Changing Tides (18 page)

“What are you doing here?” Orion asked, his voice little more than a harsh whisper as he looked Brett up and down. His heart clenched at the bloodied, knotted fabric tied around Brett’s arm.

“I wasn’t sure if you knew about the secondary door,” Brett replied.

Orion raised his eyebrows. Of course, he knew about the backdoor. Every government building was required to have at least two working exit doors at all times. The rule was a throwback from the old ways but still practiced. “Yes, I—”

“But did you plan for it?” Brett interrupted. “The door was opened and unlocked when I got to it.”

Orion closed his mouth, took a deep breath and swiped a hand over his face. He’d known about it. He had mentioned during the planning sessions, the group had talked about it, but at no point had they factored in someone actually using it. Backdoors were usually coded to allow only a few people in, if they opened from the outside at all. As far as he knew, only the headquarters, base security and ammunition buildings had that kind of capability.

Orion nodded. “Thank you.”

Brett was right. Orion hadn’t planned for an attacking force coming from the back, only from the front. It was a serious tactical error. One that would have to be corrected immediately.

“I haven’t seen the general.”

“Neither have I,” Orion said, walking back to the desk. “I assumed he would be here or headed here.”

“Is he even on base?” Brett asked, giving voice to his own fear.

“I know he didn’t have anything planned before I left, but that could have changed in the past few weeks, even the past few hours if needed,” Orion answered. Across the room, Bones connected wires to the charge he’d rigged. Orion pulled out a radio and keyed the microphone. “Liz, pull around. Southeast corridor.”

Liz’s voice crackled with the one word affirmation.

“I’m finished with this. Duck behind that then we’ll take care of the drawer,” Bones said flatly, pointing to the heavy wood desk.

Orion and Brett nodded and sat down, hands over their ears and waited. Bones joined them. Moments later, the door exploded, wood fragments flying all over the room and the walls shaking. Dust lingered in the air long afterward. The trio stood, orientating themselves in the debris-strewn room. They picked their way to the closet, and Orion was shocked to see stacks of boxes. They were all labeled, but not in a way that made sense to him. He’d worked for Brigadier General Reynolds for years, but it wasn’t a code he’d ever seen the man use. Orion frowned and stepped into the small room.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the lid of the first box he came to. Metal ID tags, file folders and several small blue booklets lay in neatly inside. Frowning, he closed it. Now wasn’t the time to look through anything. He’d never known Reynolds to hold onto mementos of any person he’d interviewed or had killed. But, Orion had never been present for any of that. He’d only retrieved the bodies and buried them.

“Trophies?” Brett asked.

Orion shrugged. “Load it up,” he said, using his index finger to indicate the entire closet.

Brett walked to the door of the office and called for help, explaining what needed to be done when they arrived. A makeshift barricade was erected in front of the door with one person guarding the entrance. Orion watched for several minutes before heading into the storage area.

“You know most of us will have to walk out of here or steal a Security Force vehicle,” Brett said, joining him in a short time later.

“I know. But if we hold this place then we have to stay. If we leave, people need to be put in holding cells and the rest of the place razed. For all our planning, we never came to a decision on what to do with the bases or the people on them,” Orion admitted, turning toward Brett.

“Our enemies will need to be held somewhere whether we stay or not,” Brett answered, moving them out of the way as Thompson and Jackson grabbed more boxes.

Orion nodded, grabbed a box and carried it to the far window.

“Take cover! I’m going to blow this,” Bones called.

Orion ran and ducked into the closet. Thompson and Jackson squeezed in next to him. Sounds of the explosion reverberated off the walls and dust swirled in the air again. Bones let out a whoop, and Orion made his way to the desk.

“It’s open!”

Looking the man over, Orion briefly wondered where the older man had hidden during the explosion before turning to the safe. The door to the safe hung at an odd angle. He squeezed his eyes shut momentarily before he pulled it open, praying the box was still there. The metal creaked and gave, sending an ominous reminder through out the room.

“Move! Get everything loaded! Thompson, double-check for any and all weapons,” Brett ordered from the other side of the desk.

Orion carefully retrieved the box he’d set in there the day he and Brett had left the base. Turning the thin metal box over, he looked for anything that suggested the contents could be destroyed if opened improperly. Nothing. Everything looked the same as it had when he had seen it last. The seal was still intact, and no other seal had been laid over it.

He set the box aside and grabbed the stack of files from the back of the safe then stood. Outside the office, gunfire pierced the air. Time stood still as people turned toward the door. Boxes were dropped in the rush for the door.

“Brett! Get this into the truck and get out of here!” Orion yelled to his lover. Orion shoved the box and files into Brett’s arms before pushing him toward the open window. “Go! This stuff has to get to our headquarters. It should be able to help us!”

“I’m not leaving you!” Brett answered, shaking his head and refusing to move.

“Please. We have to succeed. You have the strength and ability to lead if I can’t,” Orion argued. He wanted Brett safe and off the base. The remains of Reynolds’ daily appointment slip showed Colonel DeMarco’s name in the secretary’s distinctive handwriting. If the two men had met, Brett’s fate would be sealed. Orion needed to know his lover was safe, even if they couldn’t be together. Even if that meant losing him to the wrong side.

“Orion—” Brett turned into him.

“Don’t argue with me. Not now, not over this,” Orion pleaded, pulling Brett closer to him. “Go. Stay safe.”

Brett nodded and climbed out the window and headed for the truck. Orion turned back to the fighting. He helped push the remains of the desk in front of the door, before leveling his weapon and returning fire.

“There are a dozen men at the end of the hall,” Jackson called back.

“Pull everyone back,” Orion ordered. “Out the window. We’ll be easy targets if we stay.”

Jackson nodded, and the group shifted positions, moving toward the open window. Orion shot out a second window. Jackson used the barrel of his gun to clear away the remaining glass. Orion waited as each member of his team climbed out of the building and disappeared into the night. Their mission wasn’t done. Not yet. The base needed to be secured. People had to be sent to the capitol, and the protestors had to be given support and aid. If citizens were to believe the Citizens for a Free Aelland, they would need proof. More than bodies buried in the back area of a base.

Orion ran back to the door, shouting for Thompson to move. Turning, he shot at the Security Force personnel. He pulled the pin and lobbed one of the few grenades they’d been able to get. He turned then stopped. Thompson lay in an ever-widening pool of blood.

Swearing, Orion slung his gun across his back, ran and knelt down beside his friend and bodyguard. Using two fingers, he pressed along the man’s neck, trying to feel for a pulse. Ignoring the blood, shouts from his friends and the bullets that continued to fly, Orion pushed harder, wanting to be wrong but knowing he wasn’t. Rolling his friend over, Orion lifted him over his shoulders and carried him to the window.

“Take him. Get him on the truck!” Orion ordered, pushing aside his welling grief until they were safe and he could process everything that had happened. The need to avenge his friend’s death warred against the duty he couldn’t cast aside. He wouldn’t leave his friend behind for his enemies to find.

“Is he—” Jackson started to ask, stopping mid-sentence.

Orion nodded, pulling his friend into a hug.

“Then why put him in the truck?”

“Because he’s one of us. And I’m not leaving anybody behind,” Orion said, refusing to turn and acknowledge the speaker or give energy to his rising anger. He didn’t care who it was. It wasn’t the voice of his beloved. “Say nothing of this over the com lines. Now, get the truck out of here.”

Orion took one last look at the building, ran forward and threw a second grenade through the window before returning to his team. “Let’s move! Now!”

The truck lurched forward, with the group using the large vehicle as cover as they ran from the building toward the darkened base. Bullets punctuated the air in a rapid-fire tune. Large engines from the dozens of trucks accented the sound with deeper notes while the higher pitched screams battled with the lower tones of shouted orders. Orion’s heart beat wildly in his chest, trying to keep time with the noise of the battle.

Three hundred yards down the road, the group separated from the truck, disappearing into the shadows beside one of the nearby buildings. A vise clamped down around Orion’s heart, and he fought to keep from calling out and giving voice to how much he needed and wanted Brett with him.

A hand came to rest on his shoulder.

“He’ll be okay,” Jackson said flatly, his voice shaking. “Brett is a good man, and Thompson would approve of not only sending your man away, but with Brett taking him home.”

Orion nodded. “I just hope I made the right decision.”

“Now isn’t the time to second guess anything. That’ll come later.”

Orion nodded again. “Let’s go,” he said, taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders. “We need to get to the armory and either secure it or destroy it.”

He knelt in the shadows and motioned for the remaining group of men and women to join them. Long moments passed as each person slowly made their way over. They still had a mission to accomplish. Taking a deep breath, he fought for control of his emotions and wondered what he could say to the people who trusted him to lead them to victory.

He stared out into the surrounding darkness. They were near the logistics building, closer to the headquarters building than to the munitions storage and armory. He knew nearly every inch of the base and was grateful they didn’t have to go through the housing area to get to their destination. Normally, a fifteen-minute drive, on foot it would take much longer and carried far more risk.

“Take a moment, pray, cry, silently scream or get angry. Thompson was a good man and a good friend to everyone. However, we do not have time now to mourn our friends properly,” Orion began, hoping he chose the right words. He looked at each member of his team. “Freedom is not just for us. Some of us may never enjoy the freedom we earn, but we must continue fighting for it, for our children and our grandchildren. Do not let the deaths of our friends be in vain. Tonight, we win.”

Nods and a chorus of whispered agreement followed.

“We head for the armory and munitions storage. We need that for the war against Landry’s tyranny and to take this base.” Orion slowly let out a breath and looked over his team once more before pulling himself to his feet. “Move out. Single file. Jackson—”

“I’ve got the rear. You lead us to where we need to go.”

Orion nodded. He checked his weapon, stepped out of the shadows created by the buildings and carefully made his way toward the munitions storage area. The immaculate care taken by maintenance workers left few obstacles to maneuver around and fewer places to hide if they were attacked. Keeping to the sides of the buildings, the group moved slowly, running from building to building before scanning the surrounding area.

Peering around the edge of a building, Orion caught a blur of movement before he registered any noise. The crisp edges of sleeves coupled with the uniformity and precision of their movements alerted him to the newcomers being Security Forces personnel more than anything he could have heard.

He weighed his options. If he made a pre-emptive strike and was wrong about which side the group fought for, it would take away needed fighters and more importantly destroy morale and confidence. There wasn’t the time he would have liked to try a more diplomatic approach and offer them the chance to side with CFA.

He leveled his weapon and aimed at the group. Holding his breath, Orion waited. The group’s leader stopped and looked around. A twig snapped, echoing off the sides of the building. The other group took cover and began shooting in their direction.

Orion gave the order to return fire and prayed he hadn’t made a mistake. A chaotic blend of dirt, building debris and smoke from the numbers of weapons fired created a thick fog in the middle of a cloudless night. Metal clinked against pavement and cinderblock walls or fell silently. Calling for covering fire, he dropped to the ground and inched his way forward.

Time stopped, dragging into eternity. Orion and his team pushed forward and pulled back, fighting their way across the base. Enemy units seemed to appear out of nowhere, providing additional reinforcements to the Security Forces. He’d seen the faces of the men and women his group killed as they pushed through to the armory and munitions storage, and he knew they would haunt his dreams forever.

The first tendrils of gray and orange swirled in the early morning sky as they approached the gated compound housing armory. Munitions storage was a hundred yards to the left and was laid out in the same way as the armory. Both were surrounded by fences with an entrance the front and rear and guards for each. Tonight, there were an additional twenty or so people defending the armory and probably as many at the munitions building, too.

A hastily erected barricade of furniture and vehicles obscured Orion’s view, leaving him to guess how many people were in the armory and their positions. There was too much open area between his group and the gated area. Charging the compound would be tantamount to suicide.