The word “Traitor”, which had begun as a whispered question passed from one soldier to the next, soon grew in volume and intensity until it was hurled at Casey from all sides as if it were a weapon bent on destroying him where he stood in the courtyard in front of headquarters.

He firmed his shoulders and stood tall, refusing to be intimidated by the growing crowd of enlisted men. Not his fellow soldier nor the burn of the new tattoo on his back proclaiming to all who could see it that he was discharged from the army for bad conduct and treason would make him regret his decision to withhold Lottie’s location from First Lieutenant Green.

“Make room!” the lead CPS soldier yelled at the crowd pressing in from all sides. “Get back! Let us through!”

Casey clenched his fists, and the subsequent bite of his metal handcuffs pinching his skin helped him focus on something other than the crowd at the foot of the stairs. He vowed to show no remorse, no weakness, and no embarrassment, no matter how loud the crowd screamed.

Putting one foot in front of the other, Casey descended the stairs behind the phalanx of CPS soldiers. The unruly group of citizens jostled and shifted, trying to get closer to him. Hands reached through the spaces created by the CPS guard, while others pushed and shoved. “Don’t you have work to do?” one of the CPS yelled to the people at Casey’s right and Casey turned his head toward the disturbance.

“Traitor!” the chant continued, growing louder and more insistent. Each utterance of the word cascaded over its predecessor until all semblance of meaning was lost to a deafening roar.

Casey swallowed hard.

“We’re going to need more men,” the man yelled to the lead soldier.

“We don’t have ‘em. Keep going.”

“Damn,” he closer man said. “You’d think they’ve never seen a traitor before.”

“Have they?” Casey asked. In all the times he had been to St. Louis since basic training, he’d never even heard of someone getting arrested for treason let alone seen someone taken away for the crime. The CPS soldier glared at him. Casey shrugged and resumed facing forward. He thought it was a valid question even if his guard didn’t agree.

Harrumphing, the soldier shoved at the throng again. “Make room,” he yelled at the same time as other members of their party and eventually they made it across the paved plaza in front of the Asset Recovery and Acquisition building. As they reached the street, the crowd finally began to thin, and Casey took a deep cleansing breath. It was easier to hide his unease without the crush of spectators. He hissed in pain when a well-placed shove between his shoulder blades made contact with his new tattoo. “Move, Traitor.” Casey nodded and quickly fell into step with the men around him, losing himself to the rhythm of their march.

He wasn’t sure how far they’d gone—maybe half a mile—when the hairs on his bare arms rose in subconscious warning. He was being watched. Shifting his focus farther afield, Casey searched for the threat. He didn’t see anything suspicious.

There...

Casey froze.

Noah!

“Dammit!” the CPS behind him growled. “Move.” Casey stumbled as the man pushed him forward. “I said, move!”

Noah.

Casey craned his neck seeking his link to Lottie. His gaze locked with Noah’s. Seconds which felt like hours passed, but then Noah nodded, and Casey let out the air he hadn’t realized he held. Noah knew of his plight. He would take care of Lottie.

And with that, the tension Casey harbored melted away.

 *****If you like Acquisition and Preservation, please add it to your library!