“You know why I came here.”
“I want you to tell me,” he said. “I want you to spell it out. Just so there are no misunderstandings.”
“I need a home,” she said. “Tory needs a home.”
“Let me guess. He needs a father-figure, is that it?”
She scoffed at the idea. “He needs a home. A place with a bed. A place with food and heat. A place where he has a room. He does not need a father-figure. The only father-figure he had in his life was a brutal bastard. No. He only needs his mother.”
“I see.”
Sharon looked at the conference table. The most recent edition of The New American Press lay there. The headline quoted an angry-looking ‘survivor’ from somewhere down south: “I NEVER ASKED TO BE LIBERATED.”
“You see lots of things, Evan. Do you see what I am?”
“What you are?”
“I’m a survivor of New Winnabow. I’m a single mother. My father was killed by Trevor Stone. My first husband was a brave U.S. Marine who fought for his country and for freedom. Why, he was a regular hero. My son will tell you as much.”
It impressed Evan that Sharon managed to speak those words about her ex-husband without a sign of the venom she felt in her heart for the man.
He said, “Yes, he was a hero for serving his country in the old days. But then again, I think all the people of New Winnabow were heroes, too.”
“Tell me, Evan, what would it do for you if you had the mother of an orphan, the widow of a hero, and a victim of Trevor’s atrocities at your side?”
He tilted his head, considered, and told her, “I suppose it would give added weight to what I say. Make a great story, about how we first met in that tranquil village. How you came to me for help after what happened. Why? Are you suggesting a partnership?”
Sharon Parsons answered, “A partnership? Sort of a cold way of saying it, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know, Sharon,” he feigned a look of consternation on his face. “I’m a single man, no one special in my life…”
“Oh, Evan,” she cut through it all and ran a finger across his cheek. “This partnership would have plenty of fringe benefits. I think you’ll find me a rather…um… willing partner.”
“That’s good,” he told her. “I like that. Maybe we can come to some sort of arrangement. But tell me, besides you’re son getting a home what is it you want out of this… partnership?”
“I want to help you.”
“Help me?”
“I want to help you,” she repeated. “I’ve seen through the good Samaritan act you put on when you visited my town. You pulled that off very well.”
“That wasn’t an act, Sharon. I cared about your village. I tried to stop the attack from happening.”
“Yes, yes, I know, and I believe you…to an extent. But your objectives had less to do with helping New Winnabow and more to do with hurting Stone, for your own gain, of course. Don’t fear. Now that I’ve figured out what you’re all about, I want to help you. I want to help you get that power you desperately want.”
“Oh? And why is that?”
“Because you can only gain that power by taking it from your Emperor. As you get stronger, he gets weaker.”
Evan asked, “Revenge?”
“I want Trevor Stone to know, you reap what you sow.”
From the Old Treasury building on State Circle in the center of town built circa 1735, to the majestic house of Charles Carroll overlooking Spa Creek, to the 238 acres of the U.S. Naval Academy, history lived in every corner of Annapolis.
The “Southern Command” of what was now accepted as “The Empire” called Annapolis home, as did Nina Forest.
She pushed open the door to her small apartment but, before she could enter, in rushed Denise Cannon.
Jerry Shepherd-on well-deserved but short-lived leave-hovered at the door frame as Nina shook her head in wonder; wonder if she was up to this task.
“So this is it? Okay, okay, this will work,” Denise said lightheartedly.
The eleven-year-old inspected the small living room, darted into the even smaller kitchen, wove through the dining area, then down the short hall to examine the two bedrooms and bath.
Denise and Shep dropped heavy bags on the carpeted floor.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Nina said.
“You’re doing it,” Shep laughed.
A chubby man dressed in casual clothes knocked on the open door with the one hand he still possessed; only a stub remained of his right arm.
“Denise! Come here, Denise!” Nina yelled.
The man at the door shook Shep’s hand, left to left.
“Read in the paper that you kicked those lizard asses all the way back to Atlanta. Good work down there, General.”
“Thanks, Barn,” Shepherd answered and then asked, “How’s the itching?”
Barney touched the stub and replied, “Still a bitch at night but that cream you sent my way helped a bit. Thanks again.”
“Denise, this is Mr. Carson,” Nina introduced. “He’s the building’s caretaker. Everyone here knows him. He sort of looks after things when we’re off on missions and stuff. When I’m away, you’ll be seeing a lot of him.”
“Hello there, little lady,” Barney greeted.
Denise, in a well-rehearsed line, answered in an overly respectful tone, “Hello, Mr. Carson. It is nice to meet you.”
“Call me Barn. Everyone else does.”
Denise’s eyes gravitated to the stub.
Barney said, “Be careful what you wish for.”
“Huh?” Denise asked while Nina and Shep rolled their eyes in anticipation of the joke Barney told every day.
“I said, be careful what you wish for,” Barney told the girl. “One day I said I’d give my right arm to get out of the army.”
Denise’s eyes grew bigger and her mouth opened in the slightest.
Nina assured, “He’s kidding.”
Barney laughed. Denise forced a very fake smile.
“Go ahead,” Nina relented. “Give it the once over.”
Denise returned to her investigation, moving with the quick bursts of speed, changes in attention, and hyper-activity only afforded to kids.
“She’s a pistol. Can tell that right ‘way,” Barney said.
“Pistols can misfire,” Nina responded.
“That’s right,” Barney turned to leave. “That’s why you got to make sure you always know which way the barrel is pointing.”
Denise called from down the hall, “What? No bed? Where am I going to sleep? Wait a second, there’s no stereo in here.” Then she poked her head in the bathroom. “Oh boy, we have got to talk.”
Nina and Shep shared a look as the little girl walked over to the entertainment center in the living room and rummaged through the DVDs there. “Ugh…nope…nope…oh, wait, cool-Brad Pitt. He is sooo hot.”
“What did I get myself into?” Nina asked Shep.
He told her, “Oh, now that’s a good question.”
“But you know it’s like…I dunno…all I’m saying is that it feels kind of good. Look, this sounds silly, but well, I
