Fall, Rise, Repeat

by Matthew Schneider

  “Lassen Sie Ihre Waffen fallen!” shouted Marx.

  “Разоружение самих себя делает нас целями! Мы уйдем, но мы не сдадимся.”

  Zav cocked his head like a dog trying to understand the mysterious languages. He leaned forward and attempted to read the body language of the two men, looking for a giveaway that anything they said was hostile.

  Marx shrugged his shoulders and smiled deviously. He cleared his throat and looked to the sky, but slowly lowered his chin level with the Russian and stepped forward. Marx whispered something in the man’s ear, causing the soldier to drop his weapon; Zav could only imagine what words could have been so wicked.

  The Russian soldiers placed their rifles on the ground and lifted their arms in the air. The officer did the same, with a horrible death glare directed at Marx, strong enough to actually kill him, if that were possible. Instead, Jimenez handed his pistol to Marx, who cocked it, placed the barrel on the officer’s forehead, and shot a bullet through his brain.

  Zav gaped as the Russian’s head split open, brain matter and blood spraying out the back as the man fell forward, his face smashing into the asphalt. The Russians erupted into chaos but ceased their uproar as Jimenez screamed with thunder-like fury.

  Marx cleaned the blood off the pistol and paced in front of the Russians. “Now! English is a Lingua Franca, is it not? So I expect that most of you understand me. But we must funnel out the stupid from the rest. If you can understand what I say, raise your right hand into the air.”

  Out of the – Zav quickly counted in his head – fourteen soldiers standing in line, only eight of them raised their hands. The rest looked on in confusion, looking at their comrades and the mysterious German barking orders in front of them.

  Marx smiled and turned to Zav. “Execute the non-English speakers, Xavier,” called Marx from down below.

  Zav bit his lip as his stomach flipped. His eyes darted from Russians to Marx, back and forth, to his gun, the spectating Continentals. He shook his head and clenched his jaw. “They surrendered. I will not murder.”

  “WEAK!” yelled Marx, his eyes burning through Zav. “I gave you an order, and I expect you to follow it. Do you want to get us all killed? We have only moments before the foreigners pick their weapons back up and unleash a load of bullets into our allies.”

  A cold wind blew through Zav’s hair, blowing strands into his eyes. Time had slowed down, and the immense pressure of the situation sat on his shoulders like concrete. He felt weak, unsure what decision to make, with anger and pity filling his bloodstream.

  Xavier Starr...he thought to himself, his name resting on the tip of his tongue. He felt sick, his stomach twisting into an unsolvable knot full of anxiety and guilt.

  My child, Xavier – words of his mother – grow up and live in the footsteps of your Father and know that you will be a good person. Always as a boy, a big heart, a good student, and a young man. Where had the anger come from? Where had the desire, the lust, the demand for power come from? What monster was hatching inside of him, eating his insides like a parasite, controlling his mind?

  But this evil can be defeated! Need not become a bad person...Zav’s eyes became blurry with tears as he frowned. Die a hero, Xavier, don’t go down as the villain. There is so much more! These are people! They lived lives – memories, thoughts, and feelings squired the mortal body. This is no longer war, this is not fighting for survival...this is only gaining power. And power was exactly what Xavier Starr had always wanted.

  Zav felt a tear roll down his cheek. He raised the rifle and lined up the sights with the first non-English-speaking Russian. He pulled back on the trigger quickly, sending bullets into each of the six confused and distraught Russians.

  Marx stared at Zav, then turned his head away and pulled Jimenez to the side. He whispered a few words, looked back at the Russians, and walked towards the hotel.

  Zav sat back and weeped. He dropped the rifle and buried his head in his hands, smearing tears over his palms. He had killed before...no doubt. But there was something different this time. The Russians had surrendered and for the first time, he was not killing an angry person, but people who were afraid and upset. He was not fighting the bad guy anymore. He was not fighting alongside the bad guy anymore. He was the bad guy.

  Jimenez ignored the whimpering from the guard tower and rounded up the Russians. He distributed the Russian weapons to the Continental Army and spoke slowly for the Russians. “You have two choices. You can either fight for the Americans, or you can join your friends on the ground. We are winning this war, and even without help from the homeland! Some asswipes you men are.”

  One Russian scowled and stepped towards Jimenez. “What? Do you say you are not American?”

  Jimenez folded his arms and shifted his weight to one leg. “This isn’t Russia, and this isn’t the United States anymore. This is the people’s country, the New America. Not even our states are united anymore.”

  Jimenez looked around at the soldiers and shrugged his shoulders. He went to the guard tower and climbed the ladder to the top, peeking over the floor to look at Zav.

  Zav rolled over and sat up, unsure what to say. His wet eyes peered at Jimenez.

  Jimenez sighed and climbed into the tower. He sat next to Zav and rested his hand on Zav’s shoulder. “I’m not going to ask any questions. But I’ll tell you this. You’re not a bad person. You don’t need to make a big deal out of this. Just get back to your room and cool off for the rest of the day. Marx and I can take over and make sure there is progress on the rebuild of the city.”

  Jimenez climbed down from the top of the tower and walked back to the hotel, inspecting the different work groups throughout the street. Business had returned to normal and the Russians, accompanied by armed guards, were forced to participate in the labor.

  Marx drove home an important point. Had there been Russians that could not understand what was going on, they may very well pick up weapons and fight against the workers. But cooperative Russians were nothing but a benefit. It was a debatable subject. Some of the Americans disagreed with the decision, seeing it as immoral, and maybe it was. But when looking for a solution, the best choice may not be something that makes everyone feel good.

  And Marx knew that the Russians were living, breathing people. But he also knows it takes a strong, good person who is willing to do bad things to keep everyone and everything in check.

  Marx had prepared tea in his hotel room and brought it down to the lobby as to seem less antisocial. He had high hopes that Jaiyana would be there, but she must’ve been working guard duty somewhere.

  Jimenez entered the lobby and stood next to Marx. “I’m going to be honest, you broke the kid.”

  “That’s exactly what he needs to get stronger. We will slowly replace his softness with mental steel, and he will make a great leader one day,” responded Marx.

  Jimenez pulled a granola bar out of his pocket and tore off the wrapper, eating it slowly – food for thought. “Is he really the person we want leading us? I’m only suggesting. Wouldn’t you do a little better?”

  Marx smiled to himself and peered at Jimenez. “Would I? I am no great leader, as much as I am a great general. If I feed my ideas through Xavier and use him as my pawn, not only do we rule with great strength and intelligence, but his charisma and centrist-tone give us a social advantage.”

  Jimenez bit his lip and finished his granola bar. “I’m going to be honest, that sounds incredibly evil. But we live in a horrible world, so I guess it takes a little horrid thought to get along.”

  And with that, Jimenez tossed the wrapper in the trash can near the counter and stepped into the elevator. Marx stood alone in the lobby, staring at his feet.

  The creak of the front door caught his attention, and his head shot up. His eyes widened and he straightened up, trying to magnify his masculinity.

  Jaiyana waved and stopped near Marx. “Good to see you, Mr. Schneider,�
� she chimed, offering a smile.

  Marx swallowed and nodded his head. “Y-yes, it’s fantastic to see you. What have you been doing today?”

  “Just watching the northeast entrance to the tower, up the road. We heard the gunfire but stayed at our posts. What happened?” she asked, tilting her head ever so slightly.

  “We had a minor encounter with the Russians. We were able to recruit them into our militia, thankfully. It would be very unfortunate if there was any more bloodshed.”

  Jaiyana frowned and looked at her feet. “It’s absolutely heartbreaking that our world has come to this. War is our only solution to anything anymore. I can only dream of a place where there isn’t constant fighting.”

  Marx placed his hand on Jaiyana’s shoulder and looked her in the eyes. “Well, you know you’re safe here. And I’m doing everything I can to make the city better, and so is Xavier.”

  She smiled and fluttered her eyebrows. “Speaking of Xavier, where is he? He’s such a character, and you are too. I enjoyed the speech you two put on this morning.”

  Marx blushed and put his hand back at his side. “He’s just out working. He’s a very good leader. I just came inside to have some tea and check over my plans, you know, and make sure everything is going as planned. You seem like the humanitarian type; would you like to come back to my room and help me with some plans?”

  "And how would my humanitarian views be of any help in your battle for land?" Jaiyana asked, lifting her chin simultaneously with one eyebrow.

  "Not only is it important for us to have a spectrum of views, but your mindset should help us in the refuge program and maintaining peaceful relations within our safe-zone."

  Jaiyana nodded and twirled her hair between her fingers. “I’d be more than happy to help. I love being part of something big, and I’m certainly honored that you’d like my help. You let me know when you want to work on that; I’ll be hanging around the lobby.”

  “All right,” cooed Marx, and burst into the meeting room to pretend he was occupied with a task.

  He pumped his fist in the hair and did a little dance, admiring his flirting skills and ability to pull off two personalities. There was a time for war...and a time for peace.

  “Make love, not war,” he chuckled to himself, sitting on the table and sighing a breath of relief.

  Chapter 14

  Zav saw Marx and Jaiyana through the closing elevator doors across the lobby as he entered. He saw Marx glance at him for a moment, and then the elevator doors clamped shut.

  Zav sniffled and took a mint out of the woven wooden basket on the front counter. He sucked on it, tasting the strength of the peppermint. Mint was, of course, effective at clearing a stuffy nose.

  Zav crossed the lobby and pressed for the elevator. It took close to a minute, but it finally arrived and he stepped in. As he looked at the many floor buttons, a small lightbulb in his head flickered and he pushed for the top floor. The doors closed in front of him and and the smooth jazz hummed in the background.

  He went up, up, up, for what felt like a very long time, before he felt the lift come to a stop and settle in. The doors creaked open and he stepped out into the vacant hallway. There was a different smell in the air, like the carpets and interior had not been cleaned for a while and somebody had placed moth balls all over the corridor to cover up the smell of filth.

  Zav creeped to the doorway at the end of the hall, unsure of the vibes he was getting from the whole place. He twisted the knob and the poorly painted white door swung open to a metal ladder. He pulled himself up, already tired from the day, and followed the small walkway to a door at the end.

  He climbed onto the scaffolding at the very top of the tower. It was circular, with a massive satellite antenna in the middle and steel beams crossing on the outside.

  It was an amazing sight. The many tall skyscrapers, the large towers, the small buildings scattered about everywhere were glistening in the sun.

  There were a few areas where there was black smoke, and even visible fires, but what surprised Zav most was the busy streets. The Russian invasion had done little to change people’s flow of business. Wabash Avenue had many cars driving on both sides of the street, but traffic stopped where the roadblocks had been set up.

  Crime had previously been at an all-time low because of laws that benefited those in poverty and new methods of law enforcement that kept people in line. But it seemed it had cultured people too – despite the whole country falling into organized chaos, people were not completely disorderly.

  Men and women who once wore the police badge still roamed the streets, attempting to keep the peace. Even with a crumpled economy, businessmen traveled to work and continued their services. It was a situation in which nobody was really working against one another; all knew the severity of the attacks, and that the country could only recover if everyone worked together.

  However, there was something different about the city. It was a small detail, hardly noticeable at all unless you saw the movement of the flag or the ripple of the banner. There were Russians flags on buildings, replacing the American flags that were once there.

  Zav squatted, gripping the iron post next to him, and looked around the city. The Russian flags ended at a seemingly invisible line; anything past it was still American flags. And every flag in the safe zone – a dozen blocks out – was American.

  Zav licked his lips and imagined the border of the land they currently controlled. It was a small fraction of the city, but could easily become larger as they progressed.

  He stepped backwards and crawled over the scaffolding to get back on the concrete base at the top of the skyscraper. He took in a deep breath of the fresh air, the first in a while that was not polluted by smoke or fumes.

  Zav swung open the door and slid down the ladder, dropping to the bottom with a clatter. He stretched his legs and shook out his hands. He returned to the elevator and pressed the golden button.

  He tapped his foot, patiently waiting for the elevator, listening to the sounds around him. A flock of birds flew past the wide window at the end of the hall, adjacent to the door to the rooftop. They went passed quickly, squawking.

  The elevator doors opened and Zav stepped in. He slid his finger down the rows of buttons and pressed for the ground floor.

  The elevator shook as a rumble rose from the ground up. Zav grabbed at the metal bar on the side of the shaft, feeling his feet vibrate. What he assumed was thunder crept into the elevator, although barely audible, mixed with the smooth jazz that endlessly looped.

  The elevator doors opened and Zav jumped into the lobby. There were many people standing around, some militia, some civilians, but all facing the door.

  Zav pushed to the front of the room and stood in front of the glass door, watching the tremendous orange and red fiery cloud surround the building.

  None of the explosions were inside the safe zone. Tall flames were coming out of four nearby buildings, filling the air with black smoke.

  Zav turned his head to the shuffle of noise and spotted Jimenez rushing towards him.

  “We’ve lost communications with a scout just north, two blocks away. Four explosives were detonated, or they’ve deployed tanks.”

  Zav’s eyes glowed with the hue of the flames. “I was on the top floor looking over the city. If I had stayed a moment longer I would have seen what happened,” he said.

  Jimenez put his hand on Zav’s chest and pulled him back. “We need to stay away from doors and windows in case something else happens. We don’t know who caused the damage, but those fires will not stop burning. Did you see anything else while you were up there?”

  Zav followed the motion of Jimenez’s hand until they had both stopped. “There were a lot of fires and smoke. But there was also a lot of people.”

  “All of the explosions border our safe haven. I’m just going to assume this was an attack by the Russians. If any of those fires you saw were started by explosions I’m sure we would have heard it.”<
br />
  Zav nodded his head and watched the panicked emotions of Jimenez’s face disappear as he turned to face the center of the room.

  “LISTEN UP!” he yelled, and the voices in the room disappeared as people looked at Jimenez. “We don’t know what triggered the explosions but we can only assume the Russians are going to make an attempt at advancing on our territory. And that means we are going to have to stand up and defend it.

  “Civilians are no longer granted immunity. I want every able-bodied man and woman fighting. We will disperse weapons among you and you will be given orders from your supervisors.”

  There was silence in the room for only a moment before an uproar of voices began arguing against the order.

  Jimenez walked away from Zav and met with members of the militia. Zav stayed close to the wall to avoid any attention and peeked out the window.

  The fires continued to climb into the sky and anyone who had been outside nearby was now gone.

  “Line up!” barked Jimenez. Zav faced the militiamen as they began handing out weapons from one of the crates that had been rolled inside.

  Zav hurried behind Jimenez and grabbed the first gun. He wrapped his hand around the grip and pressed the stock against his shoulder.

  One of the militiamen turned around and inspected Zav as he tried out the AK-47. “Are you prepared to lead us unto battle?”

  Zav lowered his arms as the color rushed out of his face. He cleared his throat and gave a small nod of his head. “Sure am…”

  Jimenez armed the last of the militiamen and everybody moved towards the doors. Zav shifted to the side of the group and pushed his way to the front next to Jimenez. They stood with their shoulders just inches apart, staring out the front window of the hotel. The smoke was endlessly rising in all directions.

  Jimenez cupped his hands around his eyes and peered through the glass, watching both ends of the road. “And so it begins…” his voice trailed off as he stepped away from the door.