Chapter 38 - Through the Smoldering Gates
The highway leading into the city was a graveyard of abandoned commuters and flashing emergency beacons. Black plumes of smoke curled into the pale dawn sky from the downtown sector, marking the pulverized remains of the appellate courthouse. National Guard units were already setting up concertina wire along the outer bypass, their rifles held at low-ready, their young faces rigid with shock.
Inside the reinforced cabin of the Suburban, the tactical monitors glowed in harsh monochrome. Julian's voice crackled through the secure speaker system, erratic and breathless.
"Aunt Eleanor? Can you hear me?"
"I hear you, Julian. Are you safe?"
"I’m in the basement of the university’s law library," he panted. "The servers down here run on an auxiliary municipal loop that isn't connected to the state grid. Eleanor, I pulled the tail numbers on the two unmarked Sikorsky birds that cleared the air corridor just before the Capitol detonated. They didn't fly north toward the offshore platforms. They stayed low, following the river valley toward the old industrial canal behind District Court."
"They brought her to the center of the trap," I realized aloud. "They didn't smuggle her out of the city. They’re keeping her close to ensure my compliance."
"There’s more," Julian said, his keyboard clattering furiously in the background. "The executive order declaring martial law... it wasn't drafted this morning. The digital signature on the emergency docket was created six weeks ago in the chambers of Senior Judge Harrison Vance—Uncle Harrison."
My stomach turned to ice. Harrison was Thomas's older brother—a reclusive, revered jurist who had retired from the federal bench five years prior due to supposed failing health. A man who had sat at our Easter dinner thirty years ago, carving the lamb and lecturing me on the sacred duty of the law.
"Harrison died of pancreatic cancer three years ago," I said numbly.
"His death certificate was filed electronically through a shell mortuary in Delaware," Julian said, his voice dropping to a horrifying whisper. "Eleanor... no one ever buried a body. The grave at Oakridge is empty."
May you like
Beside me, Marcus racked the slide of his tactical rifle. "The family business wasn't just bribery and real estate, was it? They’ve had their hands on the gavel from the very beginning."
"Harrison isn't just alive," I said, looking out the armored glass as the burning dome of the State Capitol came into view. "He's the man they want me to swear in."
