Page 100 of Uprising

“I’m not just…” He begins.

“We’ll get her Ty.” I state cutting across him. “But I need you to hold up your end. I need you to help me to help Rose. She’s still there remember?”

He shakes his head, screws his hands up and mutters before storming out, leaving the door to slam behind him.

Ben watches him go and then he turns to look at me. “I want to be the one to gut Otto. I want to make the bastard suffer.”

I smile back. “We’ll form a queue.” I say. “But Sofia gets the final shot.”

He nods. “Yeah I guess that’s fair.”

“How about you get her out first, then you can decide who’s cutting Otto’s cock off.” Koen growls.

We both look at him.

“I’m going to need your help.” I state.

“Standard.” He replies getting to his feet. “I’ll have our best soldiers on it, no half measures. We’ll get your sister back. And then we’ll make an example of Otto fucking Blumenfeld.”

* * *

I’m satin the truck, at the crossroads waiting for the action to start, trying not to think of all the reasons we should be calling this off.

We’ve got a lookout stationed on a bike outside Otto’s house, then one at every damn junction, literally following them through the city. As they get caught at the lights just before us I swear you can hear a pin drop. All of us, all five pairs of eyes are focused in the direction of where the Mercedes will come from.

And when the vehicles start moving again I hold my breath.

One of our trucks cuts right across the junction, cutting off the front of Otto’s convey. The cars brake, swerving hard not to crash into it. The Mercedes makes a sharp right turn as if they know, as if they’ve practiced this event over and over.

Our trucks race to catch up, race to corner him. A swarm of bikes manoeuvre themselves into position.

One of ours rams his and it sends the vehicle spinning around before it smashes into a wall.

But there’s another car right behind it. Men seem to pour out, shooting everywhere, not caring who gets caught in the crossfire. Not giving a damn.

We fire back. We don’t stop firing until the sound of bullets finally stops.

I jump out of the truck, sprint across the street to where the damaged vehicle is, wrenching the door open.

Otto looks up at me and his eyes widen. “No…” He begins but I punch him hard before he can say anything further.

And then Sofia looks at me. She frowns, her eyes unfocused like they’ve already pumped her full of drugs.

She tries to stand and her legs give way.

I reach out scooping her up and she physically freaks out at the contact. She starts screaming, fighting, jerking in my arms as if I’m the monster here.

“It’s okay.” I say. “Sofia, it’s me. It’s your brother.”

She shakes her head, her eyes darting wildly. Her hands slapping at me and I stupidly put her down.

And then she is running, or trying to, she stumbles to her knees, crying out, then all but crawls away from the scene.

I move to grab her but suddenly more bullets are spraying at us and I’m forced to duck, using the now fucked up Mercedes as cover. But as I do I see Otto running for Sofia. Running to get her back.

I pull my gun, taking aim and shoot out his ankle. He howls landing in a heap barely metres from where she is now curled up, whimpering, with her eyes so tightly shut as if this is all just a bad dream.

I can hear sirens now, I can hear what I don’t doubt is the militia on its way to us.

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