Joan Undone

Chapter 38

My face contorts at the thought of Justus in Crew's hands. Is he dead already? Tortured? What horrific punishment will he dream up now?

"I contacted Justus's family to see if they wanted protection, but his mom told me we should stay away from them. She said that Aft is with the police. They are doing all they can," Nic says.

"They won't find him that way," Marie says, her tone flat. Something like dread flickers over her features.

"Tell me," I say, my body buzzing with fear.

Marie taps on her tablet, and Crew's image fills the screen. I stumble backward, away from those fierce, bloodshot eyes. Harriet is a steadying presence at my back.

"You forced my hand, Joan," he says, his voice so low that it's almost a growl. "I gave all of you the chance to join me, or to leave us in peace. You chose war. I hate you for making any choice other than violence impossible. It nearly killed me to gut Elizabeth and Sacajawea today."

My body starts to shake at his words, at the warped way that he sees the world.

Crew's eyes cut to the side, and then glare straight into the camera. "But an example had to be made, for your team and my own. Betrayal will be met with justice. You see, I am a merciful man, for I left the other conspirators alive. I have no proof of their crimes, and I am not like the Evolved, who murder on a whim."

Nic releases a snarl next to me, like he wanted to leap through the screen and strangle the man inside.

"But I admit, taking Justus was for you, Joan. You took what I loved the most, and now I will show you how that feels. You promised to explain to Jo how much I loved her, to help her find her way back to me. But you lied. And now her mind is poisoned against me. I am not so foolish as to hope that I can change her heart now. So I will break yours, instead."

The camera moves, and zooms in on Justus's motionless form shackled to a wall, like he's a prisoner in a medieval dungeon.

"No!" I shout at Crew. "Anyone but him! God, please!"

It's all too much. All the pain, the death, the blood staining my hands. The trembling all over my body makes my teeth rattle.

Next to me, Nic's eyes are wide and glazed. He pulls me to his side, but his touch brings no comfort.

"I am a man, not a monster, Joan," Crew says as the camera returns to his face. "I propose a trade. Your life, for his. Three days from now, Seattle will have a very public execution. You decide if it's to tear down Saint Joan, the Throwback toady of Strand, or Justus Macson, the man who has spit on his Throwback roots and embraced his Evolved superiority."

The video winks out, and the Bunker sinks into silence again.

"No," Harriet says, turning to me so I face her. "This time, you will listen. There will be no trade. Justus would not want that. And I will not allow it."

~ ~ ~

It's strange how the mundane needs of the body can overcome everything else. In spite of the rage, the guilt, the need for action, exhaustion claims me. I pass out in front of Marie's tablet after hours of discussing what to do, and wake up in my bunk, with Nic's body curled around mine.

Lying in the dark, images from the raid flicker through my mind. Elizabeth and Sacajawea, strung up like some pigs I saw in a butcher's freezer once. The trickle of blood on a white temple. The unforgiving, empty steel in the eyes of a Dean as he executed an unconscious innocent.

The tears come, useless and endless. They build and build, shaking the bunk, so I crawl out and make my way to the main room. I can't see through my tears. The pain rips through me, far worse than any physical beating I've ever endured.