Humanity Gone: Facade of Order (17 page)

Chapter 22: Caitlyn

              We move slowly up the steps. The first floor is clear, Ryan had to silence a guard who was yelling into the phone. Judging by the awful painting above the fireplace, this is his house alright. I thought it would be bigger. I move the shaking tip of the arrow back and forth between both sides of the top of the stairs. Behind me are David and Ryan, each with their pistols drawn.              

             
That explosion should clear the streets of the military for our exit. The rest of our team has all of the entrances to the house covered. No one will get in or out without us knowing.  The team downstairs is responsible for stopping anyone who came to alert the president. All of the chaos Carter's team created moved everyone away from our vicinity, but we still want to remain as silent as possible.

             
I reach the top of the stairs. David and Ryan move slowly down the left hallway, carefully watching each step on the hardwood floor. The only door on the right side was slightly ajar and dark inside. My drawn arrow points directly at it. I stand focused as the guys search the rooms to the left. These guys are slowly becoming my family, and I will protect them, too. Each of them disappears into a room.

             
I stand in silence. The president has to be here. We didn't see him leave, and he must have heard the explosion. I half expected him to be on a phone barking orders to someone to do something about the attack.

             
Slam!

             
My heart skips a beat as I look briefly back. A small wastebasket is rolling into the hallway and David comes out looking pale. Idiot. Thank God I never had to track with them. I turn back to the door. Hopefully, if someone is inside they didn't hear.  David only has one good arm. He should have stayed back.

             
Ryan and David both converge with me in the hall.

             
“All clear,” they both whisper nearly in unison. It leaves one door - the one right in front of me. I slowly move forward towards it. I concentrate to hear anything inside. The faint breaths of the three of us, my heartbeat, and mild commotion from outside are all I hear.

             
If we are lucky enough that he is still inside, we may have just managed to sneak up on him. I push the door open with my foot and glide inside with an arrow still at the ready. The mild light from the hallway provides a soft glow that details the dark room. A dresser, a desk, and a large bed beside two night stands.  Beneath the covers is the shape of a body and the top of a head rests on a pillow.

             
We got him. Bastard is still sleeping. Figures.

             
I consider just releasing an arrow into the mass on the bed. I feel like he is the one I need to blame. He is the one who took everything away from me. My finger begins to loosen.

             
Just one last kill. Then I can be finished.

             
Ryan's hand finds my shoulder.

             
“We have it from here. Having him alive means everything,” he whispers in my ear. He raises his gun towards the figure. I begin to lower my bow. We have him cornered.  Dave holsters his gun and begins to walk forward with zip-ties out. I move right beside him to assist. As David walks closer, the wood creaks beneath his feet. We freeze.

             
The figure stirs on the mattress and fidgets under the blanket. My bow comes straight back up. The president twists more in the bed. His arms rise straight up as if stretching. The arms are small. Pale.

             
“Cole is that...” a woman's voice begins from still under the cover. It's not him. It's some girl.

             
David glances at Ryan for what to do. Her hands come down and take the covers with them.

             
I finally can make out her dark black hair.

             
Her neon blue eyes.

             
A face a saw everyday in streams and the occasional mirror.

             
A face I had not seen in five years.

             
Her eyes quickly go to David and her eyes widen. Before she can open her mouth to scream, David slams his hand over her mouth and pins her hand into the mattress with his knee.

             
“You need to stay calm, we aren't...” Before David can finish his sentence, I drop my weapon and throw him off of her and against the wall.

             
No one was going to touch Sara like that.

             
“Sara... it's me.” I start. She looks at me in awe. No words come out of her gaping mouth. Without warning she lunges out of the bed and her arms go around me. Already I feel the tears building in my eyes.

             
I found her.

             
I finally found her.  After, nearly a minute I wipe away the tears with my wrist. She does the same.

             
“I don't know what you are doing here,” I say, “We can figure it all out later. Come on. We need to get you out of here.”

             
She looks back at me hesitantly.

             
“Why do we need to leave? This is my home now.”

             
“This place, you wouldn't imagine what they have done to people. To me.”

             
“I thought...” Sara says. Ryan interrupts our reunion.

             
“Sorry ladies, we have to get going. Carter and Michael aren't going to keep them distracted forever.” Sara's eyes light up again.

             
“Carter is here too?”

             
“Yes,” I answer, “and Jo too. Let's go.”

             
The hesitance returns to her eyes for a second and then she nods.

             
“Okay. Let me get dressed.”

             
Sara throws back the covers and stands up. She is barely dressed. Ryan and David look around nervously as she walks to the dresser and grabs some clothing. What has she been doing here?

             
Her body looks the same as mine- except not nearly as thin or scarred.

             
Without all the pain.

             
She covers herself, and we walk again to the door.

             
“Do you know where Matthews is?” David asks.

             
She looks to the wall blankly and then back to him.

             
“I have no idea.”

             
“Dammit, he could be anywhere.” he turns to Ryan. “Do we wait?”

             
“Too dangerous, this whole damn mission depended on him being here,” Ryan looks upset and swears. “Never assume. We'll figure it out.”

             
We all hurry down the steps and rejoin with the rest of the squad. I stay close to Sara the whole time. As Ryan informs them of the situation, I can't help but marvel at my luck.

             
I found her.

             
I finally found her.

             
I study her to convince myself that it's her. Her hair is clean. Her nails look pedicured. The clothing fits her well, and is flattering. She has traces of make-up from the day before and a glow about her that I can't quite figure out.

             
I don't know what her relationship is with the president, but at least he had taken care of her. I glance down to my two missing fingers and imagine how I look in comparison. She is now definitely the pretty one.

             
I don't care.

             
I finally found her, and I will never let anyone else take her away.

Chapter 23: Sara

            
 
I thought I had lost her forever. As I hold her tighter in my arms and feel the tears slowly roll down my cheeks, it feels like a dream. They had told me she was dead. After the New Americans' helicopters picked us up, they told me she killed one of the guards and was shot.

             
Now... here she is.

             
The taller and thinner of the two men walks over and tells us that we need to get going. I'm relieved to know Carter and Jocelyn are still okay, but where are we going?

             
Everything I have is in this house. Life has been so close to normal these days, something I thought would never happen when that plague first happened. I can't leave this all behind. But then here is my sister who I thought was dead and she wants me to come with her.

             
I'm not going to let her slip away. My old family who I thought was dead is still alive.

             
I feel her close as we make our way downstairs. To my surprise nearly eight men with bullet proof vests and assault rifles are standing in the kitchen.

             
My kitchen.

             
What the hell is Caitlyn getting me into? I reach for her hand and squeeze. She turns and smiles for a second. I feel something wrong with her hand and look down. Her pinky and ring fingers are missing. My mouth drops and my eyebrows furl. What happened to her out there?

             
Did Cole have anything to do with this?

             
I can resolve that later. The taller man continues his talk from the center of the circle.

             
“Sorry boys, he's not here. But we found her sister, and the intelligence Kevin found in the study should come in handy. Time to get going.” Who I figure to be Kevin steps slightly into the circle and pats a briefcase he holds in the air.

             
“There are a couple of maps, radio frequencies, and manifests of some kind. I dunno - may be useful,” Kevin quickly says. Most of the group nods. I hear some whispers of a “hostage,” but don't quite understand what they are referring to.

             
“Sorry this didn't work out. Next time we will get him.”

             
I figure the “him” they wanted is Cole. He is the leader of New America, and the best chance this country has to pull itself back together. If I wasn't completely outnumbered, I would have protested their incriminating remarks. Later, I will show them he isn't that bad. Maybe this will turn out for the best. This is my chance to help those who helped me.

             
After the helicopters landed, I regained consciousness in a bus. A man in a black uniform stood in the seat in front of me. I worked up the courage to ask him about Caitlyn, Jocelyn, and Carter. After ignoring me for a while, he told me they were all dead and I may as well forget about them. I remember the tears, and it took a vicious slap from him for the tears to stop.

             
That was the last time I ever cried for them.

             
I was on my own then; I had to be strong - like how Jon taught me to be. After we arrived at the worker relocation center, the men asked me what I was good at. A few others who were captured kept their mouths shut; they ended up getting beaten - or worse. So I quickly spoke up and said I could cook. Luckily, the time in the cabin helped me find my way around a kitchen. They sent me straight off to make dinner for the evening. I'm still not sure if it was a test or if they didn't have anyone else. Regardless, it was so successful that they retained me after all of the other workers were shipped off to mines and farms.

             
One guard in particular looked out for me at the worker station. Sadly, I can't even remember his name anymore. He only told it to me once, but I'm pretty sure he was the main reason I was able to stay as a cook instead of having to do the hard work at the mines and farms. I vaguely remember that he suggested for me to remain at the center. He also made sure some of the particularly frightening guards left me alone. He was young and had blonde hair and blue eyes. That's all I remembered. He was also the reason I was sent to live in the capital shortly after.

             
Washington was having a large party to celebrate some sort of military victory in the north. The blonde guard suggested that I be sent up to help with the preparation. They liked to please President Matthews anyway they could. The blonde guard helped me into one of the cars and I was driven away from the center. I never saw him again.

             
I was the youngest in the kitchen preparing for the celebration, but my impromptu recipes reaped the most compliments.  Soon after the party, I was working in the kitchen of the President himself. I stayed with a few other workers in a nearby house. Most of them were around Jocelyn's age. Cole treated us well. We had freedom in the city. We had electricity. We dressed nice. We went to movies. We ate ice cream. We did things I never imagined possible while at the cabin. Things that I once only dreamed that I would get to do again.  Sometimes we had to ration food, but I never struggled like I did at the cabin.

             
This went on for four years.

             
In that time, I learned that outside the walls, America was an even more dangerous place than before. Matthews was trying his best to pull the country back together. He told me the incident with the helicopters must have been a misunderstanding. It took some time, but I believed him. That was in the past, and I had a new home.

             
Cole barely noticed anything other than my meals until last year when he returned from a month long trip. I think he finally saw that I had grown up. I couldn't deny that I was attracted to him. His attitude, his knowledge, his security. He reminded me of someone. This past year has been amazing. I still work in the kitchen, but whenever Cole's wife is out we spend hours together. He shares his bed with me.

             
He says he loves me. I say it back. He says one day we'll be together. Perhaps later, I can get Caitlyn to see what I see.

             
The tall man in my kitchen continues:

             
“We move back out the way we came. We need to get out before they figure out what we are doing.”

             
The group of men head out of the house. I continue to follow right behind Caitlyn. The typical military who occupy the streets are absent. Where are they all? In the distance I hear the pops of gunfire. Was something else going on?

             
Suddenly, the near-silent sound of our footsteps is shattered by the firing of a gun. The group kneels low to the ground. Caitlyn pulls me down beside her.

             
“Where is he?” one of the men yells. I turn and look too. At the corner of the white building I see the shooter: Bruce. He has traveled everywhere with Cole. He keeps me safe. Someone else sees Bruce at the same time.

             
“There.” A few more shots ring out.

             
Bruce falls to the ground. No.             

             
I fall to my knees, but Caitlyn soon pulls me up and pulls me along with the group.

             
They killed Bruce.

             
We begin to fall behind the rest, and the taller one takes notice.

             
“Come on you two; we have to go now. They are all gonna be coming back.”

             
We continue running through backyards that I have been to countless times. A few shots follow the group and me. Caitlyn pulls me even faster through the houses, and soon we are at the wall. We climb the steps and stand on the structure. Several of the soldiers go down. The one who awoke me by the bed stands along the edge.

             
“Here, let me help.” I stand still and look back at the capital. What is going on? Why am I leaving?

             
“Sweetheart, we need to get going,” he repeats. His voice sounds more like a plea than an order.

             
I stick out my hand to him and he helps lower me down with his one good arm. The other is in a sling.

             
“Thanks. By the way, the name's David.”

             
“Sara,” I reply weakly. As I climb the rest of the way down, gunshots become louder. David quickly hoists himself down and he is the last one. Again, the group pulls me into the woods and we eventually arrive at a series of cars. I step into an SUV with Caitlyn.

             
I don't know what is going on. But she is finally with me again. David sits beside us, and soon the SUV is racing through the woods.

             
Minutes feel like hours as I sit here and try to comprehend what the hell I am doing.

             
The car bumps through the night, and again within the hour, tears are running down my face. I turn to my sister. She gives me a look that tries to be sympathetic, but it just comes off as cold. I move down and lay my head in her lap and try to close my eyes and block out the sounds of the men around us congratulating each other on our safe exit.

             
She gently separates my hair between her fingers and runs her hand through it. My heart begins to slow down and I begin to think of being at home in bed.

             
With Cole's hand moving slowly through my hair.