Jeremiah: Echoes and Shadows

By: Shadow Chaser

Disclaimer:

Jeremiah and its characters are the property of J. Michael Straczynski, Sam Egan, Luke Perry, MGM/UA, and Showtime. This story is for amusement only and I didn't get any money for it. No copyright infringement is intended.

Timeframe: Immediately after "Interregnum – Part 2"

Story:

Part 4 – Escape

Markus awakened groggily, slowly blinking his eyes open. He shivered as wind blew through the air, reminding him of his damp clothes and hugged himself tighter…wait a minute…wind?! Markus snapped opened his eyes and looked around. He was in a plexiglass like box on a concrete stand in the middle of the wide sidewalk on a very busy pedestrian street. Holes just a little bigger than his fingers lined each side of the cube cell he had been put in, which explained how the wind could blow through so easily.

Laughter filtered through the hole and he turned to look over his shoulder to see a few people sneering and pointing at him. "Looks like the idiot's awake," one of the sneered, "first time in the Box, eh?"

So this was what Jacob and Vincent meant regarding the Box…he realized as he ignored the jeer and looked around him. The sky was cloudy and grey, but bits of sunshine were peeking through and he was grateful that he finally got some fresh air and sunlight instead of perpetual darkness. He looked across and saw a whole line of other plexiglass clear Boxes, some in different sizes and shapes, all of them occupied, lining the street.

The towering hotel that read INTERCONTINENTAL HARBOR COURT was behind them and he had to crane his neck upwards in order to see to the top floor. He suspected this was probably the hotel he had found himself in and also where Jacob's main headquarters was. A gigantic image of Daniel was hanging from the top floor and draped downwards followed by a banner that said, DANIEL HELPS ALL.

As he dropped his gaze to the street level, he saw many people milling about; most of them armed with guns, but others were running to and fro, ignoring the rest of the prisoners in the Boxes or stepping forward and jeering at those in the boxes. He saw at least one person throw something at another in a Box before laughing and running away.

There were armed guards near the Boxes, but he suspected that they wouldn't do a thing if people decided to throw stuff at them.

He realized that the Boxes were designed to publicly humiliate and degrade the prisoners within and he suspected that they were probably Daniel dissenters, rivals, or even Resistance members.

"Hey!" the slap of a hand on the plexiglass startled Markus as he looked back over his shoulder once more to see the original heckler look at him, eyes angry, "I'm talking you, you piece of fucking shit. Listen while your betters talk!"

"If you were my better, I would listen," Markus muttered before he leaned over and covered his mouth as he felt a cough working its way up his throat. He winced as he felt his injured arm pull at the force of his cough.

He suddenly felt something wet coat his still-damp shirt and the sound of glass breaking and turned slightly to see that his heckler had thrown a bottle of something at him, the bottle shattering against his prison, but the holes in the plexiglass had let some of the liquid through along with small bits and shards of glass that stuck onto the remnants of his shirt.

"Take that you motherfucker!" the heckler gave him a smile of pure vitriol before running to join the rest of his friends who slapped him on the back with cheers and whistles before they walked away.

Markus could only shake his head and sigh. He was angry, but he also knew that it was the type of anger that was needless. It was bullying in its pure and simplest form…the same type he had received while he was in high school before the Big Death. He had entered high school at an early age and after his freshman year had begged his Dad to continue to home-school him since he couldn't exactly take the bullying at the private school he was in.

His parents had enrolled him in self-defense classes before that, but even so, he never liked using physical force on others, preferring to let his words and subtle actions guide him. His father had agreed to continue to home school him and he had finished high school in a year and half after that and was already considering colleges when the Big Death swept through the world.

"New here, aren't ya?" one the guards suddenly spoke up near him and he glanced up to see him with a wiry smile on his face, his partner laughing silently.

"Quiet one by the looks of him," his partner replied, shifting the long barreled shotgun he had on his shoulder.

"Got that right," the original guard replied before jerking his head towards him, "I give you two hours, then you won't be so quiet anymore."

"He'll be yelling and screaming like the rest of them," they snickered amongst themselves and Markus turned his head to stare out into the pedestrian crowd, determined to ignore whatever they said.

He gritted his teeth, feeling a well of frustration build up in him before his teeth ran over the little metal cylinder still in his mouth and he bent down and spit it out into his right hand. He stared at it, a thin little thing with a line down the middle. He turned it over his hand and saw a little formula written on one of the rounded end points. AgNO3. Silver nitrate.

Markus glanced at his wound, which had bled through his soaked bandages and knew that silver nitrate was used as an antiseptic back before recent medicine was invented and there were people who occasionally still used it. Lauren had known that he wasn't going to get anymore medical care beyond his soaked wrappings and she also knew that his wound was probably infected…

Maybe that was why he was having chills…he had an infection and fever and was constantly cold. As if his body was responding to his thoughts, another involuntary shudder wracked his body and he huddled himself closer before glancing from the little pill of silver nitrate to his own wound.

He didn't have anything to lose, but he had a whole world of hurt to gain. Gritting his teeth he placed the silver nitrate pill into his left hand and started to pick at his wrappings with his right. With each touch, no matter how light his fingers, he gritted his teeth and sucked in quick breaths as little shots of pain ran up and down his arm and through his neck.

He could hear murmurs of horror from his observers outside, but ignored them as he finally managed to half open the dressing and nearly retched in his throat at the state of the wound. There was evidence that it had been neatly examined and sterilized before and he suspected that the bullet had been taken out, but whatever sterilization had occurred was long gone.

The wound was pulsating a gooey purplish-red blood and he could see the edges of the hole were bright red and white. His wound was infected by so many wrenchings and tossing of water on him in the past…he didn't even know how many days he had been stuck in his prison.

Forcing himself to continue his task, he broke the nitrate pill, spilling a few drops onto the plexiglass before taking one half of the small liquid and poured it on his wound. As soon as the silver nitrate touched his wound, agony exploded in his arm, racing their claws up and down and throughout his body to the point where he curled in on himself and gasped.

It hurt…

Markus didn't know how long he had been curled in on himself, gasping in pain before it finally died away and he realized that in his little tremors, he had dropped the other half of the nitrate pill and it had fallen through one of the holes in the ground. He stared down at the small little silver-looking puddle on the ground and realized that even if he still had it in his hand; he did not want to go through that agony again.

Grimacing, he tried to redress his wound and only managed it half successfully before he gave up, the little rivets of shooting pain too much for him to cope again and leaned back against the wall of his cell, breathing deeply.

"That is sick," a voice spoke up underneath him and he looked down to see a child, no more than seven, staring up at him, a disgusted look on her face.

"Yes, it is," he decided to answer the girl frankly. He wanted to say that it was what happened to those who spoke the truth, but knew that the child wouldn't believe a word he said; after all, he was a stranger. "It's infected. Do you know what that means?" he asked, gently.

She wordlessly shook her head, "Mommy says it turns green...like her leg. They had to cut it off..."

Markus nodded, inwardly suppressing any thought that he was going to lose his own arm if he did not get medical help and antibiotics soon. "That's called gangrene."

"Gang Green?" the girl looked down for a second, concentrating on forming the unfamiliar word in her mouth.

"Gangrene," his lip involuntarily twitched into a smile. When the Big Death had hit and killed all of the adults in the Mountain, he and a few of the older children had taken it upon themselves to teach the younger children their basics and classes. Even now, he had realized he had fallen into the old routine from long ago.

"Did you ever get a big scrape?" he asked gently.

"Yes," she nodded her head vigorously, "Mommy found some of those band-aids and put it on. It got better, but it hurt for a while."

"Well, when it hurt, that's called infection. Little bacteria, bad things, made it hurt. If Mommy hadn't found that band-aid for you, it would have hurt a lot more."

"I don't want that," the girl wrinkled her nose and he smiled.

"I know, that's why Mommy was lucky to find that band-aid."

"But you have a band-aid too!" she pointed at his half-dressed wound and he had to suppress a chuckle at her enthusiasm. Almost all children were alike, curious, full of vitality, and always wanting to learn and occasionally point out the obvious much to any adult's exasperation.

"I do," he nodded before pointing to some of the armed guards, "but some of those bad men decided it would be fun to pour water on it until it hurt a lot."

"That's mean," the child looked at him with sympathy before making a quick face at the guards then turned back to look at him. "I like water, but Mommy said it couldn't hurt."

"It doesn't hurt, most of the time. But these men can make it hurt," he shrugged carefully, "that silvery thing you saw? That makes it feel better."

"But you looked like you were hurt by it," the little girl looked at him skeptically.

"I was," he admitted, "remember how your Mommy first put the band-aid on you? It hurts at first, but then it doesn't hurt after a while. That's what that silvery thing feels like." It was a complete lie as he could still feel the fiery pain as the silver nitrate tried to do its work on his wound, but he wasn't going to tell the child that and ruin the moment.

"Oh," the child nodded in comprehension before glancing over her shoulder, "you're nice...not like some of the others... I have to go...but..." She looked worriedly over her shoulder and Markus could see some of the guards approaching, their hands tapping the batons in their hands and knew that they were getting curious as to why this child wasn't throwing bottles or making fun of him.

"Go," he urged quietly, "be careful, okay?"

She looked at him before a smile split her face and she nodded, "What's your name?"

"Markus," he replied.

"Nice to meet you Markus. Mommy says I shouldn't tell strangers my name, but I think you're nice. I'm Olivia," she gave him a grin before hurrying away, slipping past the guards.

Markus watched as she disappeared into the crowd before giving an even look at the guards who looked disappointed at not being able to punish him further or even punish little girl. Somehow, he felt happy that he was able to talk to the child...even though the constant pain in his shoulder made him feel dizzied and weak. He turned his gaze elsewhere and a frown creased his features as he thought he saw Mister Smith disappearing into the crowd. Squinting and looking again, he shook his head...he had to be hallucinating...

Mister Smith closed the cap on his pinhole camera and slipped it back inside his bag. He knew it was a very beautiful picture he had taken, but what it would show, he didn't know. Markus talking to the little curious girl, his face pale and sweaty, pain evident in his eyes and face. His gunshot wound obviously half re-dressed... But he looked like every inch the leader of the Western Alliance and the man that had dedicated himself to the ideals of rebuilding the world.

Smith wished he could walk up rip the plexiglass cage-like cell they had thrown Markus into and free him right then and there. But even if he did so, they would never make it two steps past the sidewalk. God had whispered his caution in his mind, a loving tone that he had never heard him use except for once when he had been apologetic to him after he had saved him from drowning himself in the lake.

He had heard God's anger during their trip up to Baltimore, and it had rendered him silent for most of the trip. He had been so angry...even though he knew why Markus had to be captured. His anger was not at Markus to pass this trial of fire and of temptation, but anger at what had been done in the cities to the East. He wanted to quail at such anger and run and hide until it had passed, but he also knew that he, Kurdy, and Jeremiah were sent to rescue Markus. Smith sighed quietly and turned around and walked into the crowd before Markus could catch sight of him. Sometimes it was a bitch being God's sock puppet...

He had spent the night wandering around the aquarium and as soon as the first rays of dawn had hit, he had set out to explore the city. One of Alec's minders had tailed him, but he had soon lost him amongst the crowd. He knew it would make Alec angry in the long run, but Smith had been too canny to pick up someone following him; the exception being Kurdy. He could never get a read on Kurdy...it was as if the man did not exist in his senses nor would God say anything about him except to give him the occasional message and the one-time assurance that he would find a valuable ally in Kurdy.

And he knew he had a valuable friend in Kurdy. Jeremiah however...that was another story and one God did not have any advice for him. He wondered if God was regretting telling him that Libby was the betrayer...that it would ultimately ruin his tentative friendship with the practical man. But then again, he knew that God never regretted anything, he just did things.

He walked against the crowd, nodding to a couple of the guards that looked his way. He had almost gotten caught after he had lost his tail, and it was only from the knowledge he had gleaned from the guards talking with him and little hints of advice from God that he had befriended the guards and they had not hauled him off to the slave camps.

He made sure his meandering path wasn't directly towards the aquarium and only headed towards it when he was sure no one was following him. Arriving at the front door, he waved his hand a bit hesitantly at the guards who automatically brought up their guns, all pointed at him. "It's me...Mister Smith? I came with Jeremiah and Kurdy yesterday?"

The guards stared at him for a few seconds before one spoke into a hand-held radio and got a reply back a few seconds later. They stared at him some more before waving him through. Smith breathed a quick sigh of relief before heading into the aquarium. He suspected that Kurdy and Jeremiah were probably awake by now; it was about mid-morning he supposed, though with the winter air and chill, it was hard to tell whether it was mid-morning or mid-afternoon with the angle of the sun.

"Hey man, where were you?" Kurdy spoke up as he walked into the general mess hall and spotted his friends.

"Out," he patted to his bag where Kurdy knew he kept his pin hole camera.

"Alec says you ditched your guide," Jeremiah looked at him curiously and Smith shrugged.

"I was...around," he sat down and looked at Kurdy's pieces of toast, "hey, can I have a slice?"

He saw his partner roll his eyes in exasperation before handing him the whole plate plus a half-eaten bowl of mixed fruit. Smith had not seen any sort of breakfast when he walked into the mess hall and suspected that Alec would not be keen on serving him any fruit if he had his way. It was mostly the feeling he had gotten from everyone who thought of him as a bit...odd and therefore a security risk.

"Thanks," he started munching on the offered food before with another sigh, a sausage link plopped into his fruit bowl and he gave a grin to Jeremiah who waved his thanks away, looking somewhat embarrassed.

"So, any good pictures?" he knew what Kurdy was alluding to when he had tapped his camera and nodded.

"Good ones," he swallowed hastily, coughed once before clearing his throat again. "It's very similar to New York, though there are fewer crowds than New York. The guards are definitely a little more relaxed, but they don't really care for Daniel's rhetoric. I think they're loyal to Jacob..."

"That can be a problem," Jeremiah muttered, leaning back in his seat, his face pensive.

Smith finished his bread and fruit and wolfed down his sausage before gulping down a glass of water that Kurdy had offered to him. Wiping his lips, he looked quickly around before leaning closer to them. "I found him..."

"Where?" Jeremiah suddenly leaned forward again, his eyes intense, his face a mask of neutrality.

"He's in a plexiglass box of sorts in front of the Hotel. I think that's what Alec meant by the Box. There are air holes for the prisoners to breathe in, but they're all varying sizes-"

"How is he?" Kurdy cut him off and he shook his head.

"Pretty bad," he didn't know how much he should tell them, "I think he can walk...and run if he needs to. Give him a gun and he'll probably shoot, but his left arm is really fucked up. I think he's also got a fever..."

"Infection," Jeremiah rubbed a hand over his stubble and looked away, "we need to get him out...now..."

"That's why I say use my plan instead of going off on your own," Alec's voice startled all of them and they all looked up to see him sauntering over, a neutral expression on his face. He sat down in the seat next to Smith and gave him an arching look. "You lost Rafael in the crowds...he came back and told me. I was tempted to have my men shoot you when you decided to show up, but your friends here, persuaded me otherwise. Don't even think about doing shit like that again on my turf unless you want to be shot."

"I...don't..." Smith trailed off as he saw the warning look Kurdy gave him and he nodded.

Alec looked at him closely before turning to Jeremiah, "I know who you guys are talking about. You don't get to be leader of the Resistance by not knowing what goes on in your backyard. Plus our operative confirmed that he has been put in the Box and who he is."

"Really?" Jeremiah looked at him closely, "Because-"

"It's Markus Alexander," Alec cut him off and Smith looked carefully at both Jeremiah and Kurdy. He wisely stayed silent, knowing that the two of them knew Markus far longer than he did. And he also could not form an opinion on Markus. Sure there was that time he completely used his oddball status to mess with the leader of Thunder Mountain to hilarious results, but he really did not have an opinion on Markus. He thought he had done a great job forming the Western Alliance and running Thunder Mountain, but he wasn't in the position to comment.

Jeremiah's eyes had narrowed ever so slightly while Kurdy looked a bit surly. The two radiated protectiveness towards Markus, or was it towards the Alliance, he couldn't exactly tell. But he also knew how fragile the Alliance was at this time...and if someone like Alec knew that Markus had been captured, it may spell the end of the Alliance because of the information in his hand.

"Don't know who-"

"You can cut the bullshit, Jeremiah. I may not want to join the Alliance, but I think it's a much better advantage than what Daniel and Jacob have here," Alec shook his head, "and I think I should explain to you the merits of my plan because frankly, you rush in there right now, you guys won't even make two steps out of the area without being bullet ridden."

"Colorful," Kurdy replied deadpan.

Alec shot Kurdy a glowering look before looking at Jeremiah and to Smith's surprise, him too. "Markus isn't the only political prisoner we would like to rescue that's been in the Box. We've been waiting for this opportunity to come along for a couple of weeks now."

"A couple of weeks?! Won't whoever you want to rescue be dead by now?" Jeremiah looked shocked.

"No. They feed the prisoners, scraps and dirty water, but it's enough to keep them alive for a while. Most last a month or so..." Alec looked away for a few seconds before his gaze hardened as he turned back to them, "like I said, Markus being here gives us a bigger opportunity. He's the one that you're after, but he's also the one that everyone's watching."

"So you'll use him as bait then?" Kurdy snorted, "We like him alive, not dead."

"That's my offer," Alec shrugged, "we'll try to keep him alive as much as possible, but I guarantee, he's got a better chance if you work with us, than if you work alone."

"All right, all right, we get the picture," Jeremiah held up his hands to quell the coming argument and Smith couldn't agree more with him. He wanted to say that they didn't have a choice, but he also knew that his input would not be welcomed by anyone, except maybe Kurdy. "So, say we work with you? Your guys make a distraction; get your men out and Markus out during the time when the laborers are coming off of their shifts. What then?"

"The men we're rescuing were stupid enough to get caught," Alec shrugged, "they'll be happy to take a bullet for the cause-"

"Hey wait-"

"Whoa-"

Smith glanced at Kurdy as the two of them had voiced their protest at the same time and then looked at Alec, "I've seen the people in the Box. Some of them can barely walk, let alone charge against the solders!"

"That's why they'll be happy to do so," Alec narrowed his eyes, "those people out there? They've already been starved, beaten, shot, had things done to them that would make your hair curl. The Box is their last destination for humiliation. They've got nothing to lose and I know that some of them welcome instant death if it means one more shot at getting to Jacob and the bastards that follow Daniel's philosophy. Those guys would be willing to show the laborers that, yes, they can defy and yes, they still defy to the bitter end."

"You're going to make martyrs out of them?!" Jeremiah looked a bit shocked, but his expression quickly closed down and Smith wondered if the man was remembering something that he had encountered in his travels.

"You've got a better idea? Plus we don't," the shaved-head leader of the Resistance rubbed his face for a second before hissing at them, "We don't have enough resources to treat them. Not like your little precious Valhalla Sector or Thunder Mountain. I'm sure people like you remember what's it like out here in the Outside?"

"Yeah," Jeremiah murmured quietly, "but we're trying to change that..."

"Hey Alec," Smith thought of something, "Those plexiglass Boxes...how do we break through them?"

"We don't. We grab them as they're hauling the prisoners out each evening. I've already sent some of my men out last night to replace some of the guards in the Boxes. Those men and women are the sons, daughters, husbands, and wives of our operatives that were caught. They're willing to do anything to free their family including watching them die," Alec looked at them before giving them a crooked, but sad smile, "I bet none of you had brothers or sisters, did you?"

"I had a brother," Jeremiah looked away and Smith saw the look of sympathy Kurdy gave him before he too looked down at the table, picking absently on a corner of a napkin, "I had...someone..."

"Oh," Alec nodded in understanding, "then I think we understand each other..."

"Yeah," Jeremiah looked up at him and a faint smile was on his lips, "we do."

Smith didn't know what was exchanged in the look between Jeremiah and Alec, but somehow, he felt God's murmur of approval in his mind and it chilled him a bit. Something significant had happened here, right here and now. Something that would affect the future in a big way... And all Smith could do was watch and record it in his mind to tell the Historians later on... He suddenly lifted the cap of the pinhole camera that he didn't know he had been holding and took a picture of the moment. A moment of perfect clarity between the leader of the Baltimore Resistance and the simple man...

Fractal Theory...

Sometime during the day, he had fallen asleep and had woken up to murmurs and the waning daylight, near his cell. Dusk was falling and he realized that he had woken up and was bundled in a blanket that someone had placed in his cell and had wrapped him in it. He blinked open his eyes in shock before glancing down and nearly recoiled. At least two dozen faces were staring up at him, all with gazes of a varying sort. Some had open sympathy while others were neutral, but he noticed more and more people approaching his Box...

"Uh...hi," Markus breathed in the cold air, glad that someone had decided to keep him warm in the chilly winter air or else he probably would have already froze to death from hypothermia or worst.

"You're him, aren't you? The one's everyone's talking about..." a young man, no more than in his early twenties spoke up. His face was dirt smudged and his clothes ragged, clearly a slave in Daniel's projects.

"I...uh..."

"You're Markus Alexander from the Mountain," the man breathed out and Markus raised an eyebrow, "little Olivia told us...she said that you spoke kindly to her that you were Markus. We asked Alec, but he didn't say anything, but we know..."

Markus was completely confused as the others around the man nodded and murmured their assent. The man looked like he had seen the face of God and he had a nasty feeling that the slaves thought of him as a messiah of sorts. That was the last thing he needed...yet he did not want to dash the hopes of the slaves that had seen so little hope and were stuck in working for Daniel without any hope of escape.

"I'm not-"

"One of the guards, sympathetic to your cause, gave you that blanket," the man indicated the blanket wrapped around him and he looked towards the guards milling about, trying to see which one had gave him the blanket, but none of them looked at him. "You have friends here, Markus. You have followers..."

"I...don't want followers," he disliked the idea of being a messiah and savior to these people, especially when he was still stuck himself. "I don't want to be paraded around like your savior..."

"Then do you wish for hope to be extinguished?" the man looked at him curiously, a bit confused, "if you would not be the savior of man, then how come you are here?"

"I-"

"Good evening all," Jacob's voice booming over a megaphone cut off whatever Markus was about to say and he looked to his left to see Jacob walk out of the lobby of the hotel, armed guards following him, Vincent trailing behind him, content to let his brother be in the spotlight.

It was also then that Markus noticed the fairly large crowd that had gathered around the plaza in front of the hotel. They were only held back by the guards that had come forward and were training their guns on them. Most of them were the laborers coming in after a long days' work, but he also noticed more than a few were obviously those who had done well to follow Daniel and probably ran the day to day administration of the city and perhaps other shops.

"Daniel greets us all today after our day's work," Jacob held his hands up, silencing the crowd down to murmurs, "and he forgives. Before tonight's address, we shall ask those who are displayed before you if they want to be forgiven."

It was very ritualistic, Markus observed, as some of the guards suddenly broke rank and went all along the Boxes and opened their locks. He saw at least five guards approach his cage before one of them climbed up his stand and opened the side of his cage and grabbed him roughly by his uninjured shoulder.

"All right, all right," he shed his blanket as he stepped out of his cage and nearly collapsed to the ground, his legs weakened by lack of movement for the whole day before he managed to right himself and walk down the steps. He heard the gasps of those closest to his prison that saw his half-dressed wound, but ignored their looks of sympathy and disgust.

He was marched into a line in front of the main crowd, some of whom booed and taunted them; others just stared at them, waiting to see what they would do. His eyes scanned the crowd, wondering if it was his imagination that he saw Smith disappear somewhere. None of the faces were familiar...there was no one here to rescue him. He had to do it himself...had to either free himself through sheer negotiation or-

Wait a minute...

Markus stared closely at a particular bald man who looked tough enough to rip limbs off of someone. He was staring at him, no...staring through him, as if he could see deep into his soul. He made an inquiring face before the man suddenly lifted a finger and pointed to his right just as a head appeared...

It was Jeremiah's familiar face...

Shock flooded through Markus' system as he realized that if Jeremiah was here, then so was Kurdy and probably Mister Smith. So that was Smith that he had seen earlier in the morning...and they meant to rescue him in this crowd?!

Markus wanted to shake his head no, to tell them to abort such a suicidal plan as he realized what they had intended to do. He would not let so many people die from a bloodbath just to get him out. But he never got the chance to do so as Jacob suddenly slid into his vision and smiled down at him. He immediately focused his attention on the handsome man, feeling a well of anger build up in him.

"Ah, our latest celebrity," Jacob whispered to him before turning and lifting up the megaphone, "as you all may have discovered, we have a newcomer to the Box! He is not of the pitiful Resistance as you may have imagined, but Daniel was kind enough to give him to me to show to you!"

He suddenly jammed a thumb into his wound as he gripped his shoulder tightly and Markus immediately stifled a gasp of pain. He felt sweat suddenly pop out on his forehead as Jacob worked his thumb deeper, but he was determined not to show any sign of weakness in front of the man nor in front of the crowd that had gathered. After what seemed like eternity, Jacob released his shoulder and Markus let out a small gasp of pain through his teeth.

"His name," Jacob turned slightly to address the crowd, "is Markus Alexander. Yes...he uses the last name of the Old World. He is the leader of the so-called New American Alliance. The Alliance that threatens our way of life, Daniel's way of life. The Alliance that would use force to crush Daniel's ideals, my ideals, our ideals of hope, prosperity, and happiness."

"Daniel was kind enough to point out where he would be and we were able to take him into custody," Jacob continued, "however, Mr. Alexander here, would not be so cooperative. Did you know, he tried to kill John, our beloved General Sims' second-in-command? Did you know he shot three of his own men when they turned on him? Did you know that he ordered his lieutenant, Jeremiah to kill Sims himself? That he has so much blood on him?"

"That's not true!" Markus shouted, but his voice could not reach what Jacob's megaphone did. However, those in the front who heard his words looked at him in surprise. He had a feeling that the prisoners in the Boxes usually did not speak out...

"It's not true?" Jacob glanced back at him mockingly before walking around to his back and placed a hand on his uninjured shoulder before talking over his megaphone, "I offered him the chance for forgiveness and mercy and he rejected it. He does not want peace, but war. He would rather work against what Daniel stands for and let blood be shed over it than to work with us."

Markus could feel the anger boiling over in him. That manipulative bastard...he had used his rejection of his offer against him and to manipulate the crowd to be sympathetic to Daniel's cause. He saw some of the laborers who had gathered around his cage moments ago with something akin to horror in their eyes as they couldn't believe that he had rejected a chance for their freedom.

"Do you think I like shedding blood?" he asked, turning his head slightly to glare at Jacob, "Do you really think that the people here would want that?"

"What they think they want, versus what they want is irrelevant, Markus," Jacob muttered none too loudly before he lifted the megaphone up to his lips again, "This is what happens when the enemies of Daniel decide they can rule over him. This is-"

Markus knew he his anger had snapped somewhere along the man's rantings. He had found that the guard holding his good arm's grip was loose and used it to his advantage, driving his elbow backwards in a jab that hit Jacob square in the stomach. His blow forced the air out of Jacob's lungs before he collapsed half on top of him, clocking him with the megaphone barely gripped on his hand before the guards suddenly dove on top of him, pinning him down roughly.

His injury screamed in pain, but Markus didn't care as he knew he had scored a victory. However, the weight on top of him was suddenly lifted as someone toppled over into his guard and the warm viscous liquid dripped down his face. That was when the roar of chaos came back to his ears and he looked up to see the crowd surge forward, some holding machine guns, others just charging the guards.

His vision and ears were suddenly assaulted with the cries of an angry mob as he was suddenly jerked to his knees and he looked around, the crowd surging around them, but they weren't' attacking him. Instead, they had roared their fury and were attacking all around him.

He felt hands grab him from behind and Markus tried to fight it until Jeremiah's raspy voice spoke in his ear, "Come on, we've got you!"

"Jeremiah?" Markus turned his head to meet Jeremiah's brown eyes before the man gave him a quirky smile.

Then Kurdy and Smith were next to him, supporting him as they ran blindly through the crowds. Markus tried to speak, to tell them to wait as he caught a glimpse of the burly man rush past him, gun blazing. He was screaming something, but he couldn't understand what the man was saying...the blurry colors of people around him, noises he couldn't identify...

"Oh shit, I think he's going into shock," Jeremiah's voice was distant now and Markus shook his head, trying to force himself to pay attention. He knew he was walking; his feet were taking him somewhere, but somehow...

"Come on Markus, don't do this," he tried to turn his head, but it was lethargic...tried to look behind him...

Was that Jacob who was retreating back into the hotel? Firing into the crowd as the screams got louder...

He tightened his grip on Jeremiah's coat as he tried to pull himself upwards...and finally realized that he couldn't feel anymore pain in his arm. Turning his head, or at least attempting it, it was so hard for some odd reason. It was so easier earlier before, wasn't it? He was just standing, being held by the guards at the front of the hotel...wasn't he?

"W...Where..." why did his tongue feel so stiff and heavy when he tried to talk? He had a perfect conversation with that little girl Olivia...had a conversation with Jacob. Didn't he?

Markus knew he should have been concerned, but he didn't know what...it was so easy...so...tiring...

"Fuck," Jeremiah swore emphatically when he nearly staggered under Markus' weight as the man finally passed out. Kurdy was in front of him, as they ran towards their car, Smith watching their back. Both of them had offered to help carry Markus, but he did not want anyone touching the man's other arm.

It had been some rescue, no thanks to Markus' anger that had made him snap and punch Jacob straight in the gut. He had seen Alec's eyes light up in mirth before he gave the order to charge the guards and rescue his own people. The battle still raged behind them, but then again Alec knew what they had done and knew that they would leave them behind in order to get Markus quickly out of the city.

"No one's following," Smith called out behind them as they reached the car, still parked in the pier and Kurdy quickly opened the backseat door and helped him drag Markus' unconscious form across the seat before popping the trunk and grabbing a large first-aid field kit.

"Keep an eye out," Jeremiah said as he dug into the kit and immediately stabbed a vial of sodium chloride into Markus' leg before grabbing the pouches of fluid lines and started to set them up. He wasn't too sure what else to do since he had little training as a field medic, but he knew that Markus was probably lacking in nutrients, water, and medical care and knew that the first thing the body needed when it was starving of some was electrolytes.

"All right, Smith! Get your ass in here!" Kurdy gave him one more glance before gesturing for Smith to take the front seat.

Jeremiah squished himself into the back seat, propping Markus' legs up on his own as he leaned over and started to apply gauze to the ugly and infected-looking bullet wound. It looked like it had been half-dressed, unsuccessfully for the most part and there was some silver particulate matter that he didn't recognize on it, but he hoped for Markus' sake that the bullet was already out of the wound. If not...he had more problems then shock to worry about...

He barely heard or felt the acceleration of the car as they drove away and sped back towards Valhalla. All he could do was shake his head at Markus' pale and unmoving form.

The bastards really did a number on him, he thought as he dug into the bag and pulled out a small pen of adrenaline. He knew that giving adrenaline was really bad in Markus' condition, but he knew it would also help his heart by making the blood flow faster. However, it was hard in the bumpy ride and Jeremiah had been considering giving Markus half a dose, but with this bumpy ride...

He sighed and placed the pen above Markus' thigh and depressed the trigger. The adrenaline immediately did it work and just as suddenly Markus sat up, nearly kicking Jeremiah in the face as his legs reacted to the sudden surge of epinephrine. "Wha..." Markus blinked owlishly before looking around.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," Jeremiah gave him a rueful grin as the man looked around still confused before his eyes settled on him then turned to Smith and Kurdy...

"J-Jeremiah?" Markus looked at him for a second before his eyes screwed up in pain as he clutched his injured arm with his good hand, "shit..."

"Yeah, well you look like that yourself," Jeremiah tilted his head as Markus squinted his eyes open once more, "you were a bit shocky there..."

"Still...feel..." Markus waved his hand around before leaning back against the window, "...this a dream?"

"Dream?" Kurdy spoke up from the front, "hell no...nightmare, probably yeah..."

"It's a rescue," Smith gave a look to Kurdy before smiling at Markus, "don't worry, you're out of that hell hole..."

Markus nodded, but Jeremiah could tell that his mind was elsewhere. He looked at him for a long second before tentatively asking, "...sleep?"

Jeremiah smiled and nodded. He couldn't even begin to imagine what the leader of Thunder Mountain had gone through. He sounded so much like a scare little kid, but then again, he knew that if he himself had been in Markus' situation, he would probably have sounded the same. "Yeah...get some sleep Markus. You're going home..."

With that, he saw Markus look from him to Smith and Kurdy and back before finally allowing his eyes to close and a few minutes later, his face melted into something more peaceful than the stark naked fear he had been wearing.

They pulled up to Valhalla two hours later and after the medics had wheeled Markus in for emergency surgery, Jeremiah was left standing in the garage, feeling a bit empty. He could still feel the adrenaline surging in him, and knew that they had barely dodged the bullet with this one. There were so many things that could have gone wrong with the plan. He could only hope that Alec survived his plan, but somehow knew the man would do so...

That was where his father found him ten minutes later, still in the garage, staring at the closed metal doors that were able to withstand everything save for a nuclear missile. "Jeremiah?"

He turned and gave a sheepish grin to his father as he realized that he was still half covered in some of the blood that had been shed on him as they ran through the impromptu battlefield between the Resistance and Jacob's forces. He crossed his arms across his chest, "Sorry, I would hug, but..."

"I know," Devon grinned solemnly at him, "I just wanted to make sure that you were okay..."

"I am," Jeremiah sighed, uncrossing his arms before pulling at his left arm to stretch it slightly, "just...you know, it was close...really close..."

"Markus is doing fine. The medics were able to stabilize him, but we don't exactly have a trained surgeon to look at his wound...so...the best we can do is stabilize him for his trip back to Thunder Mountain."

"That's good to hear," he wouldn't admit, but he had been extremely worried about Markus. The two of them had their ups and downs and had their fights, but he respected him and was glad that Markus would be all right. "You know they're going to come after you now... There's nothing to stop them," that was the sobering realization, and one that made him hesitate to return to the Mountain. He didn't want to leave his father behind to potential invading forces, even though Valhalla could be sealed off for a long time.

"Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about," Devon looked at him and Jeremiah frowned.

"What," he spread his hands out, "some ace up your sleeve you want to tell me? Oh wait, don't tell me, you have the nuclear codes to bomb the living shit out of Baltimore."

"Um...we do, but that's not it," Devon shook his head and Jeremiah was about to smile when he realized his father was serious about his joke.

"You're kidding..."

"The President was here. He has the nuclear access codes," his father reminded him before gesturing for him to come walk with him, "but that's not it. While you, Kurdy, and Smith were gone, we had an interesting offer come up..."

"Define interesting," Jeremiah humored his father.

"Remember how we were talking about Valerie of Atlanta ruled the Southern Cities?" his father asked and Jeremiah nodded.

"Yeah..."

"Apparently she personally came up here and offered an alliance with us against Daniel," his father said and Jeremiah stopped where he was, shocked.

"Holy....She actually came up here..."

"And offered an alliance against Daniel. Looks like she heard management changed in Valhalla... I almost didn't believe it until she said she was unarmed and she knew more about Thunder Mountain, the Western Alliance, and Valhalla than we thought she knew..."

"How much more?" Jeremiah was leery. Markus was going to have a shit fit if he knew that the leader of the Southern Cities knew a lot about the Mountain.

"Not enough to compromise the Mountain I guarantee it, or at least not enough that she told me, but she knows about you, about Kurdy, about Markus and what you three are trying to build. She knows about Millhaven, about how Kurdy and Smith go to towns around the area and try to recruit others into the Western Alliance..."

"Shit," Jeremiah dragged out the swear and shook his head, "how do you know it's not a trap?"

"I think if she's decapitating anyone who mentions Daniel is probably not lying about it," Devon shrugged, "I told her that we're independent from Thunder Mountain, but we are part of the Western Alliance. She accepted that and said that she would like to make a personal treaty with us... Apparently she controls some of the military bases down south and would like to get it networked and linked again with Valhalla."

"So what's this got to do with Jacob?"

"Apparently she's also been doing what you guys have been doing. Building up a volunteer army to fight against Daniel. She said she was currently on her way to Nashville to oversee the latest battle against Daniel's forces and made a detour here when she heard that a prominent leader of the Western Alliance had been captured and taken to one of Daniel's main cities."

"News travels fast," Jeremiah shifted his feet before grinning, "too bad the news will travel fast that we got Markus out of there and kicked Jacob's ass at the same time."

His father snorted softly, "That's true too. Valerie's offered some of her army to be posted here to protect Valhalla and its neighboring towns. I told her I consider it, and since we are technically independent from Thunder Mountain..."

"I know," Jeremiah nodded, "you're in charge of the base so it's your rules, your way. Much like Mom's rules that she used to hang up on the kitchen wall."

"Yeah," his father looked a bit saddened for a second before smiling at him, but Jeremiah had caught the expression. Even though they had never talked about it, he knew guilt still ate away at his father even though he had tried to move on from his mother's death. It was the same way with Jeremiah...guilt at not being able to figure Libby out...not being able to save her... His only consolation was that he got to kill Sims.

"That isn't all I wanted to tell you," his father continued, "I'm going to let Markus know before you guys leave, but Valerie wants to extend an offer for an alliance to the Western Alliance and to Thunder Mountain personally."

"Huh," Jeremiah had no answer for that. It was for Markus and the other leaders of the Western Alliance to decide. "Thanks Dad..."

His father smiled and clapped him on the back, "You don't have to thank me, Jeremiah. You're always welcomed anytime to Valhalla, though I hear you're now the mayor of a town yourself so I guess your visits and our talks would be infrequent..."

"Don't say that Dad," Jeremiah suddenly felt a pang of loneliness as he realized that his job as the mayor of Millhaven had kept him away from his father for a long time. "I'll come visit again..."

"I know you will," they continued walking towards the medical ward, "in the mean time, it's as good of a time as any to catch up..."

"So...how about them Dodgers?" Jeremiah suddenly cracked and was rewarded with his father laughing boisterously.

"What about the Yankees?"

Their banter with each other faded into the echoes of the hallway as Mister Smith stepped out from the shadows and lifted the cover off of his pinhole camera and captured the moment. A flash of two men, one of the Old World, one of the New laughing as father and son...

She slowly approached the window of the medical room that she knew he had been placed in and looked in on his sleeping figure. He looked peaceful, his arm wrapped in new gauze, but his face was gaunt and sunken...a testament to how much abuse he had to overcome in the past three and half days of captivity.

"So...Markus Alexander...we finally meet," her voice was melodic and deep as she brushed back a strand of raven-colored hair.

"Thank you...for taking care of my sister, Meaghan..."

~END~