Ben Shapiro - True Allegiance

Aiden made no move for his motorcycle.

Soledad stared at him, uncomprehending. After all this way , she thought, he’s still a soldier, and I’m still the amateur. Then she shuddered. No , she thought again. I’m the one who makes the call .

“Colonel.”

Ezekiel stepped forward.

“Give me a hand with this man.” She leaned over the body, felt the heat emanating from the burning skin. She gripped him around the biceps, put her back into it—and moved him nowhere. Embarrassed, she gripped him tighter, pulled again. When she looked up, Ricky O’Sullivan stood next to her.

“I didn’t ask anybody to do this for me,” he said, eyes far off. “But no one is going to die because of me ever again.” He looked up at Aiden. “Get your ass in here and give us a hand, shithead.”

Aiden spat on the cold ground. Then he leaned in, wrapped his large hands around Fatso’s ankle. “I swear, Ramirez, this isn’t going to end well.”

She actually laughed. “Which part of running from the feds, then invading a heavily armed police station and grabbing the highest-profile cop in America sounded like it was going to end well?”

Suddenly, Ricky broke into a smile. A genuine smile. Soledad could see why Aiden liked him, felt so loyal to him. “She’s got you there, Aiden,” he said.

“Shut up,” Aiden grumbled, pulling Fatso toward the van.

They dropped Eddie off at the emergency room of a local clinic. Ezekiel stayed with him—as the only person without a national face in the group, he seemed like the safest bet. “Keep your electronics off,” he told them. “If you need to get in touch, find a pay phone along the highway.” He gave a handshake to Aiden, one to Ricky. “See you fellas on the flip side,” he said.

Then he wrapped Soledad in a bear hug. “I’ll meet you at the rendezvous. If I don’t show up in two days, I’m not coming. Just move on along.”

“Why don’t you come along now, Ezekiel?”

“Fatso here’ll need some looking after. He has a family. Just want to let them know where he is. Maybe they can come pick him up before anybody comes looking for him. Maybe.”

“Okay.”

She, Aiden, and Ricky turned to head for the exit. Then she turned back. “Ezekiel,” she said. “Thank you for everything.”

He smiled. “You bet, ma’am. It’s been an honor. See you in a couple days. You keep safe out there.” Then he reached into his backpack, came up with his maroon scarf. He handed it to her. “It’ll be cold. You’d best take this.”

She smiled, nodded, and wrapped it around her own neck. They headed for the door.

As soon as they left the room, he picked up a phone from the nurse’s station. He stared at it for a solid several seconds. Then he dialed a number.

“You let my girl go now,” he said. “That was the deal.”

“Okay, Colonel,” said the voice at the other end. “A deal’s a deal.”

The headlights from the hogs carved a three-pronged gash into the darkness. To one side of Soledad, Ricky rode; to the other, Aiden. The night was silent except for the rumbling of the engines. The murky smell of the trees washed over Soledad—for a second, she felt herself smiling. Smiling, truly, for the first time since the drought. She felt free. She was safe; she led a group of good men, men unwilling to bow to a system that hurt people callously, that condemned them to an unled life as the price of living in a civilized society. She knew they called her a barbarian in the press. With the humid air of the Tennessee forests surrounding her, she couldn’t care less. Somewhere, Emilio knew what she was doing, and why she was doing it. That’s all that mattered, that someone remembered.

She glanced over at Aiden, then Ricky. At least a few people remembered. It had cost lives, but at least some people would remember.

“Aiden, I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” she yelled at last.

“Sorry?” he grinned. “I’ve been waiting for this all my life. Something to fight for.”

She glanced over at Ricky. His mouth was set in a tight line, his gaze focused on the dark horizon. “Nothing left to fight for,” said Ricky. “You guys know what you’re up against?”

Soledad felt a churning in her stomach. “Yes, I think we do. After what happened at the ranch. After what happened to you.”

“They won’t let us go, you know,” Ricky said. “They say we killed Jim Crawford. They say we’re white supremacists.”

Soledad said, “Do I look like a white supremacist?”

“‘White supremacy comes in many forms.’ Direct quote, MSNBC today.”

“They’re nuts.”

“Nuts, but effective.”

Aiden shook his head. “Ricky, you worry too much. They want you gone. They want you disappeared. We took care of that for them.”

“Oh really? And what about the Terrorist Mama here?”

Aiden growled, “You mean the woman who saved your life? Without her, you’re waiting for that mob to burn you down.”

Ricky shook his head again. “You think they won’t? Man, you don’t have a clue.”

Soledad said, “So we keep moving. They’re short on manpower and supplies. They have better things to do.”

“No,” said Ricky. “They don’t. We matter . Don’t you see? The headlines matter. For you and me, we look at the country and we say, ‘Hey, look, big problems to solve.’ They look and they see people to exploit. You. Me. Aiden, once he pulled his head out of his ass.”

Aiden laughed. “Pretty cynical. So what do you suggest?”

“We scatter.”

They went silent, the sound of the motors whirring on open road permeating the night.

“No,” said Soledad finally. “We stick together. That’s how they’ve kept us under their thumb all this time. No more. If they track us down, they track us down. But we’ll stand together, or we’ll fall separately. If it’s good enough for Benjamin Franklin, it’s good enough for me.”

“You do realize,” Ricky said wryly, “Franklin took off for some French whoring for most of the Revolutionary War.”

It thundered overhead, and the clouds opened up.

“Shit,” she heard Aiden say. “Just what we need.”

A bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, temporarily blinding Soledad just enough that she swerved. Then she straightened out, following the other two. In the distance, thunder sounded. A bit of rain like this , she thought, and we’d never have had to bomb that damn building to make our point.

Another flash of lightning.

In the distance, she spotted a dark dot against the lightning. Not a cloud. Something solid.

Aiden spotted it, too. He hit the brakes, hard. So did Ricky. She skidded to a halt beside them.

“Turn off your lights! Get off the road!” Aiden grunted.

The three of them accelerated into a graded irrigation ditch by the side of the road. “That’s a military drone,” Aiden said. “Too small to be anything else.”

“They could be looking for someone else,” Ricky said.

“Like hell,” Aiden shot back.

The drone glided low through the sky; it couldn’t be more than ten thousand feet from the ground. It flew over them, and they crouched down as it did. “Did it see us?” Soledad asked.

“Not yet,” said Aiden. “But I’ve never seen anything like that over here. Last time I saw something like that was Afghanistan. We used to call them in sometimes. What the hell is a Predator doing all the way out in the middle of Tennessee?”

“I don’t know, bud,” said Ricky, “but I think we ought to get out of here.”

Aiden gunned his engine, drove directly for the tree line. Soledad and Ricky hit the gas and swerved to follow, carving a mud swath into the weeds behind them. She leaned forward over the handlebars, trying to will the machine forward. “Don’t look back!” Aiden yelled. He was forty yards ahead of them now, picking up speed, almost at the tree line.