Rebels & Lies (Rebels & Lies Trilogy Book 1) (24 page)

“Our great society was shown another glimpse into the lawless,
ruthless nature of the resistance today.” Consul Williamson said into the
microphone in front of him. “These radicals who fight with such tactics are
only proving to everyone the reason why the ones before us failed in the
first place.”

Behind the Consul stood the apartment building where the latest
incident with the resistance took place. A female correspondent moved slowly,
the building behind her, and talked about the shootout. How the resistance
moved in on a family whose only crime was their devout support of their
government.

“Now,” the reporter said, dread in her eyes, “the innocent
civilians who have fallen prey to these ruthless killers live in fear of what
will happen next. Will you or your family be next?”

The camera cut to an angry middle-aged man. He held a sign that
showed his full support of the USR and its leaders.

“The killing must stop,” he cried into the camera. “If I have any
say in it, I will personally take out each and every one of these terrorists.”

“I don’t understand,” another female citizen said into the
microphone. “Why can’t they just accept that the world has moved on? They are
only causing more pain and suffering for their own little crusade.”

“We don’t want them, we don’t need them, just go.”

***

Sullivan stood in Captain Fitzpatrick’s office with sweat beading
on his forehead. Consul Williamson stood next to Sullivan’s boss behind the shined
oak desk. They had not given him permission to sit, yet. The fact that the
Consul decided to show his face today meant nothing but bad things to come.
Sullivan continued to press the ice pack to the fresh stitches on the side of
his head. Williamson leaned over and whispered something into Fitzpatrick’s ear.
The Captain merely nodded his head at everything whispered to him.

The inescapable was coming. Sullivan knew that he was about to be
reprimanded for disobeying a direct order, but he was so close. He would take
whatever punishment they would give him at this point. The only fear he had was
soon pushed away. There would be a good chance that the Consul was here to take
Sullivan’s badge from him. If he did, then so be it, Sullivan thought. He would
bring down the resistance on his own time.

“Have a seat, Mr. Sullivan.” Williamson said.

Sullivan obeyed. He pulled one of the chairs in front of him back
and sat down.

Williamson continued, “I’ve been here with your Captain all
morning trying to figure out what is going on in this department.”

“Consul,” Fitzpatrick said, “we just need to sit down and calmly
figure this thing out. Will over here is one of the USR’s very best. He was
only doing what he thought was right.”

“That’s right,” Williamson quipped. “Disobeying a direct order
from a superior is ‘the right thing to do’. Thanks for the enlightenment.”

Sullivan was reminded of why he never had any respect for the
Consul. He would always come up with some smartass remark if anyone tried to
reason with him. The reality was no match for the saint that Williamson made
himself out to be on the television sets. He was loud, arrogant, and listened
to no one’s voice, save his own.

The Agent’s thoughts then shifted to Julie and his little Davie.
Julie had been sick for a while now, but she still refused to seek medical
care. Sure, if he got suspended or fired he could seek the resistance on his
own, but how then could he afford his son’s education? Suddenly, that fear that
he suppressed earlier came back to haunt him. He was sure now that this was no
“talk”. It would be his termination.

No, you cannot put your son through that.

“Sir,” Sullivan blurted, “with all due respect, I nearly had one
of those rebels before I was blindsided.”

Williamson said nothing at first. Instead, he forced Fitzpatrick
out of his chair and ordered him to sit down next to Sullivan. There was shame
and embarrassment on the Captain’s face as he stood. Sullivan felt bad for his
boss, but the greater part of his psyche feared for his own position at the
moment. Fitzpatrick’s job security was not at risk here. He could get over the
embarrassment later on today while he looked for another Agent to take
Sullivan’s place.

“Mr. Sullivan,” Williamson said once at Fitzpatrick’s chair, “just
what were you thinking last night?”

“I already told you,” Sullivan replied. “I was trying to apprehend
a member of the resistance to bring him in for questioning. I nearly
succeeded…”

“That’s what makes the USR so great, isn’t it? Nearly succeeding?
I’ll tell you something you did succeed at: disobeying your damn orders! Acting
like one of those citizens out there would act is not why you are a detective
in this department! You are supposed to be above that.”

“I was only doing my job, sir. What I was hired to do.”

“Your job is to obey orders, is that understood?”

Sullivan leaned forward. “The resistance is wreaking havoc out
there, sir. You just spoke about it earlier this morning. Something has to be
done about them, sir, and I’m trying my best.”

“The resistance is for the big fish. You just remember you’re
nothing but a flounder in this pond.”

“Sir,” Fitzpatrick interjected, “if I may.”

“Go on, Donald.”

“Like I’ve been telling you, the detective here is one of my best
men. He acted on impulse last night, that much is true, but he had his reasons.
Reasons I believe are justified.”

“You stand by his actions, then?” Williamson demanded.

“To an extent, yes.”

“Then, that doesn’t say much for your leadership skills, does it?
Maybe you are the wrong man for this job.”

“Sir…” Fitzpatrick started to get out.

“Enough is enough. Agent Sullivan, you are on indefinite
investigative leave while we try and sort this situation out.”

“Sir, I’ve got a family to feed.” Sullivan pleaded.

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you went rogue.
But, don’t you worry your sorry little ass about it, it’s with pay.”

Fitzpatrick sighed, “Sir, I believe that it is my call on who to
suspend under my employ.”

“My say supersedes yours!” Williamson cried. “So, unless you want
a nice, fat suspension of your own, you will keep your mouth shut.”

Sullivan wanted to say something further in his defense, but
decided against it. There was no talking, much less reasoning, with a man like
Williamson. You just say ‘yes, sir’ no matter how in the wrong he was. Maybe
this could end up working out. He would at least still get a check for a couple
of more weeks. It would give him more time with Julie to patch up their
relationship, what little was left of it, anyway. Not to mention more time with
Davie…

He felt a vibrating sensation on his left thigh. Sullivan reached
into his pocket for his black cell phone. The caller ID read “DR. RODGERS” in
black letters against the blue indigo background. He looked up at Williamson
who gave him permission via hand signal to step outside and take the call.

“This is Will,” Sullivan said once outside.

“Mr. Sullivan,” the female voice said through the ear piece, “have
you got a moment?”

“Of course I do, what’s wrong?”

“It’s your wife…”

Sullivan walked into the waiting room and scanned it with his
eyes. He caught a glimpse of Davie seated next to his Aunt Mary. Upon approach,
Mary said nothing. She just looked down at the ground like there was no hope
for her sister. When Davie saw his father, the confused little boy’s eyes lit
up. He hopped off the chair and he embraced Sullivan with a hug around the
neck.

“What’s going on, Mary?” Sullivan demanded. He moved Davie away
from him and back into the chair.

“She…had another spell.” Mary replied. “She called me over and
when I got there, she was passed out on the floor, so I brought her here.”

“Let me get this straight. You found her passed out?”

“Yes,” Mary replied.

“Shit, why won’t she ever listen to me?”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s refused to let me bring her to the hospital.”

Sullivan took a seat and placed his head into his palms. He
brushed back his hair with both hands and tried to calm down. His mind raced
for an explanation. What could it be? Something she ate? When he could no
longer take asking himself why, he stood up and walked over to the
receptionist’s desk. He demanded answers from her, but she told him they knew
nothing right now. As soon as they did, they would call him back. Feeling a
sense of defeat, Sullivan turned and walked back over to the chair to sit down.
He was met by another bear hug from Davie.

“Is mommy okay?” Davie asked.

“I’m sure she is, son.” Sullivan replied. “She’s just a little
sick and they are trying to figure out the cause, that’s all.”

Sullivan leaned back and his right leg began to shake
involuntarily. With his arms folded across his chest he tried once again to get
calm. What were they doing back there? Did it really take
this
long to
investigate something as simple as a stomach virus? That was what scared him
the most: the sheer amount of time they took back there with no answers.

Doctor Rodgers moved into the waiting room. Once Sullivan saw him,
he sprang out of his chair and rushed the doctor. To bystanders it must have
looked like he was trying to mug the rich doctor. Rodgers kept his cool and
calmly extended his right hand towards Sullivan. The Agent didn’t embrace it.
Rodgers led the way back to a secluded hallway.

“How is she, Doc?” Sullivan demanded.

“I’ll be honest,” Rodgers replied. “It’s not looking good.”

“What do you mean? What’s wrong?”

“Did you know about her vomiting spells?”

“Of course, I’ve been insisting that she come see you, but she’s
refused.”

“Well, there’s something going on inside of her, but I have no
idea what it is.”

“It’s not just a simple stomach virus?” Sullivan asked.

“It’s…something I’ve never seen before. From the looks of it,
though, it’s some kind of poison.”

“Poison? Are you serious?”

“Yes, but like I said, I can’t make out exactly what it is.”

Sullivan stared at his doctor. No expression to be found, no
sadness or anger, it just hadn’t sunk in, yet. There was one thing that
bothered him about the whole ordeal. With all the advancements in medicine over
the past decade, he grew shocked that there could even be a poison out there
one could consider new.

“What’s your prognosis?” Sullivan wondered, not wanting to hear
the answer.

“She’s slipped into a coma,” Rodgers replied. “She’s on life
support right now, that’s the only thing keeping her alive.”

“Is she going to die?”

“I’m afraid that the agent inside of her has eaten away her
intestines and moved into the bloodstream. We can’t stop it.”

“Doc,” Sullivan pleaded. “Be real with me, please.”

“Yes, she is going to. We can only keep her on life support for so
long. I wish we could keep her plugged in longer so I can identify the agent,
but I’d lose my license and probably be imprisoned if we kept her hooked up any
longer.”

Sullivan could now feel warm tears trickle down his cheeks. He
took a step back from the doctor then kept himself from falling over. After
clearing his throat, he pushed Rodgers out of the way. He opened the door to
see Julie, unconscious with tubes that ran inside her nose, an IV injected into
her right arm. He moved in and touched her forehead. It was so cold. Why was
she so cold?

He sat down on a chair next to the bed. The tears had stopped,
sooner than Sullivan thought they would. The memories of the good times had all
but faded. All that entered his memory were the rough times of the past few
months. He would never know if another job opened up if things would have
gotten better between them. Suddenly, he began apologizing for not listening.
Sullivan should have left the Department.

Why did he take that promotion when it came along? So that he
could move his wife and kid into a fancy house? So he could send his son to the
best schools in the city? All of a sudden, none of that materialism mattered
any longer. His promotion within the department got him all that, but it also
caused his wife to grow distant. She never said it, but Sullivan always
wondered if she had grown to hate being married to him…that she grew to him not
just as a husband but a person. There would be no way of knowing anymore.

Now, Julie was on the brink of death, a vegetable unable to hear
the words “I love you”, so they never came out. Sullivan stood and kissed his
wife one last time on the forehead.

“You rest in peace, now.” Sullivan said before his exit.

“It’s your decision, at least for right now.” Rodgers’s voice said
once the door opened.

“What is?” Sullivan demanded.

“You can make the decision to pull the plug now, before
regulations force our hand. At least, it can be yours to make…”

Sullivan became overcome with grief at what the doctor just told
him.
It’s your decision
. His decision to what, kill his own wife? He
turned and walked down the hallway. Without turning to face him, he told the
doctor to do it. Sullivan could not bear to be in the same room when they did
it. The sight of his unconscious wife gasp for her last breaths that wouldn’t
come did not interest him. Right now, he had a very disappointed little boy to
console.

When he reemerged in the waiting room, his facial expressions gave
everything away. Mary looked into her brother in law’s eyes for a moment and
then quickly looked away. Overcome with grief, she began to weep. Sullivan
walked over to his son. He stood and stared at him for a moment. Davie looked
back with confusion in his eyes. Little Davie, he was such a great kid. Julie
sure had raised him well…

Sullivan slumped down in the chair next to his son. No words were
spoken at first. There really wasn’t much that could be said to make the
situation any better. Instead, his mind began to race. He thought about what
Rodgers told him. That his wife had been…poisoned?

The resistance! Of course it was them. This kind of thing would be
right up their alley. They must have known that Sullivan was getting closer to
them. Shit, he had one of their operatives damn near arrested just last night.
They must have tried to poison him. Julie was an accident…it all made sense.
Look at what they did to Forte. The resistance tortured him before they shot
the poor bastard dead in cold blood. They obviously had no issues with murdering
Agents.

“Is mommy okay?” Davie asked, breaking up Sullivan’s thoughts.

“Son,” Sullivan searched for the right words. “Mommy is very
sick.”

Davie’s eyes started to water. “How sick?”

“She fell asleep…the doctors…they can’t get her to wake up again.”

The sound of Mary crying out caused Sullivan to jump. He then let
his own tears flow free again. This time he didn’t try to fight them back.
Little Davie started to cry as well. Sullivan pulled his son’s head close to
his chest and let the boy cry. He reached up and pulled Mary in, too. He
wrapped his arms tight around her with his right arm and held Davie close with
his left.

“I can get her to wake up, Daddy!” Davie cried. He forced his way
from his father’s chest. “She always wakes up when I sing to her in the
morning. Just let me back there!”

Davie started to hop off of his lap before Sullivan’s strong hand
clamped to Davie’s arm. The boy looked to his father and tried to wrestle
himself free with no success. The sight caused Mary to cry harder. Sullivan
pulled the boy up with all of his strength. Davie wrapped his arms around
Sullivan’s neck and squeezed.

“You can’t wake her up,” Sullivan said. “No matter how hard you
try…she’s gone, son.”

Sullivan rubbed at Davie’s hair while he contemplated his next
move. He still had that armor piercing, USR issued round with him having not
turned it over, yet. He would have to go and talk to Billy King. King was an
old informant who ran an underground gun shop. He would have to know something.

He moved his son away from him. Davie sat down on the chair, his
eyes pointed straight down to the white tile floor. Sullivan stood and hugged
Mary. He whispered something in her ear. She nodded her head in acknowledgment.
Sullivan patted his son on the back before he walked towards the exit.

“Where’re you going, daddy?” Davie asked.

“Daddy’s got to go back to work,” Sullivan lied. “You just stay
here with your Aunt. I’ll be home soon.”

“Just stay here, daddy!”

“Davie, there are things that need to get done. I’ll be home soon,
just stay with your Aunt, she’ll take care of you, okay?”

“Okay,” Davie replied, his head back down. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, son.”