The Prior

POV: Cass Abbot

“Okay, so what’s the plan?” I ask.

“I mean, we got them to revolt. They can probably do it on their own. Why don’t we just step in if/when necessary?” Elliot suggests. His hands reach into his pockets, nervous almost. I follow his behaviors, mentally making note of this one.

“I guess that’d work? But what now?”

“I mean,” Belle says, with a huge smile, “We’re literally in history. Why not explore? Have some fun?” Max seems irritated, but Elliot beams at her innocence and positivity.

“Let’s go explore,” Elliot says at last. We walk around; Max tries to act cool. His walk changes from time to time. What type of person mentally, strategically, modifies the way that they walk? Currently, he bounces more than normal. So, two options here: 1. He wants to impress someone. And, I think that someone might be me. Or 2. He’s not telling the truth about who he is. Also, a possibility.

“I’d love to talk to some locals, see what’s happenin’ ’round here, ya know?” he says. His face is smirking, but not in a natural way. Something is painfully off here. I just smile and nod. I catch up to Elliot, maybe he can help me. Being unintentionally helpful to my cause, Belle talks to Max.

Running up to Elliot, I whisper “Hello. Gossip really quick?” he gives me a face.

“Well it’s either you or Belle. And Belle is talking to the person I want to gossip about. So, that leaves you,” I say.

“Go on...” he says, suspicious, glancing at me from the side.

“I think Max has a crush on me...” I say, giggling. I try my best to channel my inner girl. Maybe, just maybe, for that, he’ll break the bro code.

“Oh,” he says, sharply. I roll my eyes. That certainly did not work.

“Well, you’re terrible at this. You’re supposed to say, ‘Do you have a crush on him?’ and then I would say ‘No, but I think it’s kind of funny’ and then we would talk about how he’s embarrassing himself trying to impress me. You see, you have to learn all this stuff before your niece gets older. Like, you’ve got to be a gossip expert to raise a teenage girl. C’mon!” I exasperate, half meaning it. He does need to learn to gossip better.

He blushes a little, “So, what did he do?” I high-five him and rant about Max’s ridiculousness. Elliot, though, says nothing of meaning in response. He laughs or shakes his head, but makes no comments: entirely unhelpful.

After walking around the town for a few hours, it’s about time for the execution. I look around. There’s an audience. A huge one. Children are here, it makes my blood boil. Scorching hot fury pours through my veins.

“I have a gun,” Max says. I nod in an ‘and?’ sense. “For this to work, I’m not sure I’m the one who needs to have a gun. I’ve held a lot of guns before, but I’ve only shot them to test them,” he elaborates. I cock my head at him.

“Well, we have two of them,” Elliot says.

“I know, but you see, I think one of you two should have it instead of me,” Max says, sticking the gun out towards me and Belle.

“I have never even seen a gun in person before this moment,” Belle says, staring at it nervously.

“I mean my dad took me hunting like once when I was 8 and I took a couple self-defense courses in high school, I’m not sure if that makes me anymore qualified,” I fib. The gun appetizes me. I want it.

“Sounds like perfect qualifications to me,” Max says before shoving the gun towards me, perhaps he is more uncomfortable with it than I thought. A cover? Or genuine? I’m trying to over analyze everyone. I don’t believe everyone is telling the truth. Someone must know why we are really here. Max? Or Elliot? Hell, even Belle?

“Maybe you could teach her to shoot, Elliot?” Belle suggests. I nod in agreement and we go to the woods, together. Max and Belle sit on the hill while Elliot and I hike into the woods. He shows me how he would shoot it first, and then has me try to copy him. I purposefully do sort of alright, and Elliot does exactly what I want him to. He keeps telling me to fix parts of my posture. I act like I don’t understand what he means. To be fair, his explanations aren’t that good.

“Move your finger - no the other. No. No. Different. Like take it... Imagine it’s a golf club, but bent. Do you not play golf? Um. Like curl your fingers...”

Until finally he steps behind me, wraps his arms around me and moves me into the correct pose. His face is pressed close to mine, trying to get a view. I can feel his growing facial scruff against my neck. His callused hands try to fix the posture of my wrists. This feels intimate. I almost forget what I’m doing for a moment. My face gets hot and flustered for no reason. Good thing it’s hot out here. Maybe he won’t notice. I definitely do not have feelings for him, I tell myself. It’s just flustering when a man, who is perhaps a little attractive, gets so close.

Eventually, he’s happy with the way I’m holding it and tells me to fire. He still stands behind me, brushing against me. I pull the trigger and allow myself to fall backwards. He catches me.

“That’s why I didn’t move. You need to anticipate the kick-back. Try it again, but stabilize yourself more with your back foot.” His hand trails softly on the edge of my thigh, indicating which leg I need to move. I suck in a breath. This time, I shoot the gun the way that I know how to. To his satisfaction, he has me pick up the gun and get into position several times. Since we want to save ammo, I don’t actually shoot again.

“You did good, Cassidy,” he says to me, earnestly. I feel almost proud of myself. It’s warming. I like it. We go back to town square just in time for it to begin. Max and Belle sit in the bleachers. Elliot does too, but in the front. I stand close to the edge, more prepared to run. My stomach feels like a pit. Am I about to kill someone right now? This is a lot of pressure. Not that I haven’t killed people before. It’s just different here. I’ve molded into the character I’ve created for myself. Cass Abbot, the diplomat, is just my cover, but I think I’m becoming too much like her. Cassidy Belyayev, the CIA agent, needs to return for this mission. But, at the same time, I can’t let the others know who I am. Not, at least, until I find the mole.

After a few moments, the guard leads out all 26 slaves; all are handcuffed against the wall. I have to close my eyes for a moment after seeing the lash marks on one of the men’s bodies. A particular slave nods at someone in the audience. I can’t tell exactly, but that someone appears to be Elliot. He turns to the man next to him and whispers something. In just moments, they all begin to shout:

“WE ARE PEOPLE TOO.”

The guards attempt to pull one of them off the wall. He does something quite spectacular: kicks the guard in the balls. I hear an uproar in the audience. Humans are death-natured. They love a good fight - a good death. Even in history…

A second guard pulls out a gun, “You’re going to die today, one way or another.” The slave just laughs. He’s not afraid to die.

Sometimes we’ve just got to embrace the fragility of our own mortality.

And that’s exactly what he’s doing. The guard manages to rip him off of the wall. I make eye contact with Elliot who stands in his seat. He nods at me. I motion at him to get ready. I dash towards the scene.

“Ma’am you can’t be up here!” Someone shouts.

I pull my gun and aim it at a guard. There’s an audible gasp from the crowd. I get a short glimpse of Elliot firing at the other two guards. This is about to get way bloodier than anticipated. One of the guards attempts to fire at me, at the same time that I’m firing at him. He misses, but mine lodges in his side. I let out a little yelp. This is actually happening?

Another bullet whizzes by me. Focus.

Before I can fire back, the shooter falls to the ground with a bullet centered between his eyes. I’ve never seen a better shot - Elliot has got serious aim. I can’t admire his shot for too long, because the guard to my side slams his gun directly to my head. I immediately twist my body and press my gun onto his neck. We’re locked. He attempts to knock my gun out of my hand, but I’m a bit stronger than he was expecting. I rotate my body to get a better grip.

A gunshot echoes in the air. Suddenly, man falls. I flinch, at first thinking I was shot. I glance at my attacker. Blood pours out of his face. Who did that? I glance up towards my partners.

Elliot arm wrestles with a member of the audience, so it wasn’t him. I glance to the other side of the stadium. I see Max holding an 1800′s gun with a giddy smile on his face. Nice.

Belle rushes over to Elliot and assists with the man. Something that he didn’t have was the element of surprise, Belle did. She slams the back of his head into the pole behind us. He drops down. Oh, thank god.

I look around. It appears that a majority of the slaves are gone. They escaped in the chaos. I rush towards Belle.

“Did you kill him?” I ask, now running along with her.

“I think so?”

“We gotta go, now,” Elliot says, once he’s caught up to us.

“Duh!” Belle screeches.