Finding Sage (The Rogue Book 1) (4 page)

              Rodge took their belongings, put them in the trunk of Alice’s Gold Wing, and closed the seat.  He inhaled the cold chill of the fall breeze and exhaled slowly.  Winter was coming.  They were in Kentucky in the month of November and it was only going to get colder as they traveled farther north.  They were in a small town just outside of Louisville.  This was dangerously close to a major city, but sometimes the best place to hide is right out in the open.  After all, the most dangerous blind spot is right in front of you. 

Rodge turned his head to the hotel window.  Alice was sitting on the dresser, looking longingly at the room they had stayed in.  Her meditation was short-lived as Rodge proceeded to interrupt her melancholy introspection.

“Alice?”

She turned her head.

“Are you ready?”

She nodded and exited the hotel room.  She looked back longingly as she walked to her motorcycle.  The last few chases had been close calls.  It was true that in regards to herself she had no fear.  If she were alive in the dark ages, she would have spit in the face of a witch.  However, she was beginning to fear for Rodge’s safety.  Every place they stayed could be his last.

“What’s this guy’s name?” she asked before they took off.

“I don’t have a last name.  But his first name is Eli.”

8.

“Tell me your real name, Grayson.”

Silas spat in his interrogator’s face.  He still refused to communicate verbally with his captors.  They had been harassing him for information constantly since they started feeding him.  They were becoming desperate, and were bound to snap soon.

His interrogator struck the back of Silas’ head with the handle of his gun.  Pain surged through Silas’ head and made all of his senses fuzzy.  For a moment he only heard bits and pieces of what was being said to him and his vision went murky.  He let his head drop, gritting his teeth to deal with the pain.  He had been beaten several times over the past few days.  There were bruises all over his legs and arms and he was getting constant headaches from the blows to his head.

The man, in his typical jeans and un-tucked dress shirt, pushed the gun up to the bottom of Silas’ jaw. 

“I haven’t used this yet,” he said.  “I can use it.  I could kill you and no one would care.  But I won’t.  I can make you wish you were dead, but I will never kill you as long as I don’t have my information.  Tell me your name.”

Silas said nothing.

The man whispered something that Silas couldn’t hear.  He thought it sounded something like “rogue filth,” except he never saw the man’s lips move.

“Okay, we’re going to try a new method,” his interrogator said. 

The man nodded at the two other agents in the room, who untied Silas from the chair.  Silas was confused, then saw three more men walk in, carrying a wooden bench large enough for his body to be stretched upon.  He didn’t know what they intended to do, but he knew it couldn’t be good. 

They grabbed his arms and dragged him to the bench.  He wanted to fight back, to kick, scream, and bite, but he was unable.  His food portions were large enough to keep him alive, but no more.  He had no strength to fight.  Only the strength to breathe. 

They laid his weak and emaciated body on the wooden bench, tied his hands behind his back, and tied his legs at the knees and ankles with thick rope.  They placed a cloth hood over his head and tightened it at his neck.  In a frantic state of panic, Silas searched their minds for a clue as to what they were about to do.  He caught a glimpse of it in one of the men’s minds, but it was too late to prepare himself.  Water came pouring through the hood into his throat, instantly activating his gag reflex and causing his lungs to spasm.  The muscles in his throat rapidly contracted, desperately trying to find air as he choked on the water.  Nothing but panic filled his mind.  No words, no thoughts, but only the wordless panic to find air and live through the moment.  The whole bench shook as he tried to sit up and spit the water out.  The soldiers held him firmly in place.  He began to drift into unconsciousness from the lack of oxygen to his brain.  Then the water stopped and they removed the cloth hood.

“What is your name?”

No longer able to resist, he gave in. 

“Silas,” he whispered.

“What was that?”

“My name is Silas.  Silas Knight.”

His interrogator’s eyes grew wide as the name echoed through the room.  There were now five men in the room and they all started whispering to one another and three of the men exited the room, leaving only two. 

“Mr. Knight . . . interesting.  The Knight family has garnered our interest for nearly two centuries.  What is the nature of your particular talent?”

“I’m not a rogue.”

His answer was too quick.

“You are lying.”

Silas was breathing heavily from the effect of the torture and found it difficult to keep his eyes open for a few seconds, feeling physically expended.

“Why did you choose the name ‘Grayson’?”

Silas ground his teeth before he responded.  He didn’t like giving information away.

“Grayson Flint was my best friend.  He died in the war so I took his name in his honor.”

“That wouldn’t be the real name of your secret little friend, now would it?”

He stopped circling his victim and moved within inches of Silas’ face, moving his own sideways to be parallel to the ground. 

“Where is Sage?”

“I don’t know who you are talking about.”

The angry accuser scowled, raised his leg and stomped on Silas’ face.  Silas released another throaty scream of pain.  His knuckles were white from being clenched so hard.  A mixture of pain and anger sent his heart rate into an uneven climb.  His face was sweltering hot from the rage that was now driving him.  He forgot himself.  He forgot his failures.  He forgot his paranoia.  He only remembered his enemies.  Because he could not give them what they wanted.  He would be forever tortured, helpless to do anything but cling to what little life was left until his captors decide to end it.

“I guess we need a little bit more encouragement.”

The man placed the cloth hood back on Silas despite his thrashing.  As Silas’ heart rate continued to increase and his anger grew stronger, something began to happen.  It was as if time was stopped.  He could feel the consciousness of the man interrogating him, as well as the beating of his heart.  Not hear, not sense, but feel it as if he had the ability to change it, as if his fingers surrounded every facet of the man’s unique and intricate anatomy.  This new power grew.  He could feel his stress hormones, the flow of blood throughout his limbs; he could feel the different parts of his brain, access to memories, feelings, thoughts, and opinions.  It was all in his head.  He could explore, he could understand, and he could control.  There was so much power at his fingertips.  He had the power to make him depressed, angry, sad, or happy.  He could stop his heart and tell this man’s brain that he was dead.  It was too much. 

He snapped.

The man clutched his chest in instinctive reaction to his body shutting down.  His heart stopped beating, his lungs collapsed, and he slumped to the floor.  Silas immediately panicked.  He frantically searched for the man’s consciousness, but it was gone.  It was not dormant, not asleep or unconscious, but gone.  There was nothing.  He was dead.  He had killed a man, and by extension himself.  Nothing could prepare Silas for the end of his life.  For the execution that would come swiftly upon him.  A tear formed in his eye and trickled down his cheek.  None of this was supposed to happen.

The second guard quickly removed the cloth hood and aimed his gun at Silas.  He felt a pang of fear in his gut and squeezed his eyes shut, ready to meet his demise.  Then Silas sensed panic developing in the mind of his captor.  It made Silas stop his own panic-stricken distress.  The guards outside were not their normal selves.  Fear had arisen in them.  He heard two quick thuds as the guards outside slumped to the ground.  He heard footsteps.  The consciences outside of the door faded away.  Whoever was outside started banging on the door.  Then the banging stopped momentarily.  Silas wanted to back away and run, but he could not free himself, and even if he could, he had nowhere to run to, especially with a guard still in the room with him.  Another tear trickled down his cheek as he began to accept his inevitable death.  Then the weakened door came crashing down. 

A blurred figure rushed in with lightning speed and quickly struck the guard in the back of the head with a long aluminum baseball bat before he could pull the trigger.  The man wore a sword sheath on his belt and a rifle on his back.  He turned slowly and Silas saw the man’s face.

“I tried to warn ya, man.”

Silas was dumbfounded.

“Yeah, it’s me.  Ya know, the one that tried to save your life?”

Standing before Silas was the same hippie that had attempted to rescue him from capture.  Or at least he had thought he was a hippie.  He wasn’t really sure what he was.

“What . . . are you doing here?”

Silas struggled to get the words out.

“Rescuing you, Einstein.  Now get up.”

“Get up?”

“Ah yes, I do see how that could be a bit of a problem.  Hold on.  Don’t move.”

Eli pulled the sword from his belt and cut the ropes.  Silas rubbed his wrists and shoulders and sat up on his knees.  He looked past his mysterious rescuer at the white walls beyond the door.  It was his first sight of freedom.  He had no idea how long he had been imprisoned, but the idea of freedom was almost more hope than his heart could manage.  He took a moment to regain his strength and sobbed slightly as he inhaled.  After several seconds he was breathing normally again and looked up at the hippie.

“Are you coming?”

Silas tried to stand up and walk, but he immediately collapsed.  He had no strength left in his legs. 

“Hang on, I gotcha.”

He put Silas’ arm around his neck and helped him to his feet.  Silas was able to hop about without putting much pressure on his own legs.

He looked at the mysterious bearded man with skepticism.  Who was he?  Why did he want to help?  Did he really want to help?

“Who are you?” he asked.

“I’m a rogue, and I want to help you.”

“Well I can see that, but—”

“Boy, your answers will come in due time but for now it would be in your best interest to curb your distrust and your quest for answers and just shut up and let me get us out of here.  Capiche?”

Silas obliged. 

“My name is Eli and your name is Silas.  Now that we know each other, let’s get outta here.”

The two of them walked outside the prison cell, only to be met immediately by two guards.  Eli dropped the bat, pulled out his rifle, and dropped the two guards in two shots, shooting them both directly between the eyes, while Silas clung to Eli’s shoulder. 

“Here, make yourself useful, bro.”

He handed Silas the bat, which he took with his free hand.

“What was the point of even bringing this when you have a gun?”

“Dude.  The entrance is everything.  Guns are too mainstream, ya know?”

They continued moving.  Silas joined his hands in front of Eli’s neck and allowed Eli to carry him as he ran.  The building they were running through was made up entirely of white walls everywhere they looked.  Eli killed the next man they met with one shot to the head. 

Eli continued to run and Silas hung on for his life, adrenaline pulsing through his veins and sweat pouring down his face.  Soldiers poured in behind them, and they heard gunshots.  They kept their heads down, evading the guards and making as many consecutive swift turns as they could.  They met a soldier with his weapon drawn.  Silas squinted and turned his head away while Eli shot him in the chest. 

“It’s out,” Eli said with frustration, cast the rifle aside, and drew his sword.   

Silas looked to his left and saw a cell like his own.  The door was made of thick glass, allowing him to see into the cell.  When he looked, what he saw shocked and angered him.  He was no longer angry for the harm done to him.  He was angry for what they were doing to innocent children.  Sitting inside, curled up fearfully in a ball, was a little girl.  She couldn’t be more than seven years old.  She had fiery red hair and a pale skin tone.  She must have realized that someone was watching her because she lifted her head up and made eye contact with Silas.  She had bright, big blue eyes and a face that was bony from malnutrition. She was the most delicate and most vulnerable thing he had ever seen.  In a moment, her consciousness brushed up on his and he realized that she was the one he had sensed on the other side of the wall.  Except it wasn’t the other side of the wall.  It was the other side of the building.  Silas let go of Eli, fell to the ground, and started crawling using his arms.  It was slow progress, as his arms were weak, bruised, and atrophied, but he crawled anyway.  Every movement brought tears to his eyes.  His arms shook unsteadily as he pulled himself forward.  He was fighting a losing battle, but fight it he would.

              “What do you think you’re doing?!” Eli demanded as Silas pushed against the door.

              “I must save her!”

              Eli realized that he had no time to argue with Silas and kicked the door with all his might; it cracked but remained firm. 

              “Back up,” Eli said.  He picked up the bat that Silas had dropped and swung into the glass door with all the strength he could summon.  The glass shattered into a thousand pieces. 

              Silas reached his hand out to the neglected girl. 

“Come with us,” he said.

              She looked at his hand and looked back towards the door.  Then she took his hand.               

              They were interrupted when three guards came around the corner.  Eli again drew his sword and with inhuman speed stabbed all three of them in the chest.  He looked frantically for a quick escape.

              “How well can you crawl?” Eli asked.             

“Well enough.”

He grimaced as he answered, knowing how much pain it would cause.  Eli’s eyes motioned upwards.  He thrust his blade into the air vent above them and removed it.  He picked Silas up and launched him into the air duct.  Silas landed on his right arm with a painful thud.  He bit his bottom lip to avoid screaming out in pain.  He looked behind him just in time to see the girl fly right into him.  Eli jumped into the duct, landing on the other side of the vent from Silas. Eli replaced the cover, then urged Silas to move.