by David Brush
“The Valker Plant was formerly one of the three primary production facilities of the chemicals and machinery needed to perform Induction. It was a complex of the utmost importance,” said General Bismuth, pulling up the incident report on the overhead screen behind him. “In a particularly heinous attack, the CLF managed to ransack the plant, looting and destroying as they went, as well as killing scores of high value personnel. We set to work rebuilding the facility almost immediately after it fell, but reconstructing a complex of that size will take years, even with all of the technology at our disposal. Of even greater concern than what they destroyed, is what they didn’t. They took a great deal of equipment with them. Prior to this incident, only the Crusaders were actively massing our machinery. We’re speculating that they’re both attempting to discover a way to undo the treatment. They’d have no use for those machines outside of that purpose.”
“They won’t be able to undo it,” the doctor replied. “We’ve searched for ways of undoing it ourselves. As far as we can tell, any attempt at reversing the process has a very high fatality rate. The human mind isn’t made to withstand that much stress. Induction is a one way street. The best they could hope to do is adjust the binding to a different partner, which is already common practice if a member of a couple dies young, and even that does serious damage to the brain in most cases. They’re wasting their time.”
“Well wasting their time or not, it still demonstrates that they have professionals working with them now, and we should be taking that seriously. Our country has invested too much money in this program to watch it fall apart. We need to neutralize these hostile agents, and we need to do it soon.”
“I’m already working on a solution to the problem. If we lose another facility like the Valker Plant, it’ll knock Induction offline for years. Every couple of months there’s another play for one of our installations. All it’s going to take is one more to break the camel’s back. I’m going south as soon as we’re finished here, and I’ll be sending out orders from there. I want all of you to have the units under your command on standby. Hold your ground, but halt the offensives in the south. With the West stepping up its support for the rebels in the area, we’ll take undue casualties if we try to advance any farther right now. We’re going to bring the rebels to us, and make sure that the foreign powers have no one left to support. I’ve already told Dr. Truman to prepare the Atria Plant for my arrival.”
Bismuth nodded. “Is there any other business for the council?”
The doctor shook his head. “No, you’re all dismissed.”
“Then if I might, I’d like a word with you in private,” said the general. “Everyone, give us the room please.” Bismuth waited until the last senator pushed through the door leading out of the conference room to speak again. “Using yourself as bait is nothing short of madness. You could’ve been killed.”
Nightrick crossed his arms. “The only way we find out how many people are actually involved in a plot is to let them carry it out. If we had detained Mizuno outright, we wouldn’t have found out about Sulman or any of the other co-conspirators. I don’t like it any more than you do, General, but in my experience, when someone is trying to kill you, your best course of action is to kill them first. In this case, we’ve rounded up fifteen would-be usurpers. I’d say that’s worth a small risk.”
“That’s fine,” Bismuth replied with a frown. “The problem is, you didn’t get the person or persons who actually tried to kill you. It’s reckless. Use a body double next time.”
“No,” said the doctor, shaking his head. “The people need to see that their leader isn’t afraid of the savages running wild across this country. Terrorism only works when people cower. What the insurgents don’t realize is that their newfound courage will be their downfall. We’re going to use their bravery to break them.”
Haley looked around the small room that she’d been given. Dirty, white paint was sloughing off the wall so fast that the grey tile floor was covered in the flakes, giving it an almost textured look.
“I’m like ninety percent sure this was a janitor’s closet before we arrived,” said James, who was standing behind her and taking in the sad sight for the first time too. “I bet it’s not too late to turn back. This is one memory I wouldn’t mind losing.”
Haley smiled. “Don’t be a prima donna. It’s got character.”
“Character? And what character is that? An indigent?” he said, walking into the room. He sat down on the twin-sized mattress that was hoisted up off the ground by a rickety, wooden bedframe pushed against the far corner. “I really don’t think we should be here.”
“James, we talked about this already,” she said, sitting down next to him on the bare bed. “We’re not going to get another chance like this. If we go back now, we’ll both be Inducted and that’ll be it.”
“But what about Dr. Karich? What if they punish him in our place? We’re being selfish.”
“We’re surviving. I think he’d understand that. I doubt Neuro Corp would be willing to lose someone as valuable as him over grandstanding anyway. Dr. Nightrick is a lot of things, but I think pragmatic is towards the top of the list. Besides, they have a lot of history together. Dr. Karich will be fine.”
James frowned. “And what about us? We’re not soldiers, we’re chemists. All it’s going to take is one firefight and we’ll both be dead. If you were to die because of this, I don’t know what I would do, Haley. I can’t stand the thought of losing you like that.”
She smiled, crawling behind him to rub his shoulders. “Don’t worry about that, babe. I have a feeling that you would definitely be the one to die first anyway.”
“Oh, well good,” he laughed, pushing her aside. “Guess I have nothing to worry about then.”
“Naw,” she replied, pulling him down towards her. “Not a care in the world.”
CHAPTER THREE
Matt frowned as yet another volley soared over the paper target hanging at the far end of the lonely range. The stone wall at the very back of the expanse gave a small clang as the projectile met its end against it. The three rebels stood there in silence for a moment, bathed in the dim, artificial light projecting down from the ceiling.
“You have to aim, bud.”
“What the hell does it look like I’m doing?” said James, starting to go red in the face from frustration. He raised the coil gun up again and pulled the trigger, sending another slew of metal well over the intended mark.
Haley did her best to suppress the smile that she felt taking root on her face. “You’re breathing too hard. Try to relax.”
“Oh, is that the problem?” James snapped. “Well I’m glad I have you two here to tell me to relax. That really takes me to my calm place. Why don’t you try a few?”
She shrugged and reached over for the rifle. Bringing the sight up to eye level, the young rebel paused a moment to check her mark and then sent a slug racing straight through the head of the paper man that James had been trying so fruitlessly to kill.
“God dammit,” he mumbled as she effortlessly sent a second and third round through the target.
Matt laughed, patting him on the back. “In fairness, bud, most people shoot like you their first time. She’s a natural.”
James nodded, trying his best to avoid clenching his teeth any harder than he already was. “Look, I’m starving. Can we go grab a bite to eat please? I’ve seen enough of you two showboating for one day.”
Matt grinned. “Yeah, I could eat. Let’s call it for now.”
The small group made their way from the range to the scant, concrete pit that doubled as a mess hall. The faint scent of burned oatmeal permeated the thick air of the large chamber that sat tucked away near the center of the modest compound.
“Oh, wonderful,” said James, eyeing the mush laid out on the tray before him. “Grey goo again. I was really craving some more of this gunk, so needless to say this is a big relief.”
Matt laughed. “It’s a lot more than some of the other
groups have, you know. I hear the Crusaders keep their people so hungry that they eat rats when they’re lucky enough to catch one.”
“At least a rat tastes like something,” said James, scooping a spoonful of the paste into his mouth.
A tall woman with flowing brown hair approached the table and took a seat next to Matt.
“Hey,” she said, tucking her legs under the bench.
“Hey,” said Matt. “I believe you two have met my good friend, Megan Mailer.”
The woman flashed a small smile and aimed her fingers at James and Haley like a gun, pretending to fire at them. James felt his jaw clench even tighter.
“Nice to meet you,” he managed. “Try not to shoot either of us this time if you would.”
“No problem,” she replied. “As long as Matt here doesn’t give me a good reason to again. So how are you two enjoying Fort Condat so far?”
“It’s fine, I guess, if you don’t mind living in squalor,” said Haley. “Something you took from Nightrick, I assume? The whole place looks like it was an actual military facility before it fell.”
“It still is an actual military facility,” said Megan with a small laugh. “The only difference is which military is using it now. Just be glad we’re in one of the above ground installations. The subterranean bases are the real nightmare. Talk about claustrophobia. We’re lucky to have enough ground-to-air missiles here to deter air raids from the regime, so we don’t have to hide in the dirt like a lot of the others.”
Haley nodded.
“So,” continued Megan, turning towards James. “How exactly do you and Matt know each other?”
“We grew up together,” he replied, pausing for a moment to take a sip of his water. “We were raised in the same apartment building, not too far from Kingswood Park actually. Matt, you’re what, two years older than me?”
“Yup.”
James smiled. “This piece of work just up and disappears on his eighteenth birthday without so much as a see you later. For two years, I was relatively sure that he had died and no one bothered telling me.”
“Well I would’ve written,” said Matt, grinning back. “But I didn’t want you to get carted off to the Toxic Truth.”
“Mighty kind of you. So Megan,” said James, pushing another lump of grey paste onto his spoon. “What’s your story? Are you married?”
“Excuse me?” she replied with a small smile.
“Sorry, I just noticed the wedding bands around your neck,” he said, pointing at the two golden rings dangling off of the cool steel chain around her throat. “I take it they’re yours?”
“Oh,” she replied as the smile faded from her face. “They’re not mine. They belonged to my brother once.”
James lowered his head a touch. “Ah.”
“When I was nine, my older brother, Frank, was forced to undergo Induction. He was one of the first wave, the guinea pigs in a sense, to be subjected to the therapy. I remember the first time I looked into his glazed eyes after the procedure, the hazel locked beneath a layer of frosted glass. It’s hard to see someone you love trapped inside their own head. Two years later, the woman he had been bound to died suddenly of a stroke, which in the early days wasn’t entirely uncommon among the newly Inducted. Despite my brother’s animalistic devotion to his deceased wife, he was forced by law to undergo a second round of therapy because of his young age. After that, he made it another year before he collapsed too, joining his ex-wife. A ‘short-out’ was what the doctors told us killed my brother, but it wasn’t the stroke that cost him his life, it was a deranged doctor and the idea that Frank was just a piece of meat that could be bred like a domesticated dog.”
James nodded. “Nightrick will get his soon enough.”
“That he will, but it’s not Nightrick I’m talking about. Frank died because a man named Dr. Hernan Cortez poisoned him during the procedure. But that’s another story for another time, I think. Enough doom and gloom for one meal.”
The blaring sirens brought James reeling back to consciousness faster than his mind could process. The young man sat there in his bed, dazed for a moment, before being nudged back to reality by Haley.
“Something’s going on,” she yelled over the screeching. “Let’s go take a look.”
“Now is as good a time to die as any other,” he screamed back.
The couple made their way down the bland white hall of the barracks, surprised by the fact that no one else seemed to be alarmed by the siren. In fact, it almost seemed as if no one else even noticed it. After making their way down yet another corridor towards the heart of the complex, they found an old man sitting in the common room and watching a show as if nothing was happening.
“Hey!” screamed James. “What the hell is going on?”
The old man looked up at the young couple for a moment with a rather blank stare. “Strike team musta jus’ got back.”
“Why the siren?” asked Haley.
“Done with the prisoners mos’ likely,” he said, turning his focus back to the show he was watching.
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Whatta ya think I mean?”
She moved to push the point, but as she did, she was interrupted by the sound of Matt’s voice, calling them over to one of the large steel doors that adorned the throughway. They walked for a long while, until they were outside of the complex and well away from the blaring sound. The trio snaked along the well-lit outer wall of the building, towards the facility’s outdoor range. Off in the distance, they could see the large, steel lampposts hoisted high in the air, illuminating the swarming activity nearby. Other than that, the night sky was completely black, with the light of the moon and the stars absorbed by the thick mat of clouds hanging overhead.
“Probably should have warned you guys about that, my bad,” said Matt, his usual lighthearted tone absent. “Omega Team got back to base a while ago and they brought two Neuro Corp captives.”
“OK,” said James, pushing forward against the gusting wind.
“We’ve gotten all that we can out of them,” said Matt, his breath showing in the cool air. “They’re to be put to death for crimes against humanity.”
The group walked along in silence once more until arriving at the range. They walked through the chain-link fence as the two captives were marched out in their green fatigues, each sleeve adorned with the upside down triangle with two lines jutting from the right side that symbolized the regime. One man looked to be in his forties and the other looked to be around the same age as James. The assembled crowd stood back behind the wooden barrier that isolated the range itself, looking on at the gruesome spectacle. As the charges were being read, the young captive began to weep bitterly, while the old man just stood there with a blank face. Once the judge had finished the sentencing, he asked if either would volunteer to face the firing squad first.
The old man raised his hand. Before being led off to the wall, he touched his young comrade’s shoulder, giving him a small, sad smile. “I’ll go first, my boy, to show you that it’s not as bad as it seems.”
The CLF soldiers walked the man in front of a thick concrete wall at the end of the range. On the other end of the expanse, the masked executioner walked up alongside the firing squad. “If you have any last words, say them now.”
“Just this. Killing an old man makes you weak, but killing a child makes you evil. The boy is only eighteen. How can you hope to govern if you can’t even understand that cruelty is weakness and mercy is strength? Justify it however you want, you’re all cowards. Enjoy my blood, because you’ll have none of my tears.” And with that, he held his middle finger up in one last act of futile defiance.
James watched in horror as the man convulsed when the marksmen’s bullets found their mark. The prisoner lay there motionless for a moment before being carried off by two masked guards. Only the blood smeared across the wall was left to remind anyone that he had made his final stand there just moments before.
When it
was his turn, the boy was not so brave. He pleaded as the guards dragged him up to the wall. Standing there shaking, he gave his final words in a more pathetic fashion. “Please! I needed the money to help feed my brothers and sisters. We had nothing to eat!”
The marksmen raised their coil rifles and fired, hitting the boy all across his torso and face. He fell over, but his chest continued to rise and fall. He moaned, squirming on the ground in agony, while blood gushed out of every open wound on his torn body. His cheek had been ripped away to expose shattered teeth, which could be seen moving as he opened what was left of his mouth to instinctively draw more air into his collapsed lungs. His eyes rolled around the onlookers, searching for a kind face as the marksmen hesitated to fire again. The boy’s glazed eyes met James’s own unadulterated stare, locking for a moment while the executioner barked an order. The marksmen raised their rifles back up to finish their brutal task. With the sound of another volley, James watched the life drain out of the glazed teal eyes.
He stood there with his mouth open a touch, staring at the motionless body. Haley gently wound her arm around his waist, pulling him a little bit closer.
Matt put his hand on his old friend’s shoulder before turning to walk away. “Welcome to the war, buddy.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Megan Mailer walked around the armory in the CLF’s forward command center looking for the EMP card that she needed. Her long brown hair fell into her face as she leaned over to search the bottom shelves of the seemingly millionth rack in the room. She brushed it aside and continued digging through the endless piles of junk. When she finally found the gadget that she’d been looking for wedged behind a container of rusty parts, she snatched it up and jogged out of the storage bay.
In the room adjacent to her, Matt struggled to slip a vest about two sizes too small over his wide frame. “Who do they make these damn things for, infants? This is ridiculous,” he said, noticing her nearby.
She smiled. “Actually, I think they make them for people who go running occasionally.”