Fall, Rise, Repeat

by Matthew Schneider

  Mike gasped for air as the soldier climbed on top of him. He pulled the soldier close and opened his mouth as wide as he could, placed his tongue against the soldier’s neck as his vision began to blur, and bit down with immense force. His front teeth dug in, his molars tore, and he whipped his head, ripping the flesh from the soldier’s neck. He spat and choked as flesh and blood filled his mouth and dripped down his throat. The soldier panicked and released his grip on Mike.

  “This is Hell on Earth! We must get out of here!” screamed Alpha, still tucked in the corner with his gun raised.

  Bravo fell to the ground in pain, slouched against the wall. He pulled the pistol from his side and fired it at the oncoming Russians – he used his last six bullets to wipe them out. He lifted the pistol to the side of his head and pulled the trigger. A faster, friendlier way to go than a stomach wound. It clicked.

  Charlie lifted his head as blood dripped from the corners of his lips. He felt around and found a slab of concrete had penetrated his lower back. He placed his head on the ground.

  Just above Charlie, Delta hung on for dear life. A fire had begun and was slowly taking over the entire room. Suddenly, the sprinklers activated. Delta tried to get a firmer hold, but just as he grabbed the beam, water slid down, and his hand slipped. His left hand gripped with ape-like strength as his body swung. A piece of flaming plywood fell from above and landed on his head, pushing him to the ground and setting him ablaze.

  The Russian soldier knelt next to Echo and lifted his head up. “American. Russian helmet,” the soldier said, pulling the helmet off of Echo’s head. The soldier put on the helmet and listened to the chatter on the earpiece. The sounds of men dying, crying for help. The Russian took off the helmet and placed it next to Echo’s head. The soldier cocked the pistol and fired twice into Echo’s head.

  Mike waited for his breathing to return to normal before he stood up and ran for the door. He burst out into the stairwell and fell into the arms of two Russian soldiers. They grabbed Mike by the neck and slammed him against the wall, then threw him to the ground. They followed up with endless punches and kicks, stomping and beating, until Mike blinked one last time.

  Kingpin readied his gun and sat in the doorway. He listened to the clatter below and waited momentarily – maybe sparing his own life – before riddling the two Russians with bullets. His eyes were red from the smoke and his mind forced replays of the men dying around the table. After recollecting his thoughts, he sprinted down the stairs. The entire building was heating up. Hell was surrounding him. The men he had walked in with were now just lifeless bodies. The end was nigh.

  Chapter 17

  Kingpin sprinted down the steps but tripped over his foot and tumbled to the seventh floor, landing next to Mike’s mangled body. He felt for a pulse, closed Mike’s eyelids, and moved on. He ran past the sixth floor, dodged the fire on the fifth, and pushed open the door to the fourth. He looked down at Charlie’s crushed body, then burst out of the room and continued down the stairs. He rushed into the third floor and rounded the corner, sliding next to Bravo.

  “BRAVO! STAY WITH ME!” Kingpin screamed, shaking Bravo by the shoulders. Bravo looked up with heavy eyes but had no energy to reply.

  Kingpin wrapped his arm around Bravo and pulled him to his feet.

  He huffed as he carried Bravo, and when he stopped to catch his breath, his legs gave out. Bravo fell over and grunted as he landed on the ground.

  “Alpha! Do you read me? We need immediate assistance!” ordered Kingpin, dragging Bravo by the heels. He pulled Bravo to the stairs but paused.

  Kingpin bent over next to Bravo and realized he had stopped breathing. Kingpin swallowed hard and walked down the steps. Now was not the time to reckon that he had indirectly led to the deaths of all these men – but it was for a cause. Not only had the Russians been once more defeated, but he had acquired intel. Or maybe the papers were not important – he would not know until later.

  He pushed open the door with the red 2 and fired his gun at the human-shaped figures on the other side of the thin, glass room-divider, then took off for the corner and grabbed Alpha.

  Alpha pushed away from Kingpin and led the way out of the door. They hustled to the ground floor and made their way through the maze of papers, bodies, weapons, and debris scattered all over the room. They ran out the heavy metal door and into the light of the sunset.

  With Alpha leading, they exited the alley and continued sprinting down the road. They neared the bridge and Alpha began to slow down to breathe.

  “No, we have to keep going, it’s only a matter of time—” Jimenez said, but a bullet skimmed his leg and he fell into the steel beams on the side of the bridge.

  Alpha jumped back and turned for the hotel, but a bullet pierced through his back and he flew through the air and landed on his stomach.

  Jimenez slouched over to his side and grabbed his thigh. Sweat ran down his forehead and clouded his vision in his one working eye.

  The asphalt was hot and uncomfortable, and Jimenez attempted to stand up. There was no energy in his body. But he knew he had to get the intel back to the safe haven. He stuck out his arms and grabbed at the ground, pulling himself forward. He inched across the bridge.

  A heavy foot stomped on his back and strong hands threw him into the steel barrier once more. His head bobbled back and he stared at the Russian soldiers in front of him. He sighed and shook his head.

  “Viva la revolución, motherfuckers,” Jimenez whispered, his palm pressing against the wound on his leg.

  One Russian stepped forward. He held a stuffed satchel in one hand. He reached in and pulled out a rope. “Give papers.”

  Jimenez frowned and shook his head. “Fuck you, Cossack bitch. I don’t have any papers.”

  The Russian swung his leg back and kicked Jimenez in the stomach.

  Jimenez chuckled and pulled his eyepatch off. “You’ll kiss my balls before I give anything to you, shitface.”

  The Russian gave another strong kick. He grabbed the rope and tied it around Jimenez’s foot. Two soldiers grabbed him by the shoulders and perched him on the railing. The Russian stepped forward and dug his hands in every pocket.

  He pulled out the papers and smiled. He looked at Jimenez and chuckled. “In no time, the United States will be ours. You foolish Americans stand no match against us.”

  One soldier tied the rope to the railing. The Russian stepped forward and came close to Jimenez. He ran his tongue across his lips and spat in Jimenez’s eye, then shoved him over the railing.

  Jimenez fell off, tumbled through the air, and came to a halt as the rope straightened on his leg. His head went under and water rushed into his mouth. The water burned his eyes and filled his nostrils.

  He screamed, but only bubbles came out. He fidgeted, his lungs compressing into fists. His head filled with blood and his limbs went limp. The pain rising from his chest was extreme, like a bomb exploding. His muscles spasmed, and his body was depleted of oxygen.

  The Russian unfolded the papers and pushed them into the satchel. “Поехали. Они будут здесь в ближайшее время.”

  And the soldiers took off, walking away from the crime scene and from the hotel. Alpha was still on the ground, the bullet hole in his right shoulder blade bleeding.

  But his left hand began to rise from the ground. His arm, bent at 90-degrees at the elbow, pushed off of the ground. His palm pressed against the road and pushed his body to the side. He supported himself, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. He went to his knees, then up to his feet.

  Alpha walked slowly, watching himself place one foot in front of the other in a desperate attempt to get back to the hotel. He made it to the Holy Road – what they jokingly named the bombed road that was now full of holes and bodies – when two on-duty guards rushed forward. “Mister, what happened? This man needs medical attention!” barked one of the guards.

  Alpha placed his hands on the guard’s face. The guard flinched
but did not back away. “We had an unsuccessful raid. The Russians ran away with their intel. Inform Xavier that everybody is dead. The safe haven will have little time before war.”

  Alpha saluted and clenched his heart, collapsing to the ground at the feet of the guard.

  “I must relay that information at once. Get a doctor out here immediately,” spoke the first guard, and sprinted to the hotel.

  The guard pushed through the crowd that had gathered at the front doors of the hotel and burst into the lobby. His eyes gazed across the room, unsure where to find Zav.

  He made his way to the elevator and rode it one floor up. He searched every room in a panic, dodging in and out of doorways. Onto the second floor he traveled, looking in every obvious spot. Zav was nowhere to be found. But then again, it had only been two floors.

  The guard sprinted out of the elevator as soon as the doors open and ran straight into Zav, knocking him back into the wall.

  Zav gasped and lifted his fists, huffing and puffing as his vision settled on the man in front of him.

  “Who are you?!” exclaimed Zav, his fists still bobbing in the air.

  “Ah! I’m Andrew Scott! I have news from the front; you must come at once!” Scott replied, stepping back from the enraged man in front of him.

  Zav stared at the guard and closed his gaping mouth. “Give me a moment, I just woke up from the weirdest dream…” Zav said, his final words drifting into a whisper as he rubbed his face with his hand.

  “Jimenez is dead. An entire squadron—”

  Zav awoke from his absent-mindedness and wrapped his hands around the man’s throat.

  “Son of a— what are you doing? He went on an expedition and was killed alongside his squad mates!” Andrew gasped, Zav’s fingers pressing into the back of the man’s neck.

  Scott kicked out his legs in a desperate attempt to be released, and Zav threw him to the ground. “This can’t be. I’ve lost everyone! EVERYONE!”

  Zav screamed to himself, his fingernails digging into his palms and tossed himself into the elevator, slamming his wrist against the buttons and panting as the doors closed.

  Scott fumbled for his phone and called the signal nearest to him on the network. There was a click and a voice picked up, the light sound of breathing coming out of the phone’s speaker.

  “Howdy do, this is Walter, what’s—”

  “Goddamnit, Xavier has gone mad, secure the elevator before he hurts somebody!” Scott cried out, and disconnected the call.

  Walter stood at the front door of the hotel. He drummed his fingers against his leg and stared down at his phone. He raised his left eyebrow and turned the corner, going under the doorway and into the lobby. He paced towards the elevator, listening to the soft thumping noise at the door. His hand slid along his hip towards the pistol secured in the holster at his side.

  He approached the elevator until he was just a few feet away, his face aimed at the source of the noise. Suddenly, the doors creaked open and Zav flung out, his arms swinging in a rage.

  Walter put his left hand up and spread out his fingers. “Stop! By order of the Continental Army, you are being detained. Please ste—”

  Zav punched Walter in the face and pushed him to the ground. His eyes darted to the other people in the lobby; then he grabbed Walter by the feet and dragged him to the elevator. Walter put up a fight, kicking and wriggling while everyone else in the lobby just watched. The doors shut in front of Zav, and he bent over Walter, drool dripping from his upper lip onto Walter’s boyish face. Zav looked at Walter’s soft, long, brown hair. Zav went to town, his punches breaking Walter’s nose and bruising his face.

  Zav wept and yelled, his fists hitting Walter repeatedly like his body was a lifeless sack of potatoes. Zav’s arms became weary and he placed his palms on Walter’s chest to support himself.

  Zav’s left eye blurred and a teardrop seeped out, landing on Walter’s clean shirt.

  The elevator arrived at the third floor and Zav stood up. He dragged Walter into the hall and turned around. His eyes locked in place and a shiver crawled up his spine.

  Scott stared at Zav from the floor, his bottom lip trembling.

  “What sin, what evil! You must be stopped!” whimpered Scott, crawling away from Zav.

  Zav pulled the pistol from Walter’s side and pointed it at Scott. “Let me tell you a story. This world is so fucking messed up! People are just slaves to the state now! Everybody is dying. The world is ending. Only now I am at the top of the food chain, and only God can stop me. I’d like to see him try. I have endured worse than anyone could ever imagine. I have survived Hell on Earth...and I conquered it. Now, it is I who brings the sickle of death and swings it at my side.”

  Scott froze in his position. “Do it.”

  Zav pulled the trigger and walked away. Scott hit the floor as Zav hit the elevator button for the ground floor. Zav looked down at his hands, watching his fingers shake.

  The doors opened and he walked into the lobby. There was a crowd around him.

  Zav bit his lip and paced in front of them. “I expected more from everybody.” His face was moist from sweat and his hair was a tangled mess. “Did you see what I just had to take care of? It is only an honor that our dear Andrew Scott notified me moments before that Russian spy attempted to assassinate me. Yes, dear Walter seemed kind, but intel does not lie. This only means one thing: Things are going to have to change around here. Gather the people. I would like to give a speech.”

  Zav smiled to himself but also to the faithful pawns around him. Once he had established this trust in these people he could control them. He waved his hands, shooing them off to collect people. He walked to the check-in counter and dug his hand into the woven basket near the wall. He unwrapped a mint and placed it onto his tongue, savoring the flavor.

  As it dissolved, he also dissolved into the crowd. He followed the flow out of the door and onto the road. He scanned the street for something to perch himself upon.

  There was an uncomfortable ache in his stomach. Something he had said was completely unsettling with his own consciousness. Was it wrong to abuse this power or only necessary? But he had proven to nature and mankind once again that he had become the alpha male that he never sought to be.

  He found the same vehicle he had stood on before and pulled himself on top of it. He was not up very high, but he had a good view of the people who had already shown up to listen.

  His heart pounded in his chest like a powerful drum, moving his motions to the rhythm of the song of himself; it was fast, it was wild, and it was prepared to go faster.

  He looked around at the mass and raised his arms, bathing in triumph. Power is very easily the most forceful form of greed, and it is the only lust that can endlessly grow stronger. Power has no limit, as, say, money. You can buy everything in the world. But can you rule over everything in the world? And, beyond that, rule over every human? Can you control the universe? Can man own God?

  “Because I am restrained to using my own voice to speak to everyone, I ask that there is silence while I speak. Time and time again, society has crumbled and man has rebuilt itself…”

  Zav looked to his feet. Villains. Humanity. Souls. The soulless. “In order to grow, and continue to prosper, I must lead us to the victory we demand. We are all humans. We have all endured a world without people. And because of this, we all share the need to prosper. Our entire world has fallen into anarchy. And before that, there was a most extreme government with a desperation for wealth and power. But I risk something that I know will work if we can unite as one people. So let me tell you all, here is how we shall accomplish that: “We will elect four people of varying political ideologies to rule under me and above their peers. Choose an official who will lead a distinct district – differing points of view are suggested, as we want a society with balance.”

  There was, somewhat to Zav’s surprise, cheering throughout the crowd, as if they had never heard of an oligarchy. But that’s exactly what i
t was – arisen from anarchy came democracy, a failed practice. Then the power was funneled down to the few. And eventually to one?

  Zav had not decided if he would eventually rule in an autocracy. People were too easily distressed by the idea of having only one leader.

  “Split between these four quadrants – inherently left and right wing, along with the degree of government intervention – choose a representative for your people. Bring them forward, and we will rule as a functioning society once more!” Zav cried out, raising his arms to the sky.

  As people worked to find candidates to bring forth, Zav swung his arms awkwardly at his sides.

  It was the happy ending he so dearly wanted: their enemies were taking their last stand. It was a fragile, crucial thing, Time. It watches humans live and die and civilizations rise and fall and the Earth birth and destroy, but continues to march forward and nonetheless.

  Zav took a breath in. The wretchedness in his heart wrapped around him like a cold blanket. But the warmth of his satisfaction worked to melt away the ice that pierced his soul.

  Unfortunately, it seemed, the blizzard would soon engulf him.

  Part 3

  Chapter 18

  Xavier Starr sat in his finest suit and tie, facing the four men and women in front of him. He lived the life of a ruler. It was time for their quarterly assessment. It had been a fast month, and oh-so-fortunately, calm and enjoyable. The safe-zone was prospering, well protected, and the soldiers made significant advancements to eliminate the Russian presence.

  His fingers rested on top of the papers laid in front of him while patiently waiting for the projector to load the most recent schematic of the city.

  “Once again,” began Zav, “I’d like to personally congratulate the four of you on successfully organizing and orchestrating city plans. While we may not share the same political ideologies,” Zav said, looking directly at Jaiyana, “we have sated the demands of the people. Now, one at a time, you will show us on the simulation what policies you have enacted and how they affected your quadrant.”