Chapter 141

“What the hell happened?” Adam shouted, leaving the men behind as he ran across the open ground to where Mist was sitting next to one of the dormitories. She was cradling Walt’s head in her arms, and the tears streaming down her face said more than any words could tell him.
“We got the women back to camp, and he insisted he was fine.” Mist said, her breathing labored. “But then, we got back this far, and he collapsed. I tried to use the healing wand but….”
Adam looked carefully at Walt’s pant leg. It was completely soaked in blood, dripping down inside of his boot. “Is he still breathing?” Adam asked.
Mist nodded her head. “Barely. I don’t know what to do. I patched up the wound but--”
“He’s lost too much blood, Mist,” Adam said, not wanting to think about the consequences of what he was saying. “The first treatment with the wand might’ve dulled the pain, but it didn’t mend the wound enough to keep it from bleeding. Damnit.” Adam looked up to see how far they were from camp. It was at least half a mile. It was a wonder that Walt had even made it that far.
“What do we do?”
Never before had Adam ever seen Mist look so lost. She was usually the one telling everyone else what they needed to do, keeping a calm head.
They were wasting time. Adam stood and picked Walt up, tossing him over his shoulder. If he was going to save his friend’s life, he was going to have to get him to a medic as soon as possible. “Can you get those Dicks to camp?” Adam asked her.
It was clear Mist didn’t want to leave Walt, but she nodded, and as Adam ran off in the direction of their camp in the woods, Mist went to gather up the frightened men who were hanging back.
Adam didn't have time to think about whether or not more snipers might try to take him out. All he could think about was getting Walt back so that he could get help--and then running back to Rain. He couldn’t let himself think about what might be happening inside of IW right now.
His feet flew over the ground, kicking up rocks and bits of trees blown apart from the earlier battle. Walt’s weight on his shoulder was beginning to cause an ache, and his arm was falling asleep, but he held on and kept running, praying someone would see them coming. By the sound of it, the Quebecian forces had shifted their attack jump-off position to a point further southwest in the woods, which meant all of the troops pouring into the medical building were coming from a different direction, so he wouldn’t run into any of them.
The edge of the woods was just in front of him. Adam would have to slow down a bit since he couldn’t see his feet and could trip. Falling could injure both of them and delay their progress. As it was, it seemed like Walt’s breathing was even more shallow than it had been when he’d picked him up.
“Hey!” Adam shouted. “I need a medic!” He hoped that someone would hear and bring a stretcher. “Help!”
He continued to shout as he ran into the woods until a few armed guards in uniforms the same color as his appeared in the woods in front of him. One of them used the comm on his shoulder to transmit a message that Adam assumed had to be for help.
“What happened?” one of the guards asked. “He was just here.”
“Femoral artery,” Adam managed, out of breath. A few seconds later, he saw the stretcher emerge from between the trees in front of him. He rushed to meet the incoming medical staff.
“Shit,” the medic said. “That’s not good.”
Adam bit back his thoughts about how he was stating the obvious as he carefully lowered Walt onto the stretcher. His side was aching from the effort he’d made to get him there quickly, but he had to ignore it. “Mist is coming with some Dicks.”
“Some what?” The young man’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
Shaking his head, Adam said, “Some of the men from IW. We found them and set them free. They all need medical attention, too. I’ve got to go back.”
“You’re advised not to do that, Blue,” One of the commanders came from between the trees, followed by several armed soldiers who were rushing off to help Mist as the medics took Walt away.
Adam’s eyes lingered on Walt’s pale face. He had to wonder if this wouldn’t be the last time he ever saw his friend alive. Walt Nisdey was one of the finest men he’d ever met, and if he died… Adam would make sure every Mother in Michaelanburg suffered because of it.
“Sir, I have to go back,” Adam said, turning and saluting the commander as he spoke. He recognized the man as Lt. Jarvis, one of the commanders who’d overseen his training. “I have to find… I have to go help.”
The commander said, “You’re in bad shape, son. Let fresh feet get in there. We are winning. It’s slow going, but the Mothers are outnumbered. Soon enough, we’ll force the Mothers out, and then, we’ll have our proof, the records we need to prove to the world that the Mothers are using fossil fuels, as well as the other atrocities they’ve been committing for hundreds of years.”
Adam didn’t think that was what would happen at all. If he knew the Mothers like he thought he did, they would burn the building to the ground before they’d let that happen, even if it meant every woman in the building died. After all, President Violet was somewhere safe in another town, likely one of their forces hadn’t even attacked yet. Why would she care if some of her low-level military leaders died alongside the new recruits she’d posted to try and fend off this attack?
“Lt. Jarvis, sir, we found female prisoners from the rebellion,” Adam explained.
“Yes, I know, and Mist already explained the plan to hack into the computer system. That may well work out, but in the meantime--”
The sound of the men coming through the woods with the soldiers drew both of their heads around. The Dicks looked shocked to see men in uniforms, carrying guns. Some of them were crying, they were so relieved to be alive and free. Mist sprinted by both of them, on her way to the medical clinic, Adam had to assume. He prayed Walt would still be alive by the time she got there.
“Sir, please, we’re wasting time. I need to go.”
“Is this because Rain Gretchintown is still in there, son?” Lt. Jarvis sounded more like a concerned uncle than a military commander at the moment.
Adam nodded. “I have to make sure she’s okay, sir. She saved me when she helped me get out of there. It’s my turn to save her.”
Lt. Jarvis took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Very well. Be careful, Blue. Our nation needs more men like you. So don’t go getting yourself killed.”
“I don’t intend to,” Adam promised him. He saluted again and then took off, running back over the land he’d just covered, heading for IW yet again, trying not to notice the crimson trail of blood that led him back to the point where he’d first picked up Walt.
Though he’d never counted himself as a very intuitive person, Adam had an awful feeling that Walt was already gone.
He couldn’t let Rain suffer the same fate.

* * *

Mother White knew the passages in this building frontward and backward. It was almost as if she’d been here her whole life, like she’d never left to go serve her country in all of those other towns. As she headed down the passages near the men’s cafeteria, stepping over bodies and around pools of blood, she instinctively knew that what she was looking for wasn’t far away.
The girl was weak. She’d have to be after all of that time in a prison cell with very little food and water. It was a wonder any of them had survived honestly. They’d lost their usefulness months ago, when the Rebellion was over, and the only people who could give them the answers and the results they needed were the ones who’d actually escaped, not the idiots who’d failed and been left behind.
And this girl was the ringleader of all of it. How had she managed to create a plan that would allow so many people to escape but leave her so vulnerable to being captured herself?
In her military training, Mother White had studied many leaders who had had to put themselves in similar situations in order to further their cause. The difference between those successful leaders and this fool, Lightning, was that those leaders were smart enough to have a means of escape that no one would stop them from using.
Like a cyanide pill.
Hadn’t Lightning ever heard of Adolf Hitler?
It didn’t matter. The woman had messed up, yet again, and now, Mother White would be sure to make sure that she no longer posed a threat to the Motherhood or anyone.
Except for herself.
The sound of footsteps in the distance let her know she was almost to where she needed to be. The girl couldn’t make it out the door before she reached her, not at the rate she’d have to be moving without Rain or 24C to drag her along. Besides, just because 24C had managed to get his Dick friends out that door, that didn’t mean that it was still a viable exit. Lightning may be too weak to even pull the door open or crawl through a hole if the men had blasted through it.
The metallic smell of blood hit her as she went around another corner and found more bodies lying on the ground. All of them wore brown uniforms, which pissed her off, but these women--or girls as the case may be--were all trainees, new to the military. They hadn’t even completed their first year of training when the Rebellion had brought them to this point of no return where it was kill or be killed.
One of them was still gurgling her own blood. Her blue eyes were staring absently at the ceiling, and her open mouth was overflowing with the sticky crimson fluid. Mother White considered stooping and putting her out of her misery, but she didn’t have time for that.
Rounding another corner, she saw the door in question and knew that she’d made it here before Lightning reached her final destination. The shuffling sound she’d heard before, the sound of someone moving quickly down the parallel hallway to the one she’d just been in, tripping and stumbling as she ran into the walls, trying to keep herself upright, gave the girl away.
This would almost be too easy.
The next part of her plan would be far more complex, though. First, she had to wait for her bait to return in hopes that Rain didn’t make it out of the building or to any other sensitive areas of the building before she could carry out the rest of her plan. In case her first plan didn’t pan out, she needed to come up with a second one.
Maybe she should keep Lightning after all.
The girl came around the corner right in front of her, and it was far too easy. No, she couldn’t spare her. Not again. If she was unable to catch the other little mouse she needed, she’d have to come up with another plan altogether.
Lightning had had a few more months on this planet than she should have. It was time for the storm to carry her away again. Not to the heavens, though. No, this lightning bolt deserved to go to hell.
Her eyes caught Mother White a few seconds after she popped her head out of the hallway. She’d looked the other way first for some stupid reason as if someone would be coming from the exit.
As soon as she saw the Military Mother, a look of horror transformed her face, and the stench of urine filled the air. “Lightning,” Mother White said, smiling. “I believe you have something I need.”
She was going to try and run. How precious. As if she might actually be able to get outside or back down the hallway before White could catch her. Even if Lightning had been at her full strength and speed, she wouldn’t have gotten away. Mother White was no spring chicken, but she was still remarkably fast and agile.
Lightning carried an external hard drive in her hand, which surprised Mother White a bit. Why wouldn’t Rain have kept any records they’d managed to steal? It would only make sense that the faster, stronger woman would be the one to carry the important information out of the building.
Yet, here she was, holding it limply in her grasp.
Mother White stuck her hand out as she approached. Lightning turned, her longing to escape comical. White grabbed her by the back of her hair before she made it more than three steps and yanked her back into the hallway. “Give it to me,” she demanded.
“No!” Lightning’s fight was commendable.
“I’ll just kill you and take it.” Mother White kept her voice calm and even. No reason to get overly excited.
“Go to hell!”
Mother White chuckled. “I should’ve killed you a long time ago.” She pulled a knife from her belt and flipped out the blade, making sure that Lightning could see just how long and sharp it was. “Drop it.”
Lightning refused, keeping the device in her grip. With a sigh, Mother White did what she was going to do regardless.
The sound of ripping muscle and bone was a pleasant one as she sliced through the girl’s neck. Just a flick of the wrist, a tug of the razor-sharp blade along the right area of flesh, and not only did that melodic sound hit her ears, the spray of blood that hit the wall was a work of art. Mother White watched the red liquid fly in the air and dot the white paint of the wall. Seeing how lovely her creation was, she moved Lightning around just a bit so that she could make an even more lovely design.
Once Lightning stopped gagging, Mother White grew tired of her and tossed her on the floor. The hard drive slipped from her lifeless fingers. Mother White crushed the heel of her boot into the device, making sure it was useless before she surveyed the situation. Where the hell was that little mouse?
Using the comm, she called back to the morons she’d left behind in the office. “Flamingo, where are the Quebecians we’ve been watching?”
“Only two of the four are on camera right now, Mother White,” the high-pitched voice of the annoying woman informed her. “The red-haired girl is moving through IW, looking for an exit. We have three details within a few hundred paces of her in other hallways. She has been evading them so far, but we can probably cut her off.”
“Just make sure they keep her in the building. Where’s the other one?” she asked, growing impatient at the long-winded answer.
“Approaching the exterior door to your right, Mother White. Estimated arrival time in three minutes, Mother.”
“Thank you, Flamingo.” She didn’t bother to ask how the rest of the attackers were progressing. She knew it was only a matter of time before all of them were near enough the records room that it would be time to pull the plug, as it were, and turn the entire core of the building into a rocking, quaking, molten island of death.
That would be lovely to watch.
But she had a few more tasks to complete before she could give the signal for that one.
Noise at the door down the hallway let her know that Flamingo’s timing was off, which didn’t surprise her.
Mother White moved into the hallway, standing in front of her lovely piece of artwork, waiting for the little mouse to step into her trap.