Chapter 20
TWENTY
SLOAN
It was the best she could do, still he deserved more.
Sloan stood at the cemetery in Term only a few hours after Oliver had died.
The cemetery itself was a poor, dilapidated piece of land, but it would have to do.
The plot of earth that acted as the place for Term’s residents to be laid was a dry patch of square ground littered with deteriorating grave markers and withered flowers.
Sloan found a spot near the left corner of the plot of land for Oliver. No matter how dead on her feet she felt, Sloan had insisted on helping with digging the grave. She, Aareth, and Ashley took turns shoveling the rock-hard soil, while Edison and Elwood fashioned a makeshift headstone.
It was a small gathering: Edison, Elwood, Aareth, Ashley, and herself.
If it weren’t for the occasion that had brought them all together, it would have been a nice day.
The sun was high overhead with a warm breeze that kicked up puffs of dirt like someone blowing soft puffs of smoke from a cigarette.
The five escapees from New Hope stood in a circle around Oliver’s body once the grave had been dug. It was a peaceful silence that they all shared. They all understood how important a moment like this was.
“He took me in and believed my story when no one else would,” Ashley started with her unemotional, almost cold way of speaking. “I don’t know where I would be without him, or what would have happened to me.”
“I probably had the least amount of interaction with him.” Aareth stood beside his wife but not as close as Sloan would have guessed.
He wore borrowed clothes from one of Kimberly’s guards that was a size too small for his muscular frame.
“But he had to have been a smart and brave man. He knew what the queen was doing before any of us, and he was already making moves to block her plan of attack. Granted, he did try and have Jack and I killed during that meeting of The Order, but he thought we were working for the queen at the time, so I guess I can forgive him for that.”
All eyes remained down as Aareth’s words died on the wind. Sloan knew she should say something, but the words just weren’t ready to come out. She was battling a heavy sense of regret at not seeing, in the queen, what Oliver had from the beginning, and at always being so cold and distant toward him.
“He was a brilliant mind,” Edison said through a quivering voice and a heavy onslaught of tears. “He started the revolution against the queen. It’s our job that history remembers him as a hero, not a criminal.”
Elwood took a small step forward, running a finger across his bulbous nose. “Eeheeeee teeeeeenaaaa feeeeeedom toooooo. Keyblah sheeeenow sacka doooo.”
“Elwood says that he was a good man and friend,” Edison translated for the rest of the group. “He also used some vulgar language about the crown that I’m not going to repeat. I didn’t even know he knew some of those words.”
The scene stilled again. Sloan knew she had to say something. Although all eyes were still down out of respect, she understood everyone was waiting on her. Never the shy type, Sloan was now having a problem speaking.
“I … I knew him for a long time.” Sloan fought the tears that stung her eyes. “He was always just this guy who worked alongside Edison and the crown. I was … I was always rude to him, and he didn’t deserve that.”
Sloan studied the patch of soil between her boots. All of a sudden it was the most interesting thing in the world. Tears dropped down her cheeks and made tiny craters in the dusty ground. Although the tears came, her voice never quivered.
“He would always ask me out, and I shut him down every time.” Sloan couldn’t help a tiny laugh as she shook her head. “Who would have thought that he was actually the best of us? We didn’t deserve him, but by God, we will avenge him.”
Sloan was done crying. The few tears she shed were enough. Her mind was already transitioning from remorse to vengeance.