allow
this?

“So,” Margie said, “its Ryan, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Kaspar replied.

“How’d you get mixed up with this fellow?”

“He offered me a job…an…opportunity that I
couldn’t refuse.”

“What was that?” Margie asked with great
interest.

“A chance to…clean this city up.”

“Well, he’s doing a great job of that, aren’t
you, John?”

“Yes, we’re trying, at least.” Paxton replied.

Kaspar listened as all the people in that long
hut ate, talked, and laughed with each other. He never in his life heard so
much joy and, given the circumstances they were in, he could not understand it.
The rain continued its downpour from above and he wondered if this cheap hut
would hold up. All it would take to bring this thing down was one big gust of
wind.

“How’s the fighting going?” Margie asked.

“We’re doing our best, but we lost one.” Paxton
replied.

“Who?”

“Zach.”

Margie’s eyes began to tear up. Paxton pulled her
in close and wrapped his strong arms around her. Her body vibrated from the
crying, Paxton continued to rub at the back of her arm. He whispered something
into her ear. Kaspar got a good look into his boss’s eyes. Those eyes that told
him that it was women like Margie that they were fighting for. Margie, she
reminded Kaspar so much of Mother. A clap of thunder high above caught
everyone’s attention and the hut went quiet for a moment. A gust of wind blew
past. The structure began to teeter from side to side.

“He was such a sweet kid,” Margie said as she
back away from Paxton. “Such a sweet kid. Was it quick?”

“Yes, it was.” Paxton replied.

“And, this youngster here is taking over for
him.”

“Yeah, he is. He can’t shoot for anything, but…”
Paxton replied with a laugh.

Margie started to laugh as well. Kaspar looked
over at Paxton who shrugged his shoulders and the new guy allowed a laugh, too.
The first good laugh he had since he could remember. A strong gust of wind
struck and one of the cloths flew into the air. The people in that section of
the hut moved with earnest to the section beside them, which now became
cramped. The people didn’t seem to mind, though. They all pulled each other
close to ensure that nobody got wet from the rain.

“You got a hammer and nails?” Paxton asked.

“Sure do,” Margie said. She reached behind her
and grabbed a rusted tool box.

Paxton retrieved the hammer and a few nails. He
motioned for Kaspar to join him outside. Kaspar ducked his head under the cloth
and followed the leader to the now drenched blanket. The heavy rain water
pounded on top of his head. The frigid drops of water made him shiver. They
reached the red cloth and carried it back over to the hut. Kaspar held the
cloth in place at each of the four poles while Paxton hammered the cloth back
in place. Once completed the two men entered the hut once more.

“That blanket’ll take a while to dry,” Paxton
said. “But, it should hold.”

“God bless you,” Margie said. “Bless both of you.
Do you believe in God, Ryan?”

“I’m not sure there is a god. If he is around, I
don’t see any of his work.”

“He’s working. He’s always working. It’s just not
too obvious sometimes.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Kaspar started to sneeze and even with his best
attempt to hold it back the burning inside of his nostrils made that
impossible. He let out a loud sneeze then rubbed at his red nose. Margie pulled
out a handkerchief and handed it to him. He took it from her and rubbed at his
nose before he sneezed again.

“I guess that’s our cue to get out of here.”
Paxton said.

“You men be careful out there.” Margie said.

“Sure thing, and, Margie.”

“Yes.”

“Keep your chin up. We are making headway on
them. Peace will come soon and you won’t have to live like this anymore.”

“I believe you. Thank you again for the food.”

“Don’t mention it. Ryan.”

Paxton moved out of the hut and jogged towards
the hill. Before Kaspar could get out, he felt a soft hand grab at his arm. He
looked behind him at Margie, and she just smiled back at him.

“You’re hurting,” Margie said. “I can see that in
your eyes.”

“I’m…fine.” Kaspar replied.

“Just don’t forget to find the joy in your life,
even while you’re out there fighting…doing what you have to do.”

“I won’t.”

“And…remember us.”

Kaspar got out and took one last look inside the
hut, at all the people inside. The vision of the little girl smiling and eating
bread haunted him. He could not take it anymore, so he looked away and jogged
towards the hill. Paxton already reached the top. He stood there awaiting
Kaspar to hurry his ass up. Upon the initial climb, Kaspar slipped and got
Zach’s jeans muddy. He picked himself back up and reached the top. On the way
down, he added caution to his steps.

“How come I never knew about this place?” Kaspar
demanded.

“Nobody cares,” Paxton replied. “Not the USR, not
the media, nobody. Like you said, you never saw a reason to come down here.”

“Are there more places like this?”

“Yes, but we can’t help them all. We couldn’t
possibly help them all. Somebody else is going to have to chip in and help
out.”

“What about the other resistance groups?”

“They help some, I presume, but there are too
many camps like this one.”

Once inside the van, Kaspar walked into the back
in search of a towel. He found a stack of them underneath one of the benches
and started to work on his wet hair. He sneezed again as the van’s engine
roared to life. Only one thought breached Kaspar’s mind while the van moved forward.

Remember us.