by Dina Rae
“You’re right, Justine or Gloria or whoever you are,” I yelled. “My friend, Camden, set us all up. I’ve only known him for a day and I love him like a brother. Let me open up my email and show all of you what Jaxie witnessed earlier this evening.”
I fiddled with the keyboard and brought up the file. Justine continued to pick up a radio that chirped and check in with other Peacekeepers who were not inside of the clinic. I still didn’t trust Justine, but at this point I had nothing left to lose. “Right here.” I fast-forwarded through the few hours of footage and gave them each details frame by frame. Chad and Marta moaned in disgust and cupped their mouths in horror at the end during the sacrifice. The picture was spotty and inconclusive. If Jaxie hadn’t told us what we were watching, I would have just thought they were doing some creepy coronation for Prince Laurie.
Justine analyzed the video without emotion and then said, “Thanks.” There was a pause. “Hey! I got another idea! Why didn’t I think of this before? Raphael, you were once a journalist, a famous journalist less than two years ago. You once had a following. Well, we all need to be followed right now. So comb your hair or something, you look like a terrorist on the run. I’ll bet you want to know why I have latched onto you.” There was a smirk on her face that made me want to choke her. “We really don’t have the time for stories, but the bottom line is this: I’m not a stalker or a psycho. I’m your half-sister.”
Chapter Forty-One
Jaxie
A few hours of sitting inside of Prince Satan’s house had passed. The driver and two military guards looked at me like a prisoner on suicide watch. Why bother? The Prince of Peace would soon be home to kill me.
Through the spotless windows I saw the night sky. It looked like a thick black blanket, soft and beautiful and safe. It had to be at least six in the morning. Daylight never broke through the blackness until after eight o’clock. Would I be alive to see my last sunrise of dirty gray clouds?
I watched Laurie’s ‘We Are the World’ speech which again outlined all of the peaceful benefits globalization would bring. He then got down to it, threatening any and all who attempt to terrorize the world’s peaceful efforts. Pictures of my Patriots were plastered on the moving bottom screen of the TV. Raphael was in one of the photos. Chad Whitley was up on the screen. He was the one who picked Laurie to target. I had him to thank for this mess.
Laurie accused several Fogle employees in the attack. For a moment, I allowed myself to be proud of what I started. Maybe our efforts wouldn’t mount to more than a bag of beans, but at least we started something the next generation could finish. Or maybe this moment was as close as we’d ever come to change. Our only window of opportunity was just about shut.
Laurie spoke outside in the cold. He wore a long wool winter coat and gloves, no hat. His dark hair whipped around in the wind. The cameras periodically moved from Laurie to Wendy’s dead body pierced from top to bottom. Remnants of Boston Symphony Hall were visible in the distance. My mind blanked out for a moment, and then I forced myself to focus. Laurie offered reward units for each of the terrorists. Raphael, Brick, and Camden were worth the most at one hundred thousand units a piece.
I felt the sting of tears drip down my cheek. Hoping the guard didn’t notice, I announced I was going to the bathroom. For a long moment with the door shut, I cried. The sadness wasn’t just for tonight, but for my sister, my parents, my young life that would soon end, and for the family I had created in response. I didn’t want to admit it, but the responsibility was all mine. If it had not been for me and my ridiculous idealism, ego, and manic superiority, they would stay alive and in some cases be alive. Life was life, even under someone’s rule.
Get yourself together! You haven’t played your last card! I walked out of the bathroom and sat back down in front of the television. Laurie was done speaking. Now it was henchman after henchman from the Secret Peace and Truth Task Force, talking as if they were real F.B.I. agents investigating a real crime with real terrorists. We’d go down as evil and they’d play themselves as the self-righteous, peaceful leaders who wanted the world to live as one.
A parade of vehicles pulled onto the block and everyone frantically scuffled to the door. Ah, my sweet prince came home to our castle. He missed me. The barrage of ass kissing began outside of the front door before he was even out of the car. Dozens of titles such as ‘Your Excellency’, ‘Your Highness’, ‘Your Royal Highness’, and even ‘Savior’ were bestowed upon the new prince as he entered his kingdom. He glanced my way and entered the room with Max. The two men went from acquaintances to best friends in less than a week. The guards who had been baby-sitting me didn’t leave, but were told to walk over to the doorway, out of earshot.
I stared out the window and then noticed that the sky lightened from black to a murky gray. I appreciated the diffused rays of sun more than ever. The hint of daybreak allowed me to see the caravans of cars, SUVs, and trucks in front of the house. I heard light propulsion above and imagined several drones circling the home. This beautiful house was as secure as a military fortress. Breaking me out of this place was not a possibility. I clung to my metaphoric last card like a life jacket. If my timing was perfect, maybe I could walk out of here and live another day.
Max instructed one of the guards to slide the elegant white pocket door closed, but to stay inside. The others waited outside of the room. Max then asked, “How deep are you into to this?”
“I’m sorry? What do you mean?” I coyly asked back.
Prince Laurie then said, “Your partner in crime, Camden, also known as Max’s top security exec, might have mentioned a few things. Take a look for yourself.” Stephen handed me his phone with a video already pulled up on the screen. “We recorded his confession this morning while I gave my first press conference as the newly crowned prince. My secret service police picked him up several hours after my coronation was bombed. He was lurking around my home. My Boston home. I got so many houses. It’s hard to keep track, but then I am a prince after all.” He looked at me and then the phone. “Go ahead, Jaxie. Just press play.”
The screen displayed a beaten and bloodied Camden Theriault sitting on a stool, shirtless and in cuffs. A man wearing a uniform with the new global emblem embroidered on the collar took a cigar cutter and clipped away at Camden’s right hand. His pinky finger was gone and his ring finger down to the knuckle. Blood spurted all over his lap. All of the fingers on his left hand were gone. Camden pressed his knuckle into his waist to stop the blood. Another man, holding a long hypodermic needle, stood on the other side of him.
The man with the cigar cutter yelled, “So who else was involved in this attempted overthrow?”
Camden winced but did not scream. “It was just me. Please, kill me already.”
“In time, Mister Theriault. But for now, we need answers. I’m giving you a new serum, somewhat like the old sodium pentothal, but much more effective, more accurate, and more dangerous to your neurons. But frying up your brain is really the least of our concerns,” said the man with the needle. He jammed it into both of Camden’s eyes.
Camden screamed, “I can’t see! I can’t see!”
“You will in a minute when the drug takes effect,” said the man with the cigar cutter. “So who, Camden? We’re waiting.”
“No one. It was just me. I stole a warehouse full of munitions at your Cambridge facility and foolishly thought I could make a difference in your New World Order.” Camden’s voice slowed down and slurred into gibberish.
“It’s not working,” said the man with the cigar cutter.
“Yes, it is. Give it time. Now Camden, I’m not screwing around here. We’ll kill your son. Brick, right? So you need to tell us,” said the man with the syringe. He reloaded it with his serum and then plunged it into Camden’s larynx. “Again, who helped you destroy the old symphony?”
Camden coughed and hacked. Saliva and blood shot out of his mouth. He hoarsely whispered, “You’ll kill him anyway.”
&nbs
p; “Do you want him to die like you, tortured and drugged? Or do you want him to die quickly and painlessly? We can make either happen,” said the man with the cigar cutter. He unzipped Camden’s pants and yanked down his shorts, exposing his manhood. Looming over him with the cigar cutter, he did the unthinkable. Blood shot out in streams from his groin. Camden’s scream felt like acid poured over my soul.
“Alright! Wendy, Wendy Grossman,” he said with a lisp and a slur.
“She’s dead, which you probably know. Keep going,” said the man with needle.
“Sai White. She works under me at Fogle.”
“Who else?”
“Raphael, don’t have a last name. He’s a relative of our leader.”
“Name! Now!” The man with the cigar cutter went towards Camden’s penis again.
“Jaxie Nottingham, alright! She was Laurie’s date.” Camden’s speech was barely audible. Foam drooled out like waterfalls from his mouth. His body convulsed as if he was being electrified. After a few minutes, he slumped over and the recording ended.
Laurie took the phone away and said, “I admire you for getting this far. You and all the key employees at Fogle taking us on…Brave. I almost thought Max was in on it, but Camden cleared him as did Wendy.”
“Max is your kind of people, not ours,” I replied. “We just wanted our country back. For the record, it’s not terrorism, but self-defense.”
“Jaxie, you were one of my most promising employees. It was your instincts and imagination that legally sold off all of our users’ data. Brilliant, really. Made me the richest man in the world at the time. You were the one who tossed the idea of the microchip around. Well, we’re using it now. And Camden, he figured out how to get into America’s defense system. That really helped Fogle out. After the war, you came up with technology that censors some things while releasing propaganda for others. I do not want to see you dead. You’re valuable to me and the world.”
“But everyone is replaceable,” Stephen added. “Isn’t that right, Max?”
“Sadly, yes. You know, I feel like a fool. Right under my nose, my very own employees who I protected and sheltered after the war were plotting against me. Her talent as well as the others’ talents no longer matters. All of you will be sacrificed in the name of peace.”
“Max, you’re not alone. Jaxie, my beautiful, Jaxie, you made me feel like a complete fool. You seduced me. You knew I would be interested in you. Your gorgeous face and your exquisite genes…I never saw such perfection here in the West. You and I would have made a great pair. I, the prince, and you, my princess. Before I kill you, can you at least tell my why you chose me for your sick and twisted revenge plot? Am I the softest one out of the Twelve?”
“I sought you out because you are the face of the inner circle. I could only deduce that your sainthood was an act. And if I was to seek revenge, why not start at the top?”
“Very perceptive of you. But I also know that you weren’t working alone. What you and your terrorist cell fail to understand is the nature of power. No one does until he or she has it. Once it’s yours, others want it, and you have to fight to keep it. I fought for my power. It was not given to me by birthright or accomplishments. I had to win in order to take it. To think that you and some disgruntled techy geeks, oh yes, and a baker and teacher, can just take that away…It’s laughable. The only reason your face isn’t smeared all over the news and denouncing you as Enemy Number One is because of our brief involvement. It’s my ego and desire to maintain power that is saving you from disgrace.”
“Before you kill me…” I said and then was interrupted.
Max interjected, “You will be questioned and tortured. We will know every detail behind your childish plan, starting from the minute you first dreamt about it. We will know everyone you ever mentioned it to.” He waved the guard over to our far corner of the room.
I looked outside of the window and saw yellow rays filter through the charcoal clouds. The sunlight gave me courage. It was now or never. “Before you begin the torture, I have an announcement to make. I know it’s only been a week, but I am pregnant. I tested myself before the gala. It’s yours, Stephen. You are the only one I’ve been with in years.”
Stephen’s brown eyes yellowed in anger. For an instance, he looked possessed. “You’re a lying bitch.”
I lied about testing myself, but the possibility was there. We didn’t use anything and my period was officially late.
Stephen stormed out of the room and quickly came back with a big black case. He fished through its contents and then handed me a plastic cup. “Pee in this now!”
I went into the restroom and he followed, preventing me from shutting the door. I squeaked out a few ounces of urine and then handed him the container.
With an eyedropper, Stephen mixed in a few drops of a chemical. The urine turned dark. “You are pregnant alright. I should kill you anyway.”
“Oh Stephen, think of the perfect stem cells we could breed. Our baby would be special. Invincible. Brilliant. Hell, look at you. Spared from aging. Immune from disease, and maybe even death. We both know you weren’t born that way. But experiment after experiment, you found a way not to die. Maybe the doctor who designed me found a way too.”
Stephen looked at Max and then both men walked to the other side of the massive room and spoke privately. Stephen made a phone call and then another phone call. A fearful expression swept over his face. He then made another phone call. Something was very wrong. Were my Patriots enacting their revenge? Gray clouds drifted away and allowed a few rays of golden light to shine down in front of Laurie’s house, or maybe I was dreaming.
My eyes shifted to the television screen. The series of press conferences and breaking stories began breaking up. The sound turned to static and the pixels turned into squares. The channel was losing its signal. I stared at the screen in reverence and adoration. My gut was telling me that my Patriots were somehow behind this.
The only news program on television was cut short. A new show took over the airwaves. Some of the footage I instantly recognized. The newscaster looked shabby, like he’d been through the ringer. He began to speak. No, it couldn’t be. Raphael! Raphael was on television!
Chapter Forty-Two
Raphael
“I’m serious. Comb your hair. You look like a whack job. We can’t afford to project the wrong image here. This is it. If you can’t recruit anyone to our side, then game over. We need numbers, Raphael,” said Justine or Gloria or whoever she was. She picked up one of the radios and mumbled something into it.
I ran my hands through my dirty, greasy hair. Then I used a few pieces of tissue from Laurie’s desk and wiped my face. “Well?”
“Better,” Chad said. “But we could really use a stylist and makeup artist. Do you know any who are available?” Again, I saw those gorgeous chompers in the dark as Chad smiled. “Your shabby appearance will have to do. Here, my shirt and coat are nicer than yours. Let’s switch.”
Chad and I quickly changed clothes, and I said to Justine, “You want to elaborate on your claim?”
“Okay, Bro. Stand right over there, in front of the laptop. We’ll use it as our second camera.” She continued typing away on Laurie’s computer. “When we get out of this mess, I’ll give you more details. Short version of the story is this-our mother married a real asshole and they had me. Believe it or not, you’re the lucky one. I wished that I was the one who was abandoned. Anyway, they never told me about you. One day when I was broke and in college, I had the house to myself and went snooping for money. Never found any cash, but did find a baby picture of you. I also found a wedding picture of our mother, Olivia, and your father. There was a satin bag with your social security number and a lock of your hair.”
“How did you know it was me?” I asked.
“At the time, I didn’t know my brother was some famous TV reporter. I watched your show. Loved it and loved you. It wasn’t until after the war when all of these investigative DNA clinics
started popping up. They promise to find your family through DNA. I had the hair. You voluntary gave some of your skin samples to Preston Lakes Community College upon your hire date. I then had a match and found you.”
“So you enrolled as a student?” I asked, again using my hands to tame my hair while using the camera screen as a mirror.
“Well, I no longer had a job. We all know what happened to Seattle.” Justine’s eyes were glued to the screen as she checked each of the dozens of windows she had opened up.
Seattle was a popular headquarters for several tech companies. I guessed Justine must have worked for one of them. “How convenient for Fogle. All of its competition evaporated overnight,” Marta said.
“I was a project manager at Yalo. Computers were my thing. Not because I enjoyed them, but because it was expected of me. My father was the VP.”
Marta asked, “Is he alive? What about Raphael’s mom?”
“I don’t want to know about my mother. Bad subject,” I said.
“Well then, spoiler alert, they’re both dead. Don’t feel bad. I don’t. Ironically, I was spared because my dad sent me down to Dallas to scout out another site for business. Okay, I’m ready to begin. I want to apologize to you. I should have been upfront and mature. I should have come to you and told you who I was. When you get to know me better, you’ll understand that I’m an emotional basket case with a lot of mental issues.”
I had to smile. “Justine or Gloria or whoever you are, I love how you said ‘when’ and not ‘if’. Recently, very recently, I became a believer like Chad and Marta. God has gotten even more real than He was a few hours ago. He is the reason that you are here now with me when I need you more than ever.” I walked up to her and gave her a bear hug as she continued to type away at the computer. I then kissed her on the top of the head. “I love you already.”
“Please, Raphael. I’m not a hugger, okay.”