Traitor

((Book 1 if this is your first time here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BZZBHBMF

book 2: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CBZR49Q7

And the finished book 3: 

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CK72L912))

Blinding white lights greet me as soon as I step onto the tarmac back on Earth. Rain falls over us in slanted sheets. The door shuts behind me, and I bend down to pick up the money on the ground. Nearly 60,000 dollars in 100-dollar bills. I put it in my bag before I hear someone yelling.

"Lower your guns, morons! What the fuck are you doing, didn't you hear me?" The General's voice booms over the rain and the buzzing of the stadium lights.

"What's going on?"

I push through the crowd of Efrans and stop at the very edge. Nyt holds her good arm back to block the rest of the Efrans from moving forward. I see her tremble a little.

The humans who had gone first were already being looked at by the military at the end of the street, protected by a phalanx of armored cars, and rifles pointed at the direction of the door. I hear a few of them pleading the case for the Efrans, while the rest are sobbing in the arms of loved ones called to pick them up.

The General was behind the line of armored cars and infantrymen, while between the group of Efrans waiting in the middle of the street and the line of gunmen lay the body of a deerman; half his head blown to bits, and his blood running in red rivulets into the gutter with the rain.

As soon as I emerge from the crowd, someone among the military men yells out.

"That's him!"

And all at once the guns turn toward me.

"What are you fucking idjits doing? He saved all of our asses in there!"

"Get the General out of here. He's brainwashed."

That voice is vaguely familiar.

"What's going on? I promised these people refuge!" I call to the group of men as I move forward.

A shot is fired and strikes me in the shoulder. It's barely a bee sting.

"Lawrence Able; do not take another step. You are under arrest for suspected treason."

The man with the familiar voice grabs hold of a bullhorn and speaks into it. His amplified voice echoing off the nearby houses. People have come out of their homes to watch the spectacle.

"Treason, what kind of bullshit is that." Both me and the general shout at near simultaneously.

I take another step forward.

This time, it isn't a bullet that strikes me, but the sharp end of an arrow. It barely pierces the skin of my leg. I pull it out and quickly heal what little damage was done.

"Lawrence you son of a bitch! What did you do to my wife?" Mark, my brother stomps through the group of rescued humans; rain slickening his long blond hair. He takes his position with the infantry line.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't bullshit me, Lawrence. I tell you about my child, and my wife vanishes? What the fuck kind of idiot do you think I am?"

He nocks another arrow.

"I didn't do any—" I'm cut off by another arrow fired at me. I knock it away with my staff.

Nyt tries to rush forward but I stop her with my arm.

"Where's mom and dad, Lawrence?"

"I'm sorry, Mark they're…"

"You PIECE OF SHIT."

"I didn't do anything, Mark!"

The arrow at his bow now begins to glow. Before he could let it off, however, I feel the pinch of a blade at my throat to my left.

"We know, Lawrence." I glance toward my left.

Monica stands there with her saber pressed against my throat. Streaks of rain run down her sorrowful face.

"I didn't do anything, I sw—" She presses the blade a little tighter around my neck to stop my words

Okay, this has gone on long enough.

I shift my weight and slam my elbow into Monica's stomach to get her to stumble backward, a little to create some space between us. An arrow fires off from my brother, and I raise a spike of packed asphalt to intercept it. Monica gasps at the blow, and I push away from her.

"You that bind the all, protect me from all that would cause me harm."

Monica launches herself forward in a stab aimed at my leg, it bounces off the newly formed shield. I grab hold of her wrist and pull her forward into my raised knee. It slams into her sternum and she falls into the rain gasping for air. The air above me begins to rumble. I know this feeling. I reach down quickly and pick up Monica's dropped saber and launch it in an arc toward a person's yard.

The forming lightning spell strikes the blade instead and flows into the grass, creating a small fire that's quickly doused by the falling rain. I feel an enormous weight in my body all at once, as my actions are slowed significantly. I glance around. William, stands next to my brother holding his pendant out in front of him.

"We trusted you, Lawrence!" William's voice cut through the night, "And now you side with Roki? For what? Power? Revenge?"

"Both." The familiar voice on the bullhorn says.

A few more infantry cars had come down the street and were beginning to encircle the area. In the universal sign of surrender, the Efrans raise their hands. Its something we had taught them before coming here. Just in case.

I try to fight against William's Slow spell, but it's no use. A root bursts from the ground and wraps around my ankle. A moment later, Oak is upon me. His towering form cocks back his arm and slams it forward into my face. I grit my teeth. The Repel cracks a little where he had punched, and I feel as if my jaw had been rocked, but I don't fall. I slam my forehead forward into his nose, and hear a satisfying crunch as he falls back; blood pouring out of his now-broken nose. Ah, that was a long time coming. As he recoils, I slam my fist into his face and drive him to the ground. Thanks to the Repel still formed around my body, the strength of my blows are amplified by my Magic stat, and the strength of the shield around my body.

Before I could follow up, a swift kick to the back of my knee forces me to kneel, and soon a dagger is placed at my throat.

My brother had run forward as well and pressed the end of a nocked arrow right into my face. Janet, too, seems to have come with her weapons drawn; a pair of lightning-covered axes held tightly in her hands.

"Surrender, Lawrence."

Monica manages to sputter out as she clutched her chest.

"We know, Lawrence. You despicable bastard."

Shawn pushes himself up and places the point of a javelin at my throat; pressing its point to the pliable flesh hard enough to draw blood.

"I keep saying I didn't do anything."

"Garcia told us everything."

Ortega's voice booms from the top of one of the armored cars. Did he say, Garcia? That was the name of the man I had told to get the others for me if I took too long. Oh, god damn it. It makes sense now.

Besides Ortega was the familiar face of that man. A grin across his pudgy face. Ortega passes him the megaphone.

"He tried to bribe me with all the money from the dives he finished if I promised not to tell anyone that an army was going to be coming into this neighborhood. And what happens? Just like I said."

He motions wildly with his arm at the Efrans who were now being detained by the infantry, and marched out of the neighborhood. All the while the humans who had come through with us protest just as loudly as the general. Those who protest are also detained. I glance at Nyt. She stares in wonder at the world around her, despite the horror of being made a prisoner of war once more.

"60 heavily wounded people isn't an army," I call out in my defense.

Shawn slams his fist into my stomach and I double over.

"Shut the fuck up, traitorous trash."

Oh, I'll tear you apart Shawn. Just wait.

"He said that he already had the soldiers of Efra had already taken his parents at his command, and his brother's wife. Both to get back at those who wronged him."

"That's bull—"

My brother let loose an arrow right into my shoulder. It pierces deep.

"We already checked. Both cases are true. We found your boot prints outside of your brother's house near where Allie was taken, and found your fingerprints all over your parent's house."

I know now that I wouldn't be able to say a single thing in defense of myself. Of course, they'd find my fingerprints at my parent's house. And how could they tell those were my bootprints? I bought the boots at the compound; they could be anyone's boot prints. I remember The General's words. A snake, huh? I suppose I know who that snake is, I suppose.

I glance up from the road and glare at Garcia. He grins at me.