World in Tatters Ch. 27

Rachel and I make it out again without incident. As we pass through the gate of the posh neighborhood, I briefly lock eyes with the female guard who accosted me earlier today. I give her a little smirk as she rolls her eyes and turns away from me.

When we get back to the tavern, we find Jason sitting alone in the bar.

“I take it the others are upstairs?” I say as I sit down across from him.

“No. But they’ll be back soon. I think they went to check on the horses.”

“Oh. Alright. Well, how did your scouting go? Anything interesting?”

“Not really. We didn’t see anyone come or go from the Luther estate. What about you?”

“Yeah, we saw someone. Two someone’s actually, right before we had to leave: one older, one younger. No idea who they were, but they wore fine clothes. I’m sure Chris can confirm, but I’d guess the older one is Luther.”

“Just the two of them? Do you think anyone else will be there?”

“I don’t know. I’m fairly sure the house was empty all day, but there’s no telling who may have arrived after we left.”

I hear the tavern door creak open, the fading sunlight cast across the room. When the heavy door slams shut, I see our two friends headed over to join us.

“How are the horses?” Rachel calls.

“They’re good.” Alice responds. “Restless, but good. I don’t think they like the stables much. Especially Steven’s mare.”

“Yeah, Storm doesn’t like being cooped up.” I muse.

“Clearly. Anyway, did y’all have any luck today? We didn’t.”

“Kinda. We were just telling Jason, we only saw two men enter the house. They were the only ones we saw all day.”

Chris pipes up, “Did you get a good look? What did they look like?”

“One older man, mid to late forties, I’d say. One younger. About my age.”

“The older guy. Can you describe him?”

“Short, kinda stocky. Well dressed. Dark hair, but balding…”

“That’s my…That’s Jonathan Luther.”

“I figured as much. As for the younger man, he was a little shorter than I am, but not by much. Messy, curly blonde hair. Creepy dead eyes. Any idea who he might be?”

“No… I have no idea. It’s definitely not one of his immediate family.”

“So, we have an unknown in the house. Great…”

“It’s just one guy. What’s the problem?” Rachel interjects.

Alice speaks, “It’s not that simple. One person can do a lot of damage. Plus, we don’t know if it’s just him.”

“Still, as far as we know, there’s five of us, and only two of them. I think we’ll be fine.”

“There’s too much we don’t know. We don’t know who he is, we don’t know if anyone else is with him. We don’t know what awaits us in the house.”

“We have to try, don’t we?” Heat rising in Rachel’s voice “Luther either gave the order for the special forces guys to attack us, or he knows who did. We can’t just leave now.”

“Calm down, Rach.” I chide. “Keep your voice down, we’re still in public. No one is saying we should just leave.”

“Well, I am.” Jason cuts in. “I think it’s entirely too risky.”

“Okay. Only Jason is saying we should leave. Right?” I point to Alice and Chris in turn, each nodding confirmation. “We’re still going in. We know Luther is there. That’s enough. We just need to get to him. And no, Jason. Just because you disagree does not mean you don’t have to participate.”

“Fine. What’s your plan then?”

“Again with this? Why do I always have to have the plan?”

“Well,” Alice pipes up, “You talk like you’re our leader. It’s the leader’s job to come up with the plan.”

“Fine. Chris, do you still have the map you drew?”

“Yeah. Here.” He reaches into his pocket and lays the hand-drawn map on the table.

“So,” Gesturing to the page, “you guys got onto the property around here, right?”

“Yeah. There’s a break in the back fence.”

“Great. That’s how we’ll get back onto the property. Did you see another door around back?”

“Yeah. There’s one right here.” Chris points to one corner of the house. The corner opposite of the carriage house. “I think it goes into the kitchen.”

“Great. That’s our entry point. From there, we search the house for Luther, question him. Convince him to call off his dogs.”

“What if the family’s there? Or that guy from before?” Jason scolds.

“We’ll have to deal with him if he’s still there. Tie him up the same as Luther. But, as far as we know, he has nothing to do with this. As for the family…” I pause for a moment, contemplating the severity of what I’m about to say. “We use them as leverage.”

“You are joking, right?” Jason’s disapproval heightened. “They’re just kids. We’re not using children as leverage.”

Rachel, apprehensive, “I…I’m with Jason on this one. They’re innocent.”

“Guys, I’m not saying we hurt the kids. That’d be crazy.” Trying to calm their discomfort, “Look, I just mean, we put them into a separate room away from Luther. We just make sure he knows they’re there.”

“That’s still not cool, Steven.” Alice cautions.

Getting frustrated with my companions, “Okay, well, what do you suggest? Any of you have a better idea? If Luther’s wife and kids are there, what’s your plan? Jason? Rachel? Any ideas? Alice? Y’all wanted me to come up with the plan. That’s my plan.”

“You’re shit at plans.” Alice, under her breath.

“I’m well aware of that. Thanks. Now you see why I don’t like being the planner. But really, do any of you have a better idea?”

Silence echoes through our merry band.

Calmly, “I didn’t think so. We won’t hurt the kids. I swear to that.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Jason warns.

“Anyway, it’s getting dark. We should eat and get ready to go. We’ll only be able to take handguns and knives. Unless you want to rebuild your weapon when we get there.”

*****

We make it back to the Luther estate by the light of the half-moon. The five of us quietly slip through the break in the fence and position ourselves at the hedge. I’m in the lead, followed by Rachel, Chris and Jason. Alice brings up the rear, hanging back a moment to make sure we haven’t been followed.

I strain my eyes, trying to see into the main house. In the low light, all I can see is the flicker of a candle coming from the main room. It’s still too early for most people to be in bed, so I’m surprised that it’s just the one room. Besides that, a house like this, owned and run by government officials, should be running on gas power or lanterns not just a single candle.

I don’t know, maybe I’m overthinking it. Some people do prefer candlelight. But something about the stillness of the house and estate has me more on edge than I already was. Looking around, I spot the door.

Once Alice catches up to us, Rachel taps my shoulder. I nod to her, draw my pistol, and make a break for the back door. I glance back to see Rachel following close behind me. As planned, the others wait at the hedge until Rachel and I make it to the side of the house. Once we’re in place, Chris and Jason follow.

Once they’re with us, we look out for Alice’s approach. However, when I look where she should be coming from, she’s nowhere to be seen. I scan the grounds, anxiety growing in my stomach. I see the tension growing in my companions as well. Clearly, they’re worried too.

Suddenly a hand comes out of my blind spot, grabbing my shoulder. I whip around, raising my gun.

Hissing under my breath, “Shit! Alice! Don’t do that.”

“Sorry. Habit.” Taking lead, dual karambits in hand. “Let’s go.”

I try the handle of the door, finding it unlocked, my sense of unease growing. We enter through the dark kitchen, heading toward the light of the single candle.

When we reach the dining room, it’s empty save for the single candle burning in the window. I grab the candelabrum to light our way through the darkness. Weapons at the ready, we move as a unit down the main hall.

The décor in this place is an odd mixture of historical periods. The Victorian architecture matches the exterior of the house, but the artwork hanging from the walls spans centuries of artistic styles. Many of these pieces must have been raided from museums and galleries around the world during the Collapse.

It’s disgusting. Art is meant to be shared with the people, not hidden away in the lavish home of some petty bastard. It’s not surprising though, art is the voice of revolutionaries. Can’t have that out in the public eye.

When we get to the base of the stairs, I signal Jason, Chris, and Rachel to split off and check the front parlor. I use the candle to light another for them before Alice and I head up to the second floor.

Alice and I methodically creep our way around, pushing open every door along the hallway. I pause as we reach the entrance to the master bedroom. The two of us push open the door, peering around the frame.

Sitting on a chair in the center of the dark room is the balding man from this afternoon: Jonathan Luther.

I push my way into the room, pistol leveled at Luther’s head. “Get your hands up.”

Alice immediately starts scanning the room, making sure no one is lurking in the shadows.

Luther makes no effort to comply with my order. He just sits there, staring blankly at the wall. I get closer, “I said get your hands up!” This time, at least, he listens, slowly lifting his hands from his lap into the air. “Stand up!”

I catch a glimpse of his eyes as he rises from the chair. He looks dazed, almost unresponsive. Those eyes betray only one emotion. Terror. But he’s not afraid of us.

I set the candelabrum on a nearby table. Pulling a set of rope cuffs from my back pocket, I tie Luther’s hands behind his back. “Finish checking this floor. I’ll take him downstairs to the others. We’ll start questioning him.”

“Copy.”

“Move!” I prod Luther with the barrel of my weapon, urging him toward the door. There is just enough ambient light from the candle and moon to make it to the stairs. Luther trudges down the hallway, barely seeming to register what he’s doing.

I walk him down to the main parlor where I expected to see the rest of our party. Jason is the only one there. Looks like he was able to get some of the gas lamps going. He helps me secure Luther to the least comfortable chair I could find. “Where are the other two?”

“Checking the rest of the first floor.”

“Why aren’t you with them?”

“Because they can handle it.”

“Alright, whatever.”

“So, this is the guy?”

“Yeah. It’s the same guy from earlier.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Not sure. We kinda found him like this upstairs.”

“You sure you didn’t do anything to him?”

“Yeah. Positive.”

“You think he’ll be able to answer any questions like this?”

“I don’t know, but we’ve gotta try.” I return my attention to the older man tied helplessly. He sits limp with that blank expression of terror still on his face. I holster my gun. I doubt I’ll be needing it with him. I crouch down, getting close to the man’s face, slapping him a couple of times. Not hard. Just enough to get him to pay attention. The minor jolt seems to draw him out of his stupor. “Hey. Hey. Look at me. You’re Luther, right? Jonathan Luther?”

He nods his head, still not able to call forth speech.

“Alright then, Mr. Luther. Do you know who I am?”

The man’s eyes flick across my face, “N—No.” Beginning to freak out, “What do you want from me? Are you—are you with him?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know who he is. Focus. Maybe a name would help. Tucker. Steven Tucker.”

“Tucker…yes. I think so. I heard him mention that name. But not Steven.”

“Him, he. Who is he?” Before he can even answer, “Wait, are you talking about that blonde guy who was here earlier? Who was that?” Luther begins shaking in the chair. If he weren’t tied up, I think he would have curled up into the fetal position. Clearly, even the mention of the Scraggly Man is traumatizing for him. Not that I have any idea why, nor that I care. I don’t have time to deal with this. “You know what? I don’t care. I’m going to ask you again. Steven Tucker.”

“I don’t know any Steven Tucker!”

“Well, maybe this will jog your memory. Someone in your government ordered a spec ops team to hunt him down. I want to know why.”

Now that the conversation has moved away from the object of his obvious horror, Luther begins to calm down some. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re Jonathan Luther, close advisor to the Consul of Hattiesburg. Right?”

“Uh…Yes…”

“You oversee militia matters, including the deployments of covert tactical teams known colloquially as special ops. Right?”

“I… have a lot of different duties.”

“I’m not interested in any other duties. I’m interested in spec ops. Now, do these teams report directly to you, or what?”

“I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

“Just answer the question.”

“Yes. They answer to me.”

“Good. We’re getting somewhere.” While I’m glad Luther’s being cooperative, this almost seems too easy. Something about his condition isn’t sitting right with me. His fear definitely isn’t because of us. Besides, why was he just sitting in that room in the dark? It’s like whoever left him in that condition told him to wait there. And where is his family? His wife and twins. It’s getting pretty late, they should be here. I push the thoughts out of my mind. Whatever happened to him isn’t my problem. I just want to get what we came for and leave. Still, though, it nags at the back of my mind. “I have it on good authority that one of your covert teams has been tracking two fugitives. Steven and Rachel Tucker. Why?”

“I told you already. I don’t know who those people are.” Luther’s voice trembles, “We don’t have any sanctioned covert operations going.”

“No sanctioned operations… Does that mean there are unsanctioned operations? Rouge ops? I can’t imagine your boss would like that too much.”

“Please…please. I can’t talk about it.”

“Look, you’ve been helpful so far, so I won’t start threatening you just yet. Tell me what you know about these rouge operations.”

Terror rising in his voice, “I can’t…”

“Who is leading these operations?”

“I can’t. Please—”

“It’s that guy you kept talking about, isn’t it? Who is he?”

Luther squirms against his restraints, getting more agitated. “Man, I…I don’t know…”

“I think you do. Now, who is running unsanctioned covert operations?”

“I told you! I don’t know who he is!”

“He was here. At your home. Only a few hours ago. Who is he?”

“I don’t—I can’t—”

“Which is it? You don’t know, or you can’t tell me?”

“I…I…Please, he’ll kill me just like he…” Luther stops himself before finishing what he was about to say.

“Who? Who is goi—”

“Bastard!” The voice from behind me catches me off guard. I spin around finding Chris looming in the shadowy parlor entrance.