Tom Isbell - The Release

“Tell me about the Eagle’s Nest,” she says.

“What about it?”

“What kind of place is it?”

“A fortress you’ll never get into,” he says smugly.

Questions swim through Hope’s mind. Why are all those guns in an abandoned missile silo? Why are they being transferred to the chancellor’s headquarters? And why now?

The miles slip by—endless fields of white—as they veer farther and farther north, up toward the rolling foothills of Skeleton Ridge.

It’s late afternoon when the vehicle slows to a stop, and Hope realizes she’s been daydreaming. Something to do with Book. A part of her tries to shake the memory away.

Another part doesn’t.

“There,” the driver says, and Hope looks at where he’s pointing.

Perched atop a nearby mountain peak, swathed in swirls of clouds, is a fortress. Its walls are made of stone, and crenellated parapets give it the appearance of a medieval castle. Hope can’t believe it. What’s something like that doing in the Republic of the True America?

“What is this place?” she asks.

“I told you, the—”

“Eagle’s Nest, I know. But what is it ?”

“A ski resort back in the day. Now it’s the chancellor’s HQ. That’s all I know.”

Hope studies it a moment. The turrets seem to snag the clouds, tugging at wisps of white. The Brown Shirt wasn’t kidding; the place is impenetrable.

“How do we drive up there?”

“We don’t.”

Hope turns to him and presses the crossbow into his chest.

“I’m not kidding,” he sputters. “There’re no roads up there in winter.”

“So how—” Hope doesn’t finish the sentence. At just that moment her eyes land on a tiny red square dangling in the sky. It’s an aerial tram slinking up the mountainside on a thick black cable. The soldier was right; there is no way in the world they’ll get up there—not if they have to ride in that.

“Told ya,” he says.

Hope sends an elbow into his side, and the Brown Shirt doubles over.

“Oops,” she says.

As her eyes follow the tram to the top, she tries to figure out how the three of them will make it up there. Because if that’s where Chancellor Maddox is, that’s where Hope needs to go.

“Well, I guess that’s that,” Sunshine offers from the backseat.

“Not necessarily,” Hope says. Even as she says it, she knows what she’s thinking is wildly dangerous and ridiculous even to consider. Still, what does she have to lose?

Three Brown Shirts shuffle through the snowy streets of town. Vehicles pass, weary salutes are exchanged. No one gives them a second glance.

A good thing, too, because wearing the uniforms are Hope, Cat, and Sunshine. The original soldiers are currently hog-tied in the back of the Humvee, down to their boxers, T-shirts, and socks. As a courtesy, Hope threw a blanket over them so they wouldn’t freeze to death.

Sunshine tugs at his uniform. “This thing is scratchy. And two sizes too big. And frankly, I don’t think the color becomes me.”

“I don’t think talking becomes you,” Cat growls. The younger LT shuts up.

Hope barely hears them; she’s thinking about Chancellor Maddox. Hope’s parents always taught their daughters to avoid the whole “eye for an eye” thing. They never said anything about “cheek for a cheek.”

A military transport passes, and Hope and Sunshine bow their heads. The fact that she’s a girl and has tea-colored skin makes her more than slightly conspicuous. Cat, the former Young Officer, fits right in.

“Uh-oh,” Sunshine says.

“What?”

“See for yourself.”

They’re within sight of a small brown building not much bigger than a shed—the tram station—and Hope’s heart sinks. Two armed Brown Shirts stand guard, checking the papers of everyone who intends to board.

“What do you think?” Cat asks, once the trio duck into an alley.

“I’m working on it,” Hope says.

Hope knows the smart thing would be to abandon their plan, to join back up with the others and head for Dodge’s and not worry about Chancellor Maddox and Dr. Gallingham and a silo full of semiautomatic weapons. The important thing is to get out of the territory.

But Hope Samadi is the first to admit she’s never been about the smart thing. Especially when it comes to avenging her family’s deaths.

They crouch in shadows, eyes trained on the two soldiers guarding the tram station.

“You sure about this?” Cat asks.

Hope gives a fierce nod.

“Okay then,” he says. “Let’s do it.”

He gets up and exits the alley, walking purposefully toward the station. When he’s halfway there, Sunshine exits the alley out the other way. Hope takes a deep breath, then rises and shuffles down the street, head lowered. Her short black hair is tucked under her soldier’s cap.

“How’s it going?” Cat asks one of the soldiers at the tram station, an older man with a pockmarked face.

“Papers,” the soldier commands humorlessly. He steps from the shed and extends a hand.

“Right.” Cat pats his pockets. “Now where did I—”

“No papers, no tram. You know the rules.”

“I know. Oh, here …” He removes a folded bundle and passes it to Pockmark.

The Brown Shirt examines the papers carefully, especially the picture. His eyes dart back and forth between the photograph and Cat’s actual face.

“I know, I know,” Cat says, “it doesn’t look like me. That’s what a lot of people say.”

Pockmark grunts. His gaze lands on Cat’s artificial hand. “What happened there?”

“Hunting accident. No biggie.”

Pockmark shuffles through the papers. “How come it’s not listed?”

“It’s not?” Cat asks innocently. Out of the corner of his eye he notices the other soldier inching closer, his index finger gripping the trigger of his M4.

“You sure this is you?” the first soldier asks.

“Of course it’s me. Who else would it be?”

Just as the second Brown Shirt exits the shed and begins to bring the barrel of his gun toward Cat’s chest, a thin wire wraps around his neck and is snapped back. The soldier’s mouth opens and the assault rifle clatters to the ground. Hope pulls at the wire until the soldier’s eyes bulge.

Pockmark drops the papers and reaches for his pistol. Sunshine appears with a wire of his own, and Pockmark has no choice but to drop his weapon.

Cat begins binding the soldiers’ hands.

“Fine, you tied us up, you win,” Pockmark says with a smirk. “But there are a lot more soldiers up top than just the two of us.”

Hope’s doubts start to overwhelm her. What was she thinking, trying to get past the Brown Shirts and enter a secure fortress? Is she really willing to say good-bye to everything—her friends, Book, life itself —just for revenge?

“So I guess that’s that,” Sunshine says.

Hope gives her head a shake. “Nothing changes. I’m still going up there.”

She doesn’t know how, she doesn’t know what she’ll find. She’s not even sure she’ll succeed. But unfinished business is unfinished business, and there’s no turning back from that.