Rebels & Lies (Rebels & Lies Trilogy Book 1) (34 page)

Kaspar arrived at the last house on the list. This house was
dramatically different from the others. Instead of a modest one story home,
this was a gargantuan two story home on the rich side of town. This William
Sullivan character must have been the man in charge. He easily made the most
credits from any of the other Agents. Good, it was always better to save the
best for last. He put the SUV in park then stepped out. Loud cracks of thunder
filled his covered ears while he studied it. He moved himself across the wet
front lawn to the porch. He reached for the golden handle of the front door and
turned. To his amazement, the door was left unlocked. He drew one of the Glocks
and moved in.

To his relief, the floors inside were brand new. There were no
loose boards to alert those inside of his presence. The home was dark on the
inside. He looked around and found the stairs to his right. He slowly walked up
them with his pistol still drawn. When he reached the top, he saw a cracked
door with light coming out of it. He moved towards it with deliberate steps.
When he reached it, there was no hesitation. He had already killed two of the
three. Kaspar just wanted to get this over with. He slammed his shoulder into
the cracked door and ran inside.

He saw Sullivan sitting on the bed, his back propped up against
the head board. Sullivan looked up from his picture album, tears in his eyes,
and threw the album to the floor. Kaspar could see the sadness in his final
target’s eyes. The only problem being that he didn’t give a shit what Sullivan
cried over.

“William Sullivan?” Kaspar asked.

Sullivan raised both hands in the air. He nodded his head yes and
began to look around the room. His bottom lip trembled. He moved his right hand
to wipe the tears which prompted a warning from the intruder.

“Who are you?” Sullivan wondered.

“That’s not important.”

“You’ve just broken into my home. You’ve got a gun pointed at my
head. I’d say it’s very important who you are.”

Kaspar kept the gun trained at the head. He thought for a moment.
Perhaps it would be much better if he explained to Sullivan the exact reason
why he was going to kill him. At least then, he would know that Mother’s death
would not go unpunished.

“Does the name Jenna Kaspar mean anything to you?” Kaspar
demanded.

“Jenna…who, you say?”

“Kaspar! Jenna Kaspar!”

In the heat of the moment, Sullivan’s mind went blank. He searched
it but nothing came to it. Just then, a light bulb went off…Jenna Kaspar,
suspected aid to the resistance…

“Who are you?” Sullivan asked once more.

“I’m the son…of the mother you killed.”

“Listen…”

“Did you really think you would get away with it?”

“It was part of my…”

Kaspar persisted. “Did you think nobody would come looking for
you?”

“If I hadn’t done it…”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“They would have taken my family!” Sullivan cried out. “They would
have killed me!”

“What do you think I’m going to do?”

Kaspar’s grip on the pistol grew tighter inside his gloved hands.
He continued to look into the eyes of his enemy, unfazed by the fear he saw in
them. There was no guilt or negative feeling about killing this man. He
wondered if Mother had that same look of fear on her face before…

“You’re a member of the resistance aren’t you?” Sullivan asked, he
noticed the American flag patch on Kaspar’s right arm.

No answer came.

Sullivan’s demeanor changed. “You guys must’ve thought I was
getting really close, right?”

“What are you talking about?”

“That’s why you bastards poisoned my wife! Just tell me the poison
was meant for me, okay?”

“You have no idea what’s really going on, do you?”

“I think I have a very clear idea…”

“That’s enough,” Kaspar interrupted. “No more talking now.”

Sullivan shut his eyes and awaited the gunshot that would ascend
him to nothingness. No gunshot came.

Kaspar kept his gun trained on the head. Self-doubt started to
creep in again. He knew that, deep down, he was not a killer. Was this really
the right thing to do? He already killed two of Mother’s killers. Why not just
let this one go? Sullivan had no idea who he was…he would get away scot free
and escape with Krys.

He shook off his conscience’s attempt at reason and readied
himself to shoot once more. His conscience would have to take the night off.
Sullivan was high up in the ranks, Kaspar knew. He could not let him go. He
must have been the leader behind the whole thing.

A sound came from behind. With his bloodied left arm, Kaspar quickly
drew the second Glock and pointed it at the door. It was a little boy. No older
than six from what he could tell. His mind raced back to the little girl who
had died in his arms.

“You don’t point that gun at my son!” Sullivan yelled from the
bed.

Kaspar shook his head and focused his attention back to Sullivan.
Just pull the trigger…come on. Pull! Pull!

“Daddy!” Davie cried. He ran for the king sized bed and hopped on.

“No,” Sullivan ordered. Tears flowed free again. “You have to let
Daddy deal with this man. Go back to your room and lock the door. Don’t come
out for anything.”

“I’m scared…” Davie replied.

“I am too, son. But, you have to go to your room, okay?”

Davie looked up to Kaspar. “What did he do to you?”

Kaspar stared at the father and son on the bed. No answer came
from his mouth. He looked straight into the little boy who looked straight into
him. Kaspar kept his gun trained on Sullivan, awaiting the right moment to pull
the trigger. The boy was not in line with the shot, but there could be no
chances. The little boy had played no part in this madness. He should be in his
room playing, not witnessing his father’s murder.

He could feel tears flow down his own eyes now. The moisture began
to soak through his mask. He tried to shake away the thoughts inside that told
him to leave now. Kaspar knew that he had to deliver justice. Sullivan could
not be allowed to walk away free from what he had done…what he had taken away.

The trigger finger froze. He couldn’t do it. It was the little
boy. Kaspar remembered how he felt when he saw Mother lying dead on the couch.
The eyes that were wide open despite the owner of them being dead. Could he do
that to Sullivan’s son? The kid would have to grow up, never forgetting his
father being killed in front of him. He would never relinquish his blood lust
to find the man who did it. What kind of justice would be brought by creating
another fatherless son? Kaspar knew the feeling…only his father choose not to
be around. He saw on that bed the kind of love Sullivan had for his son, the
kind of love that was missing from Kaspar’s life.

He dropped the gun in his bloodied left hand. The loud crash fell
on deaf ears. He raised his left index finger to his lips and started to lower
the gun in his right hand down. He reached for the holster…

BANG!
BANG! BANG!

Kasar could see the Agent reaching for something
underneath his pillow. The rebel fired the three shots as a warning. The rounds
tore through the drywall behind Sullivan’s bed. Sullivan began to aim his .38
Special at the intruder. Kaspar turned and made a run for the door.

The Agent threw the covers off of himself and ran
in pursuit. When he reached the bedroom door he made his way through the dark
hallway. As he heard Sullivan making his move, Kaspar, three quarters down the
steps, blind fired four more warning shots upward. Sullivan hit the deck and
fired two rounds from his small revolver. He heard the man running and Sullivan
tried to stand up. His son, with a loud cry that rang the ears, jumped on top
of him.

The front door slammed shut behind Kaspar. Just
in case his would be target made it there already, Kaspar fired three rounds
into the door. He nearly stumbled on the porch steps as he ran for the black
SUV that still had the motor running. He jumped in, threw the vehicle’s
automatic transmission into drive, and pressed his foot on the gas. The SUV
rocketed forward.

There were tears in his eyes as he made his way
out of the neighborhood and onto the freeway. He felt unable to breath, so he
ripped the mask off of his face. He paid little attention to the road in front.
His thoughts were squarely on Mother. He swore to her that he would avenge her
death. He had failed because of the little boy. He hoped that she would forgive
him.

Somewhere, deep inside, he knew that she would.

***

Krys reached up to wipe away the tears that ran down her cheeks.
She looked down at her watch to read the time once more:
10:54.
She kept
trying to tell herself that he was just running late. Any moment now she would
feel him get on the back of the dirt bike. A little late…that was over an hour
ago. The dread she felt that her lover was not coming started to fill her mind.
It took her a moment to accept it.

She revved the loud engine of the dirt bike she found stashed away
at the safe house. She adjusted her dark sunglasses then looked around for
Agents that might be on patrol in the area. She was now out well past curfew
and needed to move fast. She reached down for her cell phone and typed in seven
numbers. It rang twice.

“Yeah,” Clarke’s voice said.

“It’s Krys. Do you have everything ready?”

“Our broadcast will be played over the morning news.”

Krys allowed a smile. “Good work, Robbie. You take care, you
hear?”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to spread the word. Inform as many people as I can.”

“How are you feeling?” Clarke asked.

She sighed and looked down at her stomach. “I can almost feel that
poison eating away at me.”

“I see…well, if I don’t see you again, it was an honor.”

“You, too.”

She pressed END and took one last glance backward. She hoped to
see Kaspar’s figure move in close from the distance; ready to take the ride
along with her. She never saw him. Another tear rolled down her cheek and she
wiped it away.

The time for grieving over lost friends had…

The sound of a vehicle’s engine running shook her
back to the present. As she looked back, she saw a figure struggle out of it
and move towards her. Krys gripped her sunglasses and pulled them away from her
eyes. Could it be?

She felt a wave of excitement as she recognized
the man who approached was Kaspar. She killed the bike’s engine and ran towards
him. Kaspar winced in pain as she squeezed. She backed away, looked down, and
saw the cause of it.

“What happened to your arm…why are you so
late…did you really do it?” Krys blurted out.

Kaspar held up his hands. “Woah, woah, take it
easy. Some dog bit my arm. It took me a while to find what I was looking for.”

“Is your mother smiling down on you?”

Kaspar knew what she meant. He shrugged his
shoulders. “What’s done…is done.”

“So, where do we go from here?”

“You care to ditch that piece of shit over there
and take a ride with me?”

The two laughed together. Kaspar saw that smile,
he felt that warm feeling, and once more, everything in that moment was right
with the world. He began to fall in love with that feeling, and with her. She
went in for another hug, only she was more careful this time. She buried her
head in his chest. As Kaspar ran his fingers through her soft, black hair, he
didn’t know what would come next. All he knew was the he felt something inside
that he had never felt before. Hope.

“Ryan…” Krys asked as she pulled herself away.

“What?” Kaspar replied. He used his thumb to wipe
away a tear from her cheek.

“You know that I don’t have much time left,
right? You really don’t have to…”

Kaspar had about enough talk. He pulled himself
in close and pressed his lips against hers, interrupting what she was about to
say. The two embraced each other with a long kiss before any more words were
spoken.

As their lips caressed against one another,
Kaspar suddenly no long cared about revenge. His Mother, no matter how many
Agents he killed, would never be back in this world. He only hoped that, if
there was an afterlife, he would meet her there. For now, he knew that she
would want this for him. For him to be happy, that’s all she ever wanted for
him. He remembered her telling him, the night before she died, that he needed
to find someone special. Krys…she was special, all right, and there was nobody
else he’d rather be with at this very moment than her.

“I don’t know the future,” Kaspar said as they
pulled away. “We’ve got to live in the present. We’ve got to present our
evidence to those people out there. Don’t you worry. I’ll be with you…until the
end.”

“We’d better get moving then, soldier.”