The Rebellious Slave Ch. 16

As Karrington motioned furiously for her to join them, Kara stepped out from behind the partition and was awestruck. There were eight downed guards on the floor, their blood pooling together and turning the concrete red. Then, standing before the massacred men, were three of Calihistra's foremost badasses. Until that moment, Kara hadn't really believed their escape possible. But now, she realized that if ever there was a chance, this was it. It didn't matter that her team was in the bowels of Bremmington, or in the middle of Isleydor. With a Weapons Specialist, a Double Agent, and a War General on Kara's side, anything was possible. Quickly, she followed her group into the next stairwell, her bare feet sloshing through warm blood. And when she turned around to look at the murdered guards one last time, Kara saw a trail of petite, red footprints which led from the massacre to her.

The second stairwell connected Cell Block C to Cell Block B, and the team of escapees quickly ascended it. As they did so, it became apparent to Kara that there were more guards now, sent to recapture them. The numbers were not overwhelming, but the rush of opponents did slow Kara and her comrades down.

It was unfortunate, but as they hurried toward the next floor, Alyssa had to use all three of her grenades to clear the path before them. Since their opponents had the high ground, a gunfight was both senseless and stupid. But when all four companions were crouching behind yet another partition, on the outskirts of Cell Block B, they realized just how problematic the loss of grenades really was. For this time, blocking the hallway before them, there were a solid twenty men, too many to fight. And without any explosives, access to the stairwell across the hall and to the first floor seemed impossible.

"Goddamn it!" Greenwood cursed, his voice low. And though he tried to subdue his anger, the double agent hit at the nearby wall in frustration. "We could handle ten men, no problem. But twenty? That's more than six men for each us. We'd be overwhelmed. There is no way we can rush these guys, at least not without a few explosives."

"I've got a portable machine gun," Alyssa began, removing the bulky, cylindrical weapon from her back pack. It was one of the few weapons she had left, and the group's ammo was running dangerously low. "This thing can easily mow down a team of twenty men, in no time flat."

"Perhaps," Greenwood admitted, eyeing the massive device with interest. "But it is far too bulky to ease around this partition. Unless you expose yourself to enemy gunfire, there's no way you can properly aim that thing."

Alyssa paused for a moment, looking at the clumsy device in her hands. But then, a cunning smile twisted her face and made it sinister. With earnest, Alyssa began to rip away at the cloth of her green prison uniform, wrapping several strips around a hunk of concrete freed by a recent explosion. She only stopped when the rounded parcel was roughly the same size, shape, and color of a grenade. "They don't know we're out of explosives," Alyssa grinned. "Want to bet a beer and a sandwich they fall for it?"

"I'm not so sure I want to bet on men's lives," Greenwood began, reluctantly. But his protests fell on deaf ears. For, not a moment later, Alyssa had tossed the imitation grenade around the partition and into the cell block, where their opponents stood poised and ready to attack.

"Grenade!" one of the men screamed. "Fire in the hold! Hit the deck!"

Quickly, Alyssa rested the cylindrical machine gun against her hip and swung her body past the partition, so that she now stood in the cell block. Before her were twenty men, cowering on the ground with their arms over their heads for protection. And while they sat low to the ground-- fearful of an explosion that would never come-- Alyssa flipped a switch on her machine gun and, in a blast of gun fire, mowed every single one down.

The weapon had a powerful kickback and pushed Alyssa rearward, but she dug her toes into the ground and resisted the temptation to fall. Blood shot upward from Alyssa's enemies, splattering her already soaked garments with yet more red dew. And a few flecks of disembodied flesh threw themselves upon the woman's cheeks, marking them with the spirit of battle. But finally, the gunfire ceased and Alyssa let go of her emptied weapon. When Kara looked down at Alyssa's waist, she could see a circle of burnt cloth and a huge blister, roughly the diameter of a baseball. The heat from the machine gun had burnt through Alyssa's clothes and then her skin, so that Kara finally understood why Alyssa was covered in scars.

"The first pub we hit up after this, you owe me a beer and a fucking sandwich," Alyssa laughed, her eyes genuine. "And it's not gonna be a cheap beer, either. Oh heavens, no. I'm gonna get me something imported, and a huge ass burger."

But the joyous moment was short lived. Soon, two large slabs of metal were coming down from the ceiling at either end of the cell block, in an attempt to ensnare the group of escapees within the narrow hallway. Normally, this tactic--referred to as an "Emergency Lock Down"--was used to trap rebellious prisoners during a riot, but it could also be used to recapture Kara and her friends.

Quickly, the four team mates dashed toward the opposite stairwell, in order to duck under the metallic slabs before they touched the ground. Alyssa, Greenwood, and Karrington made it through just fine. But Kara tripped and fell over a corpse before reaching the stairwell. As she scrambled to her feet, the metallic slabs sealed her inside the cell block and among the dead. Piteously, she banged on the metallic doorway and tried to cry out to her companions. But no sound emerged from the other side, and Kara couldn't decide if she'd been left behind or if the metal slab was merely sound proof.

"Help me!" Kara screamed, banging furiously on the door. "Help me! Please, Greenwood? Karrington? Can either one of you hear me?" In a state of near panic, Kara frantically searched the walls for a button or a code panel, anything that might be used to lift the horrible door. But in spite of her best efforts, Kara found nothing and clutched her pistol to her chest, for some semblance of comfort. Trying not to descend into a depressed state that would make her useless, Kara trotted toward the locked door on the other side of the cell block, in case that one had an emergency release. And to her immense relief, Kara watched as it slowly lifted back into the ceiling.

The lights suddenly flickered off, and above Kara there was an abrupt and insistent whirring noise, which slowly died out as Bremmington's electrical system went off line. But Kara didn't panic, or even flinch. For as darkness consumed her, Kara remembered Commander Ciara's Rescue Regiment. It was they who had cut the power, to give them an extra edge during their attempted escape. But even though the back-up generators wouldn't be kicking in for another ten minutes, Kara watched as the emergency lights in Cell Block B flickered to life. And in the warm, red glow from their tiny bulbs, Kara could see Lord Arlington.

His lordship's presence was so sudden and unexpected, that Kara screamed and jumped away from him. In the process, she dropped her only pistol, causing an ominous echo to reverberate through the cell block. But as Lord Arlington stepped ever closer to Kara, his features beautifully serene, Kara couldn't bring herself to go back for the gun. Instead, she stepped away until her back was pressed firmly against the far door, her breathing ragged. Kara, quite honestly, couldn't believe that the man before her was Lord Arlington. The notion was ridiculous, absurd even. How could Lord Arlington be here, when Kara was in the process of escape? How could someone so evil exist in a time of such hope? And yet, there he was, holding a gun and covered with blood stains.

"Well, well, well....look what I've caught," Arlington grinned, standing before Kara and trying to brush the debris from his cloak. The gun in his hand was still smoking, and there was a tiny fleck of blood above the man's right eye. But most disturbing of all were the emergency lights, which cast Arlington's features in a crimson glow and deepened the shadows of his face. Given the corpses littering the floor, the smell of blood lingering in the air, and the persistent glow of red light, it suddenly occurred to Kara that she might be in hell. For certainly, Arlington resembled a demon and Kara was just a lost little angel, who desperately wanted to go home. God, she just wanted to go home.

"I would have come sooner, and I apologize for the delay," Arlington continued, his voice even. "But I was upstairs dealing with a different group of escapees. Business before pleasure, as always." And Arlington shrugged, as if the encounter were both casual and friendly. "But now that those Nardian scum have been dealt with, I finally have time to deal with you. Of course, I had hoped to catch all four of you in here. However, I am sure that my men will take care of those other rats."

But Kara couldn't breathe, let alone think, and Arlington's words meant nothing to her. All that mattered was that Arlington was there, with Kara. And, worse still, Kara was all alone. It suddenly dawned on Kara that she had, in fact, been abandoned by her comrades. She couldn't blame them, of course. Time was of the essence, and Kara's allies probably didn't have the means to retrieve her from the cell block. It was only right that Karrington, Greenwood, and Alyssa should leave her behind. Still, Kara had wanted to see another sunrise with all her heart, and now there would only be darkness. Only darkness, until the day she died.

"Now, why don't we get you home," Arlington continued, putting away his gun and stepping ever closer toward Kara. He took his time too, enjoying the sound his footsteps made on the concrete, loud and frightening. "After all, you and I have a lot of training to catch up on, don't we, pet?" God, the man's smile was positively horrifying. Why did it have to be so goddamned horrifying?

And suddenly, Kara could feel herself sinking deeper and deeper into cold, dark water. It was thick and blinding, filling up her eyes and ears with a terrible silence, unrelenting and deathly. As the ocean of despair crashed all around Kara, she suddenly wondered why she had bothered to hope in the first place. Arlington always won. Always. Certainly, Kara had freed Tamius Sue. But with respect to her own sanity and freedom, Kara had never beaten Arlington before, and it had been foolish to wish for anything different. Arlington had made Kara come against her will, and then he had made her beg for mercy. He had thwarted her initial plan of escape and then visited her in Bremmington, even though it was against protocol.

So why was Kara so surprised, upon realizing that Arlington had recaptured her? Every hope Kara had, Arlington dashed against the rocks. And hope just didn't seem worth the effort anymore. It was tiring, oh so tiring. And all Kara wanted to do was close her eyes, and fall blissfully into submission. Kara just wanted to give up, so that the limbo she existed in--somewhere between hope and despair--would finally fade, and she could find peace once more.

Kara collapsed forward and onto her knees, the concrete below her cold and red. She didn't totally understand why she was on her knees, only that Arlington seemed less frightening from that angle. Indeed, it seemed natural for Kara to be on her knees in front of him. Anything else was improper, and dangerous. And as Arlington's blood soaked boots came into view, Kara somehow knew that this was the end. If Arlington managed this--his final victory over Kara--then the tiny light inside of her would die out, and Kara would be unable to reignite it on her own.

There was a terrible crack in the air then, much like a whip, and Kara cringed. Arlington was going to beat her, wasn't he? He wanted her to beg for his mercy, didn't he? Suddenly, Kara could feel a tight, deathly grip on the collar of her prison uniform, and she cried out in an ugly sob. With great force, the cloth was yanked upward, and Kara knew that Arlington was going to look into her eyes and savor the fear behind them. But the eyes looking down on Kara weren't Arlington's cold, blue ones. Instead, she saw grey eyes, which were kind and gentle. And Kara realized, quite suddenly, that it was not Arlington who held her in his arms. It was Ben Karrington, and the light behind his eyes reignited the spark within her soul, only recently stamped out.

"You're okay," Karrington told her, and the certainty in his voice held no room for argument. He wasn't asking Kara a question, but instead reciting a fact. Furthermore, Kara couldn't help but believe him. The conviction in Karrington's voice was enough evidence in itself. It pulled Kara back from the brink of darkness and into his arms, strong and unrelenting. Kara felt safe, then. Although no words passed between the two comrades, Kara knew that Ben would not abandon her. "I've got you," Karrington continued, gripping Kara by the waist and lifting her to her feet. "I won't let go, either. Don't look at him. Just look at me."

Kara couldn't help it, though. Against Karrington's advice, she looked up at Lord Arlington and became momentarily entrapped by his gaze. But in an instant, Kara had wrenched her eyes away from Lord Arlington's cold, blue ones and was instead taking in the pained expression on his face. The monstrous villain had collapsed onto the ground and was clutching his right knee, the pant leg of which was colored with dark, red blood. It appeared as if the knee cap had been shattered, and Arlington was cursing silently under his breath. It was then that Kara saw a smoking gun in Karrington's hand, and put two and two together. The crack that Kara had mistook for a whip was actually Karrington's pistol, which had downed Arlington in the middle of the cell block.

"Hands up, Arlington," Karrington demanded. And although the general possessed an even tone and smoothened features, his eyes betrayed an explosive anger that was intensified by the contrast. "Give me an excuse, and I will kill you. And I'm pretty lenient in my use of the term 'excuse.' Breathe funny, and I'll lodge a bullet in your brain."

"Come now, Karrington," Arlington purred, his voice maddeningly arrogant. He then raised his hands above his head, in a gesture of surrender. In spite of the injuries Arlington had suffered, Kara noticed that he looked surprisingly calm and serene. Only a few unusual wrinkles in lordship's brow testified to his pain. And even on his knees, Arlington maintained a commanding aura and an intimidating grin. "You're one of the good guys," Arlington continued, unwavering. "You wouldn't kill a man on his knees, with his hands in plain sight."

"When you see a venomous snake, you don't wait until it's coiled to strike before killing it," Karrington explained, his voice cold. With a determined air, he raised his pistol a few inches upward, until the barrel was aimed between Arlington's eyes. "When you see a dangerous animal, you put it down," Karrington continued. "You kill it off before it has the chance to attack."

"Such a smart young man," Arlington praised, as condescending as ever. Then the grin on his face widened further, though Kara hadn't thought it possible. Why was Arlington being so cocky? How could he emit such confidence, even with a gun pointed at his head? "You're too smart to shoot me," his lordship continued, calm and collected. "After all, how much ammo do you have left between the four of you? I've seen the surveillance, and I'd guess it isn't much. Maybe five full loads, in total? You aren't out of Bremmington yet, and as a military man, you understand that a single bullet can make a remarkable difference. Do you really want to waste one on a latent threat?"

It wasn't the best defense in the world, but Arlington wasn't finished yet. And, like any good politician, he knew his audience well and saved his best argument for last. "But let's just suppose, for a moment, that you do want to waste a perfectly good bullet on me," Arlington continued, acknowledging the murderous look in Karrington's eyes. "Even then, it would be unwise to kill me. What do you think your actual chances of escape are? If you kill me--One of Isleydor's Lords--and are caught, all four of you will be executed, including the girl. Trust me, there will be no exceptions."

With a tip of his head, Arlington nodded in Kara's direction. And at the gesture, Kara stepped back a few inches, her heart thudding sickeningly in her chest. To Kara, it felt as though Arlington had marked her for death with that sinister nod and she felt quite nauseous. Furthermore, the worry in her eyes must have been obvious, for Karrington suddenly gave her a concerned look and distress wrinkled the skin of his brow. The expression did not go unnoticed by Kara, nor by Lord Arlington.

In fact, Lord Arlington was watching Karrington's face intently, as a hawk might watch a mouse. Kara recognized that look, both inquisitive and intrigued. It was the same look Arlington always used on her, when he wanted to see inside her soul or read her thoughts. And when anxiety distorted Karrington's features, Kara could see a wicked glint in his lordship's eyes. It was a knowing glint, filled with secret realization. "How adorable," Arlington mused, a twisted smile darkening his features.

There was something strange about Arlington's look then, both disturbing and poignant. It took Kara a moment to recognize the emotion, and even then she had doubts. Jealousy? Was that jealousy behind Arlington's eyes? No, it couldn't be. Arlington was not a jealous man. In fact, Arlington had no need for an emotion such as jealously. He could have whatever he wanted. And if an object of desire was not freely offered up to his lordship, he could always have it taken by force.

"He's right, Karrington," Greenwood said, his voice betraying reluctance. Kara could see him now, and his face was anxious. But to her surprise, Alyssa was nowhere in sight. "Don't do something stupid, just because you don't want him to be right," Greenwood continued, earnest. "We have to leave, and we have to leave now."

Suddenly, in a swift gesture, Karrington moved as if to shoot Arlington. But then he paused, his finger poised over the trigger. A regretful sigh escaped the general's lips, and Kara knew that a decision had been made. Although Karrington kept his pistol trained on Arlington--so as to keep the villain helpless and compliant--he also relaxed his trigger finger, ever so slightly. And Kara couldn't believe it. Arlington was on his knees, seriously injured and in the perfect position for a swift execution. And they were going to let him go. Arlington knew it too, for there was a satisfied smirk on his lips.

"There now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Lord Arlington asked, the smugness in his voice driving Kara near madness. For a moment, she seriously considered snatching the pistol away from Karrington and killing the monster herself, but she would surely miss and an entire load of ammo would be wasted. "See what we can accomplish when we sit down and talk things out, like civilized men?" Arlington continued, very pleased with the situation.

"You are neither a man nor civilized," Karrington spat, defeat and rage contorting his face. "You are pig, Arlington. That is all you'll ever be." And with that, Karrington turned away from his lordship and, instead, directed his gaze toward the man's former slave. "Come on," the general grunted, and he gripped Kara by the upper arm so as to pull her forward. Soon, they were racing toward the stairwell together, past the now opened doorway, but Kara fell momentarily behind when she heard a sinister voice behind her.