Square One
August 1st, 2022
Raiden almost winced as his father backhanded Sabrina across the cheek. Something was wrong. Sabrina wouldn’t normally let Carson Cartell lay a hand on her. It didn’t matter that he was the governor of what was left of the U.S. region and had managed to single handedly turn the land of the free into the land of the corrupt; the woman was fearless.
“What do you mean; you can’t fully disclose what you’ve seen?”
Sabrina seemed wholly unaffected. “Governor, don’t tell me you’ve developed a learning disability in my absence.”
Raiden feigned boredom. “Father, can we get on with this, please,” he said, effectively diverting the Governor’s attention from Sabrina’s impertinent remark.
“Since you seem to be in such a hurry, Raiden, I’ll keep this short: your services are no longer needed, Sabrina.”
“No need to be spiteful,” Raiden muttered.
The Governor turned towards Raiden slowly. “I suppose you have a better idea?”
“I never insinuated that I did.” Raiden saw Sabrina tense. It was subtle. The movement was so small, so quick, that if Raiden hadn’t already been watching her, he would have missed it. He smirked. He never thought Sabrina was so naïve that she would think that he would make any attempt to rescue her.
Without any form of a farewell, Governor Carson Cartell left the room, his personal bodyguard trailing behind him.
When she was sure he was out of earshot, Sabrina spoke up, “Thanks for all the help.”
“Just curious: is sarcasm the only language you speak?” Raiden asked.
“You know what your father does to ex-employees. He literally terminates them. Do you realize how inconvenient having a bounty on your head is?” Sabrina shook her head, as if chastising herself. “Just forget I said anything. You told me to pick a side and I did,” she said, leaving the room.
For a moment, Raiden almost regretted his decision, but quickly dismissed the almost-feeling as ridiculous.
Stretching, Raiden leisurely stood up, pulling his phone from his pocket. He pressed three on his cell phone and absently watched the muted flatpanel as the phone rang. He saw the shapes and words moving across the wall, but not the colors, just a muted blue. Everything was always in that same melancholy blue. It had never bothered him that he was color blind until this exact moment, but he couldn't be sure why. Perhaps, it was the flashing images of fire. The color orange had never made sense to him.
“Hello Raiden,” the Govenor answered dryly.
Raiden didn't rush after anyone, not for any reason. Everyone was aware of it, except for Raiden himself.
“What,” Raiden demanded.
Carson didn't bother to point out that he was a few feet outside the door, he simply chuckled softly to himself and said, “Don't worry about it.”
Raiden didn't bother asking what was meant by the previous statement. Carson Cartell was notoriously cryptic and honestly, Raiden just didn't care.
“They're on the news again.”
The term “Christian” had been banned a long time ago, but they, the headstrong rebels that called themselves The Way, hadn't been deterred by this. They didn't even seem the slightest bit annoyed. With each new restriction, they became more creative.
“Any leads?”
Raiden could almost hear the excitement in Carson's voice. It was strange how he could go so quickly from ruthless dictator to a child in a candy store. Raiden shrugged.
“One.”
“Reliable?”
“Who knows anymore.”
“Only one way to find out.”
“Have you done your research this time?” Raiden quipped.
The line went dead. Apparently, that didn't deserve a response.
#
She had given up long ago. She had moved on; she was almost certain she had moved on. But that stupid email served only to confirm what she already knew: that she couldn't ever really let go. It raised her hopes and her pulse. She almost deleted it to try to prove something to herself. It could easily be spam. It was juvenile really. It was just an email.
She opened the email with a smirk, expecting the usual “find out the name of your true love” spiel. Instead she found a lead.
Seven years ago, her mother had been declared legally insane. Scarlette couldn't remember the exact details. She only knew her mother disappeared and was never seen again.
The email spoke of a woman who knew Scarlette's mother in college. Scarlette dropped her diet coke can on her computer. This was the closest she had ever gotten to...anything.
“Crap!”
The screen flickered and then darkened. There was a time when Scarlette wouldn't have cared if she killed her ancient Vista PC that barely performed any task more complicated than powering on and off, but things were different. Money was tight and resources were limited. It was almost ironic how a small tatoo could create so much chaos.
Scarlette didn't waste any time lamenting the loss of her computer, instead she rushed out of the apartment she shared with her brother, next door. She pounded on the door.
“Skyler! Open up!” Scarlette pushed the handle, even though she knew it was locked by the red steady-blinking light above the door. It suddenly beeped loudly. Scarlette always found it amusing that the doors were so high security and yet, if someone wanted to break into any one apartment, all they needed to do was take a sledgehammer to the wall.
“It's open, “ Skyler mumbled, barely audible through the thick steel door.
The door swung opened to reveal Skyler, cleaning a black pistol. Scarlette didn't bother saying anything about it and instead headed straight towards the computer.
“What's wrong with your computer?” Skyler asked, taking inventory of his ammunition.
“Diet coke.”
Skyler put his gun down. “An entire can?”
“Almost.”
“Unbelievable,” Skyler muttered.
Scarlette shushed him, continuing to read. Halfway through the email, she turned to him, “Who cares about coke, honestly. It's detrimental to your health.”
“Easy for you to say,” Skyler said.
Scarlette didn't respond. She stared at the computer, halted by the words on the screen. Skyler came to stand behind the aluminum chair Scarlette was sitting in, reading over her shoulder.
Skyler wasn't half as affected as Scarlette. “This woman sounds like loon, Marxx.”
Scarlette turned to glare at Skyler. She hated when he addressed her by her last name; it was a stupid habit he thought was macho. He stared her in the eye for a total of one millisecond, before quickly looking down. Scarlette walked briskly toward the door.
“Why do you always do that?”
Scarlette turned around. “Do what?”
“Walk out.”
“I have to leave sometime.”
“But you don't have to be rude.”
Scarlette studied him for a minute. “I'm not being rude. I'm just not bothering to be polite.”
Skyler was already preoccupied by his weaponry again. “Then leave.”
#
The firemen were already there, when she arrived. Sabrina had known they would torch her apartment, but it didn’t make seeing all her possessions in flames any less disappointing.
“Ma’am, “a firefighter began. Sabrina turned her attention from her soot-smeared window to give the man her full attention.
She earned a look of concern from her elderly neighbor, Mr. Snow. Mr. Snow quickly hobbled over. Butting into her conversation with the fireman, Mr. Snow patted her back. "Quite lucky you were there when it happened. Even more lucky that the flames came no where near my stuff," Mr. Snow said, earning an annoyed look from the firefighter. Luck. Ha.
Mr. Snow chuckled. "You still owe me dinner, Sabrina."
Sabrina raised an eyebrow. Mr. Snow didn't intend to be insensitive, he just had a mind that worked a bit too fast for his own good. She rolled her eyes. "I'm sure."
Mr. Snow jumped as electrocuted and hobbled away without a farewell.
The firefighter spoke up when Mr. Snow was out of earshot, “This is the only thing that survived. I’m sorry.”
Sabrina stared at the blackened, unsheathed sword. She looked up at the firefighter. She was tempted to look back at the sword, but didn’t. Instead, she stared right into the man’s eyes. The glint was unmistakable. He raised an eyebrow, urging her to take the sword.
Before she left for college, her father’s gift to her was a sword. It was a sword that had been a family heirloom for years. She kept that sword in a fireproof safe in the back of her closet. A tracking device in such an obvious object? But, Cartell’s goons couldn’t have possibly slipped up so thoroughly. She finally took the sword with a muttered “thank you.”
She took one last look at her apartment and the chaos that surrounded it. Angry tenants in a rush to get into their own apartments, gawking passersby, and the swirl of red fire truck lights. She wouldn’t stay there.
#
Alexander got home late that night. He was met by exuberant...snoring. His little sister was sprawled across the black carpet, drooling. Classic Scarlette. Alexander stood over her and whispered, “Scarlette, there's a platypus in your bed.”
Scarlette jolted awake, disoriented. She narrowed her eyes at the sight of Alexander. “You have no right to even joke about that.”
Alexander snickered. “Why ever not?”
Scarlette threw a pillow from the sofa at him, ignoring his question. “What's for dinner, Zander?”
“The usual.”
Scarlette made a face. “Tuna?”
"Shut up," Alexander said, throwing his jacket over the tattered couch. "Tuna's great."
"The first time," Scarlette mumbled.
There was a knock at the door. "What," Alexander called in lieu of "come in."
Skyler burst in. "Fire," was all he said. It was enough. Alexander dropped the spoon full of mayonnaise in his hand ran out the door, Scarlette close behind him.
"Where?" Alexander asked.
"Downstairs. I got almost everyone out on the lower level…except the cat."
Alexander winced. "Stacy's not going to like that."
"She'll have to get over it," Skyler said, knocking on doors as he ran. Someone was ringing a bell not too far off.
"Did the feds start the fire? Did they find us?"
Skyler shook his head. "No, but this will tip them off. One of the kids from Thomas' school started the fire. He won't hesitate to tell why, especially since it will get him out of trouble."
That information caused Scarlette to slow a bit. "What do you mean get him out of trouble?"
"The federal court is getting involved. Just at a state level, but when they ask him why"--Skyler stopped mid-sentence to tell a confused little girl to follow them--"he'll tell them it's because he wanted to 'smoke us out,'" Skyler said dryly.
"How did he even know where we were?"
"Thomas was being lazy that day and the kid followed him home from school."
"Remind me to talk to Thomas," Scarlette said in exasperation.
Alexander shook his head slightly. "Don't. He knows what he did."
It wasn't long before sirens could be heard. "I knew we should have picked a cave."
'That's not practical, Scarlette," Alexander said.
"And this is?" Scarlette shot back, breath uneven. Talking and running wasn't quite so easy.
The sound of plaster crumbling. They picked up their pace, not bothering with conversation anymore. It could wait for when their lives weren't being threatened.
The floors creaked with every step and the smoke was suffocating. Scarlette pulled her shirt over her face. She could see the window a few feet away. Alexander was already pushing it open and jumping onto the fire escape below. He motioned for her to hurry up.
They made it down to the ground and found themselves face to face with a concerned firefighter with deep green eyes that stood out from the soot on his face. Three more firefighters appeared next to him with the same green eyes and concerned look. Scarlette looked uncertainly back at Alexander. He shook his head and mouthed "act natural." Alexander obviously knew something she didn't. She let herself be led away, the others following suit.
The firefighters had insisted they go to the hospital. "Smoke is more dangerous than fire," the firefighter had said with a wide grin. "Wouldn't want you to die."
Skyler sat across from Scarlette in the paramedic truck, tapping his left foot incessantly.Alexander shot him a look and Skyler stopped, only to start tapping his right foot. Alexander shook his head. Skyler's restless movement was contagious and soon, Scarlette was drumming her fingers against her arm. Scarlette shot the paramedic a quick glance before looking back at Alexander.
"What are we going to do when we get to the hospital, Alexander? Our insurance won't cover this," Scarlette said.
Alexander looked confused for a moment, then seemed to catch the tue meaning behind those words. There was no way they could check in at the hospital. They would be checked for the tattoo and it wouldn't be found. The authorities would come running then and they'd never make it out alive. Alexander pulled down his jacket sleeve a little lower.
"I have insurance," Skyler spoke up.
Scarlette rolled her eyes. "We don't want your bootleg insurance, Skyler."
The paramedic gave her an odd look at that comment, as if listening to the conversation for the first time. Everyone had the same exact insurance plan.
Scarlette giggled in an attempt to cover her blunder. "He insisted that they take ER off his insurance plan. He's an idiot," Scarlette said, addressing the paramedic.
She nodded, a smile on her lips. "All men are. My husband would have done the same thing if I hadn't talked him out of it."
With any luck, the paramedic wouldn't realize the error in Scarlette's statement until much later.
Alexander's eyes lit up. "I know what we can do."
Judging by that slightly dangerous light in his eyes, Scarlette knew that their escape from the hospital would leave bruises.
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