A Guardian Angel (37 page)

When Davey awoke
later that morning, the memory of what he had done flooded back to
him. Panic started to take over his air, altering his breathing at
first. But over a moment, he controlled the sensation. He remembered
what he had done, and he remembered deciding to do it. He had meant
to do it. Their lives were his now.

He fled the camp
without so much as a word with any of the others. On Friday, he woke
up in his car off the side of the highway, just before Nevada.

On Friday, Andy was
on his second straight day of driving. In a prewar world, he could
have been over halfway across the country by now. However, the
congested traffic and the heavy combat zones impeded civilian commute
and he only found himself as far as Nevada. Fatigue soaked his limbs,
which felt strange and feeble. He hadn't slept since he set out on
his mission to find Haley. The street signs blurred in and out of his
vision. He knew that it was dangerous to drive under such sleep
deprivation, but something whispered in his head horrible thoughts
that kept him going. Fear for Haley fueled him.

He loved her. He
knew this now. He wasn't sure what that meant he wanted in return.
All he wanted was to keep her safe. Somehow, in his mind, if she were
safe and happy then every other messed up thing in the world seemed
to be an obstacle; a minor hurdle that they would be able to
overcome. Together, he felt just a miniscule measure of solace.

She'd think I'm
crazy,
he hummed over in his head,
if she knew these feelings.
How else would she react to it? A man that she barely knew, who was
present during some of the most difficult ordeals of the last few
months. A man who was hired to kill her, and nearly did. How could
she love me back?
Andy couldn't stop asking himself, even though
the confidence in his head told him it was simple. They were
connected. As much as he cherished the idea of her, what he coveted
wasn't her at all. It was her innocence. Her all around compassion
and complete lack of apathy. There was nothing in the world that was
more important.

Andy continued to
drive on. The desert swirled around his car as he sped. He knew he
couldn't go on much longer. He was running low on several different
fuels that he needed in order to persevere. Deciding, Andy took the
first exit he saw indicating a rest stop.

As Davey finished
his coffee several minutes after consuming his eggs in silence, he
stood up and strode over to the front door of the diner. With a flick
of his wrist, he bolted the lock shut. The women's chatter diminished
as they watched him move, confused looks on their faces. Davey had
this stare in his eyes as if he looked through everything at
something formidable, miles away. The expression drew even more
attention from the others, to whom he paid little mind. The smiles
the women had wore so brightly sunk away with the sick feeling
Davey's cold eyes gave them.

The owner had heard
the door lock and poked his head out from the kitchen. “Everything
alright?” he asked. His eyes locked onto the approaching man
and he watched him with expectant eyes. Instead of replying to the
owner's inquiry, Davey slugged him as hard as he could in the face.
The women jumped up and the owner crashed hard to the floor.

With no loss of
momentum, Davey continued walking until he stood over his victim. The
diner owner clutched onto his face in pain in a fetal curl, groaning.
The wind had been knocked out of him and he struggled to orient
himself. Not a single change took place in Davey's features as he
pulled out his knife, knelt down with his shin on the man's throat
and proceeded to stab him in the face.

One of the women
shrieked.

Davey stood up from
the mess and turned to the two of them. They had already started
navigating to the door, fumbling with the lock. Their panic was rich
and full as Davey drank it in. A small smirk formed on his blood
stained face when he watched the fear overtake their smaller bodies.
They shook, unable to control their hands as they pulled at the lock.
The fear was too much. One of them dropped to her knees and succumbed
to her nerves. She buried her face in her hands, quaking.

“Get away
from us!” the standing one shrieked at Davey as he stepped
near. Terror tore her voice.

“No,”
the man responded. His knife caught a ray of light on the side and
reflected in the women's eyes. The one on the floor sobbed violently.
There was a crazy look on the one who remained on her despite how
much she shook.

“What do you
want?!” she screamed through tears.

“I want you
to watch while I hurt your friend here,” Davey said, waving his
knife at the kneeling woman. “And then I'm going to kill you
both.”

Words evaded the
ladies' grasp as Davey's tone carved itself into their memories. At
that moment a face appeared at the door and peered in. The smokey
glass masked him, an effect that worked both ways. The man at the
door knocked.

“I see you in
there,” Andy said through the thick glass. “Are you not
open?”

Davey stood in
silence with his hand over the sobbing girl's mouth, his knife
pointed in the other's face.

Andy could see the
silhouettes through the cloudy glass. He tried peering through the
solitary clear window, but couldn't get an angle worth anything. It
was the middle of the morning during the business hours that were
displayed on a sign on the front door. The lock was troublesome, and
Andy knew something was wrong. Out of instinct, he drew his firearm
and listened. All he could hear was whoever was on the other side
listening for him.

With a massive
swing, Andy crashed the butt of his gun through the glass. The door
shattered and he crawled into the diner through the jagged frame. As
soon as he was inside, his gun aimed right at Davey's head. The
celebrity had one of the women held in front of him, shielding his
person. She sobbed terrible shrieks into her captor's hand, her face
tear-stained. The other woman lay slain on the floor.

“Let her go,”
Andy commanded. He moved his wrists, trying to catch a bead on the
murderer as he bobbed and hid behind his hostage. The instant he
locked eyes with the psychopath, he recognized him from his program.

Davey attempted to
get a decent glimpse of Andy, taking caution behind the sobbing
woman. His palm had begun getting prune-like from the saliva and
tears. “What's it matter to you?” he asked.

“What does
that matter?” Andy retorted. “Let her go.”

Andy could see a
pale grin like a wolf's growing under the deranged man's nose. “I
want you to watch this carefully,” Davey said through his
teeth.

Time moved slow for
Andy. The scene crystallized before him. The former hitman dropped
onto one knee and squeezed shut his left eye. He took a deep breath,
watched Davey's knife raise into the air. “Duck!” Andy
cried.

The woman pulled
down with all of her strength, buying only a few inches between her
and the madman. His knife started flying downwards toward her neck
and Andy exhaled. There wasn't much room for him to shoot. Not enough
time. But it was all he needed as he squeezed the trigger. The bullet
collided into Davey's shoulder, pushing him back as the metal ripped
out through his scapula. The woman dropped to the floor in a huddle.
Davey lost control of his arm and dropped his knife on the wooden
floor. He lunged backwards to the kitchen door. Andy shot again,
tossing a napkin dispenser off the bar. The former talk show host ran
over the corpse of the cook and disappeared past the doorway.

With just a moment
of apprehension, Andy took off after him. There was a racket ahead;
metal pots thrown to the ground and boxes crushed as Davey made his
flight. When Andy turned the corner past the doorway, the killer was
gone. The window was kicked open, blood exposing his trail. Andy spun
around and rushed out into the diner and through the smashed front
door. Dust kicked up into the clear blue air leading up to Davey who
had just thrown himself inside Andy's unlocked vehicle. His speed
picked up and Andy took a few shots at the murderer as he started the
car and tossed it into drive. A loud squeal of mechanic strain and a
cloud of dirt was all Davey left behind as he sped off down the road.
Andy didn't waste any more ammunition, knowing he would never be able
to get a shot worth anything.

The full weight of
his disappointment pressed down along his brow as he stared at the
fading dot on the horizon that was once everything he owned. He
shuffled back to the door and reentered the restaurant.

“Is he gone?”
the hostage asked in a timid, wavering voice.

“Yeah,”
Andy replied. “Left my goddamn keys in the car.”

All the woman could
manage to do in response was break down and cry. Andy took a wide
look at the diner and sighed. He put his gun away and went around to
pick up the shells to his three-eighty auto rounds. Once he finished,
he waited for a moment and listened to her hysterical sobbing.

“Looks like
I'm walking from here,” he said out loud, to himself. He looked
down at the lady as she looked up toward him. “I'm sorry for
your loss.”

She had no response
other than a diminished crying volume. Andy didn't like the idea of
walking. He strode over to the owner's body and searched it. He took
the wallet and his keys and took his leave through the shattered
front door. The woman watched him as he exited, lost.

-Chapter Thirty-Four-

The
Warning

A storm cloud
gathered in the darkening Atlantic skies and threatened to rain. The
air felt empty, a formation of birds was the only thing that flew
through it. Planes hadn't flown over the United States in about a
month with the exception of supply planes from other countries or
troop transports for the military. Hardly a soul moved down on the
city streets. The monuments sat more like mausoleums than places of
tourist activity. The clouds hung low in the sky, creating an actual
ceiling for Washington D.C. Fog sifted downward, falling over the
roofs and the trees as a breeze moved. Condensation collected along
the frozen glass in the buildings.

Haley watched some
of the drops of dew slide down the window. As they collided with
other drops they assimilated them and dropped along faster. This kind
of weather typically calmed her. The tinny emptiness of the world
gave her a biological signal to slow down, to take stock of herself.
She would feel like she was blanketed in a land of frozen time. This
storm, however, menaced at her through the glass. She knew that this
was not the only kind of storm brewing.

She had moved to
the capitol at the beginning of the war, right after the Decree Tower
attack. In a matter of time, the rest of the United States fell down
around her. Most of the nation had seceded from the Union and formed
the Federal States of America. The FSA was self-run and self-fought.
Their military was composed almost in full of average American
citizens. The elite of them were former soldiers of the United Stated
military. By the millions, soldiers adapted their allegiance to the
Federal States. Hundreds of army bases and compounds throughout the
country dropped the famous fifty stars and thirteen stripes from
their masts and raised instead the Federal flag. In the wind would
whip the symbol of a large white star over the thirteen red and white
stripes.

Haley understood
the people that defected to them. They were the ones that made sense.
A nation full of people fed up with the modern interpretation of
American law. They adapted only the original Constitution of the
United States and the Bill of Rights. Additional laws were voted in a
timely manner to set up institutions of human services and common
welfare. It was a nation for the people. Former proud Americans
taking the power in their own hands.

So why was she here
and not with them? Because they were not prepared. They were not
trained to lead. The largest reason, however, was the division. She
wanted to bring the improvements that the Federal States had put up
for their citizens to the United States. That was the point. They
were
United
States.
This family couldn't be broken anymore,
Haley thought. So she tasked herself with revitalizing the glory of
America. Through unity. This task got her into the high up position
of an ambassador in the president's administration. Her work included
organizing forums and recruitment, but she had hit a wall.

The Decree Nation
was filled with proud, tight-lipped business men who were furious at
the government. They felt they had been wronged, Haley had learned
that now. She talked to many refugees from Decree territories, even
defecting soldiers. The main story that they had in common was that
the Nation's passion for conquest was driven by vengeance, not
economics. All this time, the image of the men in the company that
she had embedded in her imagination was of oversized swine in suits
with more than their share of the pie smeared across their ruddy
snouts. The greed and acquisition of resources was the driving force
behind the pigs. Now, however, she saw them as rebels in their own
way. They felt oppressed and cornered, and this was their response.