4-1-1: Where Are Our Children (A Serial Novel) Episode 1 of 9, Page 4

sound so surprised, Serena.”

  “Forgive me, Rohm,” Serena said in all seriousness. “It’s not every day that someone who earns a living from killing people claims Christianity as their faith of choice. Somewhere in that Bible of yours there is a passage that says: thy shall not kill.”

  Rohm nodded. “That’s fair enough, Serena. I’m a shooter. It’s a skill I’ve developed over the years. Yet, since I’ve joined Pandora, I feel that ultimately I’m in the business of saving people.”

  “Aren’t you mincing words?”

  “Am I?” Rohm asked. Rohm stood in the space directly in front of Serena, her fragrance smelled expensive. Serena didn’t wear perfume…it felt sticky and disgusting when it dried on her skin. “Working for Pandora isn’t all about the money…well most of it isn’t, at least not for me. I believe in you, Serena. And because I believe in you, I have faith that our cause is a just one. “

  Rohm took another step, violating Serena’s personal space as few who still lived had, if she saw the older woman’s discomfort level grow it did not stop her. In fact, Rohm enclosed Serena’s long fingers in her child like hand. “We’re doing God’s work. This is a holy war for our time. We are in the business of reaching hearts and minds, of saving lives, saving a nation.” Rohm’s voice fell into a near whisper. “Pandora is not an organization of hate mongers as some in the media claim that we are. We’re patriots. A House in Chains is a real threat to destabilizing all that people of all races and colors have fought and died trying to build.”

  Before tonight, Serena would have dismissed this younger woman as some type of religious zealot with a fantasy of serving her god with missions of grander. But Serena knew that Rohm actually believed in what she had said to her. First, this cold hearted killer exhibits a degree of intellect and now she expresses that she has a foundation based in spiritually, will tonight’s wonders ever cease.

  The handle on the front door twisted open and Rohm had her pistol detached from her thigh, the safety off, and the barrel pointed at the figure that was walking it. Serena marveled at the woman’s efficiency, yet felt taken aback that this same woman, who was speaking about her love of her lord, was prepared to send another human being to His judgment in one fell swoop.

  “I’m interrupting.” Pilot said.

  “Of course not, sir,” Rohm answered first. She lowered the barrel of her pistol. “Just engaging a little girl talk to past the time until you arrived.”

  “I could come back—“

  “Nonsense, sir, as Danielle said, we were expecting you.” Serena said smoothly. We were done with our talk.”

  “Yes. We were.”

  Rohm started to dismiss herself when Pilot steeped into her path.

  “Champions back on the radar, Shooter.” Pilot said, and then he looked up as Serena. “He turned up right where you said he would.”

  Rohm’s big brown eyes brightened a bit with a task, a target, and her hand went to the holster on her thigh almost automatically. “If both of you will excuse me, I have work to do.”

  The lock on the door snapped shut behind Rohm. Serena folded her arms, all business again after the song and dance with Rohm, and she waited in patient silence for Pilot to drive where this conversation and their movement went next.

  Pilot stank of stale cigarette smoke. He took a sip of his coffee. “What’s our status, Serena?”

  She gave him a brief but detailed synopsis of what has transpired over the past 18 to 24 hours. There are anywhere from 35 to 50 unconfirmed deaths from the car bomb explosion at the Andrew Young Youth Center and the first night of the Siege at The Fox Theatre. The big four networks and CNN had rightly named Pandora as the primary suspects, though at least half of these news outlets weren’t aware of the siege at the Fox theatre as of yet, or they were slow to get around reporting it.

  A small minority of journalist and talking heads believed that this was terrorist attack from another extremist domestic group, with a handful of reporters saying this is but a first strike in a larger offensive by Al Qaeda or Isis on US soil.

  Pilot had to laugh at the absurdity of that.

  She told him as a side note, that Atlanta’s city officials were planning a memorial hours from now near the youth center, but as the siege at the Fox Theatre gains footing, they’ll be putting such activities on the backburner for now if not definitely.

  “That’s the right call on their part.” Pilot said, draining the last bit of coffee out of his cup. “People of Color should be weary of assembling masses of people in a single place.”

  Serena said, “Everything considered, this operation is going even better than we could have expected at this point.”

  “I’m counting on a snag along the way; in fact Benny Stanton should have had his folks out of that theatre by now.” He pointed the coffee cup at her. “Has then been any response from Xavier’s people? I would have expected to at least hear from members of The Circle by now.”

  Serena shook her head. She’d counted on at least a verbally prepared response herself by now.

  Pilot looked as if his brown suit was squeezing him in a tender area.

  “I don’t like all the risk your plan entails, moving forward.”

  “You signed off on it, sir.”

  “I know what I signed off on, Serena.” Pilot said with some gruff. He let the moment of anger pass and gathered himself. “And I stand by my signature and my word.

  Pilot had been an effective leader. He wasn’t the Caretaker to be sure, but men who were like the founder of Pandora were few and far between.

  Pilot:

  He was a…no, Serena thought to herself. He was an anonymous figure to her, nothing more. He was a shadow, a thought, a memory. If she were captured or tortured by any a number of adversaries, she couldn’t be threatened or compromised to give up Caretaker’s successor, because she couldn’t readily identify a man she’s never truly seen.

  “I still don’t have to like your plan, even if it strategically makes a hell of a lot of sense.”

  “I’ll respectfully remind you that Caretaker specifically left me in charge of the planning and fulfillment of 411, sir. Ultimately, this entire operation is my responsibility. He also left explicit orders for Pandora to accomplish all our objectives with as little bloodshed as we could reasonably manage.” Serena said. “My proposal raises the odds that we could reach our objectives while simultaneously honoring all of Caretaker’s wishes. With your blessing, I mean to see this through to whatever conclusion that my plan leads me to. I’m not afraid.”

  Pilot had no answer for that; instead he became restless as if the spot he was standing would hold him there no longer. “Your proposal is bordering somewhere between crazy and suicidal.” Caretaker never intended for Pandora to function with you in the field and having a maniac like Louis Keaton unleashed on the public at the same time. Tell me he would have wanted this?”

  “Maybe not,” She had to admit. She turned and made her away to the giant window and peered out into Midtown and the suburbs of Cobb and Gwinnett Counties far to the North of their location. This night would be the end of the world as so many had known it. The end, she mused, or perhaps the beginning of a new world order starting here, starting now.

  And if The House in Chains did not stand down, as she feared they would not, even she could not guarantee if anyone involved would be left standing once the next offensive began. And what if her enemies forced her to unleash the full-fledged wrath of The Whirlwind? What is the shape of things to come? She asked herself. And when the day arrived that her nemeses would reach their end and it was as terrible as they imagined it would be…after all, we are all given to the flames.

  Pilot surprised her by taking his place next to her, standing in front of the fire. He even ran his hands through the sacred sand, allowing the texture and roughness of the gravel massage his knuckles. Ordinarily, Serena would have taken offense at a non-believer violating tradition by touching the sacred sand without invitation. But this ni
ght has been full of wonders already. And she was otherwise fascinated watching his reactions.

  “You’re not a believer in the ways of the Dragon.” Serena said without anger.

  “No, I’m not,” He said, and removed his hand from the sand and took a respectful step back away from the fireplace. “You do believe, Serena. That makes all of this meaningful enough for me.”

  She grabbed half a handful of the sand and tossed it into the fire. The flames came to life, twice as large as they did when she thought she occupied the room alone.

  “What do you see?” Pilot asked her.

  “Death,” She said. “Death is all the flames ever show me, sir. It is in the air all around us.”

  “Oh, yea, I’m sure.” The non-believers always took the gift of prophecy far too lightly. She pitied him. She pitied all who did not grow to learn and love the ways of the Dragon. “Do you see anyone I know in there?”

  She studied the flames for a minute then. She never blinked and the intensity of the flames caused her eyes to tear. Pilot wiped at his brow and loosened his tie. He was unsure how to take her reaction. Serena failed to care.

  “Xavier Prince.” She finally said.

  “He has been resourceful. He has escaped us.”

  “He has escaped us so far.” Serena added, and then tossed another handful before the man could comment again. The flames jumped to even a higher level…and its revelation startled even her, left her