World in Tatters Ch. 47

A few minutes of shoving and fussing later, my mother’s goons throw me through the flap of one of the tents. I spin back at them, only to find a pistol in my face. I raise my hands in surrender, backing away from the gun barrel.

“Stay in here, and I won’t have to shoot you.” He has the face and voice of a young man. No more than eighteen, nineteen. Like many of us in this age, I’m sure he’s seen much of conflict and death. I wouldn’t be surprised if his family or someone he cares about has fallen victim to this so-called war. His words carry no joy, but I can see his conviction. He truly believes he’s doing the right thing. It’s a look I’ve seen in the eyes of many in the resistance. Old and young alike. “And I will shoot you.”

“Steven?” A voice calls from behind me. My heart skips a beat in relief as I turn to see Rachel and Jason huddled on a set of cots at the back of the tent. “What happened to you?” Rachel pleads.

Without waiting for my answer, she jumps up and nearly tackles me in a hug, a rare gesture from my sister. I return the hug, pressing my cheek to the top of her head. “I don’t know where to begin.” I whisper. “But I’m alright. Don’t think I can say the same for Alice or Aunt Nora.” Pulling away, “Or Kiera and Richard. Or the twins.”

“Mom had them arrested too?”

“Yeah. She called Aunt Nora a traitor. Honestly, I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Nora? A traitor?” Jason scoffs. “That’s not possible. There must be some sort of mistake.”

“Mistake…” I mutter. “Maybe, but I doubt my mother sees it that way.”

Speaking over me, “Charlotte must be out of her mind. That, or someone is influencing her.”

“No one influences my mother.” Suddenly realizing his absence, “Did they arrest Chris too? Where is he?”

“Yeah. They took him when they took Jarvis and the others. It caught us by surprise.”

“You let them take him!” I burst, “Why did you let them take Chris? He’s just a kid.”

“Do you think I had a choice in the matter?” Jason bites. “As soon as Charlotte found out what your expedition was up to, she flipped her lid. I couldn’t talk her down. Jedd couldn’t talk her down. She had them all arrested. Jedd’s under house arrest. Good god! She’s gone mad.”

I don’t understand why any of this is happening. Why does my mother think her best friend is a traitor? Why is she arresting some of the highest-ranking individuals in her own army? My head spins with the possibilities. I have to speak with my mom, but those goons won’t let me out of this tent.

I spiral and spiral, feeling my heart racing. My mother’s gone insane. My breath quickens to the point of hyperventilation. My friends are imprisoned. The woman I lo… I collapse on one of the cots, shaking uncontrollably. Alice and her mother, who we went through so much to reunite, locked away. I can’t focus. I can’t breathe. I feel my eyes start to water.

I can’t think. I can’t think. I can’t think. I can’t think.

Suddenly, I feel a gentle, but firm hand touching my shoulder. “Hey, brother.” Rachel kneels down beside me; she grabs my chin and forces me to look at her. “I know it’s a lot. You think I don’t want to break down? You think I don’t want to curl into a ball and just forget about everything else?”

The shaking begins to subside, Rachel’s determination infecting me.

“We’ll figure something out. We always do.”

Staring into my younger sister’s eyes, I see how much she has grown up. She’s been through so much. With the loss our parents, all the misadventures we’ve dealt with for last several weeks, and everything in between, my sister is nothing if not resilient.

The shaking stops. My breathing evens out, as I regain control of my faculties. “Thank you.” I whisper.

This has happened before. The panic attack, I mean. It’s not often, but sometimes I get overwhelmed. Rachel’s always had a way of calming my nerves. Even when we were kids, before leaving Atlanta, Rachel was the only one who could help me get my panic under control. I still don’t know what to do about our friends, but like she said, we’ll figure it out.

I take a last deep breath before standing up. I wrap Rachel in a hug, which she does not return right away, making for a bit of an awkward exchange. I pull away as she pats me on the back. I wipe my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose forcing my thoughts to slow down.

“Why don’t you two get some sleep?” Jason urges. “You, Steven, look like you haven’t slept in days.”

“No. I’m fine, really.” I retort. Even as I say it, the words ring false.

“Look. We’re stuck in this tent until Charlotte says otherwise. Take advantage of the time we have now. I’ll wake you if there’s news. Scheming and plotting are always done better when well-rested.”

“Seriously, man, I’m good. We ha—”

“Unless you want those guards out there to shoot you.” He teases. “In which case, go right ahead.”

“Fine. Wake us—”

“Soon as there’s news. Promise.”

I pull one of the cots over by the tent wall and sit on the edge, kicking off my boots. As soon as I lie down, I feel the extent of my exhaustion. My brain starts to shut down almost immediately as I drift off into sweet oblivion.

*****

I only get a couple hours of sleep before my restlessness gets the better of me. I sit upright in my cot, rubbing my eyes. Despite how exhausted I find myself, the thought of further sleep seems improbable. Looking around the tent, I see Rachel zonked out on the other cot. Jason, despite his insistence that he’d be the one to wake us, is taking a nap on a chair in the corner.

As I shift around on the cot, I feel discomfort from something pressing into my lower back. I reach into my back pocket and pull out the file given to me by Elias Drum. I stare at it for a long time, debating whether or not to start reading.

Decision made, I quietly get up and cross to the beam of sunlight cast through the tent flap. I smooth the folder across my knee. With a deep breath, I break the seal and delve into the darkness.

The documents before me detail some pretty horrific things. Reports of murder and coercion, bribery and brutality. Most of the reports are dated several years ago, some dating back before I was even born, some as recent as a few months ago.

However, each and every report implicates my mother in some way. Not all of them call her by name, but I can read between the lines.

“Redheaded woman pays off informant,” One reads.

“Ordered by the President on council from her closest advisors,” Reads another.

I spend an hour or so pouring over the documents. The more I read, the more unbelievable the accusations. Are they true? I don’t know, but an old admonition from my father creeps into my thoughts.

“Consider the source.” He would say. “Not all research sources are credible. You have to read between the words. Who is the source? What is their relation to the events? Do they have an agenda?”

After too long burying my nose in the file, I realize my mistake. Elias Drum is just messing with me. Trying to get me to turn on my family.

I slam the folder shut, and stuff it into my pack. I lie back on my cot, trying to push the images from my mind. I shut my eyes tight against the tide of thoughts.

I don’t want to believe those things about my mother, but what if they are true? Even if some of them are, how can I ever look at her the same? And if Drum made it all up, how do I explain her current actions? Is she just paranoid or is this a calculated move?

The possibilities rock my psyche, until I let my exhaustion take me, just for a bit of respite from my rampaging anxieties.

*****

I wake with a start to Jason shaking my shoulder. “Come on, get up.” He nudges. “Charlotte wants to see you. Now.”

I bolt upright, swinging my legs over the side of the cot. I rub the sleep crud from my eyes and force myself to wake completely. I hastily pull on my shoes and try to stand. I’m a little wobbly, but I shake off the exhaustion. “Let’s go.”

“No. Not us.” Rachel says. “Just you.”

Weird. Why just me. I could understand Rachel and me without Jason, but just me? I don’t like it. As I turn to the tent entrance, one of the goons pulls back the doorway and gestures for me to follow them.

Almost an afterthought, I snatch up Drum’s folder and stuff it into my waistband.

My nerves kick in again as we make our way to the command center. By the time we step up, my heart is pounding in my chest. I still don’t know what I’m going to say to her. I have to convince my mother to release her prisoners, and I don’t have a clue where to start.

I step through the doorway of the command tent, revealing a large, mostly empty room. At the center, stands a table with maps laid out across it. My mother sits in a chair in the corner of the room, evidently awaiting my arrival.

She looks stern and angry up until the moment she looks at me. Then something shifts. It’s like she’s intentionally screwing up her face to show me what she wants me to see. “Steven,” she chimes, syrupy sweet. “I am so sorry about all this. I know it must be really hard on you.”

“Well…Yeah.” Is all I can think of to say. “I mean, you did have my closest friend and your oldest friend arrested in front of me. It just doesn’t make any sense.”

“It’s very complicated, son.” Even through the syrupy veneer, I detect a hint of annoyance.

My suspicion rises, but despite everything, I can’t bring myself to believe ill intent. “She’s never shied away from the use of force or deception.” Drum’s asinine words echo in my head, but I push them away. Of all people, psychopathic Elias Drum can’t know my own mother better than I do. Just the idea of that makes me sick.

I can’t help but give her the benefit of doubt. “I have time. Please,” I plead, “Explain it to me. I just need to understand. Aunt Nora and Alice have been through so much. I can’t imagine what they must be thinking right now.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose, a gesture I clearly picked up from her. Choosing her words carefully, “Nora Falstrom has been with the enemy for five years—”

“As a political prisoner.”

“Yes, and do you know what Elias Drum does to his political prisoners?” She pauses, as though awaiting a response. I give none. “He executes them. With extreme prejudice. The only probable reason Nora Falstrom is still breathing is that she turned on her own people. Who knows how long she’s been working for him?” She turns away from me to the round table in the center of the tent. She grips the edge with both hands, rage filling her, “Maybe from the very beginning. Why else would Drum have let her go so easily if not to act as a spy?”

“What has gotten into you?” I plead, “Did you ever think that maybe…just maybe…this is the reason he released her? Because he knows what will set you off. I really don’t understand why you’re doing—”

“You’re right, Steven.” She bites back. “You don’t understand.” Rounding on me, her eyes lock onto mine. Eyes of a cornered predator. A mix of anger, calculation, and a hint of fear. Fear of what, I’m not sure. She forces her voice back into that syrupy tone. Her next words are a plea, trying desperately to make me see things her way. “I have explained the best way I know how. Nora Falstrom is a collaborator. I wish I could show you proof right here and now, but…” She trails off.

“You are so certain. If you can’t show me evidence, how am I supposed to believe it? I’ve known her my whole life. She’s one of the most strong-willed, dedicated people I have ever known. I can’t just accept your word.”

“You don’t trust the word of your own mother?”

“Should I?” I snap, snatching the file from my waist and throwing it down on the table beside her.

“And what is this supposed to be?”

“Read it and find out.”

Charlotte thumbs through a few pages, scoffing aloud. “What is this supposed to prove?”

“I don’t know. You tell me. Is any of it true? Is all of it?”

“Is what true, Steven? That I did the work Nora was too soft to do herself? Sure. Someone had to.”

“Mother. There’re murder accusations in there. Several murder accusations. Was that you too?”

“What do you want me to say, Steven? That I’m some saint? That I’ve never done anything wrong ever in my life? Boy, you don’t even know the half. I don’t know about everything in that file, but I’d wager that most of it is pretty close. I’ll give that to Elias. He knows how to dig up shit.

“But do know why I did all that? Nora. I did it to keep her and her precious city from falling down around her. And how does she repay me? By turning coat and serving that piece of human garbage. Well, you know what? Now it’s my turn. Drum started this war. Nora couldn’t finish it. But I’m going to. And when it’s done, I’ll rebuild Atlanta myself.”

“Why not just broker peace? I can’t say he seemed like a reasonable man, but I think even he can see the benefit—”

“Are you telling me I should surrender?” She folds the file in half and jabs it into my chest.

“I…” Finding myself questioning that very thing, the thought catches in my throat. Changing the subject. “What about Alice? And the others?”

“Richard and his band of misfits must answer for their crimes.” She spits. “I know you believe in their innocence. The trial is being held tomorrow at noon in the square. For all of them…Nora included. And I assure you, justice will be swift.” Charlotte turns away from me again, keeping eye contact with a side glance. Her eyes narrow for just a moment as though she’s gauging my reactions. “As for Alice, I know you two are close. And for that reason, I will have her released. I do not believe she knew of her mother’s betrayal.”

Relief strikes me like a rock to the chest. When I catch my breath, my mind still scrambling, all I can think to say… “What about Chris?”

“Who is Chris?”

“He’s… He’s just a kid. We picked him up along the way. He’s not part of any of this.”

Rolling her eyes, “The boy is of no consequence. He can be released to your care, but keep him out of trouble.”

“O…okay.” I stammer. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, Steven. The two of them are now your responsibility.” The way she speaks of Alice and Chris, it’s almost like she sees them as pets. This isn’t the mother I remember. Maybe she never was. “Now leave me. I have a trial to prepare for.”

As I leave the command tent, I glance back at my mother for only a second more, Drum’s warning ringing louder than ever in my mind.

*****

Instead of taking me back to the barrack where Rachel and Jason await me, my escort walks me in the opposite direction to an old factory facility. Apparently the administration side has been repurposed for use as a temporary jail. Once abandoned offices are now under heavy guard. Judging by the number of guards, I’d guess that my companions aren’t the only ones being held here.

As we approach the hallway leading to the cells, an older woman, who I presume is the warden, steps up to block our path.

“Wait over there,” my escort barks, gesturing to a row of decrepit chairs against the far wall. As I cross the lobby, I see him pull a small, crumpled envelope from his back pocket and hand it to the warden. The two speak in hushed tones for a moment, too soft for me to make out the conversation, before the warden disappears down the hallway.

We wait for what feels like hours to the point where my escort gets visually frustrated. Eventually, the warden comes back, two figures in tow. Relief washes over me as I realize one of them is Chris. The second figure, his guard, keeps a rough grip under his arm.

“Let go of me,” Chris jerks against his captor, pleading to be freed. His eyes go wide the second he sees me across the room. “Steven! You’re okay! I was worried. Rachel was beside herself. The others… They—”

“I know, kid.” I commiserate. As he looks up at me, I see a large bruise covering most of the left side of his face. “Everything’s a bit wonky right now. I’ll explain everything I can in a bit. What happened to your face?”

“You should see the other guy,” He jests weakly, dropping his head and turning the bruise away from me.

Just then, I hear a commotion from down the hall. Grunts and violence echo in the narrow space before suddenly going silent. Two large men emerge from the hallway behind the warden, a limp person draped between them.

“Alice,” I realize with a shock.

The burly men all but drag her across the lobby, hands and feet shackled. They drop her onto her knees next to the row of chairs, leaving her dazed. I kneel down beside her to look into her unfocused eyes.

“What did you do?!” Shouts the warden. “She was supposed to be released, unharmed!”

“She attacked us, boss.” One man grunts. “And not for the first time either. She had it coming.”

“That was not for you to decide. Get back to your duties. You’ll be pulling a month of overnights for this.”

Visibly dejected, the two slink off back into the makeshift prison.

The warden shuffles a set of keys out of her pocket, stepping up to unlock Chris’s handcuffs. “I apologize for those two. I’d have them replaced if we had anyone available.”

I shoot a glare at the back of her head as she fiddles with her keys. Once his wrists are free, she turns her attentions to Alice. She works carefully at Alice’s shackles as if dealing with a wild animal coiled to strike. Alice takes little notice of the warden, her eyes still glazed over from the beating she sustained. The most she’s able to muster is obeying a simple command to present her hands. The shackles fall to the floor with a thud.

I gently place my hand beneath Alice’s chin to raise her head. Her eyes are starting to come back into focus, but she’s still pretty out of it. I glance up at Chris, and before I can say anything, he rushes over to help me hoist Alice to her feet. The two of us help her up, supporting her weight between us. The warden collects the chains from where they fell and disappears behind a door. Our escort makes no moves to help us as Chris and I slowly make our way out the door with Alice in tow.

Once outside, the escort turns to us, “You can find your way back, right?” Without waiting for response, “Good. You’re free to go, do whatever you want.” He turns on his heels and walks off into the encampment.

Lucky for us that I have a pretty good sense of direction.