“Change is a concept few humans embrace willingly,” Deputy Ignatius Horne told him that day. “Chancellors, on the other hand, have a tendency to exterminate opposition to their ideology. What you are proposing could bring the entire caste system to its knees. Your parents will not be pleased, Benjamin. Tread with great care.”
He did not listen, and the shadows followed him ever since.
Walt rounded a sharp curve while minding the GPS.
“Appears our young ones have made a course correction.” He flipped the monitor toward Ben. “Turned west. Interesting decision.”
Ben wasn’t familiar with the geography. “Where are they going?”
“On present heading, Ginny’s Creek. There’s one paved road into that area. Otherwise, dirt access. Could delay our reunion.”
“Why?”
“The creek has a snake-like pattern for almost five miles. The surrounding forest is quite dense. If anyone wanted to evade pursuers for a few hours, this would be a wise place to hide. Fortunately, Samantha is familiar with the terrain.”
“Why would she know that area so well?”
“Thick woods. Scattered residents.” Walt turned to Ben. “The perfect location for Sammie’s Dacha training.”
“Dacha? Seriously? She’s a kid. If you wanted her ready for the Unification Guard, you could have done it proper after the mission here was over. You’re a sick bastard, Huggins.”
Walt laughed. “Because I do my job as a father? And where precisely have you been for James the past two years? Drowning in the bottle. You have no credibility.”
“Pull over.”
“We’ll stop when we find Samantha and James.”
Ben winced and grabbed at his bullet wound, which was bleeding less. “Pull over, Huggins. I’m lightheaded. I need to dress this thing.”
“I suspect you’re suffering more from a hangover than loss of blood. You can wait.”
The safety was off; Walt would never see it coming. As long as Ben grabbed the wheel, he could gently guide the vehicle to the curb. The plan made sense, even quick and easy. Too easy. And that’s why Ben hesitated. He tried instead to play a final card.
“We need to pull over and talk about Jamie.”
“There’s nothing to discuss, Sheridan.”
“Walt, it doesn’t have to end this way. Jamie doesn’t deserve what’s happened to him.”
“No, he doesn’t. But that matter was settled fifteen years ago. Don’t tell me you’ve decided to intervene at the eleventh hour.”
Ben gritted his teeth. “Screw you, Huggins. Pull over.”
Walt didn’t take his eyes off the road. “I have nothing to say.”
Ben recognized Walt’s hardened, capricious aura.
“Did you know?”
Walt wrinkled his brow. “Know what?”
“About the attack. Both of them. You rigged both your houses to blow. Why be so prepared if you didn’t know it was coming?”
Walt said nothing, but Ben saw the birth of a smug grin.
“I was always told about you, Huggins. How attentive you were, how no one dared try to get anything past you. The others at our final meeting … you knew their true plans?”
“That they would betray me? Of course.”
“How? Was one of us working both sides?”
Walt laughed. “You think small – your inane theories aside.”
“What does that mean?”
The SUV slowed to a halt at a stop sign. No cars approached the intersection, yet Walt did not press the gas.
“Sheridan, I was not just our mission leader but by definitional responsibility, the chief archivist. Before we crossed the fold, I consumed every available archival detail about each observer, their family history, and their allegiances. Every detail.”
Ben felt stupid. “Of course. That’s why you were always a step ahead. No wonder they never challenged you to your face.”
Ben reached for his weapon as Walt tapped the wheel.
“Yes,” Walt said without emotion. “A Chancellor who cannot create leverage is hardly a Chancellor at all. And nothing was going to stop this mission. The future must be served, Sheridan.”
Rage rose toward the surface. Ben struggled to contain it.
“You allowed us to leave our homes behind and live in this primitive shithole long enough to turn against each other. Chancellors killing Chancellors. You ruined us. You …”
“Saved the future of the Chancellory. Now, reduce your sanctimonious blabbering, Sheridan. After all, if I had warned your parents, then you would not have had the chance to kill them.”
Walt beamed with satisfaction and hit the gas.
Ben turned cold all over.
28
J AMIE DROPPED THE pistol as he stared into the impossible. Before he collapsed, Michael ran forward and caught him. He set Jamie on the passenger seat.
“Damn, dude. What’s gotten into you?”
“Coop? You’re … how did …?”
Michael twisted around to Sammie, whose dropped jaw mixed astonishment and joy. “What the flying fudge is going on with you two?”
“Coop,” she said, struggling for words as she held onto the wheel. “I don’t think you should be walking. You’ve been …”
“Shot,” Jamie said as he tried to gather his wits. “I don’t understand. They shot you, Coop. In the back. Don’t you remember?”
Michael shuffled his baffled glare between his two friends, mumbled something inaudible, then slipped to one knee.
“Holy shit on a stick,” he said, this time loud enough for everyone to hear. He examined the blood-splattered front of his shirt, felt the mud on his face and twisted his head over his shoulder, yanking at his shirt where it was still drenched in wet blood. “They shot me. Yeah. I was … they took me from my house and …” He paused then formed a strange smirk for his captivated audience. He looked around. “We’re on our way to heaven, right? Them bastards killed us and now we’re taking the fastest boat to …”
“No, Coop,” Jamie said. “Not heaven. We ain’t that lucky.”
Jamie twisted his eyes toward Sammie, who lost her grip on the wheel, also speechless. Nobody said a
