AN: Apparently, Charlie's POV gives me a headache. Also, large ensemble casts are HARD. On the fun side, the chapter name should make more sense by the time you get to the tension-laden reveals at the end of this chapter. Have fun!
Disclaimer: Still not mine. Revolution, the Mathesons, the English language - none of them originated with me, and I only make money off the third sometimes, though definitely not with this story. ;-)
Combustion (pt. 2)
Charlie Matheson hoists herself out of the flattened grass, smiling like an idiot. She can't help it - they've actually done it! They had walked straight into the Monroe Militia's capitol city, had gotten Danny back, and had walked - okay, run - right back out again, safe and sound.
And to top that off, the sound of that helicopter is still vibrating in her ears, a steady beat of terror and exhilaration and incredible possibilities, because even though Monroe has it right now, the world's got power back - power! Charlie can only just remember what it was like to ride in a car, and she'd only ever been in a plane the one time when she was four, to visit a great aunt in Miami, but the rumble of the helicopter's engine just now had filled her with a dizzying elation. Because if that was possible, anything was.
She whirls around, glancing at Nora, who's shoving what looks like a bomb back into her bag; at Aaron, who's offering Danny a hand up out of the grass; and at Miles - she grins - who's studiously ignoring her mothe - Rachel - Rachel's last question.
"What the hell, Miles?" Rachel repeats, much softer, but with no less accusation. Miles still ignores her, and Charlie can feel the tension rise between them from several feet away.
"Aaron, give me a hand here." Miles' voice sounds pained and tired. Charlie glances up at him, noticing for the first time all day how exhausted her uncle looks. He's actually wavering on his feet, and it looks like his hold on Monroe might be slipping.
Charlie jumps forward, brushing past Rachel, and steps to the other side of Monroe, throwing her whole body into the effort to help Miles shoulder the weight. Miles spares a quick glance at her over Monroe's blond curls as she grunts with the effort of supporting him - jeez, this guy is heavier than he looks - then seems to accept her help as an inevitability, sighs, and gives that little head shake that Charlie's come to read as "your funeral, kid." But she catches a hint of a smile as he turns his head away.
"All right, come on. We've got to move some place safer than this."
Nora takes point without a word, while Danny falls in on Charlie's left side and Aaron and Rachel bring up the rear. It's slow going, and Charlie finds her back and shoulders aching before they even make it to the woods.
Aaron and Rachel are whispering furiously behind them, but she can't spare the energy to turn her head to catch what they're saying. She glances over at her uncle instead - he looks as serious as she's ever seen him, which is saying something.
They march for a mile at a pace that takes every drop of Charlie's focus and energy to maintain, yet she can tell that Miles is impatient and desperate to move faster. Every time she slows or stumbles and he looks over at her, jaw set, and slows his own pace, she feels a twinge of guilt for not being able to keep up.
She's so busy looking at her feet to keep her balance that she hardly notices when they step out of the woods into a large, overgrown clearing. Nora comes jogging back to meet them and Miles jerks his head from her to Charlie. Without a word, Nora takes Charlie's place, slipping her arm under Monroe's shoulder and gently pushing Charlie out of the way. Charlie feels a little lightheaded as the weight suddenly leaves her shoulders.
"It's clear," Nora mutters to Miles.
Charlie looks up, rubbing her aching lower back with both hands. A soaring, red-roofed glass atrium - with most of the windows broken - rises out of the landscape of broken blacktop and tall crab grass ahead of them. Adjoining structures connect to the atrium on both sides, extending into the edges of the surrounding woods and past Charlie's range of vision. Abandoned cars litter the clearing around the atrium, rusting away, with weeds growing around their tires and through broken windows.
"Is that a mall?" Aaron picks his way over the blacktop and weeds, clearing his glasses on his shirt before looking up at the atrium.
"Willow Grove Park Mall," Nora answers, grunting as she shifts Bass's weight on her shoulders. Charlie's back feels a pang of sympathy as Nora continues, "Stripped clean and then abandoned by the Militia as 'indefensible.'"
"Which why we like it," Miles says as they move toward the atrium. "Lots of entrances and exits."
Danny speaks up for the first time since leaving the power plant. "So, we'll be safe here?"
"No." Charlie, Nora and Miles all speak at the same time. Danny looks at his feet, hunching his shoulders, and opens his mouth like he's going to apologize for asking a stupid question. Was that how she'd looked her first week around Uncle Miles? Probably not - she'd always hidden her discomfort better than Danny - but it'd definitely been how she'd felt. And Miles and Nora together - Miles was intimidating enough all on his own. Poor Danny probably felt like disappearing into the ground.
"We won't be safe here," she elaborates, "but it'll be easy to run away from here, because the Militia will have trouble covering all the exits, right?"
She looks at Nora for confirmation; Nora nods.
"Great," Danny mutters, like it's not.
They move into the atrium together. Rachel and Danny hold open the doors while Aaron, Miles, Nora, and Charlie tag team the effort of moving Monroe's body over the rubble without dropping or further injuring him.
Monroe's left pant leg is sticky with blood - Miles still hasn't said how that'd happened, or why he'd brought Monroe with them in the first place. He'd just had that "don't argue with me" look on his face that Charlie had learned better than to defy. So she tries to avoid the blood and whatever injury might be underneath it as she helps lay the President of the Monroe Republic on the atrium's tile floor.
All six of them pause then and actually look around them. An enormous antique carousel takes up more than half the atrium, its collection of painted ponies frozen mid-prance and covered in a thick layer of dust, their carved manes and arched necks criss-crossed with cracks and termite holes.
She'd ridden a carousel, once, when she was five and her mom had taken her to the zoo to meet a friend - a blond-haired man - on a Saturday while her dad was working. Her mom sat on a bench with the blond-haired man and watched Charlie go round and round and round. She got to ride the carousel as many times as she wanted, but they never smiled when Charlie waved at them as she passed.
Rachel's voice snaps her out of her memories. "You should have left him at the plant, Miles." She stands over Miles, who's crouched next to Monroe, checking his vital signs.
Miles tears Monroe's left pant leg open from ankle to knee, then rummages in his pack and pulls out an old shirt, a flask, and his water. "Don't be an idiot. He's the only thing that kept that chopper from mowing us down. Aaron, I need Maggie's med kit."
Aaron nods a little too fast and scrambles to pull the med kit from his bag.
"Now they'll have the whole Militia out looking for us…" Rachel looks out through the cracked windows as if she expects to see the soldiers descending on them right now.
"You think that wouldn't have happened anyway?" Miles soaks a sleeve of the old shirt in water and uses it to wipe most of the blood off Monroe's leg, revealing a small hole that seeps blood slowly from the edges. "Med kit, Aaron."
"Trying." Aaron finally drops the pack on the ground, dumping its entire contents onto the tile floor.
"Give me some credit, Rachel. I know how to use a hostage." There's a twist of bitterness to his words, and Rachel flinches, just enough for Charlie to notice. "Jeremy knows I'll slit his throat if I see so much as one scout following us."
Aaron hands the med kit to Miles, who snatches it from his hand and pops the latch with two fingers. He pulls out a pair of tweezers and a mirror, which he tosses to Nora. "Light."
Nora kneels next to Miles and angles the mirror until it reflects as much daylight as possible into Monroe's wound. Charlie's seen it in fights before, but the way they work together so seamlessly is fascinating -
- until Miles pushes the tweezers deep into the oozing puncture wound, and Charlie spins away, fighting back a wave of nausea.
"And if your plan gets us all killed?" Rachel's voice comes from behind her.
"My plan got us halfway across the country, into fucking Philadelphia, rescued your sorry asses, and got us all out safe." The hard edge in Miles' voice turns to open anger. "If you don't like it, you can go back to your cell."
"The cell you put me in?"
Charlie spins around, all the breath leaving her lungs. What? What had she said? Her mother had disappeared on a foraging trip. When Rachel had turned up as Monroe's captive, she'd assumed…and suddenly, she understands that thing her dad had always said about the word "assumed."
Rachel's eyes flash as she stands over Miles, who still has his back to her - and Uncle Miles, Charlie realizes, is holding completely, deathly still. Like Rachel's hit a nerve.
Like she's spoken the truth.
He doesn't turn around, doesn't even seem to breathe, and neither can Charlie, waiting for his answer. But when his voice comes again, it's very, very quiet.
And very, very dangerous. "I don't have time for this, Rachel. Help, or get out."
Rachel doesn't move. Her voice softens until it's almost timid. "So, you lied to them, too."
Miles ignores her, grabbing Nora's hand to re-angle the mirror and reaching with the tweezers again.
"Eight years," Rachel murmurs, "and you haven't changed at all."
Miles is on his feet before Charlie can register what's happening. He takes three quick steps toward Rachel, backing her into a corner, and slamming his hand against the wall behind her. The boom echoes through the atrium as Miles roars, "GET OUT!"
Mom. "Miles!" Charlie hardly realizes she's shouted until Miles turns his head; she catches a flash of something dark in his eyes before they go flat and impossible to read. Then Miles is gone as quickly as he'd come, kneeling back at Monroe's side.
Charlie tries to find her voice. She wants to lay into Miles, shout at him until she's hoarse, ask him what the hell her mom means by "the cell you put me in," but her eyes and throat are burning and she just can't form the words. Nora looks up and catches her eye with a clear leave it.
And then, from the floor, there's a low groan, a muffled, "Shit," from Miles and everyone, even Rachel, turns to look.
Because Sebastian Monroe is awake.