The Dystopian Gene

by S. E. Meyer

  You know that.

  Anna's pulse throbbed. She stumbled to the sink, forcing a shaking finger down her throat.

  “What am I going to do?” she gagged on her finger, but nothing came up.

  You‘re going to trip balls, a voice in her head responded.

  “Shut up!” Anna scolded the voice. “That part is obvious, but what if I pass out, lose consciousness? It's not safe. There could be crazies anywhere.”

  Yes, there are crazies.

  Everywhere.

  “I said shut up,” Anna continued to argue with the voice in her head.

  The voice was coming from within her own mind, but yet, to Anna it felt like a different person. A different Anna. An Anna she could not recognize.

  She placed a hand on her forehead. “I feel, strange.”

  The walls in the small farmhouse began to move as though made of gelatin and the floor slid away from her on a forty-five degree angle.

  Anna looked outside.

  She sucked in a breath as her eyes widened at the sight of the trees dancing along the edge of the pasture. They swayed back and forth in a line dance to the same motion as the walls. Bough to bough, as though arm in arm, they danced around the clearing. In and out. Back and forth. Anna continued to stare at the tree party, knotty roots two-stepping on the lawn as the walls breathed in and out to the same rhythm.

  “It's not real,” she told herself. “It must be the wind. The wind is moving the trees, and it looks like they‘re dancing, that's all.”

  What about the walls? Is the wind moving them?

  Her reasoning mind fought the voice with logic. “Obviously it's not real, because trees don't dance and walls aren't made of Jell-O.”

  Anna's eye caught a movement in the sky. She stared out the window for several minutes, brows furled.

  “What the hell?”

  She opened the farmhouse door and walked out onto the small deck.

  “Butterflies,” she whispered.

  Thousands of small white butterflies began to descend from the heavens. She put out her hand, palm up, and a tiny butterfly landed between her third and fourth finger. “It's beautiful! No, it's incredible!”

  Anna lifted the insect to her face, and it disappeared. She scanned the ground with the wonder of a child at the thousands of white butterflies littering the ground. They fluttered their minuscule wings to the rhythm of the trees.

  With heart pounding to the same joyous rhythm, Anna stretched out her arms and spun in a circle with her face to the sky. Everything around her was moving in perfect time. Like a symphony, every atom in the universe played their part, connecting all of nature into one multi-verse orchestra of peace, love and harmony.

  A butterfly landed on Anna nose and she stared at it, cross-eyed, while it fluttered for several seconds before disappearing.

  “Amazing,” she whispered.

  The voice returned in Anna's head.

  I told you, it said.

  “Told me what?” Anna asked, continuing to spin around in slow cautious steps.

  That you would trip balls.

  Just wait, it's only the beginning.

  Anna felt dizzy and stopped turning. The deck tipped to one side, throwing her off balance.

  “Whoa. I need to lie down.”

  Anna turned around and walked through the parallelogram-shaped farmhouse door, remembering to lock it once inside. She swayed to the same rhythm as the universe as she made her way to the back door and pulled the deadbolt.

  “There. At least I should hear anyone trying to get in.”

  Anna found the couch and lay down. She closed her eyes, losing complete consciousness.

  ◆◆◆

  “I can't believe we only found two cans of beans,” said a woman through blotchy cheeks.

  “It's getting worse, Jane,” the man on her left responded. He turned to the man on his right, looking at him with red eyes. “We’ll have to go farther next time. We can't survive like this, Jim.”

  “That or we‘re going to have to hunt,” Jim replied before going into a round of coughing. “I have had no meat in weeks,” he added, licking his lips. “We need to find a gun and some ammo.”

  The trio crossed a pasture and made their way towards a small farmhouse.

  “And now it‘s snowing,” Jim added, lifting his reddened arm and placing a blemished hand out to catch a snowflake.

  “And the wind is picking up,” the second man noted.

  “Hey guys,” Jane said. “Let's go to the basement first.”

  “But I‘m hungry,” the man on her left replied.

  Jane stopped, staring at the man with bloodshot eyes. “Mamas hungry, David.” Jane gave him a longing smile and then winked at Jim before wiping drool from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “Fine,” David replied.

  Jim knew there would be no arguing with the woman, or her insatiable appetite and he was feeling a touch peckish himself. “I'm up for that.”

  “But then we eat, I'm starving.” David said.

  They walked to the back side of the farmhouse and stopped in front of the outside basement entry. David pulled open the storm door, and the three descended the concrete steps. There were two large beds set up in the middle of the basement, pushed together to form one giant sleeping area. With just enough light coming down the stairwell for her to see, Jane lit a candle.

  “Close the door. You're letting the cold air creep in.” she said. “Then the both of you get over here.” She coughed, gargling thick phlegm in her throat.

  “What is that smell?” Jim asked. “It‘s making me really hungry.”

  “Smells like onions,” David replied, wiping bloody drool from his mouth.

  The three looked at each other and a wicked smile grew on David's lips. They bolted for the second basement stairway leading to the kitchen.

  “Someone's in our house.”

  Jim rubbed his hands together as they climbed the stairs.. “Fresh meat.”

  CHAPTER 39

  A black sedan with tinted windows pulled up to the gate at Raze Demolition Inc. The gate guard advanced to the car's driver window as it lowered. Wesley squinted in the bright beam of the guard's flashlight. ”What's your business here at this time of night?” The guard asked.

  Wesley offered the man his ID. “City security. We believe terrorists are trying to acquire weapons and explosives. We're here to check your perimeter and ensure your C-4 is secure.”

  “Under who's authority?”

  “The chief of city security.”

  “Come back in the morning when there's more staff here. I can't let you go wandering around without an escort.”

  “We received intelligence they will target this site tonight. We have to come in now.”

  “I didn't see any warnings come across my tablet. This is unusual. I will have to verify your credentials and get authorization to let you in.”

  That guard leaned in the window and pointed his flashlight into the back seat. “And who are you?” he asked George and Isabelle. “I need to scan all three of you.”

  Wesley shot his arm up, grasping the man's full head of black hair while raising the window to his throat.

  “What are you doing? I can't breathe,” the guard choked as the window tightened against his windpipe.

  Wesley opened the car's door and swung the man out of the way as he flailed his arms, reaching for his weapon. George and Isabelle exited the car as Wesley pulled the guard's gun from his hip.

  “Sorry about this,” Wesley said, stretching the guard's hands behind his back before snapping handcuffs around his wrists. “All you had to do was let us in.”

  Wesley reached around and lowered the window, freeing the choking guard while George lifted the guard's ID swipe card from his belt. The man fell to the ground, coughing.

  “Hurry,” Wesley urged. “Let's get him back in the guard shack. We won't have much time now.”

  They drug the man inside and taped his
mouth. George swiped the guard's card, opening the gate.

  The three got in and Wesley sped the car through the facility.

  “What are we looking for?” Isabelle asked.

  “Can't miss it. They store explosive in a separate building and it'll be well marked.”

  They drove through the complex coming to a smaller shed littered with bright placards.

  'Danger. Explosives. Authorized personnel only.' George read.

  They exited the car, swiped the card and entered the building. Wesley turned on his flashlight, finding what he was looking for. “Over here. These containers. Start loading them while I look for the detonators.”

  ◆◆◆

  “Sir, we have a hit on the terrorists.”

  “Where?” Cornelius barked.

  “Gate camera at Raze Demolition picked up George and Isabelle.”

  “Demolition company? What the hell are they up to?”

  Explosives.

  Regret for not killing George and Isabelle when he had the chance and allowing them to escape throbbed through the raised vein in his temple. “Dispatch City Police immediately. Tell them to send everyone in the area. We have known terrorists on the loose.”

  ◆◆◆

  George jogged back into the building. “It's all loaded. Are you ready?”

  Wesley jabbed his light into the dark building's corners. “As soon as I find the detonators. Damn it!”

  “What?” George asked.

  “They're not here.”

  Sirens wailed in the distance as Isabelle ran through the doorway. “We have to go, now!”

  Wesley shook his head. “We can't leave yet. That C-4 is about a good as play-dough without the detonators.”

  George directed his flashlight along the far wall. There was a wire frame cage with a door. “What's over there?”

  Wesley bolted for the door. “I figured they would keep the detonators away from the explosives, but I didn't expect they would use something as archaic as a padlock,” he said slapping his hand on the square box attached to the door's handle.

  The sirens grew louder as George rattled the door. “Can we cut the wire?”

  Wesley looked at him with wide eyes. “What do you want me to use? My teeth?”

  “You didn't bring a bolt cutter?” Isabelle asked.

  Wesley threw his hands in the air. “No, I didn't have time to swing by the antique shop on our way here.”

  George bent down and pulled on the wire. “Hey, it's not attached to the floor. Izzy, if you were a little skinnier you might wiggle in there.”

  “You calling your girlfriend fat, George?” Isabelle said.

  George pulled hard on the wire, thinking how women always seemed to take offense to references of size and Isabelle was no exception. “Never. I'm saying the crack in the floor is really small.”

  Isabelle got down on all fours. “If both of you pull it up towards you, I can get in there.”

  The two men strained against the wire as Isabelle slid along the concrete floor below it.

  Wesley let go of the wire, pointing. “There, grab those boxes in front of you and slide them under the wire.”

  Isabelle pushed them under the wire wall and waited for George to return from placing them in the car. Red and blue flashes blanketed the warehouse walls. “We have to go, now!” Wesley yelled over the blaring sirens.

  They pulled on the wire a second time as Isabelle crawled out and they ran to the car. Once inside, Wesley slammed on the gas, spitting gravel behind them as he spun in a half circle, lining them up with the gate. “Jax, did you remember to disable the auto collision avoidance system on this car?”

  “Of course,” Jax replied.

  “I hope it works.”

  The car's headlights found the guard shack and Isabelle covered her mouth. “The gate's closed.”

  “Yep,” Wesley replied.

  George clenched his jaw. “And the cops are parked on the other side.”

  “I'm aware,” Wesley replied, lining up the car with the middle of the gate.

  “This car is full of C-4,” Isabelle added.

  The car reached sixty miles an hour.

  “Also aware,” Wesley replied through gritted teeth.

  The car's speakers erupted with a warning.

  'Erratic driving is dangerous.’

  The vehicle crashed into the gate, blowing it off its hinges. Wesley veered right to avoid the cruiser parked in front of the guard shack and tore through the guard shack’s wall with the front passenger side of the car. The vehicle spun sideways and Wesley corrected as two officers fired their weapons. Bullets pierced through the quarter panel as Wesley turned the car onto the street, avoiding three more patrol cars.

  “There went some paint,” George said.

  An advertisement played through the car's speakers. 'Need a body shop? Get fifty dollars off your next visit to Bodyworks by saying yes, now.’

  Wesley gritted his teeth. “Jax, you disabled all the auto-drive features, but never disconnected the wi-fi?”

  He pushed the pedal to the floor as the red and blue lights of five police cars flashed in the rear-view mirror.

  Jax shrugged. “I thought we might need the gps, traffic can get ugly.”

  They passed three more police cars going in the opposite direction. The cars spun around, joining the chase.

  “What are we going to do?” Isabelle asked.

  Wesley continued to speed up. “We stick to the plan.”

  'Traveling over the speed limit is not recommended.’

  “Also aware,” Wesley replied, slapping the car's instrument panel.

  The car raced through the city, weaving in and out of oncoming lanes, as the other vehicles on the street swerved to miss them, utilizing their collision avoidance systems. It jumped the curb on Fourth street, skidding through the intersection and then stopped.

  The cruisers behind the car fanned out, blocking the street while five more police cars blocked the car in from the other three directions. The police car‘s drivers stepped out with guns drawn as an officer turned on a loudspeaker.

  “We have you surrounded. You are under arrest. Come out with your hands where we can see them in the next ten seconds or we turn your car into a sieve.”

  The car rested, idling, with no response from its occupants as an advertisement played across the vehicle’s speakers. 'Legal trouble? Call the professionals at Hardy, Wiley, Wiley and Tate for a free consultation.'

  The officer held the loudspeaker to his lips. “Fire.”

  A firestorm of bullets lashed against the car as the crowd of men emptied their weapons. The car's rear glass blew out as its tires deflated. It coughed to a stall while hundreds of rounds penetrated the metal body. The gunfire continued for several minutes, shattering the remaining glass and exploding the plastic marker lamps into shards.

  As the officer's clips emptied, the street turned silent, a final piece of glass falling to the concrete with a lone clunk.

  The officers held their positions for several more seconds while reloading. They crept towards the car with weapons aimed. An officer rounded the quarter panel and looked inside. He cocked his head while scratching his scalp. “What the hell?”

  “What's going on?” a second officer asked as he approached.

  “They're gone.”

  “That's impossible,” the officer replied, ducking inside the vehicle and noticing a large hole in the car's floor in front of the back seat. He got down on one knee and inspected the space below the car, finding an open manhole. He stood before jogging back to the officer in charge.

  “They're in the sewer.”

  The officer's phone rang.

  “Well? Do you have them?” Cornelius asked.

  “Not yet, Sir. They got away.”

  “How did you let that happen?”

  “We'll go after them. They‘re in the sewers, Sir.”

  “I'm sending fifty soldiers to your location.” Cornelius replied, ending the c
all.

  Jax, Isabelle, George, and Wesley jogged along the tunnel, sloshing through angle-high water and refuse while cradling the boxes in their arms. They ran several hundred yards before Wesley stopped at an opening in the wall. He stepped through the jagged block, opening up into the subway system.

  “Come on,” he urged. “We have to get these to a safe place and we have little time.”

  CHAPTER 40

  Anna clawed through the thick pine boughs, trudging her way uphill. Time slowed, making it feel as though she had been fighting the trees for hours. The sun had found its place to sleep for the night and darkness wrapped its arms around her struggling frame.

  She accomplished the top of the hill, tripping on a branch and falling out into an opening in the forest.

  Anna stood, brushing the pine needles from her hair as she stared at what was in front of her.

  A concrete block wall.

  Anna's jaw tensed, beads of sweat forming on her forehead and upper lip.

  The wall stretched away from her in both directions in an arc. She touched the cold concrete, running her finger along the joint lines. The tooling was perfect with smooth meticulous pointing.

  Anna walked the perimeter of the wall, arriving at an opening wide enough to enter. Her gaze followed the length of the inside. Someone built the wall in the shape of a large circle with only one opening on each end of the clearing. Anna turned, scanning the wall behind her. Although indifferent to walls, Anna could appreciate the time an ambitious effort such a task would consume.

  A sudden thumping pounded the ground behind her and she whirled to see what made the noise. Inside the circle's center was a massive heart.

  Anna wiped the sweat from her brow with a trembling hand.

  She drew closer, in awe at the size of the organ. It's muscle contracted and pulsed in tandem with the pounding sound that rippled through her body.

  The large red mass of tissue continued its never-ending task as Anna walked around it. She noticed someone on the opposite end of the wall, back turned to Anna and wearing an over-sized hooded sweatshirt.

  The person was busy lifting blocks from a stack and placing them into the wall, then adding mortar with a trowel before placing the next block. Each movement achieved in perfect timing with the thump of the heartbeat at Anna's back. The person continued to work at closing the gaps and finishing the wall.