Fighting For Your Rights

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Swiping his card in front of the sensor, the hotel room door slid open and Owen stepped inside. His heartbeat quickened when he did not see Robyn while the door slid close behind him, “Robyn?”

The bathroom door opened and she looked at his frightened face. The brush froze midway down her long, brown hair, “I was cleaning up.”

“Where did you get the clothes?”

Looking down at the shirt and pants she was wearing, “They were my Grandpa’s,” she explained returning to brushing her hair.

“Ah, the infamous Mr. Amerow.”

“Infamous?”

Owen chuckled and it only increased Robyn’s annoyance, “The king believed your grandma married him to hide, possibly with his consent.”

“My grandma said she loved him and I believe her,” Robyn defended flinging the brush to the ground so it bounced off the floor and hit Owen in the shin.

“That hurt,” Owen spoke bending over to rub his leg and scoop up the brush.

Robyn stepped forward to grab the brush, “Serves you right,” she said stepping forward to get her brush. Owen held it behind his back, “I can hurt you worse and you know it.” Owen looked down at her angry face and smiled, “It was not my intent to upset you. I was just joking with you. I believe your grandma.”

As he offered her the brush, she snatched it up uncertain and frustrated that she did not realize it was a joke. “It’s a good thing,” she muttered then tossed the brush on the bed and started to pull her hair up.

Owen gently grabbed her wrist and pulled it away from her head. As she released her hair, he said, “You aren’t going to be a man.” He lifted up the cloth bag he held in his other hand and she slowly took it.

“What is this?” she questioned while she opened the bag and began to pull out garments.

“Clothes for my bride,” Owen answered with a small smile

Robyn dropped the bag in surprise, “What?”

“Thanks to your grandma,” Owen said as they both leaned over to pick up the cloths, “I was able to get traveling papers for us to return to my parents’ home to get married.”

“Ireland?”

Owen chuckled as he laid the clothes in her outstretched hands, “No, the papers will read Winslow, Arizona.”

Robyn looked at him confused, “What’s in Winslow, Arizona?”

“By tomorrow night, us.”

Robyn smiled at Owen’s attempt to lighten her spirit, “You know what I mean.”

“Your grandma knows a guy there who can help us.”

“When do we leave?”

“As soon as you get dressed.”

With a slight nod of her head, she rushed back into the bathroom to change her clothes while Owen walked over to the dresser to pack his things. “Where are we picking up Grandma?” Robyn called through the door. When there was no response, she peaked her head around the doorway of the bathroom, “Owen?”

“She isn’t coming.”

“What do you mean ‘she isn’t coming’?” she called out pulling her head back in to finish changing.

“I tried, but she said that she wasn’t able to leave.”

“Why?” Robyn asked stepping into the room wearing a floor length skirt and a long sleeved, high collared shirt.

As she approached him while draping a scarf over her head, Owen answered, “She wanted to stay behind to protect your family while we a make a run for it.”

“She’s sacrificing herself?”

Robyn secured the scarf with a piece of cloth around the top of her head as Owen approached her. He lifted the front of the scarf and placed it on top of her head, “If we run, just us, there is a better chance your family will make it, your grandma included. Your grandma would probably kill me if she heard me say this, but she is old and the king may not waste energy on her. They know she won’t talk.”

“But they want her dead.”

“Because they thought it meant getting to you. She knows nothing.” Running his fingers down her cheek, Owen softly spoke, “I don’t know what will happen. I’m sorry, but I don’t. We need to respect your grandma’s wishes and leave town without her.”

Robyn turned away from him and she looked down at the cloths she wore, “Are we really going to be married?”

“I don’t want to force you into anything.”

“Do you really want to be married to me?” Robyn whispered as she picked up her locket off the dresser.

Owen turned her around, “I was the one that suggested we be engaged. The man who gave me our papers was going to have us be sister and brother.” Looking at him, she examined his eyes, Owen asked, “You were taught your Grandma’s way of reading a person’s face, weren’t you?” Robyn smiled as he slid his hand into his pocket. Owen pulled out a ring. “Since it is illegal for a woman to wear a ring on her finger, will you wear this ring on the chain with your locket.”

Robyn’s face turned to shock as she looked at the ring and her head slowly nodded. Owen took the locket from her hand and slid the ring onto the chain. She pulled the scarf and her hair aside and turned around while he slid the chain around her neck. After fumbling with the clasp, the necklace finally stayed and she slid it under her shirt. He took her hand kissed it then helped her slide on her gloves, “I promise you that you will get to see your family again.”

“You shouldn’t make promises you aren’t going to be able to keep.”

He looked her in the eyes, “I plan to keep this one.”

XXXX

Roham leaned back in his throne as he stared at CURT’s screen floating in the air in front of him. Reading through the basic information about Mariah Masda and the short paragraph for the third time, Roham waved his hand through the screen and it disappeared. He gripped the throne arm with his left hand, “A woman of 86 and that is all the information they can locate,” he mumbled as he shoved himself to his feet and began to pace the room. There was a knock on the door, “Come in,” Roham yelled in annoyance. The door opened as Roham muttered, “My reign will not be destroyed by this woman or her granddaughter, I vow it.”

Garcia walked up to the king and bowed at the waist, “Your Majesty,” he spoke hearing the Roham’s words, “we can’t let it be known that we have her. If you kill her…”

“When I kill her.”

“When you kill her, she will become a martyr. There is a strong possibility that the revolution will make itself known again.”

Ignoring Garcia’s warning, Roham shoved past him and out of the room. Garcia followed as the king marched through the hallways and to the elevator. Striking the button, Roham finally turned to glare at Garcia, “How dare you tell me what I can’t do? This woman is not above my laws,” he stated as the door slid open and both men stepped inside. “She is a traitor.” Garcia leaned forward and pushed the button for the lower level as Roham continued his rant, “She has information on other traitors and I will use any means necessary to capture them and destroy them.”

“Your Majesty,” Garcia spoke carefully as the elevator began its decent, “we have no concrete reports on how many people are involved in the revolution. They may outnumber us.”

Roham scoffed, “If they were so large in numbers, they would have attacked by now.” The doors opened, “They are nothing more than a rabble of unorganized cowards that will run at the sight of my troops.” Stepping from the elevator, Roham looked back at Garcia remaining in the elevator. Roham’s eyes widened at Garcia’s hesitation, “If there is doubt about my troops then maybe it lies with the leadership. Must I find someone better suited for the task?”

Garcia quickly exited the elevator, “No, Your Majesty.” Garcia knew the others that would be among the king’s choices and feared an annihilation of the citizens would be the only accomplishment under their command. Rushing in front of him, Garcia led the king through the halls of the underground of the former “White House.” What were once concrete walls had soaked in the water that leaked inside from years of abandonment and been patched with rocks and mortar. Water still wormed its way through the cracks especially after the hurricane that had just destroyed sections of the building.

The odor from prisoners, eldests, and stagnant water finally hit the king’s nose and he covered his face with his hand. Garcia was oblivious to the smell after spending hours roaming the halls to find clues on the escape, working to repair what damage they could, and dealing with Masda. He glided across a makeshift bridge over a sinkhole flowing with water.

“I’m forced to walk among the decay of a dead civilization because of her,” the king muttered as he carefully made his way across the tiny bridge with barely any light.

Garcia led him to a wooden door and nodded for the two guards outside of it to open the door. One of the guards removed a ring of keys and fumbled with the many keys when he glanced over and saw the king approach. Both guards quickly turned to bow, “Forget protocol and open the door,” Roham demanded deciding to swallow the words he wanted to speak to keep the guards from seeing him as anything but composed in even the most trying of situations.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the guard spoke as he fumbled with the keys more.

Garcia leaned forward and smoothly took the keys from his hand. He effortlessly found the key and slid it into the lock. As soon as he unlocked the door, he tossed the ring back to the guard and pushed open the door. The king followed and stood in the doorway as he glared at the woman who was the blight of his rein when she should have been dead. The black bag that covered her head only moved with her intake and exhale of breath, but it stood as straight as the woman’s back in the chair. Her limbs were tied to the proper parts of the chair she sat on and Roham was startled to see them look younger then he expected. The long skirt had been cut at the knees to keep her leg activity in sight and it seemed she had been busy since they were battered and bleeding from shuffling across the floor when she was placed in her cell. “Have you checked her cell for signs of escape?” Roham questioned.

Garcia followed the king’s line of sight, “Yes, we have sealed the spot.”

“What punishment did she receive?”

Looking back at him, Garcia admitted, “None yet, Your Majesty. It was just discovered when we were bringing her here.”

Roham kept his eyes on her shins as he stepped forward, not wishing to argue with his second-in-command while they were in the presence of a traitor. Garcia closed the door and Roham quickly grabbed the baton from Garcia’s belt. Flicking his wrist to expand the steel weapon, Roham continued the motion with a quicker step and slammed her left shin before Garcia had a chance to react. The distinct sound of bone snapping was heard and Roham waited to hear a scream of pain with a wicked smile planted on his face.

When no sound was made, Roham yanked the black bag off of her head to see her eyes blink rapidly, “And I thought the smell was just from the dankness of the room,” she stated with no signs of pain from the broken leg. Roham glared at her and she looked back and forth between Garcia and Roham then finally admitted, “You do realize my legs went numb while I was waiting for you. This place is causing my sciatic to flare up.” Roham looked at Garcia, “This is what happens when you try to interrogate an old woman,” she explained with a small smile. Roham gripped the baton tighter. “You better watch what you hit with that thing,” Masda stated motioning her head at the baton, “hit me just right and I loose my memory.”

Roham tossed the baton back to Garcia then walked to the wall to access CURT. With a swipe of the hand in front of the sensor, CURT’s screen floated in front him. Placing his finger on the airy screen, Roham pulled it over Masda’s chair then spoke, “Masda file.”

Her picture appeared as the information scrolled onto the screen. Mariah sighed, “Was I ever that young? Seems like just yesterday, one of your father’s grunts pulled me from my class at Harvard.”

Ignoring her comment, Roham read parts of the screen, “Mariah Masda, medical consultant for the revolutionaries and upon the death of all original members, leader of the group.”

“A girl’s got to have a hobby when she is denied the ability to work. It kept me off the streets.”

Unable to handle her sarcasm and smile, Roham slapped her across the face, “You will watch your tongue, Woman.”

Masda turned her head away from the king and spit the blood from her mouth on the floor, “You forgot one thing in that little summary.”

“And what is that?” Roham spoke waving CURT’s screen away.

“Guardian of the witness that saw you kill your father.”

“And how does this so-called witness testify to my father’s murder?” Roham questioned trying to cover his voice of concern with a waiver in his speech.

“Down to the detail, even the words you uttered.”

Roham glared into her eyes to see if there was any sliver of truth in her words as his mind tried to remember that night and who would have seen him creep into his father’s room. Trying to cover his panic at the determination in her eyes, Roham slapped her across the face, “How dare you declare such fabrications?”

With a scowl of victory, Mariah smiled, “The very reaction I expected from a guilty man.”

Roham walked to the table full of numerous instruments of interrogation and picked up the leather strap. He calmly walked back to the chair, “So, Masda, where is your granddaughter?”

“Why do you care where she is?”

“Because she escaped from me and I want my property returned,” he bellowed with a snap of the leather strap against her left arm.

“You allowed an eighteen-year-old girl to escape. Are you growing soft, Your Majesty? You were able to kill your father so easily, and now you aren’t able to keep track…”

Roham brought the leather down hard on the top of her left hand. The smack of the leather left an instant welt, “Cease your spouting of falsehood.”

With a large laugh, Masda spoke, “Trying to sound intelligent by using big words. Stick to your roots Roham, intelligence does not suit you.”

Another crack of the strap was heard and the thin skin of age on her left-hand split. “I will get the information I want from you.”

“Why, Your Majesty, do I detect fear in your voice? A touch of uncertainty?” Masda leaned forward and whispered, “It is probably best then that you don’t let your guards in here.” Motioning her head towards Garcia, she asked, “Is he trustworthy?”

Roham looked at Garcia then upon realizing the game she played, he turned back and slapped her hand again with the leather to cause another tear to appear on her hand. “Where is your granddaughter?”

Ignoring his question and continuing on with her own topic, she leaned back in the chair, “At least your father was never foolish enough to bring me to the palace. He knew I could outsmart him and outthink him. A king can’t have a woman make him look foolish in front of his guards, and his intelligence was nowhere near what mine is. I guess the old adage that sons take after their fathers is true.” Roham raised his hand to her, “Go ahead, hit me some more, I think you’re wearing me down.”

“I will get you to tell me what you know.”

“I know you are unfit to be the ruler of North America. Your father was better at this then you are, and I hated his rule.”

Giving into his anger, the king punched Angela across her right cheek. Her head whipped to the side and there was a pop in her neck, “Thank you,” she stated rolling her neck. “The hard floors have been murder on my bones and I needed my neck popped back into place.”

“Where is the revolutionary base?”

Mariah laughed, “You expect me to know that? I’m no longer the leader…”

Placing his hands on her wrists, Roham leaned over, “You sent your granddaughter to them.”

Looking into his eyes, Mariah smiled, “That’s a nice try, but my granddaughter was sent to stay with a friend.”

“So, you admit that you helped your granddaughter escape?” Roham stated with a sound of victory in his voice as he stood straight.

“I never denied it,” she stated with a shrug of her shoulders and a glance at Garcia for confirmation.

Roham spun away from her in annoyance and glared at Garcia who stood still in fear of any movement being misinterpreted and the king’s anger turn on him instead. “Tie her to the table.”

Garcia started to open his mouth, but quickly surrendered to the command as he stepped forward and pulled a knife from his boot. He cut the leg ropes with two swipes of his blade, expecting Masda to put up a fight. He looked up at her, and she looked into his eyes and spoke honestly, “I have no reason to fight. The longer I keep your focus on me, the more time my granddaughter has to run.”

Looking over at the king to see his reaction, Garcia finally spoke, “She has proven this is a waste of time.”

Roham lunged forward and snatched the knife from Garcia. He cut the ropes from her wrists and pulled her off her chair by her hair. Masda immediately dropped to the ground with her broken and numb legs, but Roham took a firmer grip on her hair and pulled her to her feet then shoved her at Garcia. “Tie her done,” he repeated as he gripped the handle of the knife.

Garcia caught her before she dropped to the ground and pulled her over to the table with the tools on it. Roham moved in front of them and tipped the table to let the tools clatter to the ground to hurry the process. “I don’t have any rope,” Garcia spoke sliding her on the table.

Roham moved to the door and swung it open, “Get in here,” he commanded the guards and motioned, “move the table to the center and hold her down.”

Both guards rushed in and moved the table while Garcia held Masda down. As soon as it was in place, one guard pulled her arms above her head and held them down firmly while the other grabbed her knees and pressed down firmly. Garcia looked over at Roham standing by the door rotating the knife handle in his hand and gripping it tighter with each turn. Garcia approached him and whispered, “You heard what she said. We are just wasting time and she will die a martyr.”

“Bring me her granddaughter.”

“Your Majesty?” Garcia spoke, uncertain of what the command meant.

“NOW,” Roham demanded.

Garcia nodded and quickly walked out of the room before the king could say anymore and closed the door. He stood for a few moments waiting to hear what the king’s plan was then sighed in frustration when he heard Roham command, “Hold her tight.”