Rebels & Lies (Rebels & Lies Trilogy Book 1) (33 page)

When will they just let me die?

The armed men behind him led Paxton out onto the roof to finish
him off with a public execution. After he killed Roberson, the Agents that
poured through the room didn’t kill him like he thought they would. Another
government official, one he had never seen on television or anywhere else
before, came in with them. He ordered them to take the old veteran away. Those
people outside, he instructed, didn’t come all that way for nothing.

His heart began to pound as he could feel his feet reach the edge.
Down there, five stories below, he could hear the cries of the people. They
tried to hurl rocks or whatever they could find at him. In the midst of the
cries, Paxton swore that he could hear a few cheers. His heart sank then, and a
feeling of devastation overcame him.

Paxton continued to look down at the crowd. The masses down there
were the very people that he was trying to save. They were also the same people
that he put in harm’s way in the process. That crusade was only moments away
from ending.

His thoughts turned to what he did during his fight. He felt a
kick at his knees which forced him to kneel. Once again, politicians had used
him. Only this time, those politicians were nothing but pure evil. He thought
about what Roberson had told him, about how the USR controlled him and made him
do the things he did.

No, Paxton thought as he shook those negative feelings away. A
black blindfold was wrapped over his eyes and tied around the back of his head.
He knew that his intentions were pure. He knew that he tried to do the right
thing, even if he put his own moral code to the back burner. What he tried to
do was save this once great country. The feelings he had during the missions,
the smiles he brought about Margie and the other’s faces, and his own
intentions were things that the USR could never,
ever
, take away.

Paxton closed his eyes underneath the blindfold. He heard the
clicking sound of the gun behind him. Before the bullet tore through the back
of his skull, one last, terrible thought entered into his mind.

Who will save them now?

***

“Is he talking, yet?” Sullivan demanded into his cell phone. He
reached down into the trunk for the fully loaded mags.

The resistance was at it again. Sullivan watched the news this
morning, they reported that not only had there been a bombing, but a highly
decorated government official had been assassinated. They wouldn’t reveal who
it was, but warned that the loss was significant. Those terrorists just
wouldn’t be happy until there was no one left for them to kill, Sullivan knew.
That’s why they needed to be stopped.

“No,” Fitzpatrick replied. “Hasn’t said boo.”

“Goddamn it, you guys need to get him talking.”

“What are you doing right now?”

“Nothing,” Sullivan lied. He looked to King, who was holding a
blood soaked towel over his newly broken nose. He placed the mags into his back
pack then zipped it up. “Just waiting to hear from you guys is all.”

“Well, don’t go around making a mess, you hear me? I’m putting my
ass on the line for you.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Sullivan replied. He ended the call.

Sullivan placed the strap of his blue backpack over his shoulder.
When he moved in on King, his old friend backed up and started cringing, blood
soaking his scruffy beard. Sullivan tried to think of a better solution to all
this, but the gun runner in front of him gave him little choice. He retrieved
his Glock and pointed it towards him.

“You’re not going to tell anyone about this, right?” Sullivan
asked.

“Of course not, man, come on…” King replied.

The Agent kept his gun trained. King would know that Sullivan was
up to something. That was not an option. There could be no traces. Going
outside the authority of the USR was a good way to find oneself in the gas
chamber. He was already lucky enough that Fitzpatrick was keeping his mouth
shut. There was no need to press it. Besides, King was a piece of shit gun
runner who fucked desperate women and ripped off unsuspecting customers. He
also, even in ignorance, must have played a hand in some way in arming the
resistance. The same resistance that…

King raised his hands in the air. “You gonna leave now or what?”

“Yes.”

BANG!

King’s head rubbed against the white wall behind him, creating a
smear of crimson all the way down. Sullivan replaced the Glock back into his
shoulder holster. He walked up the stairs and out of the building. The musty
air filled his nostrils as he walked out. He also saw something down the far
alleyway to his left. A group of three Agents searched two younger men. They
had their bodies pressed hard against the wall. Sullivan nodded his head in
approval.

You get them, boys. Get them.

***

Kaspar worked on the zipper of his black top then tucked it into
his black pants. The early morning sun shone through the cracked window. The
light from the sunrise glistened against Krys’s bare arms. He looked down at
her and smiled. She looked so beautiful while she was asleep. Love had never
been a part of his life before he met her. He wondered if she would be the
first woman he would fall in love with.

The smile dissipated when he looked down at the note from The
Committee once more. It had three names, three mug shots, and three addresses.
Those three men…they were the ones involved with Mother’s killing. Danny
already confirmed the names, which was one thing, but seeing their
faces…knowing where to find them. That changed things dramatically. No longer
could he live in the hope that maybe one day he would cross paths with them.
There was no need for that. He would force his way into their homes, just like
they did Mother, and reign down her vengeance.

Krys moved around on the bed. She lifted her head off the pillow
and moved the matted hair from in front of her eyes. When she caught a glimpse
of Kaspar, she smiled at him. He returned the smile before he sat down on the
bed next to her. He kissed her soft, wet lips. Without warning, Krys slammed
the back of her head into the pillow. Tears started to run down her cheeks. The
suppressed emotions from the night before attacked her with a sudden fury.

“The others…” she said.

“I know…”

“They are all dead, aren’t they?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think…maybe John got out of there? He was still
breathing…”

Nothing came to mind on how to reply. For his part, Kaspar knew
that there was little to no chance that Paxton could have made it out of there.
He wanted to be a comfort to her, but he didn’t want to be dishonest with her,
either.

“I don’t think so…he was bleeding pretty bad…”

He stopped. It was all too hard to say. He looked down at
Krys who nodded her head in acknowledgment. She moved her hands away from her
moist eyes and wrapped her arms around him. Kaspar kissed her on the cheek then
ran his fingers through her hair. After he pulled himself away from her, he
stood straight up and looked outside at the sunrise.

“What are you up so early for, anyway?” Krys asked.

“I’ve got some things to take care of.”

“Like what?”

Kaspar sighed and turned back around. He again started to have
second thoughts. The woman on the bed, who he made love to last night, was
tempting him to stay. It might be a trap for all he knew. The bait, however,
was just too sweet to pass up. He shook away those second thoughts once again.
He had to make up his mind and he did.

“That letter that Greg gave me,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“It had their faces…addresses…everything…”

“So, you’re leaving me, is that it?” Krys demanded.

“Just until I set things straight.”

“I’ve lost everyone else,” a single tear rolled down her cheek. “I
can’t bear to watch you go out on some suicide mission.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Do you think it will make you feel better? That your mother would
approve?”

“It…” Kaspar paused. “That doesn’t matter at this point. What does
matter is I know where to find them now. I know what needs to be done. I can
move forward, with you, but not until after…”

“You don’t know, do you?”

Kaspar looked at Krys and wondered what she was talking about.
What kind of secret had they been holding from him?

“Don’t know what?”

“When you stormed out of Danny’s last night, he told me
something.”

“What did he say?”

“You know that poison the USR had been dumping in the water
supply? The poison we destroyed last night?”

“Oh, shit,” Kaspar said. He moved back to the bed. “No, it isn’t
true.”

“It is,” Krys replied. “Danny read off the symptoms and I’m
infected…I’ll be dead soon, Ryan.”

She buried her head into his chest. A scowl grew on his face when
she wrapped her arms around him. There was nothing else left for the USR to
take from him. They already took away Mother by murdering her. He lost his
fellow comrades at the lab last night. Now, soon, Krys would succumb to the
poison inside of her and she would be taken away. What was left?

“What are you going to do from here?” Kaspar asked.

Krys moved her head off of his chest. “With what little time I
have left, I’m going to expose this conspiracy. I’m going to spread the word to
everyone to make sure something like this never happens again. And…” she looked
deep into Kaspar’s frozen blue eyes. “I want you to come with me.”

“I will…after…”

“You are impossible, you know that? Have I told you that before?”

“You don’t understand, they’ve taken everything…”

“And, you don’t think they’ve taken from me?”

“I’ll be back soon.”

As he stood a sudden guilt hit him in the gut. It was the way she
was looking at him. She looked disappointed. Like he did with so many other
areas in life, he ignored it. He walked to the dresser and found twin Glock
17’s. The dresser drawer was also filled with mags and one of those black
masks. He placed the guns in the thigh holsters. He put on the flak jacket,
grabbing extra mags for it once it was zipped up. He also took hold of the mask
and placed it in his pocket.

“Ryan?” Krys called from the bed.

Kaspar faced the wall. “Yes?”

“What made you come back last night?”

“It was Margie,” he replied. He turned to face her, “She told me
to remember her.”

“Remember me, okay?” Krys replied. “What you are about to do is
something that I can’t help you with. Promise me that you’ll come back.”

“I promise,” Kaspar said. “Meet me outside the Keystone…let’s say
around nine, I should be done by then. We’ll get the hell out of here and
spread the word.”

“Okay…but your ass better not stand me up.”

Kaspar smiled. “You know me.”

Kaspar turned and walked out, hoping that he didn’t make a promise
he couldn’t keep.

Kaspar parallel parked the black SUV in front of the small one
bedroom home. He looked down at the sheet of paper. George Mason…he would be
the first. Kaspar folded the paper back up and placed it in the glove
compartment. His entire day had been spent on planning out his revenge. The
excitement of finally getting his vengeance was suddenly replaced by anxiety
and, most of all, fear. He had more to lose now than he did several weeks ago.
Krys would be waiting for him when he got finished. If he was able to pull this
off without getting killed first. He didn’t want to disappoint her. For a brief
moment, he wished that he didn’t have feelings for her, because that would have
made this easier by a mile.

The greatest risk he took the whole day was when he paid a visit
to the precinct where the three Agents worked. He felt anger when he saw Mason
and Wilcox walk out of the station for the day. It took every ounce of reason
in his mind to prevent him from ending it then. They seemed to not have a care
in the world. He noticed that Wilcox even had a look of joy when conversing
with his partner. That joy would end soon. It did feel strange to Kaspar,
though, when he didn’t see Sullivan enter or leave the station the entire day.
That gut feeling that he was being set up was reinforced, but there would be no
going back now.

The engine was shut off with the turn of the key. When he opened
the door, a clap of thunder from above startled him. Soon after, a light rain
started to fall. The droplets of water splashed against the top of his mask. He
walked over to the passenger side door, opened it, and then reached in for the
two thigh holsters with the Glocks fastened inside. After he tightened the
holsters around, he looked to the Mason residence. He hesitated for a moment,
unsure if he should get back in the vehicle and go meet up with Krys.

Now or never.

Kaspar began to move his legs forward. Mason’s home was a modest
one story house in a nice, quiet neighborhood. The yellow paint and green
shutters had a fresh look to it, as if the bastard had just remodeled the
place. When he approached the sidewalk, Kaspar kept looking from left to right,
ensuring that nobody approached. He reached the front gate, unlatched it, then
left it open behind him. The overhang over the porch provided relief from the
rain that started to increase in intensity. Another clap of thunder caught him
by surprise once more.

After he pulled out a Glock with his right hand, he moved his left
to the door handle. Out of curiosity, he turned the knob. As expected, it was
locked, and Kaspar suddenly realized with all his planning he failed to think
of a way to break into a locked house. He went for the window to the right. He
peered inside the darkness of the house. No lights and no movement from inside.
With a sharp blow from his left elbow the glass cracked. He waited for someone
inside to come out at the sound. Nothing. Kaspar looked around to see if anyone
might have been out and about saw or heard anything. Again, nothing. He exhaled
and then, as quietly as possible, punched away at the glass. He reached in and
unlocked the window.

Kaspar pulled the window up and moved inside, left leg first. When
he made it in he aimed his pistol forward. A terrible creaking sound from the
wooden floors accompanied his first step. He froze and kept his pistol aimed.
He took another, more careful step, and moved towards the back of the house.
The silence and darkness of the house raised his internal alarms. The street
lamps outside did little justice to the blackness. He had this uneasy
feeling that this was indeed a trap. Or, maybe, Mason was not at home right
now. Both options were unattractive. If it were a trap, he’d have no shot
at vengeance. If Mason was late getting home, he would no longer have the
element of surprise. Either way, it was out of his hands. He just needed to
keep moving forward.

Once through the living room he made it to the kitchen. He looked
left. The green numbers from the oven illuminated the counters somewhat. In
front was the hallway that led to the bedrooms. As he entered the hallway, the
adrenaline that flowed through his blood stream heightened his awareness. At
the bottom of the door to the left came a little light from underneath. When he
got closer to the door he could hear a woman’s voice. He must have been
watching the news. Mason would be in there, Kaspar was sure of it.

He reached for the door with his left hand. With the pistol
gripped in his right. He tried to slow his breathing. All of a sudden he heard
the giggling sound from a woman. Kaspar paused, his hand still gripped on the
handle. Did he get the wrong house? There was only one way to find out. He
breathed one more time. The woman, judging by the direction of the sound, would
be on the left. If Mason was in there, he would be on the right.

The grip on the handle was so tight that Kaspar felt like he would
rip it right out of the door. He continued his slow, steady breaths. He was
calm. His mission would be over in a matter of seconds. There was a hope that
the innocent woman inside wouldn’t get caught in the cross fire. It was a chance
Kaspar was willing to take.

The door flew open with hard push. The woman screamed. The
television set inside created a small, bluish light. Mason sat upright on the
right side of the bed, as predicted. His woman threw her body on top of his.
With a hard shove, Mason pushed her off of him. Through the tinted eye holes,
Kaspar felt a sense of disappointment that there was no fear in the man’s eyes.
No matter, pretty soon, he wouldn’t have any facial expressions at all. His
target started to reach for something…

“Don’t even think about it.” Kaspar ordered.

“Who the fuck are you?” Mason demanded.

Without an answer, Kaspar pulled the trigger two times. The
bullets tore through Mason’s bare chest. Mason started to gasp for air as his
eyes went wide. The woman’s screams were muted in Kaspar’s ears. He allowed the
target to try and breathe for a few moments. Satisfied, he ended it with one
shot between the eyes. The woman rolled off the bed. Her screams grew louder as
she cried for help.

Kaspar stood and stared down Mason’s motionless body. He then
turned his attention to Mason’s woman. He pointed the gun at her and hoped that
she wouldn’t make him have to kill her, too.

“What are you going to do?” the woman cried. “Shoot me now?”

He said nothing and moved backwards. He kept the Glock pointed at
the woman until she was out of view. He then turned and ran for the door. As he
pulled the door open only one thing could be heard.

“Monster! Murderer!”

***

Kaspar tried to get the screaming woman’s voice out of his head as
the SUV rocketed forward. He thought about what she had called him: a monster
and a murderer. It was then that he realized he was no longer different from
the men who killed Mother. The realization meant nothing to him, he only
accepted it. Mother deserved justice and he would allow her to have it.

The SUV was brought to a stop once more in front of another one
bedroom home, this one painted white. DeMarcus Wilcox was next on the list.
Kaspar turned the key to kill the engine. He stepped out of the car and the
rainfall had increased from earlier. He turned his attention to the unkempt
front yard. The grass was full of weeds, there was trash and used cigarette
butts littered all over it. He looked to the chipped white painted exterior of
the home. There was something different: the front door was wide open. Only a
torn screen door blocked entry. The lights were also on inside.

Kaspar retrieved his Glock. He approached the screen door and
swung it open. No sounds inside. No sound except for…

A large, black and red Rottweiler barked in fury. The dog hurled
itself onto Kaspar, knocking the intruder to the floor. The dog tore its sharp
fangs into Kaspar’s left arm. He cried out in agony as the dog violently moved
its head from left to right, trying its best to rip the arm out of place.
Kaspar did not want to do it, but he had no choice. He pulled the gun up to the
side of the dog’s head and pulled the trigger. The lifeless animal’s body
weight crushed down on his midsection. He tried to get the dog off of him. When
he looked up his eyes grew wide. Wilcox stormed into the living room, a fully
loaded Remington 870 with a sawed off barrel in his large hands.

With one strong heave he moved the dog off. Kaspar then rolled to
the right. At almost the same moment Wilcox pulled the trigger. The buckshot
tore a hole through the wooden floor. Kaspar continued his roll until he was
behind the couch. The Agent pulled the trigger again, this time he created a
gaping hole in the couch. With his back rested against it, Kaspar ignored the
pain in his left arm. He grabbed the handle of his second Glock and ripped it
out of the holster.

“Yeah,” Wilcox called from the back of the kitchen. “That’s right,
run and hide, bitch. You killed my fucking dog!”

The loud boom of the shotgun filled the house. It created another
hole. Kaspar slid his body to the right. He reached up with his right hand and
sent four rounds in Wilcox’s direction. Wilcox ducked then moved into the
living room with his head low. He used his shoulder to knock down the dining
room table. Kaspar fired five more rounds then moved his hand back down. Wilcox
fired again as well, blowing a hole through the center of the couch.

Kaspar’s mind started to race. He recognized the shotgun Wilcox
wielded as being a twelve gauge. He moved further right until he was at the end
of the couch. His target fired once more. Kaspar tried to search his mind for
something that Paxton once told him about shotguns…

They carried five shells, six if Wilcox kept one in the chamber.
Kaspar decided to play it safe and assumed that there would be six shells. He
reached up with his left arm this time then sent five more rounds in Wilcox’s
direction.

“Come on out and fight, pussy!” Wilcox cried.

Kaspar scooted left to the hole close to him. He peered his masked
eyes through it. He had to get a good read on Wilcox’s location. Just as he saw
the turned over table he hit the deck. Wilcox sent a flurry of buckshot his
way. It created a new hole in the couch…just above Kaspar’s head. Six. Now was the
perfect opportunity to make his move.

The Agent pulled at the trigger again at the sight of the masked
man. The trigger stuck. Wilcox moved low to the kitchen. He rested behind the
waist high bar and pulled more shells from his pocket. Kaspar moved in with
caution. He pointed both guns forward. He could hear the sound of the shells
being slammed into the gun. He reached the bar. At the same moment, Wilcox shot
up with a small revolver in his hand. The two killers stood face to face, each
with a gun pointed at his head. A small grin crept across Wilcox’s lips.

“What’s it gonna be now?” he asked.

Kaspar slammed his injured left arm across Wilcox’s. Three rounds
from the six shooter flew harmless through the house. Kaspar reached up with
his right arm and sent four rounds through the Agent’s stomach. Wilcox began to
stumble backwards. With quickness, Kaspar aimed both Glocks at his target’s
head. He pulled each trigger once. He stood for a moment, both guns still
drawn, and he could feel his hands start to tremble. He then looked down at the
yellow fabric attached to his flak jacket.

Blood was smeared on it.