by David Beers
Manny kept from looking over at Leon, because whenever he did, anger rose up in him. Anger at Leon's stupidity, at his blind and misplaced love for Caesar. He didn't want to contrast the grotesqueness, indeed the massacre, that Leon was becoming with the beauty of his wife. Not right now. He wanted to just look at the woman becoming his wife and be at peace. For the first time in a long time, Manny would be at peace.
Chapter Three
The train flew around the city as if everything was normal. It passed through the air like a film of smoke didn’t coat its windows, like grit and dirt didn’t line its entire body. It moved above the world like fire wasn't raging beneath.
Caesar stood in the train, staring straight down, looking at the mess beneath him. He was going to descend into it very soon, descend by himself for the most part. Grace could do nothing, and Bradley was little more than a sarcastic toy. Caesar would be alone in the world below, and not a single bit of it was pretty.
How had it happened? That question continually plagued him, continually jumped into his mind, because it shouldn't have been possible. Not right now, not with The Genesis in charge. It made no sense, and yet, here it was, fire and death erupting on the streets that he had walked just a single year ago.
The train started its descent, heading to the ground, still following its schedule. The train wouldn't be late, even if Caesar and the two applications with him were its only occupants. As Caesar moved closer and closer to the ground, his eyes moved from looking down to looking to his side, seeing that what had once been a mile below him was now only separated by the clear metal of the train.
The door opened and Caesar stepped out, the smell of burning fuel immediately assaulting his nose. He squinted his eyes, trying to block out the smoke wafting over his face. Two people streaked in front of him, one holding their hands over their head, as if trying to block an object that wasn't there but would be shortly. They ran to his left and Caesar looked to his right, trying to understand what they were running from, and seeing it easily enough. A group of ten, both men and women, followed quickly, most holding weapons of some sort—knives, wooden sticks and boards, apparently whatever they could find. They passed by Caesar without looking at him.
All but one.
A man, almost a boy, stopped when he saw Caesar, his jog slowing as his head turned and then finally halting completely. He held a knife in his right hand and walked back a few feet to stand in front of Caesar.
Caesar went forward with his mind immediately, searching the man.
He found something he didn't understand.
A rage twisted with an innate fear. Those emotions had been directed at the two people running, but now they looked directly at Caesar, now they questioned who he was—What side's he on? ran through the man's head. He was already seriously considering raising the knife and simply cutting Caesar.
For what, though?
Why was he holding the knife in the first place? Why was he so angry?
Caesar pushed deeper as the man raised the knife—slowly as he thought it through, wondering whether the man in front of him, this man that had stepped off an empty train, should live or die. Caesar went through his history quickly, looking at the days just passed, seeing what he had done. Murder. Rape. Both within the past week, though the man felt every bit of it was justified. The rape, something that should have disgusted even the hardest individual, was fine in this man's mind. Was A-Okay.
The man plunged the knife forward, having made his decision that Caesar was too strange, too new not to kill.
Caesar stopped the man's muscles in mid-movement. The knife stood a few inches from Caesar's gut, and Caesar kept sifting through memories until he found what he thought he wanted. He couldn't be sure, but if he went further back in the man's memories—before that moment—the violence stopped.
A pill, the man had been given a pill by his friend, and he took it.
An anti-virus.
Jesus Christ, Caesar thought.
The man ingested something; all these people had ingested something. A Representative. That's who had given these things out, but there weren't any more Representatives. There hadn't been any for years and years. Nine hundred, maybe. Yet, this man was confident that's where the pill came from. An anti-virus to protect against The Named, and who else would they need protection against? The people he was chasing were part of The Named, and he thought Caesar must have been part of the group too, simply because the man didn't know him.
Caesar stepped aside and walked the man into the train, the doors closing as he stepped on. Caesar released control and heard the man screaming, demanding something or other. Caesar looked to his left again, hoping that the people he had seen running were safe. There wasn't anyone on the street though, just the endless smoke that seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere at once.
"That was too fucking much," Bradley said. Caesar had kept the application close, almost absentmindedly. If he released it, the thing would fly off. "You better protect me from these beasts."
"What next?" Caesar asked.
"Head to your parents' apartment?" Grace said.
Caesar nodded, taking a right, heading in the direction the people with weapons came from.
* * *
Manny held the child up in front of him, inspecting it. Child wasn't right though, he held Dustin, inspected Dustin.
It hadn't taken long for Manny to find the boy, and Manny blamed that on providence. The surrogate and the boy had been hiding in an apartment a few floors down, separated from the crop when all this started and now hiding from the mess brewing outside. She screamed a whole lot, and Manny wasn't really mad at her; he probably would have done the same thing, but this wasn't her child. It was Manny's. It was Brandi's. The kid knew it, obviously; that's why he was crying right now, looking back at Manny, happy to finally be with his real father.
Manny reached up and wiped a slight smear from the child's face. A small streak of blood that needn't be there when Dustin saw Brandi for the first time, again. Manny wanted the boy clean, for sure. Everything else looked in tip-top shape.
The door to his apartment opened in front of Manny and he stepped through. Paige was still where he left her; he wasn't completely ready to call her Brandi yet, because if she was fully Brandi, he could free her from this prison. She wasn't ready though. Manny could still feel Paige's anger, still feel her fear. It had lessened though, without any doubt. And it would continue to lessen as Brandi came more and more to the forefront. Soon he could call her Brandi, soon she would be just his wife. He still wanted her to see their child though; Paige might not appreciate it totally, but Brandi—the woman inside—she would for sure. She would understand what he meant by handing her this baby, by handing her Dustin.
He lifted Paige so that she sat up on the couch, her arms at her side, staring straight forward. He released her eyes, and they immediately jerked to where he stood. Nothing else moved though, not her mouth or her body—he wanted Paige quiet while Brandi got a good look at Dustin. He walked across the room, and sat down next to her, placing Dustin in her lap, holding him steady there, so that she could gaze at him.
* * *
"It's Dustin, honey. Do you see?"
Paige heard the words, heard them because this fuck was sitting right next to her, their legs touching.
Just not his hands. Just don't let his hands touch me.
The child looked immaculately clean, but contrasted with Manny's hands, the baby looked like a porcelain statue standing in a pool of blood. Manny's hands were covered, nearly drenched in someone else's life, reaching up to his mid-forearms. The baby wore overalls, and while the blood hadn't reached the child's skin yet, it was smearing across his clothes.
How old was this child? A year? He stuck one of his fingers in his mouth, looking up at Paige with wondering eyes.
Paige didn't want to cry again. She had cried too much, cried too long, and she knew that a lot more tears were yet to come. Knew that none of this w
as over, that it was only just beginning. Yet, she couldn't help it, looking at the kid on her lap and the blood stained hands that held him there. This child, wherever he had come from, he would never return.
The tears rolled down her face, though she wasn't allowed to make any noises. It was strange, at least at first, crying silently, unable to fully express the sadness welling up inside her. She grew somewhat used to it, this almost constant crying without a single word or sound escaping her mouth. When Manny plunged into her, when he cut on Leon, when he dragged Jerry out of the front room to a hallway—his wires and chords dragging behind his dead body. She cried during all of it without a single sound escaping her lips. So what was one more time? What was once more, to cry for this child who would probably end up dead long before he reached another birthday.
Oh, God, where is Caesar? She thought. The same thought that always came back to her. The same thought that had been almost constant since he left. How long had it been now? Paige didn't know. He wasn't coming. He wouldn't find her, wouldn't find any of them. So why keep wondering about him? Why keep asking that question?
Because I love him.
She looked over to Manny, whose eyes focused on the boy. Insane didn't begin to describe this stupid, stupid fuck. How many times had he taken her so far? Twenty? More? Three times a day, at least, and each time he filled her with his seed. Each fucking time he increased the chances that she would grow pregnant with his real child, not this stranger he called Dustin. Looking at Manny, at his eyes, she knew that he actually believed this baby was his child. He held no doubt about it.
And now the child looked up at her like she might be his mother.
I'm so sorry, sweetie, she thought, looking back into the boy's wondering eyes.
Chapter Four
"They're inside that building. No doubt about it."
Theo listened to the man, hating how uncomfortable his suit felt. It always felt like this, a heaviness to it that drove him mad, like a lead blanket draped around him. He wanted to take it off, wanted to burn the goddamn thing if he was being honest, though that wasn't even in the realm of possibility.
What was this person's name? He couldn't remember it, though he'd just been told.
Alan?
Alex?
Andrew. That was it. Andrew. And, Andrew was most definitely insane. Crazy just like the rest of the people that came to Theo, like the rest of the people Theo led. Turmoil didn't describe the city right now; turmoil was a relatively nice word, one that might have seemed quaint if Theo were to walk outside and take a stroll around the block. He wasn't going to, though. He didn't want to see anymore. The mess, the buildings with broken windows and the ransacked stores. He didn't want to see the dead being dragged through the streets by their hands and feet. He didn't want to see any of it because he knew where it started—with him.
Yet, he didn't keep it going; this thing was an animal unto itself, an animal that only thought it needed Theo's permission to eat.
That's why Andrew was here.
Everything they planned ran through Theo first, per Mock's wishes.
"What building is it?" Theo asked.
"Torrence Apartments."
"We haven't already been there?"
"No way," Andrew said. "Place is infested with The Named."
"How do you know?" Theo asked because he still found it curious, how fucking stupid their answers were. Not humorous, there wasn't anything funny about this enterprise, but interesting nonetheless. Because all of their answers were nothing. Everything they thought was only the anti-virus coursing through their blood, perhaps even affecting their DNA.
"I was there, visiting my cousin. He kept going to use the bathroom. I mean constantly, Mr. Yellen. He said he drank a lot of water after a jog or something, but it was bullshit. He was recording me and then hiding the recordings in his bathroom."
Theo looked at the man, wondering how in the hell he could say that and look Theo in the eye? How in the hell he could know a cousin his entire life and suddenly be completely convinced that same man was working for some covert organization? Some organization that hardly existed, if Mock was to be believed—which Theo did, because Mock took some sick pleasure in all of this, in knowing that everything was a lie.
And here this man was, this Andrew, playing right into it.
"So what do you think we should do?" Theo asked, already knowing the answer. All of these people only gave one answer, and what if Theo told them no? They would do it anyway. They would run in and kill everyone they could, anyone that didn't hide or run. They would murder them even as their victims screamed for mercy. Theo wouldn't say no, though. Of course he wouldn't. Because if he said no, his own murder would follow very soon, delivered by the cruelest god Theo could imagine: Mock.
"We've got to get in there. We've got to root those people out."
Theo wanted to sigh, felt the need out of simple boredom, out of the stupidity he saw all day, every day. He sat in that old church, the one where he made his proclamation about the need to go after The Named. He operated out of an office in the back, watching different shows that came on the entertainment center he made Mock bring him. He watched and waited for people to show up demanding that buildings be sacked or people be murdered publicly in the streets. There was a lot of that, surprisingly enough. People needed to know that The Named's infiltration wouldn't be tolerated, Theo supposed, as if the actual blood on the streets and the smoke in the air wouldn't send the message.
"Give me some time to think on it," Theo said, which was the closest he had ever come to saying no. He was just tired of it. Tired of this room, tired of being scared to walk outside because of what he would see.
And now, in Andrew's eyes, he saw a flicker of anger.
"Why?" Andrew asked.
No one had questioned Theo before. Yes, sir; No, sir. That's what Theo was used to.
"Excuse me?" Theo asked.
"Why? Why do you need to think on it? Why can't I just do it now?"
Theo stood up, not angry, but frightened. He knew what this could lead to: if Andrew left angry with him, rumors would circle that he was The Named. That The Named had even infiltrated The Genesis' structure, and they would string Theo up on the roads right next to the other dead bodies.
"What the fuck did you just ask me? Did you ask me why?" Theo pointed to the patch on his chest. "You see that? That means you don't fucking ask me questions. It means I make the rules. It means if you question me again, instead of a noose outside, I'm going to arrange for a vat to be brought out and you placed in it. You got that?"
The anger in Andrew's eyes died and he looked down at his feet. "I'm sorry."
"Get the fuck out of here. I'll let you know in a few hours what I want to do."
The man rushed out of the room and Theo sat back down, his heart beating so hard he thought it might break through his chest.
* * *
Mock stood up, arms open as if it was welcoming home a son from college. It was, of course, only trying to piss Theo off a bit. The door shut behind Theo and as Mock moved around to the front of its own desk, arms still wide, Theo sat down in the chair.
"This is beyond ridiculous now, Mock."
"No hug?"
Theo didn't even look up.
"Fine. Fine. No need to show how much you care for me," Mock said, moving back around to its own chair. "What do you mean, beyond ridiculous?"
"The things these people are wanting to do."
"Do tell, do tell," Mock said.
"You love hearing this, don't you? Makes you feel good?"
Mock wanted to smile at that, it truly did. Theo was growing disgusted, at himself, at Mock, at the whole business. Even saying that to Mock was more than he would have done at the beginning. This wasn't the man that had followed behind Mock on the staircase, answering only the questions it asked—not venturing any of his own. Mock liked the change because it wanted to see how far it could push this human. How far before Theo just went off t
he rails and Mock had to put him down. Was the limit approaching? Not too close, Mock didn't think, but definitely inching nearer.
"Yes, I suppose it does. You don't?"
"No."
"Anyway, what's new? What's so ridiculous?"
"Today one comes in and says his cousin, a man he's known his whole life, is working for The Named. Why? Because his cousin kept using the restroom during the man's visit. So now the man thinks we need to go in there and kill everyone."
Mock clapped its hands. "Yes! That's what we like to hear!"
Theo just stared at it, not saying anything, not amused by Mock's antics, and Mock liked that too. The annoyance on the man's face, the annoyance he felt for this whole thing.
"So when are you going into the building?" Mock asked.
"Today, I suppose. I wanted to come tell you before I went in, though now, I don't see why I wanted too."
"Yes, you did kind of waste your time with that one. I won't say you wasted my time, Theo, because you're always welcome here."
The two stared at each other, neither saying anything. Finally Theo stood up and walked out of the room. Mock watched him go, watched the door close behind him. It wasn't nearly as giddy as it sounded in front of Theo. There wasn't room for that kind of emotion in Mock, in what it was doing here. Mock did it to piss off the human, to push him just a bit further each time they spoke. This was serious business, and things were progressing nicely, but Mock wasn't sure it would reach the perfect crescendo. There was still more to do. Destroying buildings and hanging people from light poles was nice, but this needed to spread. Outside of Allencine. Mock wasn't sure how to do that yet, and not knowing bothered it. Mock didn't want to go to The Genesis and ask; no, it needed to figure this out alone.