Shadow and Shine (Book 2): Dark Divide Read online

  Her memory wasn’t going to be wasted, though. He wasn’t going to spend his time thinking about how she died, she wouldn’t have wanted that. Even when her dad died, she was able to find something positive and used it as fuel to be a better person. Harry promised himself to do the same.

  “We’re three hours away,” Harry said. He didn’t know how he knew, but he knew. This must have been how Mona felt, all the time. It was enjoyable, and weird. It was like walking blindfolded.

  *******

  Tink

  Not sure

  Union Matis Field, WV

  Tink was stewing in his cell, waiting for Marshall, replaying the threats against his sister. He hated how Marshall was in control. There was no fighting back, not when he was willing to kill Mona. Tink was lucky she was still alive after he punched Jordan on fire. Marshall wasn’t going to let it pass, though. Another bad, short-sighted decision by Tink was endangering people. His emotions got the best of him, and now he was waiting for the judge, jury, and executioner to bring down his sentence.

  As long as Mona lives, then it would be okay. Tink promised himself; he would do a better job of keeping his anger, and his pride, in check. His failed attempt at an escape might’ve led to Mona, Jenna, or Mickey being hurt. There didn’t need to be another escape, at least not without some good planning. If he was going to do it, he needed to do it right.

  The latches on the door echoed in the room. A man peered through the window in the door. Not Marshall, or Nino.

  It was the President.

  Tink was confused by the President making an appearance. “What you doin’ here?” he asked, checking out the open door behind him. He could pop the President in the mouth, right then, and make a run for it. It would work. He didn’t even have to Pulse him to death, just knock him out. All the war hero crap about him was overblown. Tink could take any of these dudes out with a fair fight. Those thoughts were bad news though; it was too risky. Any wrong decisions would lead to Mona dying. He knew it. There was no denying it.

  “Leonardo, correct?” the President held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you. My name is Uriah.”

  “Yeah, I know who you are, President. Why are you here?” Tink looked at his hand and shook his head. He wasn’t going to kill him, but he wasn’t going to offer any respect either.

  “Call me Uriah. Technically I’m taking a small hiatus from the position.”

  Tink didn’t care to ask what he was talking about. People in politics always had a double meaning to what they were saying, which meant they didn’t say much. Tink would rather get the answer to his question.

  “Okay. Why are you here?”

  Watt dropped his hand away and walked into the middle of the room. The doorway was open, but Tink fought the urge. “I’m impressed. You broke out of a highly restricted area quite easily.”

  Tink’s hands felt the fire. Marshall reported to the President, didn’t he? That’s why he was here. He’s trying to get information from Tink, playing the good cop, but he was the one who gave Marshall the permission to slap his sister around. This was the man who ordered someone to beat Tink within an inch of his life.

  To have Shelly shot.

  To have Asher murdered.

  To abandon Harry.

  All for what?

  And he knew Tink’s real name.

  “How you know my name?”

  “Little Mona has been telling me many things, Tink. She’s responding better to me than Marshall, which doesn’t surprise you, does it? She deserves far more respect than Marshall gave any of you. I’m deeply sorry for the grief he’s caused,” he sighed. “But in his defense, your group was confrontational and I—”

  “When I get out, I’m going to kill him,” Tink was relieved to know his sister was still alive. The fear of losing her went away. She might be alive, but Marshall wasn’t the kind of person who asked questions without leaving scars. Mona didn’t deserve to be treated like an enemy.

  Watt smiled. “Maybe. But I have a proposal for you. Would you care to not interrupt and allow me to explain?” Tink bit his tongue. All of his anger and hatred towards Marshall, it wasn’t going to help right now.

  “Mona told me about the Pulse. She said everyone in your group has it. Even the ones who died.”

  “Who were killed. By Marshall.”

  “Circumstances killed them. Marshall is nothing more than a weapon,” Watt examined the melted straps on the table, impressed, and continued, “Either way, I want to give you a chance to protect your sister. Mona says you would be willing to do anything to protect her, is this true?” he reached underneath where Tink previously laid his head, and disconnected a thin microphone. He waved it and winked.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. We’re getting somewhere. Thank you.” Watt patted his shoulder. “I’ll cut to the chase; I want your services. I want you to help fight against the Subas.”

  “Help you?”

  “Yes. And help Mona, of course. After everything that’s happened, Mona is willing to let bygones be bygones. Are you?”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Mona wouldn’t side with Marshall. She wouldn’t side with you. This ain’t America versus the Shadows. This is light and darkness. Shadow and shine. You want me to buy what you’re selling? Let me see my sister,” Tink’s emotions weren’t getting the best of him, this wasn’t him losing his cool. Tink just thought the whole thing sounded like a lie. He didn’t have to bend over backwards to this man, especially not someone who is willing to be buddy-buddy with Marshall and act like the soldier wasn’t the scum of the universe. If Watt wanted a peaceful arrangement, he needed to offer something.

  Watt looked disappointed. “I can’t do that, not right now,” he said, turning back to the door. Tink wasn’t going to let him leave. He could hold the President hostage and make Marshall bring his little sister.

  “Why?”

  He sighed. “That’s a long story.”

  “I got time.”

  “No, you don’t. Marshall wants you and your sister dead. He’s loyal, but uncontrollable when slighted. If you want to live, you need to commit to working with me. I’m not him. I’m nothing like him. You will no longer deal with him. After today, he’s done. I promise you that.”

  “I don’t buy your promises. But if it protects my baby sister, you got my word.”

  *******

  Acacia

  1:38 p.m. (Western time)

  Las Vegas, NV

  Was it a dream? A vision? Was it a hallucination caused by blunt trauma to her brain? Acacia blinked her eyes rapidly, but still she was blinded. Everything hurt, everything felt wrong. The smell grew as her fingers sunk into something that felt like jelly. The jump out of the window brought her here, but where was here? Death? Prison? Somewhere else?

  She didn’t have time to waste with being disoriented. Roy Hadley, or whatever was left of Roy Hadley, was chasing her and already murdered five people. People who only slowed him down. He was coming for his revenge, and no one was going to stop him.

  Acacia pushed her weight against the roof of her black box. Her strength lifted enough to let a glimmer of the street lights inside, showing her long legs soaked in soggy trash. The odor escaped into the night sky as the steel lid banged against another building.

  She was at the end of a long alley, Hadley would be standing on the other side soon enough. The orange lights shined against the gravel, months of unattended trash covered the long alley. A thought of self-hatred came into her head, anyone who ended up living their lives as prostitutes, sleeping with strange men, and living a life of deprivation and loneliness would eventually end up dead in the gutter, and there she was.

  She missed her dad. It was years since she left her family to live this lifestyle. And for what? Some, including her older brother, would have said it was rebellion. Others, like her twin sis, would have said she left to find a purpose. Acacia didn’t think either was right, but that
doesn’t mean they were wrong. Acacia needed to find a better time to have a moment of reflection, but she missed her dad, her brother, and her sister. It was all a blur since leaving Salt Lake City. She should be there with them. Whatever happened there, she hoped they were safe. Or, at least at peace. She hoped no one like Roy Hadley was in their lives. She regretted everything.

  Images of her twin sister came into her mind as she pulled her leg over the dumpster. She was leaving, and she was going to survive. For them.

  A voice echoed from the middle of the alley, “Stop.” Acacia leaned over to see the man through the low-level lighting. All she could make out was his shiny-black leather jacket and thick black hair. “Stay in there.”

  Whoever the man was, he was standing in a death trap. As if on cue, another man sauntered under the street light and into Acacia’s view.

  And then another man.

  And another.

  Two more came.

  Even from far away, Acacia could see their black, lifeless eyes looking towards the end of the alley. There was something horrible in the way the streetlights shined against their dull eyes and pale skin. Every person standing at the end of the alleyway was just like Hadley, but he wasn’t there.

  Acacia remember Adam talking about building an army, he said he was going to use Hadley to lead the army.

  “Sherry, listen to me. Get back in the dumpster. You don’t get out until the fire stops, do you understand?”

  She didn’t understand. “What?”

  “After that, find the others. Save them. Bring them together. Don’t give up. Don’t let him win.”

  She still didn’t understand. His face was shadowed, but a part of her knew who she was looking at. Well, not entirely. She knew she wasn’t looking at some regular basic man. She was looking at something else. Someone like Adam, but nothing at all like Adam. He was the opposite of Adam. Whatever uncomfortable feelings Adam gave, whatever heebie-jeebies, this man was on the other side of the coin. He was her hero. And now, he was making her go back into the dumpster while he fought them off.

  The lurching sound of the rusty steel lid prompted Acacia to lower herself back into the room. The dark men at the end of the hallway watched as Acacia’s hero latched the lid shut, fully locking her into a trash can.

  She had so many questions about what was happening, if it was actually even happening at all. It felt more like a black out, vivid dream than it did any bit of reality. Her head was floating in the clouds after her crash landing. It made complete sense for her to be dreaming up someone to save her from Hadley and thinking about fires, with the Salt Lake fires and all.

  “I’ll be seeing you around, friend.”

  April 19, 2016

  Day Seven

  What began as a quiver, became a steady hand.

  - Greg

  ********

  The Chat

  Bryce Chapman

  Radical/Founder

  4/18/2016

  America doesn’t deserve this. I’ve long been outspoken in my anti-Watt opinion, but the POTUS deserved better than he received. First Lady Dawn Watt deserved better than standing in the room while her husband was killed. It’s hard to think about anything other than the failures of our county and not want to demonize our opposition. It’s the American way. Find an enemy, paint them with red horns and holding a pitchfork, and gang up on them. Our culture promotes shaming into submission. To my shame, my constant sneering at the leader of our country is proof that I’m as guilty as any.

  Today, our country has been shamed by the United Nations. Not due to an inability to fight back against a top-secret domestic threat, but because we were caught sleeping at the dinner table. Ugo Ban can say all the right things and work his magic to receive the support from other international leaders. He can dig through the hearts and minds of former allies. Only because he’s a worm in a suit. America has been embarrassed by an organization holding a grudge. Lives have been taken, and for what? Because Ugo Ban wanted to flex his muscles against President Watt.

  Adding insult to injury, our President was preparing another speech in response to the atrocities. He would have, no doubt, remarked how we would respond with a deliberate calm and not allow this to end quietly. He wouldn’t have declared war, as our incumbent President was so quick to do.

  Vice President Johnson made his presence felt by sounding like the backside of a horse. Media members acted like he was Shakespearean, as if his rushed rebuttal sounded like a man who was pleased by his boss’s death. Johnson offered us no time to grieve. The media agreed. As a member of the media, it’s my job to remind you of the importance of honest journalism. It’s important to remember that even if you are right-wing, left-wing, or a Wiccan; you’re still worthy to be fed the most ridiculous propaganda. Johnson must already dug in deep to Christopher Martin’s pockets.

  With that being said, how much do you want to bet there will be a separate news report about Uriah Watt or the admirable, albeit boring, Constitutional General? Or maybe someone will actually talk about the man who assassinated the President? Does anyone else think it’s weird there have been no disclosures on Lee Harvey Oswald 2.0? The news should be reporting that, but instead they’ll be focused on bogus banter of diversion. Maybe a Hollywood sex scandal? There’s no telling how it will come, but don’t get caught up by the distractions.

  Speaking of distractions, Lana Marx needs reverse botox. Sorry, LaLa.

  I know you don’t come to my website to hear a rehash of yesterday’s news. Aviant does enough recycling for the both of us. You come here for the fresh perspective. Which is why I want to say something totally out of the box: think for yourself.

  America deserves better. But maybe we, as Americans, do not. Are you willing to take ownership for the Utah bombings? Are you willing to take ownership for being a country worth attacking? It’s not hard for the terrorists to find reasons to want to kill us, we’re the smug rich kids who complain about cell phone reception while others starve to death. Face it, if you were in another country, you would hate us too. Especially if we’ve exploited you, as we have so many citizens from countries which harbor the dreaded terrorists.

  Why? How did it get to be like this?

  Because we are obsessed with our power.

  Because we are arrogant.

  Because we are convinced by our culture that it’s okay to be selfish.

  Understand, when I say, Think For Yourself, I’m not saying to be self-consumed. I’m asking, begging, for you to spread your wings and stop being held down by rich white men like Uriah Watt and Eric Johnson. We’re ordered by our government and their media sidekicks to shut up and obey. To follow orders and vote within a two party system. We’re told we’re too strong to be broken.

  Which is why Utah hurts.

  Hopefully, we realize the vail is being lifted and we’re seeing our own weakness for the first time. Hopefully, you hate it. I know I do. I’ve been preaching about being Radical for over a week now, but I didn’t realize the depths of our vulnerability and complacency. What happens next is going to dictate our country’s history.

  Do you support Eric Johnson and his short-sighted statement? Wait, before you answer that, ask yourself this question: do you really want to go into a fight standing beside a guy who dodged drafts and barely knows how to handle a marital dispute, let alone a war against the world’s police? If you do, please move to North Korea.

  Or, do you think for yourself? Maybe examine the situation from an outside hand and see the future. I don’t believe Eric Johnson is right for our country. Yesterday, I did. What changed? One speech after a tragic death. Watt goes down, and Johnson is all of a sudden emotionally unstable and foolish enough to issue a statement showing how he’s not afraid of Ugo Ban.

  Dear President Johnson, you should be very afraid of him.

  In my experience, the guys who tell everyone they’re fearless are the ones wetting their pants.

  As I remove the previous shells from my eyes, I�
��m left with the realization of our weakness, and the terror for our future.

  Not because of Ban, not because of Johnson, heck, not even because of the terrorists killing random innocent people along the west coast. Instead, I fear for our future because our past wasn’t strong enough. Men grow from our generation incapable of standing tall. I hated Uriah Watt, but at least the man was willing to stand up for our Nation and its values. Will Johnson??? Has he ever before???

  Yesterday, I asked, where have the heroes gone?

  Today, I believe we have our answer:

  There are no more heroes.

  If that doesn’t make you afraid, I don’t know what will.

  Be Radical.

  -bc

  *******

  Greg/Seth

  5:45 a.m. (Eastern time)

  South Central PA

  It wasn’t good enough. Greg gave Chapman topical flexibility in his article because he believed it would produce the best writing. Instead, it was mindless drivel comparing President Watt and President Johnson. This wasn’t why he was recruited. Chapman’s pride stood in the way of him fulfilling his purpose, and now Greg was left considering his options.

  Greg didn’t expect Chapman to write a paranoia-inducing article about Adam, but there wasn’t even a subtle reference to the New World dangers. Chapman’s first article should have been the core message for the country’s future. Instead, it was propaganda. Documentation used for a low-level political science class. Such writing would place Greg in an unfavorable position with Adam. He wouldn’t offer a second chance.

  Where Conrad was professional, Chapman left much to be desired. Greg understood why Adam chose the soldier, but the voice didn’t even lock his computer after writing his little blog post. What kind of serious, impactful, writer doesn’t have a password? Greg was tempted to take his computer, log onto his substandard website, and delete this morning’s Chat.