Finding Sage (The Rogue Book 1) (20 page)

35.

Alice lifted her head .  To her surprise, she was not in a hotel room.  She was on a park bench in a large park.  She looked at her surroundings for a few minutes and recognized them.  It was autumn and she was in Central Park, although it was different from the Central Park she knew.  There were more trees, more benches, and the gaudy monument of the first U.N. prime minister wasn’t anywhere to be seen. 

She also noticed that about a hundred feet away from her, there was an odd blurry wall of sorts.  She looked around and saw that she was inside of a large bubble.  It looked like anything beyond the bubble’s borders simply faded from existence.  The bubble appeared to be moving away from her, however, and as it did, the people, trees, and squirrels that came inside became crystal clear. 

That’s when a boy, about 12 years old, sat down in the very space where she was sitting.  She immediately panicked and lunged out of her seat.  He didn’t appear to notice.  In fact, now that she took notice, no one there seemed to notice her.  She didn’t feel inclined to test this theory, however, so she slowly sat down next to the boy and his friend, who had sat next to him during her miniature panic attack.

The boy had old jeans with several holes in them and wore a dark hoodie. .  His choppy, shaggy blonde hair fell to his shoulders. 

He looked to his left, watching the pedestrians walk through the park.  Alice looked into the boy’s hazel eyes and saw a look she had seen several times before; the look of a young man who’s spent too much time running; never able to stay in one place and never able to trust anyone.  Instantly, she knew who he was.

“Silas?”

He didn’t appear to hear her.  Somewhere in her own mind, she put the pieces together: she was observing a memory. 

“I could get used to living here,” the boy on Silas’ right said.

“Good luck,” Silas said sarcastically.  “We’ve already been here for a month. We’re going to have to move on soon.”

“Aw come on,” the other boy said.  “This place is the jackpot.  We could get fat just off of the fruit they sell around here.”

The boy, who was slightly older than Silas, pulled two apples out of his pocket and handed one to Silas.  Silas looked at it for a moment, and then took a bite.

“Besides,” the boy continues, “We’ll have a better shot at finding your old man if we stay in one place.”

“Grayson—”

“I told you bro, I’m not going to let you give up on him.  The guy’s tough, I’m sure we’ll find him somewhere.”

“It’s been two years, Gray.”

“And you’re still breathing.  If you are, don’t you think he is?”

“The division was looking for him, not me.”

Grayson chuckled at the name.             

“The division…” Grayson said with mockery in his tone.  “They aren’t exactly the most fearsome of opponents.”

“Tell that to my grandfather.”

A few seconds passed with neither of them saying a word.  Then, Grayson carefully placed his hand on Silas’ shoulder.

“Silas, listen to me.  I promised you we’d find him.  We’re going to find him.  Even if we have to look for another two years.”

Silas smiled and held out his hand.

“Brothers?” he asked.

The two clasped forearms.

“’Til the end.”             

The scene faded into blackness.

Alice awoke from her journey to Silas holding her head and sprinkling water on her face.  Lilly was at her side, watching her carefully. 

“Hey,” Silas said.

“Hi,” Alice responded.

“What.  In the world.  Were you thinking?”

She smiled.

“I was trying to help you.”

Silas was about to ask what happened, when he realized what had happened.  He felt a connection to her.  Their minds were connected.  He couldn’t hear her thoughts, nor did he have more immediate access to her in the way that he normally had with his ability, but he understood her.  He could not relate it to specific events in her life, but he just
knew
her.  Her strengths and weaknesses, her hopes and fears; he knew it all.  Now he understood why she had done everything she had done since he had met her.  He saw that she put up a tough exterior but inside was vulnerable and scared.  He saw that she craved deep relationships with others but was too afraid to open up.  He saw that she truly cared about each and every one of them, but especially about himself and Lilly.  He knew her.

Their eyes met and Alice saw the same in Silas.  She understood him.  She knew him.  She understood that he wanted to be able to trust others, but he had been let down in his closest relationships.  She understood that he was afraid to develop attachments but once he did they were unshakeable.  She knew that he felt responsible for the protection of each and every one in their company.  She knew that he would die sooner than let harm come to any of them, most especially herself and Lilly.  She knew his strengths and his weaknesses, his likes and his dislikes, what set him off and what calmed him.  She looked into his eyes and saw that the same was true for him.

“How—?” Silas asked.

“I don’t know,” Alice admitted.

Silas looked at Alice closely; he could sense that something was different in her; something beyond the understanding that he now had of her.  No tears were in her eyes, but there was an unmistakable sorrow. 

She saw what it was like for Silas to run from her; to fear for his life when she nearly killed him in London; to fear for the life of his daughter when he knew someone was following them. 

“Silas, I’m so sorry.”

Silas embraced her in a tight hug and she sobbed against his shoulder.

“It’s okay.  It’s okay, Alice.  I forgive you.”

36.

              Rodge walked down the blank white hall and pulled on his black leather gloves, clenching his fists to make sure they were on good and tight.  He tucked his long hair back behind his ears and a soldier joined him on either side.  They eventually walked through a door on the left.  Light flooded into the otherwise empty room and the boy inside squinted because of it.  It did little to deter him, however, and he continued his counting.  He was in the fifties, an indication that they shortly missed his final count.  Unless, of course, he was counting more than one set.  If that was the case, they had farther to go than Rodge thought.

              The boy continued his incessant counting, turning his head back and forth as he did.  His hair had started to grow long in his imprisonment.  Unlike many of their prisoners, they had fed the boy well, hoping that keeping him healthy would keep his abilities from slipping. 

              “How are you today, Ted?”

              The boy continued counting and didn’t make eye contact with Rodge.  Rodge couldn’t tell if it was because he was unable to or because he was refusing to.  The boy obviously had some disabilities, but he was unsure as to the extent of them.

              He knelt and looked at the seated Theodore closely.

              “Ted, I hate to get to the punch so quickly, but unfortunately I don’t have as much time as I would like.  You see, I have ambitions.  I have plans.  I need you, when the time comes, to be willing to tell me where all of those people in your head are.  Will you be able to do that for me?”

              Ted didn’t respond.

              Rodge stood and looked at Rodriguez.

              “Have a professional psychologist come in tomorrow and evaluate him.  I want to know every limitation of his disabilities.”

              “Yes sir.”

              As Rodge turned to leave, he heard the boy speak.  He said a few words in a hushed tone, just quiet enough that Rodge couldn’t make it out.  He quickly turned around.

              “What was that, Teddy?”

              The boy looked up and made eye contact with Rodge.  He spoke.  He spoke the words with confidence and without a hint of a stutter.

              “Knight.  He’s more than you think.”

              After a few seconds of silence, Rodge left the room, Teddy’s gaze still on him as the door closed.  He walked back down the white hallway with a stone face, showing no sign of worry.  Inside, however, he was worried.  He was extremely worried.

Because Teddy just might be right.

37.

              Jax stood in front of Grayson and shuddered, knowing what he was wearing.  The royal blue uniforms made him want to puke.  Yet here he was, wearing one in front of a U.N. agent.  He knew it was necessary, but he still loathed every moment he was forced to wear it. 

              They were in Grayson’s agent quarters at the capital in New York, crafting the next segment of Grayson’s plan, most of which had still not been revealed to Jax.  Another agent had taken Grayson’s place to run the drug operation and Jax had official disappeared.  In reality, he was here to infiltrate the ranks; although “infiltrate” might be too strong of a word. 

              Grayson had instructed him in how to look like a soldier that had been assigned duty; how to walk, how to respond to protocol, and the salute for differing levels of soldiers.  He also instructed him to avoid agents at all costs.  In the presence of agents, soldiers were to be seen rather than heard and not to speak unless spoken to.  The whole thing made Jax rather uneasy, but it was for a purpose.

              It was a long shot, but Jax’s job was to go through the base looking for flashes of intention.  It was a recruiting mission – anyone who showed intentions to act against the U.N. would be a prime target.

             
“I don’t see desires, only intentions,”
Jax had warned Grayson. 
“Don’t worry,”
Grayson had said
.  “I can’t be the only one who wants to act out.  There’s going to be others and we have to find them.” 

              Jax shivered slightly due to his nervousness and looked at Grayson, still not sure if he knew what he was doing.  Even agents can be wrong sometimes.

              “Are you sure this will work?” Jax asked.

              “Yes,” Grayson said impatiently.  “I told you, every soldier is assigned specific tasks.  No one will be calling you for anything, because every duty is covered.  As a result, they will let you be.  Just do as I’ve told you and you won’t look out of place.  No one will be the wiser.”

              “And if I do flash?”

              “Then tell me through your com, I’ll follow him, figure out who he is, and we’ll work from there,” Grayson said.

              Jax looked at the device before he placed it in his ear with skepticism.

              “Wouldn’t it be a better idea to use an iCom instead?”

              “Anything with an Apple signature is traced,” Grayson said.  “That’s why I’m giving you a Samsung.  I know it’s old, but it’s the same size and I painted it white, so it should fit in just fine.  Nobody will know there has been a breach, and even if they did, I doubt they’d be looking for the wrong com in somebody’s ear.”

              Grayson took a deep breath and brushed dust off of the shoulders of his uniform.

              “Are you ready?” Grayson asked.

              Jax nodded, despite himself.

              “Let’s do it.”

              After a few days, Jax began to grow confident in his role.  He had mastered the walk, the talk, and the salute; so much so that it no longer worried him when agents passed.  In the few days he had managed to walk across nearly every conceivable wing in the giant base.  To his great disappointment,  his efforts had brought no success. 

He had experienced occasional flashes, but they were never the kinds of flashes they were hoping for.  Many were quite the opposite.  One soldier intended to match a fellow soldier’s kill count on the next mission.  Another intended to read a U.N.-sanctioned novel when he reached his quarters.  Yet another was very intent on urinating at the next opportunity. 

              He had begun to lose hope.  Grayson, however, assured him they were far from exhausting their pool of potential allies. 
“This place is huge; we just have to keep looking.”
  So keep looking he did.

              It was 1500 hours and Jax found himself by the soldiers’ dormitories, a sign that he needed to turn back.  Grayson had told him it was suspicious to be around the dormitories where few were out walking, so he turned to walk back.  As he did, though, he received a flash.  His mouth was suddenly dry and he started to sweat.  Despite previous failures, he was hopeful.  What he saw, however, was not a vision of rebellion; nor was it a vision of killing innocents. 

              He saw, in a dimly lit room, a man’s lifeless corpse hanging from the ceiling.  It was vague and nondescript, but he could make out one detail – the man was in a crisp, royal blue uniform. 

              He came back out of the vision and realized that he was standing still.  Jax had learned to remain standing during his visions, but was unable to continue simple tasks such as walking.  He suspected he would never have that ability.

              The vision was mild and vague, an indication that the man responsible was not in his immediate vicinity.  That meant he had to be in a room.  He turned to the door on his left.  He heard the sound of a wooden chair being pushed across the floor.  In a moment of panic, he forgot all about the plan and entered the room.  To his surprise, the door was unlocked. 

              He ran inside and saw a man standing on a chair changing a light bulb.  He was off-duty, as evidenced by his black jeans and white t-shirt.  Jax struggled to regain composure, and realized the man must have thought of hanging himself while he was so close to the ceiling.  To his continued surprise, the man did not address him by the protocol salute.

              “May I help you, soldier?”

              Jax looked on his desk and saw a nameplate: Christopher Gamble.  He straightened up and addressed Gamble the best he knew how.  For the most part, he didn’t know what was going to come out of his mouth until it came out.  He was completely improvising.

              He took a deep breath and took a leap of faith. 

              “Marksman Gamble.”

              “That’s right and who are you?” Gamble asked.

              “A man who wants better for you.”

              “Excuse me?”

              Jax cringed.  That was corny.  That was really corny.

              “My name is Jax Landry, I’m wearing a wig because I have blue hair, I’m a reformed drug addict, I’m rogue number 4-365-720-41 and I’m here to help you.”

              Gamble stared at Jax, unable to respond.  Jax was also unable to respond.  This was about as flagrant a detour from the plan as he could possibly take. 

              “Close the door,” Gamble said.

              Jax obliged and when he turned back around, Gamble was pointing an AK-47 at him.

              “Who sent you?”

              “What?”

              “Who.  Sent.  You?”

              “Christopher, I know it may be hard for you to believe, but I’m your friend.”

              “Really?  How do I know this isn’t a setup?”

              Jax shuddered as a short flash, lasting for only two seconds, came over him.

              “You fully intended to hang yourself before I came in the door and you don’t intend to shoot that gun right now,” Jax said.

              Jax pulled off his black wig and revealed his recently cut navy-blue hair. 

              Gamble put the gun down.  He was shocked; so shocked he didn’t even know what questions to ask.  Jax, however, knew just what to say.

              “I’m here because I refuse to run.  I have a friend who has infiltrated the U.N. and he has a plan to bring them down once and for all.  I know that you hate them just as much as we do.  He has the chops to pull it off, but we’re going to need your help.”

              Gamble looked at his uniform hanging in the closet.  He had accepted the fact that he was to turn into a heartless monster; a cold-blooded killer without remorse.  It had never occurred to him that there might be a way out; a way to attack that which he loathed so intensely.  It seemed too good to be true but maybe, just maybe, this was his shot; his one and only shot.  He had to take it.

              “I’m listening.”