Chapter 14

12 hours before they leave for Sinclair's compound

Joan watched from the table as Monroe climbed the stairs. She had hated telling him that she knew where Miles was. Miles and Monroe together were trouble. But she had made a deal and they did need him in order to take out Sinclair. She would destroy Sinclair and everything he built, just like he had. She would see his mansion that he loved so much burn to the ground! She would see the dirt of his compound red with the blood of anyone associated with him. Max and Nahla came in through the door then, interrupting her dark thoughts. They threw a look at each other before coming to stand by her. Joan scrubbed a hand over her face tiredly.

"Oh I know that look. What is it now?" She asked, not really wanting to know the answer. Nahla looked nervously at Max.

"We have a plan." He said.

"Yes I know we have a plan. We just worked it out! Monroe is going to blast a hole in the wall for us, then we charge in take back what is ours and get revenge." She sighed. "Do try to keep up Max." Max clamped his jaw shut and before he could open it again Nahla cut him off.

"What he meant was WE have a different plan." She said gesturing to her and Max. "But your not going to like it."

"What is it?" Joan asked looking between her two friends. With another nervous glance at Max, Nahla continued.

"You know that once Monroe blasts a hole in the wall, Sinclair is going to concentrate the majority of his men there." Joan nodded.

"Yes there is no way to avoid that." Said Joan.

"True but we can use that to our advantage. If Sinclair thinks we are coming in full force from one side then we come from another we will be able to get into the compound easier." Joan ran her hand threw her hair.

"But we would have to have two holes in the wall. We only have enough dynamite for one." Nahla took a deep breath.

"Here's the part you're not going to like. We don't give Monroe enough to blast the wall." Joan was silent.

"If it doesn't blast a hole in the wall then how is he going to get out?" Asked Joan quietly.

"He's a survivor Joan. Let him figure out how to stay alive till we get inside." Said Max more harshly than he meant. Joan looked away from them. To their surprise she was actually considering it.

"And if Sinclair takes his weapons? What will he fight with?" Joan asked not looking at them still.

"That's will be his problem. Let him worry about that." Said Max as gentle as he could on a subject involving Monroe. "Joan our plan will save a lot of our people. Your plan kills the many to save one." When she still didn't look at him he added, "He's one man Joan." Slowly Joan nodded.

"I agree. We will do it your way." With that she got up and began to climb the stairs.

Present

Monroe walked towards the compound, now escorted by guards. Joan had chosen this specific group for a reason; there were several former militia soldiers in it. Getting caught had been harder than he had thought it would be. He had never expected the guards to be so clueless to their surroundings. He had been about to throw something at one of them when another group of scouts had come up behind him, recognizing and "capturing" him. They acted like it was a huge feat on their part. If only they knew he had been trying to get caught! His mind began to wonder back to Joan. The unease returned. He wasn't sure what worried him the most, the look she had gave him, the longing in her kiss, the sadness in her eyes, or the fact that she was showing him those emotions at all. It all reminded him of another time; a time when she left and never returned. He shook his head; that was not a night he wanted to think about. The view before him brought him out of his thoughts. The compound it was! The thing was huge! He noted the post blackout bricks that made up the outside wall. Guards eyed him as they passed through the gate. Monroe let his eyes glide over the courtyard, the soldier in him coming out as he assessed the defenses of the fort. His eyes came to rest on the mansion at the center. Unlike the barracks that surrounded it, it was pre-blackout. It reminded him of what a plantation house in the deep south might have looked like. Suddenly men rushed from the barracks, forming lines military style. Monroe turned to watch the assembly. A man cleared his throat and the guards that had escorted him snapped to attention. Monroe turned to see a thin, almost wiry looking man beaming at him. The man was just short enough that he had to look up at him slightly and Monroe down slightly.

"I am Severus Sinclair." The man announced snapping his hand out towards Monroe. Monroe looked down at the man completely underwhelmed; he had expected someone bigger and tougher looking to be in command. If the man noticed Monroe's disappointment he never showed it as he stood patiently waiting for Monroe to shake his outstretched hand. After sizing the man up again, they shook hands.

"Sebastian Monroe." The man grinned.

"General Monroe. Or do you prefer President?" Asked Sinclair unsure.

"General will be fine." Monroe answered an air of authority came over him at the sound of his old titles.

"Excellent, excellent! Both are brilliant titles for a brilliant leader but I have always like general better! It is an honor to meet you sir!" Said the other man excitedly. "Will you join me in my inspection of the men, General?" Monroe had figured the assembly was for him and inclined his head in agreement. The grin never left Sinclair's face as he walk towards the rows of soldiers. Monroe's own face was wrapped in a cold mask of authority. They walked up and down the rows looking over the men. Monroe became increasingly worried the more he saw. Most looked to be cold killers and looked like they could handle themselves in a fight. He unconsciously looked up towards the hill that they had laid upon to spy. He really hoped Joan knew what she was doing. He turned back to the men and stopped short in front of a barrel of a man. His eyes traveled up the mans tree trunk thick chest to the boulder of a head that sat on his monster shoulders; two beady eyes looked straight ahead, over Monroe's head. Monroe had to fight the urge to let his jaw gap in surprise. He had never seen a man that big before. He had to have been 7 feet tall! Sinclair chuckled beside him.

"This is Hugh."

"You mean huge." Monroe said back before he could catch himself. Sinclair gave him an odd look and a laugh before continuing through the ranks. Monroe chided himself as he followed Sinclair, knowing it was his surprise that had made him slip. He needed to be more careful; Sinclair had to believe he was still the General. Monroe frowned to himself. Why was he having to act so much? He WAS General Sebastian Monroe! He didn't need to act, that's who he was, wasn't it? Why was he second guessing everything he was and did? Joan flashed in his mind's eye. Monroe shook his head; that woman would be the death of him. He realized they had completed the inspection and Sinclair was now looking at him expectedly.

"What did you think of my men General?" Asked the man a little impatiently.

"They look like soldiers." He replied evenly, though his mind was still on Joan. Monroe thought he saw something flash in the man's eyes but it was gone before he could be sure, the grin returning. Joan really would be the death of him if Sinclair suspected anything.

"Come General. Let me show you some good ole' southern hospitality!" They started towards the house. Something made Monroe look up one last time at the hill, chalking up the shadow of movement he thought he saw to be the fault of his tired eyes.

Joan lay at the top of the hill, binoculars in hand, watching the scene play out below. Her heart had almost stopped when Monroe had looked up before entering the house. He had looked right at her as if he knew she was there. She couldn't stop the unease that something was going to go terribly wrong tomorrow. The slight sound of a person's step on the ground made her spin and draw her pistol. Nahla gave her a withering look. "Really Joan?"

"Sorry" She said holstering the gun. "I wasn't taking any chances."

"And if you had shot then every scout in the area would have come running and our cover would have been blown." Said Nahla throwing her hands up in exaggeration. "You missed supper." Joan held up a leather bag, inside was jerked beef. Nahla sighed. "What's up with you lately?" Now it was Joan's turn to give the withering look.

"You have to ask?" Joan said an edge to her voice as she turned back towards the compound. Nahla let out a breath and rolled her eyes.

"You can't be serious?!" Nahla said with a slight laugh. When Joan didn't answer and continued to gaze at the compound, Nahla's eyes widened. "Joan! You can't possibly think he cares about you! He's a self centered dictator!"

"And what if I love him?" Joan said quietly, not meeting her friend's eyes.

"Don't! Don't you dare say that! You don't love him and he doesn't love you! End of story!" Nahla sounded on the edge of panic now.

"He's different now Nahla." Joan said, a plea in her eyes as she looked up at her friend, trying to will her to understand what she was feeling. Nahla was shaking her head though.

"Do you not remember what he did before? You don't know what it was like for me… for Max to sit by and watch you be with him! He will never change Joan. He will always put himself first. He will always hurt you in the end." Joan looked away from her friend.

"You don't know him like I do."

"Your right I don't. I see the monster in him, the devil on his shoulder. You can't see that. You have never seen that!" Nahla hissed back at her. Joan looked away again, a hard look on her face. Nahla saw the walls going up around her, like they always did when they talked about him. "I just don't want to see you get hurt again." Nahla said quietly before she walked back to the tree line, leaving Joan on the hill to think on her friend's words.

The inside of the mansion was even grander than the outside. Monroe stood in awe at the chandeliers that hung from the ceiling; lit candles replaced the light bulbs. Animal skins adorned the floors, everything from bears to moose pelts. A grand staircase that was in remarkably good condition, started a few paces from the door. On the right was a set of closed French doors with an elegant pattern on them. On the left was an open entry to what looked to be a parlor. Sinclair hit a bell and almost instantly a young girl came through the double doors on the right. She curtsied before them then waited for Sinclair to give an order.

"Bring the General and I some refreshments to the parlor." She nodded and disappeared back through the doors. Just as Sinclair gestured towards the parlor, a man appeared at the top of the stairs, a big man.

"Ah my brother Gordon Sinclair!" Said Sinclair cheerily but a little nervous. Monroe watched the muscular man descend the stairs to them. This man had the air of authority that demanded attention. This was the kind of man that Monroe had expected. He had ice blue eyes and a piercing glare that looked right through people pinned on Monroe. Monroe met his gaze unflinchingly, which seemed to surprise the man. He defiantly was not used to a challenge, even something as insignificant as someone looking him in the eye. After he reached the bottom of the stairs, he seemed to size Monroe up. He was taller than Monroe and while his brother's hair was more of a really light blonde, his was pure white. He smiled and laughed suddenly.

"Forgive me but it has been a long time since I have met someone who came close to matching me." He extended his hand. "As my half wit brother already said I'm Gordon Sinclair." Monroe took his hand and smiled at the strength in it.

"Sebastian Monroe."

"Ah yes the famous President of the Monroe Republic! Shall we?" He said gesturing towards the parlor. "I would love to hear some of your stories!"

They had talked about the Republic till the early morning hours before showing Monroe to a room. He had been surprised at how much the brothers knew of the Republic, of him and Miles even. He chuckled to himself, they had compared themselves to him and Miles. Laughing slightly at the thought again, he threw himself on the bed. His eyes landed on his pack a few paces away, reminding him of the long day he had ahead of him tomorrow. Closing his eyes he drifted off.

Awaking at dawn he gathered the pack and quietly snuck out of the house. He carefully avoided guards as he made his way to the east wall. Personally he would have attacked from the west but Joan had been set on the east. He set up the dynamite and lit the fuse. He frowned. It had looked like a lot more when Joan had first given it to him. He took cover behind a barrack as the dynamite went off. When the smoke had cleared, his jaw dropped in shock. The wall still stood. This wasn't good. Running back to the house, he closed the door to his room and ran a hand through his hair. This was the first part of the plan and so far it wasn't going good. He thought. Suddenly the door flew open and Severus Sinclair stepped into the room.

"Come quickly General we are under attack!" Said the thin man, his eyes wild. Monroe nodded and followed the man down stairs where his brother barked out orders to his soldiers. Gordon Sinclair looked up and dismissed his officers when he saw Monroe.

"What's going on? Your brother says we are under attack?" Monroe asked innocently.

"Yes the barbarians have tried to blast the wall. They didn't use enough though. Now we know what direction they are coming from!" The man look excited to Monroe. No he looked more than excited he looked giddy. It occurred to Monroe that he had wanted them to attack. A soldier slammed through the double doors suddenly, dragging the young girl that had brought them drinks the night before. He threw her roughly at Gordon Sinclair's feet. She sobbed quietly.

"Tell the General what you told me!" The soldier yelled at her. When she didn't answer he kicked her and dragged her to her feet by her hair. She screamed and struggled until he slapped her. "Tell him!"

"Please stop!" She screamed, but continued when his hand tighten in her hair. "I saw him! I saw him!"

"Saw who?" Asked Sinclair, his eyes narrowing. Monroe already knew who she saw and began to look for escape routes.

"Him!" She said pointing at Monroe. "He had a pack with him this morning when he left, then no pack when he returned! It was him that tried to blow up the wall!" The soldier released her and she scrambled away, back through the double doors. Monroe swallowed hard as all eyes turned to him.

Lily watched the army gather through the trees. She saw Joan raise her arm, signaling that they were ready. Looking towards the compound, she saw the smoke curling from the east wall where Monroe had set off the dynamite. With a nod more to herself than anyone she turned to the 30 archers awaiting her command.

"Archers ready!" As one they raised their bows. Lily turned back to the compound and raised her own bow. "Take aim! Fire!" The arrows flew through the air. "Ready again! Fire!" The second volley of arrows flew. Lily and a few others grabbed binoculars. She saw several along the walls of the compound fall. Joan and the gathered army surged forward to begin their siege of the compound. "We can get a few more waves in before they get in range." Said Lily notching another arrow. The others followed her lead and they loosed more arrows at the wall exploded.

The army surged forward as one; Joan, Nahla, and Max at the head of the mass. Only a few in the group carried guns because of low ammunition. The attack on their camp had left them with only 5 rifles and 10 pistols. The ones with guns would take out the armed guards patrolling the top of the wall that were left after the arrows. Joan had opted out of a gun. She wanted to jump headfirst into the fight and she had always preferred her swords anyways. She trusted the marksmen she had given the guns to, after all she had trained them. Another round of arrows flew overhead just as they reached the wall. An arrow lodged into the ground next to her foot. She frowned in annoyance until she saw several enemy soldiers fall. She would make sure to praise Lily for sending more than 2 waves of arrows like she had told her. Joan knew Lily had good judgment and that one day she would be a leader, either of Joan's people or of her own.

Joan charged through the hole in the wall. Jumping over fallen bricks and debris, she met the defenders head on. The two armies collided. She wheeled and sliced at them. A knife buried in a man's chest near her. She didn't need to look, she knew it had come from Nahla's hand. She ducked as a monster of a man swung an axe at her head. Rolling to the ground, she lashed out with her sword, slashing the back of his calf. He roared and swung the axe at her again; she narrowly dodged it. Joan struggled to her feet and turned to face the giant. With adrenaline coursing through her veins, she charged the giant; sliding left at the last moment. She struck, her sword sliding between two ribs and sinking deep into flesh. This time the giants roar turned into a gurgle as blood poured out of his mouth. When Joan turned to find another opponent, the man raised his head and with his remaining strength swung his axe at her one last time, the blade grazing her back. She turned to finish the man, but his head already rolled on the ground at Max's feet. With a nod Max disappeared back into the mass of fighting men and women. Joan saw red as her blade clashed with a new opponent. She winced trying to push down the haze that she often felt in battle. If she wasn't careful, she would lose herself and become nothing more than a machine, a killing machine. She tried to think through the red haze threatening to take over. Why was she holding herself back? She wondered. After dispatching a few more enemy soldiers, her eyes sought out Max and Nahla. Landing on the fighting duo she saw her own struggle to hold back was not mirrored in her friends. Fighting side by side both were lost in the beautiful red haze, cutting down any and all that stood in their way. Joan swallowed hard. She wanted to let go like that, for in the red haze you don't think, you don't feel, you don't see. To kill without feeling was bliss and Joan wanted to let go and not feel anything as she looked around the compound, the sand stained red as it soaked up the blood pouring from wounds. As she engaged in another battle, a face flashed in her mind. She struggled to concentrate on the battle at hand, but the face was persistent. She gasped, remembering why she couldn't let go. She had to get to Monroe. He had no weapon other than her knife that she knew of. Dispatching the man in front of her, she began to make her way to the mansion and to the worst of the fighting.

"Did you leave the house this morning?" Asked Gordon as Severus just stared at Monroe in disbelief.

"Yes I went out for a little stroll this morning, nice place by the way." Replied Monroe calmly. None of them were buying it.

"It's such a shame really. I thought you were like me. I thought you were smarter than to try and help the barbarians." He sighed. "Oh well. Kill him." He said to the soldier. As the soldier raised his gun Monroe lunged at him knocking him to the ground. The hidden knife Joan had given him was in his hand instantly. He slashed it across the man throat and looked up to find a gun trained on him. Gordon Sinclair smiled at him as he pulled the hammer back. Suddenly the house shook and a blast was heard. It was enough of a distraction for Monroe to escape to the parlor. He heard Sinclair scream for more men and heard the pounding of running soldiers. Great, he thought, just great. He had a knife to fend off an army. Two men charger through the parlor entry, both had swords. Monroe got the drop on one of them and sent the knife deep in his gut before he could swing his sword. He spun the body around and used it as a shield from the other one before slicing his blade across the other man's chest. He finished him quickly after that. He looked up in time to see five guns aimed at him. He dived behind what looked to be a pretty solid bookshelf as they opened fire.

"You fools! Kill him but don't destroy the place! Animals!" Yelled Gordon Sinclair. Monroe heard the sounds of battle as the door opened.

"Sir… broke through…west wall." Came another voice. Sinclair cursed and the door slammed shut. Monroe listened to the sound of boots on the hardwood floor as the men advanced slowly. Well he always said if he were to die he would die fighting, he thought taking a deep breath. Although he really preferred not to die at all.

Finally! Lol This one took me a while. Please review I would love to know what you all think of the story! Also anything you would like to see or see more of? I'm always open to suggestions.