A Guardian Angel (27 page)

“Leroy
Graves,” he spat, “is a war criminal.”

Agreement was
cheered in variations from the amassed activists.

“The blood of
over one hundred and forty American men, women, and children are on
his hands and he pushes deeper into lands and homes that don't belong
to him,” the man cried. “Children!” he repeated.
Sounds of disgust came from around him. “Yes, that's right. So
who of us wouldn't want to see a powerful justice brought down upon
his head?”

Cheers and applause
drowned out the sounds of the van doors slamming shut behind the
mercenaries.

“Haley Flynn
is en route,” Rosa told Andy.

Andy froze for a
second. He felt like he didn't hear that right as he stood up
straight and looked the woman in the eye.

“You've met
her before, yes?” Rosa asked.

Andy said nothing
as he remembered back to Haley's face. No more than a moment passed
before he came back into his eyes.

“Did you even
know that both you and her are the top two most wanted criminals in
the Decree Nation?” Rosa questioned with a slight laugh. Her
voice had a winded quality to it as if she might be out of breathe
every time she spoke. Similar to Marilyn Monroe.

“I just saw
that before arriving,” Andy gestured around himself, “here.”

“Why does
Leroy Graves want you dead?” Rosa interrogated.

Andy thought for a
moment about what to say, fatigued in his brain. “He wants to
get back at me,” he stated.

“For what?”

“I dunno,”
Andy started. “I think I might have called his beard
pretentious.”

Rosa chuckled
charitably. “It's because you know things, isn't it?” she
suggested.

“Maybe.”

“Well I have
an inkling that you do,” Rosa started. “That's why I need
you.”

“And Flynn?”
Andy asked.

“She's born
to lead,” Rosa said almost as if she was ashamed of Andy for
not knowing. “Her image is a pure and hopeful one. One of
change and peace. I believe that only her methods and her practices
will cement our victories in the eyes of time. So it will not mar the
Revolution in history.”

Andy's eyebrow
cocked in intrigued confusion. He asked for clarity. “Revolution?”

“Break it up
everybody!” Barney's sergeant called out to the upset crowd.
“You all need to leave and go home now or you will be
arrested.”

“Children,
are you strong?” the man on the stage carried on, ignoring the
merc-cop.

The crowd cried out
its confirmation.

“Children,
are you afraid?” the man asked. Everyone expressed a negative.

“You have
five minutes,” Barney's commander declared.

“Children,
are you furious?”

Screams and cries
erupted from the people as they turned toward the merc-cops. The
mercenaries watched from over their shoulders as the protestors burst
into motion. They followed their commander back to the vans. They
spun around just in time to watch men and women duck down and grab
assault weapons that had been hidden around the area. Barney's heart
sank.

“Fight,
children!” the man on the stage cried. “Fight!”

The air froze still
for a split second. It seemed like Barney lived there in that moment
for a lifetime as the pressure he felt from the incoming danger was
crippling. Then, the silence was destroyed.

Bullets exploded
out of barrels into the officers of Decree, tearing through their
body armor. Several of them dived behind cover as gunfire shrieked
out into the afternoon sky.

“She's here,”
one of Rosa's officers informed her, to which she nodded.

“Bring her
in,” Rosa ordered.

From a door far
behind the Knight leader, Haley walked in by herself. Rosa turned to
her and Andy stood up as he watched Haley recognize him.

“My God,”
Haley said, stopping. “It's you.” She covered her mouth
with her hand.

“Haley
Flynn?” Rosa stole her attention. “You've met Andy
before, correct?”

Haley continued
walking, joining Andy where he stood. “If his real name even is
Andy,” she commented. “I had no way of knowing for sure.”

Andy couldn't think
of anything to say. “I – ” he stuttered.

“My name is
Rosa,” the Knight introduced herself to Haley. She proceeded to
explain everything she had already told Andy. She talked about the
seizure of firearms from Decree depots. She explained the desire of
the Knights to free the public from Decree. She talked about the
Revolution. All the while, Haley glanced over at the former hitman
with a look of distrust.

Barney ducked
behind cover with Paul. The bullets sometimes made a strange high
pitched spring-like noise as they ricocheted off the van behind them.
Paul had already emptied one of his magazines, ducking down low to
swap out a new one.

“You
alright?” Paul asked, in the same way a tipsy friend would over
loud bar music.

“Yeah,”
Barney gasped, half wondering if he was lying.

The gunfire slowed
down, now just an occasional staccato instead of a constant barrage.
Barney stayed frozen behind his cover, too terrified to see if more
mercenaries stood than militants. He was even too scared to ask, as
Paul kept peeking over the car they hid behind. When Paul made eye
contact with the horrified Barney, his shook his head. He sensed what
he was asked. Paul then popped out of cover and unloaded three rounds
before taking one through his shoulder. The mercenary fell over
himself, passing out from the pain of the jagged hole cracked into
his scapula.

Eyes wide, Barney
stared at his comrade for a moment. He was sure he was dead. And sure
that he would be too if he didn't move.

He could hear
footsteps approaching. Guided by pure instinct, Barney scampered
forward toward the open door of a van that was parked behind the car
he and Paul used as cover. He kept his head low so that the car could
cover his retreat. He hopped into the van and climbed his way into
the driver's seat. Reaching for the door handle so he could flee, he
stopped. Where would he go? How far could a solitary Decree officer
make it on foot? He would be torn to shreds.

So he sat in his
seat, breathing heavy breaths. The footsteps came closer.

Barney slunk down
past his seat, as far down on the floor of the vehicle as he could.
Someone spoke just outside the van. Muffled, undecipherable words.
Barney held his breath when someone poked their head in through the
door. He was just a teenager, a college student maybe. As quickly as
he came, he disappeared. Barney continued to hold his breath.

The people outside
were shuffling something around.

Barney waited.

“A revolution
is entirely necessary given the circumstances,” Rosa started to
explain. “Without one, we're forced to be pushed around by both
sides as they fight between themselves.”

Haley was
distressed. “But what you are talking about is violence,”
she pleaded. “I mean, if we take the whole sanctity-of-life
argument out of the equation, it is still going to make us look like
a band of terrorists, not freedom fighters.”

Andy felt she had a
valid point.

“That's if we
lose,” Rosa replied. “With your help, we've got all that
much better of a chance.” She looked back and forth between the
pair. “We will triumph, and you know that when we do, the
system can be rebuilt from the ground up. That's what we really need.
To scrap this failure, this mockery of justice, and go back to the
drawing board.”

“What about
until then?” Haley asked. “Until we put something new
into place, we would just live in anarchy. Justice won't be more than
an abstract concept in a world like that.”

Rosa stepped up
closer to Haley. Her face was firm. “You know that they are
killing your people out there! Innocent people! People are dying so
that you can all look like saints without any blood on your hands. We
don't have the luxury of pacifism, Ms. Flynn. If we continue as we
are, there won't be anyone left to liberate.”

A moment of silence
passed as Rosa turned away and walked back to Andy. She wore a look
of expectation. Andy said nothing.

“We can wait
for help,” Haley suggested.

Rosa laughed out
loud as she spun back so that Haley was in her cross hairs. “Help?
From who?” Rosa asked. “Do you understand that either
side winning is a loss for the people? Federal government, Decree;
they're both the same abomination. One's just louder and we're used
to the other.”

Andy looked down at
the floor when they both stopped talking and he started sensing their
eyes burning on the top of his head.

“What do you
think, Mr. Winter?” Rosa asked him.

He looked up, his
expression more of boredom than concern. “I don't care about
your problems,” he stated sternly. “What I do, I do for
my own reasons. That is that.”

Barney could see
the militants dragging the other merc-cops back toward the stage
through the van's windows. Most of the mercenaries groaned, some of
them even kicked. They had all been injured rather than killed.
Barney could hear someone nearby piling up the confiscated weapons.

He stayed low in
the van and tried his best to watch from reflective surfaces as the
injured merc-cops were bound and gagged and then formed into a line
on the stage.

“Apathy is a
foolish route,” Rosa commented, stepping back. “These
people are sick.”

The large black man
who had addressed the crowd appeared back on the stage with the
captured men all whimpering and crying through their gags. He carried
the largest and broadest looking machete Barney had ever seen in his
life. In the grasp of the crowds anticipation, the frightened
soldiers were bent over so that they supported themselves on their
hands and knees.

“Decree has
taken everything we've believed about the safety of our homeland and
the sanctity of human life and soiled it, as if it were an elegant
little show,” Rosa continued. “The people that aid them
most are those who do nothing about them.”

Barney's skin
trembled. His eyes were glued onto the stage as the man addressed the
crowd. The megaphone wasn't used anymore, so he could only make out
muffled sounds through the windows. All the people were getting
excited, cheering at intervals when the man would stop speaking. Then
it got really quiet as he lumbered across the stage toward the first
merc-cop on the left. Silence bled in from all sides around Barney,
and soon all he could hear was his own frightened heart pounding in
his ears.

With a grand
gesture, the man on the stage swung his machete down and cut the
mercenary's head clean off.

Barney squirmed in
discomfort, squeezing his eyes shut before he could see too much
gore. But it had happened. He had already seen too much. That graphic
image just as the head fell off burned itself on the inside of his
retinas. He had to cover his mouth with his hand because he couldn't
control the disgusted whimpers and gags that came from him. The last
thing he needed was for them to add him to that line.

Opening his eyes in
tiny trembles, he could see that the man on the stage had finished
executing a second merc-cop and positioned himself next to the third.
Barney's extremities were rushed in a cold wave, and his breath
seemed to be his only connection to his body. Complete terror rushed
over him, his limbs twitching as he looked around. He started to hear
car doors slamming in the distance. He muttered a plea to the
Almighty to himself as he clutched onto his rifle. He didn't hear any
cars drive up. Something about the slamming made Barney nervous.
Glinting caught his eye as he glanced and saw the key in the
ignition. He heard more doors open and close, this time much closer.

They were
searching the vans!
Barney's thoughts exploded. His body followed
suit, bursting into motion as he slid himself over into the driver's
seat and turned the key. The entire crowd of people all looked to the
vehicle as the engine roared on with confusion.

“Come on,
come on,” Barney muttered under his breath. With one glance he
became aware that all attention fell on him, and he slammed down on
the gas pedal.