Anatomy of a Rebellion

Chapter 26

Before Winter

"Well there it was folks, a beautiful rendition of the National Anthem as we finally get under way here in New York City. Snowfall is heavy and a storm is brewing on the streets. There's a blizzard on the field, too; a blizzard of young talent as this New York team takes the field against a veteran trolley Dodger squad. Hope for a win tonight is resting on the shoulders of Verdi and his magnificent swing; the regular season…"

Riane had once again found herself at the office of Percy's squad leaders. This time, she didn't have the anxious feeling in the pit of her stomach that haunted her before. Barton was the only one there; he had greeted with her an automatic, "Hello" but that was it. She wasn't certain if he had ever gone home after the Ozark incident. The shadows under her eyes and his general lack of energy almost proved that. The radio was the only noise, except for a small heater Barton had placed on his desk. It seemed as though the game was mere background noise to keep Barton focused.

Despite the fact she wasn't fearful, she still hesitated to move towards Percy's office. She was only there to see if she could get some tidbits for a piece she was writing, nothing more. Although it hadn't even been an entire twenty-four hours since they had all returned from Ozark, she still felt the need to work. It felt rude to walk into his office when he was clearly busy. He sat at his desk and was completely focused on the person he was talking to. To make it worse, that person was President Kenning. How was an average citizen supposed to act and feel around the President?

Hands grabbed her shoulders from behind. She jumped, startled. "Relax," a voice said. She didn't recognize the voice, so she craned her neck to see. As she examined the face – pointed chin, small nose, fierce brown eyes, and thin brows – she noticed a light scar that rounded from the chin to the cheekbone and around the brow. It was Freddie. He allowed his hands to gently massage her aching shoulders. "Feeling better?" he asked.

"Actually, that does feel good."

"Your posture indicated you had some tension in your shoulders and back," he explained as his hands wandered down to just below the shoulder blades. "Now why would a pretty girl like you have tense muscles? You shouldn't have to stress about anything."

Riane did not know Freddie at all. She had overheard a few of the squad leaders talking about him, but it was nothing positive or negative. It was just talk. As a journalist who had researched well into militias and the rise of domestic terrorism, she knew who he was in terms of a public figure. Yet she was fairly relaxed around him at that moment. His massage didn't help clear her mind.

A small push on her shoulders forced her to move forward. Before she knew it, Freddie was leading her right into Percy's office. There was no time to protest, and soon she found herself having no choice but to open his door or run straight into it. It was a bit awkward and uncomfortable barging in on the Major's conversation with the President, but Freddie managed to make it seem completely natural.

"Excuse us, Major, Captain, Mr. President," Freddie greeted. "I'm just her to observe and I think this little lady wants to do some reporting."

Riane hadn't even noticed Mackenzie until Freddie called her out. Jumpy, Riane felt her senses go crazy as she tried to get mind focused. She hated awkward situations more than anything, and being forced into a meeting between an infamous Major and the President certainly ranked in the top five for her life. It seemed as though Percy and the others didn't mind however, as no one bothered to even greet them.

The President looked so normal, sitting in front of Percy with a pair of rugged jeans, tennis shoes, and a sweater. A ball cap atop of his head just added to the average look. All of the clothes were given to him by Percy's men. Having Kenning walk around in his beat up tailored suit did not seem like a good idea.

Kenning continued to speak despite the interruption. "Think of it this way, Major: if a person is suffering great pain and will die soon, and there's nothing you can do, do you kill them or try to save them even though it's futile? As a living creature we have a moral obligation to protect life; we shouldn't ever destroy it. Yet do we not also have a moral obligation to end suffering?"

Percy leaned forward, the analogy enough to persuade him of something. A small spark in his eyes flashed for just a second; Riane was convinced no one besides her even saw it. "Isn't it a bit treacherous to compare our country to dying person?" he asked.

"Nations live and die just as people, do they not?" Freddie asked. Percy shot him a glare, annoyed at the interruption. "If a limb is infected, we cut it off. Humanity cannot survive if the disease consumes the world."

"America is the last remaining republic in the world," Mackenzie argued. "Prince Brunhart's men have destroyed Europe. There's no political hope left over there. It's a dictatorship."

"That's where you're wrong, dear Captain," Freddie said. "You assume that political corruption has its basis in the form of government, and that society's corruption is born from that. However, that's far from the truth. Corruption originates in the individual, born from ignorance and injustice; a result of weak-willed spirits giving in to the basic evils. All government has one master: society. Regardless of the type, it is corrupt should society itself grow ill. A good dictatorship is just as warranted as a good republic. Klaus is more deserving of a crown than anyone I know. He will lead Europe in the right direction."

"Is your goal to turn America into a dictatorship?" Mackenzie guessed.

"I have no goal involving a single country or the type of government that rules it. I am concerned only with humanity as a whole," Freddie said.

"Alright, listen," Percy said, intervening. "My goal is to insure that the President is able to get to Washington safely and stay there safely. Now Barton said he's heard reports from the mass media that President is ill. Thanks to the cute little bombing run that the Flying Circus did, an investigation is underway. Guess who's in charge? General Ellis. If it's true that he's part of this as Senator Hughes suggests, we're about to be f****d. Royally. I like to be proactive. We're going to f**k them up before they f**k us up."

Mackenzie had to send a concerned glance Percy's way; his mouth was using curse words more than it normally did. She wondered if he was even thinking or just speaking without thought. He ordered to her, "Captain, get my squad leaders in here within twenty minutes. We'll have to plan a way to get Kenning home safely."

Not a single word escaped Mackenzie's lip after that. Quickly she left his office and disappeared. Riane approached the Major, caught his attention and asked, "Are you doing alright, Major?"

He didn't answer, because he didn't understand why she was asking. Her words were quiet, so he wasn't sure he heard her properly. It wasn't until she poked her own belly that he remembered the bullet wound he had received. He waved off her concerns. "I appreciate that you worry, Miss McDermott, but I'm fine. I hope you slept well after we returned home."

The tone in his voice indicted he didn't intend for her to answer; it wasn't a question, it was a statement of his own thoughts. The truth was that she had slept well. As soon as she was able to crawl into her hotel bed, she went straight into a deep sleep.

"Well, I'm going to get something to eat," Kenning announced. He stood, eyeballed everyone in the room, and then made his way outside.

"Shouldn't we give him an escort?"

Riane didn't get an answer. Once the door closed, Percy pointed a finger at Freddie and shouted, "You! I've been meaning to talk to you! Sit down!"

Freddie threw his hands up. Through a nervous smile he said, "Whoa. Calm down, Major! I'm sure whatever it – "

Percy shot up, his finger now directed at an empty seat, and demanded even louder, "Sit the hell down! Now!"

Freddie did as he was told. Riane, interested, slowly took the other empty chair next to him. Percy's expression went from angry to a bit confused. It was obvious the outburst wasn't something he had planned. He had to take a deep breath before he spoke again. He said, "It's time we find out why you have Henry Flowerdew's eyes."

Freddie frowned deeply. Nothing came from him. Instead, Riane said, "That's not the correct question." She earned herself a glare from Percy. "He has Henry Flowerdew's eyes because they were surgically placed there. The question is: How did he know Henry Flowerdew?"

A line was drawn along the scare on Freddie's face by his own finger. Few noticed it; unless you were mere inches from his face and had the correct angle of light, you would never know it was there. Yet it ached. Just like his eyes did, just like his wrists, just like his gut, just like his heart, the scars that lined his body physically hurt him constantly. He did not need to be reminded that they existed, and he certainly did not need to be reminded why they were there.

No eye contact was made; he kept his vision focused on Percy's desk. "I feel like you already know that answer," he said quietly.

Riane made a noise that sounded like a half laugh before she answered. She explained. "I've done a lot of research on the terrorist scene in America. One of the most fascinating cases of terrorism in our country that has yet to be solved is the disappearance of the Duke of Edinburgh's family. It single handedly destroyed all political relations with England. To this day, not a single suspect has been arrested and no bodies have been found. If he were still alive, he would be King. The rest of the Royal family managed to destroy itself when war broke out."

"That family is a sad tale of murder and betrayal, isn't it?" Freddie said. "So… how do you think I know Henry?"

This time he looked at Riane. His face held a sad smile, but he braved to look her straight into her eyes. The intensity of his stare caused her to look away. "At first, I wasn't sure," she said. "When I first arrived in Union, you were saying bye to some friend. He called you 'Duke.' I assumed it was nickname. You were quick to defend Prince Brunhart just a moment ago, and even called him by his first name, a feat most Americans couldn't do. I haven't been around you much, but when I am, you seem to know a lot about politics and even classified information. You know the inner workings of America well. So… it's only a guess, but I would assume that you are the Duke."

Freddie let out a loud laugh, clearly amused by the accusation. "I can tell you're a journalist!" he said through his laughter. "Only someone in journalism could come to a conclusion like that based on such little evidence!"

Riane ignored his laughter. She continued, "You've always had a soft spot for America. You were the best diplomat Europe had as war began. You visited the country numerous times even before. So when you had to go into hiding in order to protect yourself and your children from the anarchists, you decided to come to America. You disguised it as an act of diplomacy and disappeared somewhere in the vast landscape. For a smart guy like you, it was easy to get away with it. From a distance you watched as your family was killed off; you watched as England quickly fell out of control and was crushed by Prince Brunhart. Speaking of Brunhart, he was a good friend of yours, so he sent out his men to find you and keep you safe. But they didn't make it in time. Your wife and children were killed. You choose to keep your son's eyes as a way to keep him with you."

This time he didn't laugh. "Prince Brunhart gets the credit for destroying Europe, but I'm afraid it's misplaced," he said. "England destroyed itself. Europe destroyed itself. Those ignorant idiots allowed everything we had fall. Everything that had been built, all of it constructed over the sacrifice of generations… England deserved its fate. In hindsight this is clear. But back then, I felt helpless as my countrymen died from famine and riots, from war that they brought upon themselves. Brunhart will save Europe. I must save America."

"And how will you do that?" Percy asked in an almost patronizing tone.

Freddie met his eyes. "By giving power to someone who knows how to use it," he said. "By extracting the poison that has tainted the root of this country. By doing away with the illusion of freedom, and presenting true freedom through justice."

Several loud knocks on the door caused everyone to break away from their conversation. The door slowly opened and Barton poked his head inside. He said, "Major, everyone is already here. They're ready for us to begin."

Percy was pleased with the quickness of his squad leaders. He left Freddie and Riane as he exited his office, although they followed soon enough. Salutes greeted him, which he ignored. He counted the heads in his office by name: Barton, Wakeman, Chiang Sun, Skipper, McGill, Goldwin, Mackenzie, Conroy, Rawlings, and Wilson. "Where is Mister Chevalier?" he asked.

"Currently taking care of family matters," Mackenzie answered.

He said nothing. He took his place in front of his squad leaders, his back to the one large wall in that stuffy room. Nothing came from his lips. The silence was broken by Wakeman, who said, "So, are we going to attack the Pentagon?"

Everyone had already assumed that was the Major's intent. They were anxious. Excitement had entered their stomachs full force and their hearts were beating like crazy. This was what they discussed in Laredo; this is what they had dreamed of doing back then. Before it was just a joke; a fantasy of power played out in the minds of weary men, tired of not being on top. For the Sea Dogs and Goldwin, it was revenge; a chance to do their own justice on the men responsible for their wounds. For all involved, it had very little to do with the President.

"Of course not," Percy scoffed. "I want minimal casualties." He looked dramatically at his watch and said, "Right now I'm hungry. I'm going to get some rest – that includes you, Barton! – and I'll reconvene here in exactly 24 hours. Present me with our options then."

Riane was the only one who followed Percy out the door. At first he tried to pick up his pace and lose her, but she kept up easily. He had a feeling that she wanted to ask him questions. Unlike Jordan, he had yet to learn about her, so she easily grated on his nerves. Even though he wouldn't admit it, he hated the media with a passion. They had never been kind to him or his Company, save for Jordan. He would never admit that bit about Jordan, however.

Eventually he gave up and allowed her to catch up. She was practically at his side by the time he opened the door to the outside. A cold breeze hit his ears and they twitched. With the wind came the melody of a guitar that needed some tuning and a voice that sounded free.

"…I had a dream the other night when everything was still; I dreamed I saw Susanna a-coming o'er the hill; The buckwheat cakes was in her mouth and the tears were in her eye; Says I, I'm coming from the South, Susanna don't you cry…"

They found the origin of the voice and guitar as soon as they wandered around the corner of the building. Boomerang sat on his rear, shirtless and shoeless despite the cold, strumming away at his guitar. He stopped once he realized the Major was in his presence. He leapt up, dropped his guitar and saluted. Percy waved the salute off, as he felt it was unnecessary to commit such formal acts when in such an informal state.

"Must have been you singing over the radio on our way to Ozark," Percy guessed. The red tint that hit Boomerang's cheeks told him all.

"Sorry about that Major," Boomerang said.

Percy let out a small laugh and said, "It's not a problem, Corporal. Do whatever you need to in order to remain focused. I will admit I find it odd you choose folk music over more modern styles."

"But these traditional songs are better," Boomerang said. "The fact that people still sing them is proof of that. I guess where I came from that was all we knew. You see Major, I was born in the Appalachians, mighty proud of it, too. We were so poor, we couldn't even afford water. I'm not complaining, of course. I ended up leaving my family back there when I went to New York. Lived on the streets there, and it's mighty different than Tennessee. These songs were all I had of home. Oh, I don't mean to bore you with my life story or anything…"

Percy laughed again, this time louder. "It's alright, Corporal," he assured him.

"I… meant to say something to you earlier," Boomerang cautiously said. "But I kept forgetting. I just… I just wanted to thank you for saving my life the other day."

Percy raised a brow. "I didn't. That was the Warrant Officer and Specialist Taylor."

"You don't understand, sir," Boomerang said, a bit of rise in his voice. "All of the others just left us. In Asia, when we were outnumbered and surrounded, we were alone. If one man was hurt, he was left behind. They didn't care. They were ruthless. They would even hurt or kill my comrades if it suited their mission. But you proved to me that you cared enough to risk your life to search for me. That… that sir is the greatest thing anyone has ever done – could ever do for me!"

"Don't worry about that," Percy said. "I promise that if you're on my team, you'll never have to worry about betrayal again."

"Thank you, sir! It means a lot!" Boomerang shouted, a grin spreading from ear to ear. "Please excuse me, Major, I have things to work on!"

Energy restored, Boomerang picked up his beaten guitar and sprinted away from Percy and Riane. He shook his head; she laughed. Together they continued their walk away from the military base and further into town. Without much thought Percy was headed toward Tom's Tavern. Riane stayed by his side simply because she had nowhere else to be at that particular time. Her presence wasn't on Percy's mind until she spoke to him.

"I suppose this is where we should part," she said. He stopped and turned to face her, a bit surprised that she was leaving. "I really should check on Jordan. He mentioned buying a house with cash, but... He might be up to something."

He smiled at her suspicions, as they were probably right. "Well, some other time, then," he awkwardly offered.

She nodded. "May I join your next meeting?" she asked.

"Of course."

"Afterward, I would really like to talk to you," she said. "We really haven't had the chance to talk without, you know, a battle happening or you trying to question me."

"Yeah, sorry about that," he attempted to apologize. It was half-hearted.

"It's okay," she smiled. "Maybe I'll sing you a song, since you seemed so interested in Boomerang's. See ya!"

He watched as she retreated down the street, no particular expression on his face and no particular thought or emotion on his mind. Silently he stood with no waver in his stance. Another swift breeze hit him hard and he tried to bury his chin under his collar. That wind brought him back to reality and he focused on the now empty street in front of them. The cold winter was going to hit stronger and sooner than he expected.