Autumn Rising (20 page)

She looked at them both. They’d lifted their heads, looking at her with a mixture of confusion and shock.
But at least they were looking. They were listening.

“Neither of you know what happened to Tala. Whatever she did, and believe me, I’m never going to be her biggest fan after what she did to Autumn,” she bit her tongue, realizing the last thing these men would want to hear was bad things about a daught
er and cousin who might be lost. “But she might be out there, still alive. The soldiers who have been rounding up shifters might have taken her. Chogan, you said you didn’t hear any shots.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“So she might still be alive, and so might God-knows how many other shifters the government has taken. We can’t let Blake’s death stop what’s been started. We need to gather everyone. Make a stand. The government needs to know that shifters won’t be pushed around.”

Chapter
Twenty-two

CHOGAN NEVER THOUGHT
he had a sense of responsibility until now. The despair that had settled over him like a thick cloak upon leaving Blake in the forest still resided, but he knew what Mia said was right. He had started this thing. People had died because he’d gone on television and shifted in front of millions of viewers. He’d made the decision to change all of their lives. He couldn’t hide from it now, though he no longer trusted his ability to make decisions. He would do what he could to help, but he couldn’t lead them anymore.

He turned to Mia. “What
should we do?”

“We need to mobilize everyone. We need to go to Chicago and show the government just how many people they’re dealing with.
” She paused and then asked, “How many people live on the reservation?”

Chogan looked to his uncle for the answer.

“A little over five thousand, I think,” the older man replied. “But many of those are women and children. Or they’re old, like me.”

“Okay,
” Mia continued. “Let’s assume all of the young men will come, and some of the women as well, as long as they don’t have young children to look after. There’s no reason they can’t make a stand the same as the men. So what sort of number would that amount to? A thousand people? Maybe even two thousand?”

Lakota nodded
, before reaching out to the tray Mia had brought in and picking up a sandwich. “Sounds about right,” he said, and took a bite of the bread and ham.

“How are the government and the army going to imprison two thousand people? And I bet we’ll pick
up more people along the way.” Chogan could tell she was warming to her theme, the pace of her voice increasing. He struggled to share her enthusiasm. He didn’t want to expose more of his people to danger.

“People might die,” Chogan warned. “People probably
will
die. If we encourage them to come with us, then we will be responsible for their deaths. You seem like a nice girl, Mia. Do you think you can live with that on your head?” He knew he was talking about himself as much as her. He was struggling with the enormity of it all, the feeling this had all gotten beyond his control. Perhaps that was exactly what needed to happen. He needed to stop trying to control things.

His words didn’t seem to dissuade her.

“Wasn’t it you who said we were at war? When there is a war, there will always be casualties. And what other choices do we have? Just sit back and let the government pick shifters off one by one, stash them away in the hope of making society the same as it once was, like shifters are dirty little secrets that need to be kept hidden. If we don’t fight back, they’ll have won. And now they have Autumn, they’ll be able to do whatever the hell they want with your kind.”

Lakota reached out and t
ouched the young woman’s hand. She looked at him, her dark eyes wide.

“Miss
. Mia, I have to ask you, why are you fighting this battle that isn’t your own?”

She blinked back tears. “Because I’m in love with Peter
Haverly, and he’s one of you. In my eyes, that makes me as involved with shifters as anybody else.”

Lakota
smiled. “Love is as good a reason as any.”

She returned the smile.

The sound of a car engine approaching came from outside. It was quickly joined by the higher pitched roar of a motorbike. The volume increased as another car engine joined the throng, followed by another bike, and then another. The noise became a dull roar that seemed to continue to grow louder, drowning out the sound of their voices. Chogan’s gaze flicked between Lakota and Mia. The expressions he saw in their eyes, confusion and worry, that feeling of ‘what now?’ he knew would be reflected in his own eyes. He wondered what to do. He had lost contact with his wolf for the moment, or he would have used the animal to see what was happening outside. But the emotional rollercoaster he’d been on, together with the prolonged shift to get back here, running the wolf’s body to the point of exhaustion, meant the wolf guide had needed a little separation. He was exhausted himself, emotionally drained, and didn’t even have the energy to tap into his spirit guide to find out what was happening outside.

Mia got to her feet. “I’ll go see what’s going on.”

Lakota put out his hand again to stop her. “No, this is my home. I’ll go.”

She didn’t argue, but she
stood by Lakota’s side as he got to his feet, and then followed him to the door. The noise from outside hadn’t subsided, if anything it had gotten louder. Chogan mentally gave himself a shake. He needed to pull himself together. He couldn’t let an old man and a woman go to face possible danger, while he hid behind them.

Chogan
forced himself to his feet, though his whole body ached, and his chest felt empty—a space where his heart used to be.

Mia and his uncle already stood in the open doorway, but they weren’t running for cover.
The roar of the engines was even louder with the door open. He came to a stop behind them, looking out over their shoulders at the scene in the street. Beyond Lakota’s small, neat yard stood person, after person, after person. Some stood beside their motorbikes. Others had pulled up their vehicles, and now stood beside their open doors, arms resting on the roofs. These weren’t their enemies. These were men and women from the reservation, so many faces he recognized, and some he didn’t. They stretched right down the street, both ways, as far as he could see, curving around the bends.

“We’re here to help!” one of the men shouted out.

A roar of agreement rose up behind him.

Lakota turned back to Chogan and Mia. His eyes met with Mia’s. “Well it looks like you weren’t the only one to feel that
something should be done.” He moved his gaze to Chogan. “I guess others believe in your fight after all.”

Chogan shook his head. “I don’t want it to be my fight.”

“It isn’t,” said Mia. “Not anymore. Now it’s everyone’s fight.”

Lakota took a couple of steps forward.
“We need to go to Chicago,” he told the people waiting. “We need to show the government that shifters and their families refuse to be oppressed.”

A cheer rose up from the crowd, accompanied by the toots and blares of car horns.

Lakota turned back to Chogan. “They still need you.”

His insides were in knots.

“I can’t lead them, Uncle,” Chogan said, his shoulders slumped. “I don’t know how. I make all the wrong decisions. I get people killed.”

Lakota studied his nephew
’s face, his lips pressed together as he considered what to say next. “For the moment,” he said eventually, “we’ll do it together. Perhaps someone else will step up, but until then, these people deserve to feel they have someone at their head. Now get your stuff together. We’re leaving.”

Chogan
turned and walked deeper into the house in a daze. He didn’t know what his uncle thought he was going to need to bring. It wasn’t as though he ever travelled with anything. And what did you bring to your own impending death anyway? Back at the cabin, he thought he’d been resigned to moving on to the afterworld. He’d known his death may be imminent, but he hadn’t been frightened. Instead, when he’d been faced with the very real death of his cousin, he’d discovered a deep, fierce drive to survive. Perhaps the reality of death hadn’t seemed real until he’d been faced with the pain it caused. Death had seemed heroic, brave, but now it only seemed sad. Yet here he was about to march into the fray once more. Perhaps it was simply his turn, a resignation to walk toward his own death and accept the fate of his cousins.

“We can take my car,” Lakota told Mia, nodding to an old SUV outside.

Mia gathered together the sandwiches she had made, and packed them up, together with some bottled water she’d found in the refrigerator.

Lakota stopped and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I think you should stay here, Mia. Peter left you with us to stay safe. If you come with us now, I can’t promise your safety.”

She put her hands on her hips. “No God-damned way. I’m coming with you. Peter doesn’t own me. He’s not my father. I’m a grown woman, and the only person who gets to decide where I do or don’t go is me.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Lakota’s mouth. “Very well.”

Chogan had to admire her determination. For a pint-sized person, she certainly had a lot of spark.

“Okay,” said his uncle. “Everyone is waiting. Are we ready?”

Chogan wanted to say he’d never be ready, but he clamped his lips together.

Lakota and Mia headed back to the front door, and Chogan
followed them outside. His uncle’s old SUV sat in the street. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen Lakota drive the old rust bucket. He wondered if the car would even start.

“Do you want me to drive?” he offered Lakota.

His uncle waved him away. “I might be old, but I’m capable of driving my own automobile.”

“It’s a long way, Uncle. At least allow me
to switch with you after a couple of hours.”

Lakota sniffed. “I guess the knees might need you to by then. The mind might be willing, but the body isn’t always able.”

Mia climbed in the back, so Chogan rode shotgun. He settled into the old seats, the leather dry and cracking beneath his weight. The interior smelled of damp and old oil. To his surprise, the car started the first time. Lakota grinned and patted the steering wheel with affection. “I knew the old girl wouldn’t let me down.”

People pu
lled to one side, allowing the beat-up vehicle through to lead the way. They drove down the main road, out of the reservation. Those who weren’t coming appeared on their porches, or stood on the sidewalk, waving goodbye to those who were leaving. Behind Lakota’s car, a trail of hundreds of vehicles ran back as far as the eye could see.

There was only one
main route to Chicago from Big Lake Reservation. As soon as they got onto the highway, men and women on motorbikes roared along beside them, flanking them a couple of vehicles wide. They rode with them for a few miles before falling back, and allowing others to join them at the head of the procession.

A
sense of loss still filled the vehicle, and they drove in silence. Chogan stared from the passenger window, not planning what would come when they reached the Windy City. They weren’t organized, just a bedraggled group of misfits. How would they match up against men with guns and armor? Chogan wasn’t even sure how many of the thousand or so people following them were actual shifters. He didn’t feel he had enough strength to shift and fight himself. And if he couldn’t fight again, how could he expect others to fight for him?

He kept Lakota to his word, and after a couple of hours made his uncle pull over to allow him to drive. He settled into the driver’s seat, still warm from his uncle’s backside, and
placed his hands on the steering wheel. He pulled back out onto the highway. There was something comforting about being in charge of the old vehicle as it ate away the miles.

Another car passed by
in the lane in the opposite direction. The vehicle slowed, almost to a standstill. Obviously the huge convoy would catch the attention of anyone else.

A face peered out o
f the back window, a face with intelligent blue eyes and blonde curls.

Chogan slammed his foot on the brake, causing everyone to be thrown forward in their seats, both Lakota and Mia exclaiming in alarm. He reached down and threw the car into neutral before yanking on the handbrake.

Before the vehicle had barely stopped, he grabbed the door, swung it open, and threw himself out onto the road. He hit, bounced and rolled, ignoring any pain, before jumping back to his feet. He ignored the shouts of concern that followed him, and the screech of tires on asphalt as people were forced to skid their vehicles in the sudden halt. His only focus was on the car on the other side of the thankfully deserted freeway. The one that had also pulled over and stopped.

The back door cracked open. He ran forward as the long, jean-clad leg of a beautiful blond
e stepped from the vehicle. Her face was bruised, her eye swelling, her skin purple and swollen beneath, but he barely noticed the ugliness of her injuries. He only wanted to be near her again. Seeing her free and safe had lightened the horrible dark clutch at his heart that had existed ever since Blake’s death. An instinct deep inside him drove him on, somehow feeling that simply placing his arms around her again and holding her close would fix what was broken inside him.

Her eyes lit as he ran to her, and she didn’t even pro
test when he scooped her up and spun her around.

“Chogan!” Autumn
laughed, and pounded a fist on his shoulder. “Put me down. Everyone is staring.”

“I don’t care,” he said, but he placed her feet on the ground. Part of his hair had come loose
, and he tucked the long strand behind his ear as he stared down at her, drinking in the sight of her flushed face. “I’m so happy you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” she confirmed.

From the front of the car stepped two men. From the driver’s side appeared a man Chogan instantly recognized as Peter Haverly, but from the passenger side climbed a man he didn’t know. Chogan scowled. He still wasn’t totally sold on the idea that Peter had managed to escape the compound without being in on the side of the people who held them there. But he had Autumn with him now, and she didn’t seem scared of Peter. He guessed he had no choice but to trust him.