The Suns of Liberty (Book 2): Revolution (39 page)

Her thoughts drifted back to those
moments in the chamber when they had betrayed her, when they had tricked her.
The energy had blasted out of the gun and stabbed into her. It felt like a hole
had been ripped into the center of her chest. The powerful beam nearly split
her apart. She had tried to fight it, but couldn’t. The energy burned into her
and filled her up.

Then, just as quickly, it seemed
to spill out of her and started crawling across her body as if it was measuring
her, searching for compatibility. And then she was absorbing it. All of it. The
power from the machine and the gun, the power from the room, from the air, from
everywhere. The feeling had been one of growing pain and growing power.
Eventually, she had stopped fighting it and just given in. She’d had to. And
then suddenly it was over. And the world went black.

As she floated there in front of
the mechanized monstrosity, she had a similar feeling. What if she just
surrendered to it?
The chamber was a machine, this is a machine.
She
dropped her arms to her sides, let her head fall back, her eyes rolled in her
head and fluttered. 

The Revolution watched the glow around Fiona begin
to brighten. He and Ward stopped firing and just gaped in awe and horror. The
intensity of the glare made Ward turn away. Revolution shaded his visors until
they could go no darker and shielded his eyes with his hands. Man-O-War inched
forward, tentacles stabbing her. Fiona was motionless, no longer
screaming—probably dead. But then Revolution noticed something strange...

The machine kept injecting its
tentacles into her, but they were not stabbing
through
her. They seemed
to be disappearing inside of her. And Man-O-War seemed to notice it, too. The
machine tried to pull back, raising its pulsating center. Straining to pull
away.

Fiona's face turned down. She looked at the monster
with a furrowed brow. Her fiery eyes narrowed, her lips curled up in a
malicious grin, and she began to draw it in. The machine glowed blazing white,
giving every ounce of power it had. Yet somehow Fiona held her ground. Her
mouth wide open now in a silent scream. Metallic patterns began to dance across
and then fade into her skin. She could feel its energy surging through her.
More of the machine disappeared inside her. Man-O-War bellowed a high-pitched
mechanical squeal. Whatever agony its circuits felt transferred across the
tentacles into Fiona, and the Fire Fly screamed out as well, as the glow burst
brighter. So bright, no one could look at it.

Then, suddenly...

Darkness.

A great rush of wind swept past
everyone, as if a giant vacuum had sucked the two combatants into oblivion. The
sky was empty. Silent.

BOOM!

A pulsar of light ruptured the
night from the spot in the sky. A sonic blast. Fire Fly's body careened through
the air, smashed through the walls of the Custom House Tower blocks away.

For a moment everyone froze. When
he could breathe again, Ward asked, “Have you ever seen that before?”
Revolution said nothing. He just stared at the Custom House, hoping for a sign,
any sign, that Fiona was still alive. Her glow radiated throughout the
building, but she lay still inside it.

The duo rushed over to the spot
below where Fiona had fought the monster. Robotic entrails of the Man-O-War were
scattered on the ground. Sparking light energy. But the machine itself was
gone.

“She did it!” Ward said.

Revolution peered back toward the
Custom House, hoping to see her emerge. But Fiona’s glow was fading. They
watched it. Slowly it dimmed to nothing. Revolution fought back a flood of
tears for the girl he had once tried to protect, to raise. But he made her hate
him, and now she was dead.

“She must have absorbed it,” Ward
said. “Bioluminescence must have stronger properties than...”—he couldn’t think
of what to call it—“mechanical-luminescence.”

Revolution tried to listen to his
friend, but his emotions were screaming in his head. All those years watching
her grow into the beautiful, talented, brilliant woman she was becoming flashed
across his mind. He had lost her. And lost his ultimate weapon.
But she had
won...

He was brought back down to Earth
by a crackle of static in his helmet. It was Lantern's voice. “Sir. We have a
new situation. Alison Mitchell's been exposed. She's at the new stadium on
Charter Street...they have a firing squad.” 

“We're only a few blocks away. Get
it on the Net.” He placed his hand on Ward's shoulder. “Paul, we've gotta go. A
friend needs our help.”

Celebrations would have to wait.

CHAPTER
61

W
ard
flew them to the stadium. The stadium was being built where Copp's Hill Burying
Ground used to stand. The local Council had moved the historic graves, torn
down apartment buildings, and started construction. Bostonians had protested,
but to no avail.

The duo landed outside the stadium
walls instead of flying straight in. Revolution told Ward it was a hostage
situation, but he didn't tell him who the hostage was. Revolution scanned the
structure and found a service entrance they could sneak into. Revolution
calculated that if they could get in unseen, Ward could fire the darts and take
Alison’s captors out before they could harm Alison.

The structure was sunken, mainly
below ground. Mostly empty, and still under construction. Various cranes and
dozers and other heavy equipment sat idle as they slipped in quietly. As soon
they entered, they spied Alison tied to a post in the center of the field,
hands behind her. Riflemen stood in a line aiming at her, ready to fire. It
seemed they'd arrived just in the nick of time. Ward's reaction was spontaneous
and unfortunate, and Revolution immediately regretted not telling him what they
were walking in on. Ward’s eyes welled with tears, and he screamed out,
“No!” 

“Paul, fire!” Revolution shouted,
hoping to retain the element of surprise. But Ward was beside himself. His
fight-or-flight instinct kicked in automatically. It was a terrible moment to
let his emotions override his brain. He charged the post, and Revolution
followed him.

Out of nowhere, titanium chains
snapped up from the ground as their feet tripped a high-tech trap designed to
snag the Revolution. He and Ward were lifted off the ground as the chains
coiled around them again and again and again. They were hauled up by a series
of reinforced cables above them and hoisted over to where Alison stood tied up.

The riflemen turned and fled out
of side doors. Alison brought her hands out from behind her. She had never been
tied to the post. She’d been faking it. One of the riflemen glanced back at her
as he slipped out. “Agent Mitchell, let's go!”

She hesitated. He stopped and
yelled again, “We've got 'em, let's go!”

The cable lowered them toward the
ground. Revolution spied a small platform below them and realized what it was:
a land mine. Council
had
sent a spy, like he'd always feared, and it was
Alison Mitchell. She'd betrayed them. He struggled hard to get free. And he
knew he'd be able to—had he been able to buy more time, but he was too late.

Alison's eyes raced up to them,
down to the trigger, over to the riflemen. She was out of time as well. She'd
been living a lie. Two lies in fact—and now those lies had come crashing in on
themselves. She’d wished this day away so many times, unsure of when she would
get the ultimate order to take the Revolution down. She’d tried to keep Paul
out of the line of fire, but now all her efforts had failed.

She felt a cold sweat cover her as
Paul was lowered toward the bomb. She’d fallen for him hard. At first, his
story had stirred her heartstrings with sympathy for what he had been through.
But the relationship had matured to genuine commitment. She thought if she
helped him reach the Revolution, take down the Brown Recluse, her actions would
balance out. But they didn’t. She had been tempted many times to tell Ward the
truth, but she knew doing so would endanger both of them. The path of least
resistance was to keep up the lies. And now the man she loved was about to die
because of her. She couldn’t live with herself if that happened. So she made a
decision.

She stepped out. Onto the
platform. It clicked down as the land mine's trigger detonator engaged under
her foot. It was a long, flat trigger built so that it was guaranteed to be
activated no matter where a prisoner landed. Revolution and Ward landed on it
two seconds later.

Paul just stared at in her
complete apoplectic shock. “What are you doing?  You're telling me you're
a spy? This whole thing was a set up?” he croaked at her finally, barely able
to make the words. He already knew the answers, but his body was revolting. He
thought he might vomit. The feeling he had at the prison came flooding back.
She might as well have stuck the 100,000-volt poker into his heart.

Alison heaved tears as she peered
into his eyes. “I'm sorry,” was all she managed.

Ward ripped off his mask. “Paul—”
Revolution tried to calm him. He was having none of it.

“You bitch!” 

Alison lowered her head and
bawled. The reaction threw Ward for a moment. He just stared at her, confused
and disgusted. Half of him wanted to kill her, the other half still wanted to
hold her as she sobbed.

Killing her sounded better.

“Paul,” Revolution said,
“we’re...she's standing on a land mine.”

“What?” Ward glanced at his
friend. Tried to focus. Tried to control his rage. He peered down. His furrowed
brow collapsed. A wave of emotions swept over him. His puzzle-solving mind
began to put it all together. The Source, the setup, a double spy, now caught
in her lies—by both sides. But with whom and where did her real loyalty lie? He
had that answer too—it was right in front him. Literally. Instead of escaping
to safety with the others, she had stepped out onto the platform before they
had reached it. She was going to die with him.

“No, you can't!” Ward pleaded.

She knew he understood now. “It's
the only way. I do love you, Paul. But I lied to you about a lot of other
things. I never decided to fight back. I surrendered. You've given me back my
purpose.” She clasped his hand. “My parents loved this city. And they died for
it. Just promise me you'll never give up. For David. For me.”

Ward's reeling mind tried to
consider the situation, tried to find a solution. Revolution would survive
this, of course. It was a poorly designed, inadequate trap for him. But he and
Alison would die. So be it. He gazed into her eyes.

“No!” she shouted at him, reading
his mind. “You have to stop this! Don't give up! Ever!” She sobbed the words,
but Ward understood. He peered in her eyes and saw her desperation. Lori had
looked at him that way. He didn’t listen when he should have back then. He
wouldn’t make that mistake again. She was right. It had to be stopped. Boston
must be saved.

“I won't,” he said, and they
leaned in and kissed one last time. He felt her tears run down his cheeks and
blend with his own.

“You have to end this,” she said,
regaining her composure for a moment. “Now hold on tight.” Carefully, she
swiveled away from them, sobbing hard again, trying not to let Ward see her
emotional collapse. Her throat clenched and burned. Her hand fell over the
controls built into the pole behind her. Her foot careful not to slip from the
trigger. She couldn't look at him again or her courage would fail.

As she turned away, it was Ward's
resolve that vanished. He needed more time with her. To love her, to know her.
“Please, no! God, no!” But there was nothing more he could do. Her fate was in
her own hands. She kept her back to him. Her shoulders heaved. She jammed the
button, and Ward and Revolution flung to the top of the pit. Alison turned and
watched them go, the tears streaming.

She closed her eyes. “I love you,
Mom and Dad. This is for you.” She lifted her foot from the lever and was
ripped into a thousand pieces by the massive blast.

CHAPTER
62

T
he
explosion hurled the duo from the lip of the pit as the chains separated and
retracted. Ward heard the explosion, felt it, but mercifully didn't see it.
They smashed down onto the pavement just past the dirt of the construction zone
and were street level once again.

The pain from Ward's wounds was
starting to return full force. Revolution helped his friend to his feet,
holding him up. Ward stared numbly at the stadium wall. He seemed to be going
into shock, and then…  

CLICK. CLICK. CLICK. CLICK.

The unmistakable sound of the
hammer on a firearm being snapped back into firing position. Thousands of them.
A cacophony of the worst kind.

They turned.

An entire battalion stood with
rifles trained on them. At least a thousand soldiers, weapons aimed. Troops had
assembled everywhere. On rooftops, in the street, on balconies, hanging out
windows. It was an overwhelming sight. Revolution caught movement on a nearby
roof and spied a camera crew setting up and going live to cover the event.

A loud roar suddenly echoed into
the square and startled them. Tanks rumbled in. Two from each direction. One by
one, eight turrets took aim. They were trapped. Revolution knew that even he
could not escape this. The principle was the same as falling out of the chopper
at the harbor. He had no doubt his armor would survive, but the man inside would
not. If all eight guns fired on him simultaneously, he would not survive the
concussions and the suit would not be able to absorb that much power that fast
from that many directions. Besides, he was already hurt. The armor damaged. He
couldn’t even be sure the absorption unit was still working. He'd yet to assess
his own injuries caused by the Man-O-War, but he knew they were severe. The
drugs were keeping him going, but he couldn't withstand another fight. Ward was
useless to him, a bumbling, grieving mess. He held his friend to his side with
his powerful arm, steadying him.