The Dystopian Gene

by S. E. Meyer

  Well, it's done. I hope I gave them enough time.

  Damarion started the car and crept down the street, stopping for a moment to wipe the inside of the windshield. He turned into the driveway and rolled the car to the front door. Stepping out, he snapped his head around in all directions scanning the grounds and then popped the trunk of his car. As he pulled out a small black bag with his left hand, he checked the inside of his jacket with his right. He ran his fingers along the metal handle of his gun and then climbed the steps to the front door.

  Damarion's pulse throbbed in his neck as he grasped the metal handle and tried the latch. It turned, quelling his fear of how he would get in, but further exacerbating his anxiety of what he would do once on the other side. Damarion opened the door and stepped inside.

  He crossed the large abandoned foyer with only lavish wall treatments and an antique rug in view. Damarion cocked his head listening for any sign of activity, but the only sound was his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. He crept along the hall to the double staircase and tiptoed to the second level.

  So far, so good.

  Reaching the end of the north balcony he ascended the staircase leading to the third floor with no sign of a stray guard left behind. Not even a loitering maid was in sight, dusting the shelves of the library at the end of the upper hall. It was as Damarion had hoped; with Cornelius away, the entire staff was enjoying a rare day off.

  Worried his luck would run out, Damarion ran up the steps to the north tower and jogged to the door of Isabelle's room. He slid inside, closing the door behind him.

  “Isabelle,” he whispered as he drew near the iron bars of her cell.

  There was a rustle on the other side before Isabelle appeared. Her eyes widened. “What are you doing here?”

  “Quiet,” Damarion whispered. “I'm here to get you out.”

  “By yourself?”

  Damarion placed the small bag on the floor in front of the bars and pulled out a cutting torch. “Yes, don't worry, everyone's gone.”

  “Are you sure?” Isabelle asked, licking her lips while peering around the room as best she could through the steel bars. “Why didn't you bring help? You run this entire city's security force?”

  Donning dark goggles, Damarion activated the torch and cut through the first bar. “It's not like I could raid a sitting Governor's mansion with city security personnel. And Cornelius has spies everywhere, even within my department,” Damarion explained, finishing his first cut and standing up to cut the top of the same bar. “Watch your eyes.”

  “So you thought you would raid the castle by yourself? Like a knight in shining armor, slay the dragon and rescue the princess from the tower?” Isabelle smiled.

  “Something like that, yes,” Damarion replied, kneeling to start on the second bar. “Trying to avoid the dragon part though.”

  “That's sweet, Father, but I'm worried we won’t walk out of here. Cornelius is cunning, it would surprise me if he didn't leave someone behind.”

  Isabelle's eyebrows shot upward, her mouth agape. “Watch out!” she yelled.

  Blinded by the goggles, Damarion couldn't move away in time as a Ming vase crashed down over his head.

  CHAPTER 19

  Anna froze.

  “Wait stop!” she said, grabbing hold of Lonewolf's arm. She moved around to face him as the crowd pressed in from behind.

  “We need to keep moving,” the officer holding Lonewolf's arm urged.

  Anna stared into Lonewolf's green eyes. “Uncle Attie?” she asked. “Is that really you?”

  Atticus nodded. “Yes.”

  Anna slacked her jaw. “I knew it!” she said shaking her head. “I had a gut feeling the entire time. Except your records said you were dead, so I thought it was impossible.” She slid in between the two officers and hugged Atticus around his neck. “We’re going back. I’ll get you out of here.”

  The officers pushed Atticus forward. “Keep moving. This crowd is growing by the minute.” Anna paced Atticus as the crowd grew closer, still chanting her name.

  “The crowd is getting out of hand,” Charlie noted. “I don't like this.”

  “That's why I didn't want to tell you, Anna. Because I knew you would try to stop me. But this changes nothing. We’re sticking to the plan.”

  “We need crowd control down here,” an officer called over his radio as the group approached the gates. The judge took his position at the podium and tried to speak over the roar of the crowd. He lifted his hands hoping to quell the mob to no avail. A man standing to one side of the podium caught Anna's attention. A man in a gray suit, wearing a bowler hat. He was staring at her and something in his gaze made the hair on her neck stand up.

  Anna shivered.

  “Are you okay?” Charlie asked.

  “Yes,” Anna lied.

  Both the cold, and the unwavering icy stare of the man in the bowler hat, made her tremble. The officers did their best to hold back the swarm of people that surrounded the group as the judge attempted his usual speech. There was a temporary break in noise from the crowd in time for Anna to hear the judge's last few words.

  “...and may God have mercy on your souls,” the judge finished and handed a death certificate to a woman weeping in front of the podium. The judge turned and handed a piece of paper to the man in the bowler hat. The man broke his piercing stare to accept the document.

  Anna lowered her eyebrows.

  Who's the creepy guy in the hat?

  High-pitched screams broke out from the crowd as they disbursed in all directions. Anna spun around to see what was causing the commotion. Her trained ear heard the rap of a semi-automatic weapon.

  Anna's chest tightened.

  She ducked pulling Atticus to a crouching position. “Shooter. We've got a shooter!”

  Charlie squatted next to them. “This is turning out to be a real shit show. What the hell is going on?”

  “It's Damarion! He's betrayed us,” Atticus replied through clenched jaws. “That son of a bitch!”

  Another round of shots snapped through the air and Anna saw three bystanders drop to the pavement. She pushed Atticus forward toward the gates as a bullet hit the pavement at her feet, sending blacktop shrapnel into the air. The officer on Anna's left dropped to the ground and the officer still holding Atticus's arm fumbled for the radio on his shoulder. “Shots fired. Shots fired. Officer down.”

  Anna pulled the gun from the downed officer's holster and swallowed hard.

  “Get me out of here, Anna,” Atticus urged.

  “I would rather take you back.”

  “Cromwell's either going to kill me or put me in the Chamber. My odds are better out there. We must stick to the plan.”

  Another round of gunshots filled the air as Anna pushed passed the podium. She stopped to pull the judge to the ground as the jumper received a bullet to his throat, tearing open his jugular. The convicts mother fell to her knees, dropping the death certificate into a pool of blood while burying her face in her son's chest.

  Anna scanned the scene, trying to determine where the shots originated. More than a dozen armed men were running down the street in their direction.

  Anna clenched her jaw.

  “Okay, I guess I’m left with no choice, but for the record, this is bullshit, Atticus,” she yelled over the screaming crowd.

  Anna sat down behind the podium, pulling Atticus with her and peered around the corner as the gates rolled open along their metal tracks. The street had cleared enough for Anna to fire several rounds toward the men in black suits, forcing them to take cover.

  “We have to get to the Humvee,” Anna said, looking into Atticus's eyes. “Time to whirl like a Dervish.”

  Anna signaled Charlie on the opposite side of the podium. “Cover me,” she yelled.

  Ducking to a crouched position Anna led Atticus toward the gates as Charlie fired several rounds. Stopping to pick up a semi-automatic rifle lying next to an unconscious guard, Anna switched off the safety.
/>   Another round of bullets rained down around them, ricocheting off the wall. Pulling Atticus around the corner, Anna turned and opened fire, forcing the swarm of men to find cover. She led Atticus by the arm towards the Humvee, firing the rifle at waist height with the other. Opening the door, she helped Atticus inside before leaning against the vehicle and taking aim. Anna fired several rounds into the two men nearest them.

  “Anna, listen,” Atticus said. “I need you to promise something. I'm sure they'll give you your job back for this, so stay under the radar. Go to work. Go to church. Take a shopping trip. Like a wolf in sheep's clothing you must blend in for our cause.”

  Anna nodded. “Good luck Attie,” she replied, leaning in to kiss his forehead. “So now that I know who you are, will you tell me who I am? What was Damarion talking about?”

  Several rounds hit the Humvee.

  “There's no time. Get me the hell out of here.”

  Anna closed the door. “Go, go!” she urged the driver, slapping the side window. The Humvee roared to life, squawking its tires before racing away from the gates, leaving Anna with no cover. Crouching, she aimed her weapon and fired as a cloud of shrapnel exploded from the ground at her feet. She spun in the opposite direction as a bullet found her chest, dropping Anna to the ground.

  “Shit, shit,” she yelled, checking her shirt while pushing herself backwards toward the wall with her legs. A red circle on the left side of her chest grew in size.

  God damn it, I'm hit.

  Anna placed a hand over the bullet wound as the gates rolled along their rails.

  “No. Wait!” She cried out, crawling towards the thick iron bars on her knees and one elbow.

  With blurred vision and blood dripping from her chest Anna raced the gate as it rolled along its track. Somersaulting through the gap just as the gates slammed shut, Anna collapsed to her side.

  “Anna. Oh, no. Anna,” Charlie said, kneeling beside his partner. He covered her wound with his hand, holding pressure. “We need an ambulance!” Charlie screamed. “Someone help!”

  Charlie gazed into Anna eyes. “You‘ll be okay.”

  Anna could tell by the look on Charlie‘s face he was anything but sure.

  He pulled his hand away to inspect the wound allowing a fresh gush of warm blood to flow between his fingers. “Shit!” he swore with wide eyes, reapplying pressure to Anna's chest.

  Anna stared up into Charlie's face. The last image she saw before losing consciousness was her partners fear ridden eyes.

  ◆◆◆

  “So you thought you could stroll in here and take your daughter?” Cornelius's butler asked the unconscious Damarion on the floor at his feet.

  Isabelle dropped to her knees and reached through the bars, feeling her father’s neck for a pulse.

  Oh, thank God.

  The butler kicked Damarion in the ribs.

  “Leave him alone,” Isabelle said.

  “I made a phone call. Guards are on their way back. Dear 'ol Daddy will be in the Chamber within the hour,” the tall man explained through sunken cheeks.

  The butler rolled Damarion away from the door.

  “I said leave him alone.”

  “He's not the one you should worry about,” the butler replied, giving Isabelle an evil grin. “We're all alone. George isn’t here to rescue you.” The butler put handcuffs on Damarion. “I know what you and George do up here, late at night, when he comes to visit you. I’ve heard the laughter, the giggling and the moaning.” The butler held up a second pair of handcuffs, allowing them to dangle from his pencil fingers. “Wrap these around a bar and then put them on. Now it's my turn, and there's no one to hear you scream.”

  “I'm not putting those on. You can shove them up your ass.”

  The butler pulled out a gun. Cocking the weapon, he aimed it at Damarion's head. “Put them on or Damarion dies right now. You can watch your father bleed out all over the floor.”

  Isabelle swallowed, stretching her tight throat. Shaking her head, she reached through the bars and took the cuffs from the butler. “You're a sick human being,” Isabelle said, ratcheting a cuff around one wrist before sliding the other between the bars. “No different than the man you work for.”

  Still on her knees, Isabelle wrapped her left hand around the bottom of the metal bar she'd chosen, hiding the cut that Damarion had almost completed before the butler attacked. She closed the other cuff around her left wrist.

  The butler stood up and went to the door's console. He typed in the code and the door's latch clicked. Tucking the gun back in his suit jacket, he swung the door just far enough to slip through. “Now play nice,” the butler said, taking up a position behind Isabelle. “Or I'll kill him.” He pulled Isabelle's ankles backward.

  Isabelle's hands trembled on the cold metal bars, staring at her father's motionless frame.

  Wake up, she thought. You have to wake up.

  Her cuffed wrists forced her to support herself with her knees and elbows.

  Isabelle moved her shaking hand to inspect the bar as the butler pushed his skeletal frame against her.

  Isabelle's eyes widened. The cut was almost complete with just enough gap to slide the handcuff chain through. She glanced back at her father.

  What do I do? What do I do?

  Then, out of the corner of her sweat-stung eye, she saw it. The butt of her father's handgun, just visible beneath the fold of his jacket.

  Yes, of course. He never leaves the house without his gun. But can I reach it?

  Isabelle contemplated her move as the slender shadow behind her pawed at her clothing.

  It's now or never, she thought. To save both of us.

  Isabelle let out a breath.

  On her elbows, she braced her hands against the door and kicked backwards landing a blow to the butlers midsection. As the man teetered backwards, Isabelle slipped the cuff chain between the bars before throwing both her arms through the gap, reaching for Damarion's gun.

  The bars pressing tight against her triceps she strained to find the gun with her fingertips.

  “I told you to play nice,” the butler said, righting himself. His eyes widened as Isabelle's fingers found the gun. In an instant she pulled her arms back through, but with bound wrists she struggled to load the chamber.

  The butler reached for his gun.

  Isabelle’s heart slammed against her chest as she tried again.

  The butler took aim.

  Her heart skipped a full beat as the semi-automatic‘s upper receiver snapped into place and Isabelle fired three rounds. The man fell backwards with gun in hand, crashing to the floor. Isabelle slipped through the unlocked doorway and knelt next to Damarion. “Wake up. Come on! Wake up!” she urged, slapping his cheeks. “We have to get out of here.”

  Damarion stirred.

  “Dad! Dad, wake up.”

  The butler groaned and Isabelle snapped her neck around to see the gaunt man raising his firearm. Isabelle raised her father's gun with shaking hands. With eyes closed she squeezed the trigger, emptying the clip.

  Several seconds ticked by, gripping the gun through white knuckles and sweaty palms. She opened one eye, squinting through the bars. The butler was lying on his side, motionless.

  Isabelle let out another long breath.

  At least my father taught me how to shoot a gun.

  “Dad!” she yelled into Damarion's face.

  Damarion sat straight up. “What?”

  “What is that look on your face?”

  “I think that's the first time you've called me dad.”

  “We need to go,” Isabelle urged, helping her father to his feet.

  Damarion looked around the room. “What the hell happened?”

  “I'll explain later.”

  “Can we get these handcuffs off?”

  “I don't think we have time. The butler said men are on their way back.”

  Damarion nodded. “All right, let's go.”

  They flew down the hall and jumped
the steps two at a time. Arriving at the front door, Isabelle pulled it open and they leaped from the front landing. Out of breath, they clamored into the car.

  “Where do we go?” Isabelle asked. “Cornelius will look for us.” She shook her head. “This will piss him right off!”

  Damarion started the car and pushed down hard on the gas pedal. “Don't worry. I'll take you somewhere safe where no one will find you.”

  CHAPTER 20

  The steady beep of the heart monitor lulled Anna back to consciousness. She opened her eyes, wincing. “Ow!” she groaned, placing a hand to her left side.

  “I’ll let you go, she's waking up,” Charlie said, ending his call and rushing to Anna's side. “Are you okay?”

  Anna placed a hand on her head and rubbed her temple. “I think so. What the hell happened?”

  “You took a bullet and lost a lot of blood. You're lucky though, it was a ricochet. It lodged between your third and fourth rib. Does it hurt?”

  Anna winced again, clenching her jaw. “Only when I breathe,” she replied.

  She shook her head as a tear rolled down her cheek.

  Charlie sat down on the bed. “Is it that bad? I’ll get a doctor,” he said, rubbing her arm.

  “No, It‘s not my rib.” She looked up at Charlie. “It’s everything else. I was just dreaming about Atticus. I grew close to him as I grew up. We spent a lot of time together and finding out he was the Lonewolf hit me hard. I can't believe I didn't figure that out, and now he's gone.” Anna shook her head. “I'm just sick and tired of watching the people I love get sent through the gates. First Billy, and now Atticus.” With a clenched jaw, Anna let out a long breath through her nose. “When will it end?”

  Charlie leaned in, kissing her on the forehead. He pulled a tissue from the bedside table and dabbed Anna‘s cheeks. “I'm sorry,” he said. “What can I do?”

  Anna shrugged. “There's nothing you can do.” She clutched her side. “I'm a tough girl. I'll be all right.”

  Sara entered the room and stopped at the other side of Anna's bed. She touched Anna's hand and smiled. “I guess it's my turn to come visit you in the hospital.”