The crowd bawled with anger. Many spat and threw things, splattering the beaten men and women on stage. One kneeling man attempted to plead his innocence, but a guard struck his skull with the butt of a rifle and silenced him.
Diane felt sick to her stomach. This wasn’t right.
These people are innocent. Thomas is the monster. He’s the one who murdered Amanda. Why doesn’t anyone see that?
Diane wanted to shout at the top of her lungs. She wanted to inform the people of Portsmouth that it was Thomas who they should condemn, that it was he who they should spit at. If she did that, though, violence would break out, and it would quickly swing in Thomas’s favour. Portsmouth was being guarded by his people, and enough propaganda had spread that many who had loved Wickstaff now supported him too. Shouting the truth would do nothing but get good people killed.
She could do nothing but watch.
Thomas went on, thumping the lectern like an apocalyptic Hitler. “Today, these vile cowards will forfeit their lives, but first they will witness the futility of their crimes. Guards! Bring him here.”
A pair of soldiers shuffled from the back of the stage, dragging a badly beaten prisoner between them. The hooded stranger was frogmarched to where the other prisoners were slumped. Thomas glared at him balefully, and Diane knew the hatred’s true source was not the death of Wickstaff but the disloyalty towards him. Thomas was rooting out his opposition.
I can’t do it. I’ll never be able to make him pay. He has all the power.
“This man,” Thomas barked into the microphone, “is responsible for convincing others to work against the common interest. He is a traitor to us all, serving only himself and his own agenda.”
The crowd roared. Fists pumped the air. More spitting.
Thomas gave the guards a nod and they whipped the hood off of the prisoner, revealing a face swollen and bruised. Diane gasped, not because of the grievous injuries, but because of who it was.
Tom.
No… No, please, no.
Diane lost control of herself, desperate in every way. She shoved her way through the crowd, trying to get to Tom – trying to save him – but someone grabbed her and pulled her back. She didn’t recognise the shaven-headed man, but before she could shove him away, he whispered in her ear, “You can’t help him, Diane. Stop.”
“What? Who the hell are you?”
“Damien. You’re Diane. He’s Tom. I know a lot, which is why I’m telling you to keep calm and not do anything stupid.”
“Calm? That sonofabitch needs to be stopped. Those people up there are innocent. He can’t do th—”
“They’re not innocent. They’re casualties of war – acceptable losses if you want to win this. You do want to win this, don’t you?”
Diane peered at Tom. He could barely stand, so badly beaten was he. Even his hands were bruised. He must have put up a fight. She had to help him. “It’s not an acceptable loss to me.”
“You speak out and you’ll end up right next to him. They beat the shit out of him, Diane, but he didn’t give them your name. Don’t let his suffering be for nothing.”
“What the hell do you expect me to do?”
“Whatever shit you’re feeling, shove it down and shape it into something useful. Once it’s sharp enough, you can shove it in Thomas’s throat, but only when the time is right.”
Diane’s vision blurred. The stranger seemed to sense her weakness because he reached out and steadied her. His hands were freezing, but it helped bring back her alertness. Although she would’ve preferred unconsciousness over having to witness this.
Tom…
Please…
Thomas moved in front of the prisoners and faced Tom specifically. “I’ll have you shot for your crimes, son, but first I’m going to give you the opportunity to redeem yourself. Reveal the rest of your co-conspirators and I’ll spare the lives of these other criminals. Tell us who else has been acting against the common good and you may die with a clean conscience.”
Tom seemed to glare at Thomas, but it was hard to tell because his eyes were so swollen. His lips were split and they trembled as if he were preparing to speak. But he didn’t. Instead, he spat bloody saliva right into Thomas’s face. Diane beamed as the tyrant recoiled, the old fucker’s bony face growing redder than the blood on his cheeks.
Take that, you piece of shit! Good on you, Tom.
Then Thomas whipped out a handgun and shot Tom point-blank in the face.
Before Diane could scream, Damien grabbed her and pulled her into a hug, keeping her from seeing her lover’s body hit the ground. She sobbed into his ice-cold chest, but not loudly enough to block out the noise of further gunshots being fired, and further sounds of bodies hitting the stage.
She was alone.
5
Damien shuddered, but he wasn’t sure why. An uncomfortable feeling had come over him, making him want to curl up into a ball. Nancy must have noticed his unease because she asked him what was wrong. “I’m not sure. Just got the jitters for a moment. You still sure you want to do this?”
Nancy looked around, glancing up and down the main road. It was jam-packed with wrecked and abandoned cars, but there was no apparent danger. That didn’t make what she was doing any less reckless. “I have no choice,” she said. “If there’s any chance my kids are alive somewhere, I have to find them. Are you sure you won’t come?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t. You’ll have your guys with you though.”
Nancy looked over at the four Americans who had followed her all the way from Indiana. They were tough men who had fought side by side with her. Damien felt better
