The Boarding School

Mercy

Hugh Hoheisel

The old warehouse was filled with make-shift tents and waning fires. Insurrectionists was the name they preferred over insurgents, agitators, or rebels. The youngest person present was a fourteen year old boy, the son of one of the insurrectionists. The sound of spoons against plastic bowls and plates filled the warehouse. There were no tables, everyone sat in huddled circles on the ground, talking, except Hugh, who sat against the wall alone, silently eating the bland soup from a can.

A man in a uniform stormed into the warehouse, searching the heads until he saw Hugh. "You screwed up, Mercy!" he announced loudly, stalking over. The name on his uniform said Jackson. Whether that was his actual name of the name of the former owner of the uniform, Hugh didn't know and everyone called him Jackson anyway. The hum of conversations lowered to a murmur.

"You gave me bad intel," retorted Hugh.

"We paid you for a job."

"And you got your money's worth. I expect the rest of the payment before I do my next one."

"We don't pay you for a sloppy job."

"And I don't accept jobs expecting to be given sloppy intel." Hugh shot a disdainful look at the African-American woman sitting in a group not far from his.

"We can't give you everything and you know that," she defended herself.

Hugh stood, leaning forward, his finger tips on the table, "Tell you what, give me my money and I'll get out of your hair."

"Sit down, Hugh," a voice ordered, "and give him the money, Jackson. We hired him for a hit and he did it." With a glare, the man stalked away. "Just keep eating Zoe," the newcomer ordered when she opened her mouth to add something.

Donovan Carter Knowles was a steady man and father of Sarah, his only remaining family. He was the insurgent Alyssa described as hating the other sorts with crazy ideas. His vision was to return to the basics of habeas corpus and fundamental rights. 

"You know when Sarah plans to get back?" he asked. Hugh shook his head and shrugged, finishing off his soup.

"Didn't say," he said between spoons.

"Should be any day now," mused Donovan. Hugh made no response. The middle-aged, dark haired man nodded, "Well, come on then."

"What?"

"We're discussing your next job in the conference room two minutes ago."

"Oh," Hugh stood and the two, joined by Zoe, entered the conference room where Jackson and three other leaders were leaning over some maps.

"Then Mercy will take out the captain," Heinen was saying, motioning to a grassy area on the map.

"Shouldn't he take out the general?" one of the other men asked.

"No, the general as a first hit would be impossible, but we know the response procedures after the captain is taken out. Mercy will go over to this area to take out the general while we start the counter moves and take 'em all out."

"I ain't doing any of that without an agreed upon price," Hugh interjected.

"Ten thousand," Heinen offered.

"Like hell."

"We already discussed it," intervened Donovan, "We agreed to fifteen thousand for the both of them."

"Fine." It was a low price, but no one acknowledged it.

The door opened and they all looked up. "Hugh, can we talk?" Sarah asked.