Attribution

by Christine Horner

  “No decaf here.”

  He took a sip of his coffee. Bitter, his brow wrinkled. “That’s strong stuff, young lady. Soldier, let’s give our friend, Ed, a call.”

  The soldier had been watching the video on the business card advertising graphic design. “Sir, is this preapproved?”

  “Are you questioning me, soldier?”

  CHAPTER 53

  Americas Sector M9-48B :: New Las Vegas

  Truby tossed her blindfold beside her onto the hard cot where she sat. Only a thin sliver of light from underneath a door’s threshold told her she was somewhere, and that it was indoors. She heard scraping sounds as people bumped into cots and one another in total darkness, eyes still adjusting. A soft voice called her name.

  “I’m here, Rose.”

  “Life is never dull is it, Truby?” Pete stated matter-of-factly.

  “It was meant to be a party for one until you crashed it.”

  “Where are we?” asked Rose.

  “We can’t be in Vegas,” reasoned Sway somewhere in the room. “Man, did you see it? That was serious sh—”

  “Language. Mind the child,” Pete admonished.

  “Who are you calling a child?” Rose demanded. “Ow!” bumping a knee on a cot corner. “These things are real wood!”

  Truby lay down on the post-World War II Army cot to think. Arms stretched behind her head, the smelly, uncomfortable canvas was so taut, you could bounce a wooden nickel off it.

  “You should know any attempts at outdated parental manipulation through negative reinforcement are useless.”

  Truby smiled to herself. Rose was a miniature, female version of Pete, Truby, and Hemmy combined into one. She hoped the child would fare better than the three generations preceding her. Even the one all this was for had suffered immeasurable unfairness in a world that continued to churn out injustice.

  The world moved too slowly. As Truby closed her eyes and put her hands over her ears to dull the snippets of useless conversation, she wondered if anyone would come up with the brilliant idea of feeling around the door frame for a light panel.

  She rolled onto her side into a fetal position, her undergarment falling out of a pocket. Useless things. Her head pounded. Eyes open or closed it didn’t matter. All she could see was the singular image of Las Vegas utterly devastated by earthquake and water.

  When the flashbacks got this bad, she would turn on the lights to push away the darkness inside of her. For now, she welcomed the pain. She wanted it to burn. She hoped she never forgot.

  2023 :: Oslo, Norway — “Daddy, why is everyone looking at us?” asked Hemmy’s younger sister, nine-year-old Devlin.

  “I’m famous now.” Hemmy soaked it all in like a sponge cake sitting in milk. At the outdoor café children and parents alike whispered and pointed at the young lady who’d just won the Nobel Peace Prize. Hemmy smiled back, eating her ice cream very slowly to make it last.

  “That means I’m famous, too!”

  “Hurry up,” said Thomas nervously. “We shouldn’t be here.”

  “Thomas, let her enjoy some attention! God knows the world could use a positive role model.”

  Ouch, that hurt. Thomas sometimes hated the way Claire could be so right and so hurtful just for being right. He said nothing, watching Hemmy wave to the other children.

  “Hello,” Hemmy giggled at a little girl mimicking her every move.

  “Tell you what,” said Thomas slapping his knee cheerfully. “I’ll give you two minutes, and then you can have all the ice cream you want at your grandparents’ house.”

  “No one will know me on the other side of the world! You already wouldn’t let me wear my medal!”

  “What’s the matter with you?” Claire was irritated now. She counted to five then served a spoonful of honey instead of vinegar. “Give her five minutes, love?”

  “Our flight leaves in less than four hours. Will you let me be a man and look out for my family?” Thomas walked away to cool off.

  Propping a foot on a low retaining wall, he took stock of his surroundings. All fifteen tables overflowed with ordinary-looking people in a kaleidoscope of ethnicities. Hemmy was still sulking, but she finally smiled at a child waving at her. He’d give his family five minutes. Five was better than two. He checked his smartwatch. Four minutes to go.

  An Asian student with a snow leopard animal backpack appeared carrying his tray of food. The dejected young man slowly shuffled around tables waiting for a spot to become available. He seemed to be mumbling to himself. Hesitating in front of Thomas’s empty chair looking sheepish, to Thomas’s relief, he kept going.

  “You’re welcome to join us,” he heard Claire call out behind him.

  The young man wiped his nose on his sleeve, turning to set his tray down on the table. Claire and the girls squished closer together to give him extra space. Unwrapping his food, he stuffed his mouth as if he hadn’t eaten since last Tuesday.

  “Terrific,” Thomas said to himself. He rechecked his watch. Time was about up.

  Initial hunger satisfied, Claire and the girls’ table guest opened a side pocket in his backpack to retrieve an old Nintendo. As he played, he became animated, talking to himself in his native language, making funny sounds and occasionally snorting.

  Hemmy and Devlin watched curiously.

  “What’s that?” asked Devlin.

  No response. The game grew louder, and so did the noises made by the boy as he took bites of his meal while playing. Empty food containers quickly littered the small table.

  “I don’t think he speaks English,” whispered Claire.

  “Then how did he know he could sit with us?” asked Hemmy.

  “The language of kindness is universal.”

  Curious as to what he found so entertaining, the two girls stood to catch a peek of the video game. The unsociable student turned his back.

  Feeling full of herself today, Hemmy said, “Hey, Godzilla! Know who I am?”

  “Hemmy! That’s rude! And wrong country.”

  Hands on her hips, “He doesn’t know what I’m saying. I can say anything I want. Mister, I won a Nobel Peace Prize yesterday.”

  Their increasingly unwelcome guest ignored them, lost in his food and game.

  “Daddy was right. You created a monster!” Devlin could finally serve her older, more accomplished sister.

  Standing to collect the new pile of compostable wrappers made of organic leaves, “Well, Daddy’s been the monster lately.”

  On cue, Thomas abruptly appeared beside the table. A tense smile, “I was nice enough to give you five whole minutes instead of two.”

  The young man with the video game looked up fearfully at the man towering over him. He lunged for his backpack.

  “No, no, stay. You can stay.” Claire hand-motioned for him to stay seated.

  She gave Thomas a surprise peck on the cheek. “There’s my monster. I mean valiant protector.” Batting her eyelashes, “One more minute?”

  Thomas rolled his eyes. Claire always knew how to get her way. His smartwatch pinged alerting him to an incoming call anyway. He moved away from the table.

  CHAPTER 54

  2023 :: Stockholm, Sweden — Major Terrance Young pushed through the line of people waiting outside the Whistling Winds Trading Co. “Sorry. Café’s closed.”

  He rapped once on the door. A soldier unbolted the door to allow him to pass.

  “Popular place. Ed, my man, I hope you’ve got good news.” Young looked fresh on a few hours’ sleep in contrast to the weary Cyber Ops soldiers plus one who’d pulled an all-nighter, and then some. It was late morning in their part of the world.

  Zedd hovered over Obaba’s computer, packing away specialized hacking gear in a black box. “She wouldn’t cooperate, but I’m so good, I didn’t need her cooperation. Sir.”

  “Cuppa Joe, will ya?” As he waited for his kaffe, Young turned to look at his latest conquest uncooperatively hanging her head, the same darkened corner made cheery by h
er colorful outfit. “Shame on you, young lady.”

  He waited for the last GSC Special Ops to don a white pest control company coverall for the civilians they encountered. “Thanks, fellows. Good work.”

  Young pulled up a chair at a table near the counter. “Did you?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  Young was in a good mood and so allowed the cocky young man his oats. “That’s my man.”

  “Zedd. Z, double d.” Zedd wanted to make sure all the top brass knew his name as well as his reputation. Typing an I.P. address, “When anyone accesses the Hatchett Report, this is what they’ll see.”

  Zedd rotated the screen: BREAKING NEWS Chinese Industrial Self-Sabotage Used in Scheme to Blackmail Global Security Council

  What followed were bits and pieces of Truby’s extensive investigate piece spun by Zedd to create another version of the story.

  Truby’s voice narrated as Chinese officials walked outdoors in a show of strength followed by an aerial of Three Gorges Dam.

  “The Hatchett Report has recently uncovered evidence that the Chinese government is responsible for industrial sabotage against its own Three Gorges Dam.”

  “Whoa!” exclaimed Young like a surfer dude catching his first tube. “Hatchett never voices his reports. Otherwise, we would have caught him a long time ago.”

  “Like that? Bonus just for you, sir. I extracted and digitally recreated his voice pattern from the phone calls we intercepted.”

  “Excellent! Continue maestro.”

  Images of a flooded Chinese valley, subsequent damage, and loss of life, “. . . in order to blackmail the Global Security Council into brokering a deal with the United States to control global Rare Earth mineral rights. An unnamed high-ranking U.S. government official denies any backchannel exchanges with China or the GSC, but that they remain gravely concerned and are considering requesting an independent investigation into the allegations.”

  Video of the global water project under construction in the Nevada desert played. “The conspiracy was allegedly part of a multipoint strategy by the Chinese Government for global dominance over water, energy, and mineral rights. The geothermal, hydropower superstructure known as WREN relies heavily on Rare Earth minerals. Exclusivity would put global water and energy supplies at the mercy of a single country.”

  “Hatchett man is in so much trouble!” Young clapped, rubbing his hands together. “Amazing the power of editing. Isn’t that right, Obama, O’baby. But, then, you should know.”

  “Chatter on the net is already calling it a fake government propaganda piece and that Hatchett can’t be trusted,” concurred Zedd.

  “Exactly what we want them to think. Keep the masses infighting so we can get our job done. Good work, Ed. Zedd!”

  Young dragged his chair to Obaba’s table, the metal feet scraping across the brick floor like fingernails on a chalkboard all the way to China.

  “My sources tell me little Chinese feelings are hurt. Not only Chinese, their allies, too. Who knows who Hatchett might provoke. It’s completely out of our control now.”

  “You disgust me.” Obaba would have spat on him, but she didn’t have the strength.

  “Disgust you?” Young stood violently knocking the heavy metal chair over. “Didn’t you listen to the report? Global water, energy, mineral supplies controlled by a single country. The wrong country!”

  Young took Frohm’s mint case from inside his uniform jacket, running his fingers over the intricate details as if it already belonged to him. Something Frohm recently said replayed in his mind.

  Surprising himself, “Doesn’t Hatchett have a family?” He went back to his pocket to exchange the polished case for a small, black device. “You get your one phone call.” Young pushed the untraceable military-grade cellphone toward Obaba. “I’m allowing you to phone a friend. Think Japan two minutes before Pearl Harbor. A courtesy call.”

  Obaba willed herself to fall over dead from a stroke, but her body disobeyed. Begrudgingly, she took what Young offered.

  What would happen to his family?

  CHAPTER 55

  2023 :: Oslo, Norway — So stunned the appendages of life’s cruelties extended to the innocent, Thomas went rigid.

  “Oh, Claire...” His wife’s name hung in the gentle breeze like the scent of her favorite Magnolia blossoms on a spring day.

  Obaba said she hadn’t cooperated. Thomas said he knew. It wasn’t her fault, it was—

  His empty gaze swiftly twisted toward his family finishing their ice cream, then the Asian student. “His backpack!”

  Thomas ran with all the desperation of a man being chased by a bolt of lightning. “Bomb! Everybody get out! Bomb!”

  Screams cloaked in thunder erupted as parents grabbed children to stampede. The Asian boy was befuddled as he bundled his legs up between his arms in the chair he sat in to avoid being trampled.

  Thomas grabbed the fake fur snow leopard backpack, hurtling it into empty green space with Herculean strength. “Get down! Get down!”

  Bodies hit the ground in preparation for a ferocious blast. Except for the crying of teenage girls face down on the pavement, there was silence. A table began to rattle incessantly, a terrified grandmother’s generous proportions shielding her beloved grandson.

  Thomas had thrown their table on its side to buffer his family from shrapnel from the explosive device in the backpack. His arms over his wife and two girls, he felt another warm body huddling in for safety. He didn’t think to look who it was until from somewhere close behind, a Nintendo beeped. Thomas stared incredulously at the Asian student on hands and knees who had crawled in like a puppy looking for warmth.

  Making eye contact with Thomas, he cowered fearfully, whimpering softly. “No bomb, okay.”

  “Daddy?” Devlin clung tightly to her mother next to Hemmy.

  The Asian boy’s whimpering grew louder as he crawled out the same way he’d come in, backward.

  He stood up. “No bomb. Okay, no bomb.”

  The only thing that had exploded was a crazy man screaming about a bomb. The outdoor café’s confused patrons began to rise slowly.

  “Daddy!” Chocolate ice cream ran down the front of Hemmy’s brand new white GSC Geniuses Do It Best jacket which had been a gift. Why had her father humiliated her in public?

  “I’m sorry, honey. We’re going to miss our flight.”

  “No bomb! No bomb! Ha! Ha!” The young man holding the Nintendo began to laugh hysterically. “You think I speak no English.” He stopped laughing, his face growing red. “I know who you are!” he pointed at Hemmy. That’s your father. Hatchett. A bad man. Your mother, sister. Too bad for them. Blame him.”

  He lifted his arms into the air, laughing as he turned a full circle. “I get your attention now! Who I am?” Spinning on his heel, “You know?”

  Young and old stared back.

  Wide-eyed, Hemmy shook her head.

  Thomas pulled at Claire’s arm, “Let’s. Go. Right. Now.”

  “Wait, Daddy.”

  “I am Jiang. My name means Yangtze River. That where my father die.” His eyes sliced Thomas in half. “That’s right, you wait! Hatchett no care about my country, China! Not care about his country either. No good. I was son of a peasant farmer until China come to me, ask me to be brave for whole world. I wait long time for right moment.” Jiang pushed a button on the video game, a small black antenna now protruding from the top. “You are coward! Remember me forever. I am China Godzilla!”

  “It’s a tracking device! Run!”

  There was pandemonium as mothers, fathers, children, grandparents, and grandchildren began screaming and disbursing in every direction like dandelion seed. Even the son of the peasant farmer lost his nerve, shouting and running for his life.

  Thomas and Claire each picked up a child. At twelve, Hemmy was nearly as tall her mother, but at least Thomas could shield her with his body. Adrenaline made her light as a feather. Six steps into their flight, an incoming missile issued from
a drone exploded directly where Jiang had been standing moments before.

  Truby started awake with a jolt. It was night in the “blackout” room, the name the others had given the location they’d been blindfolded and taken to hours earlier. The blackout was a psychological warfare tactic meant to disorient and intimidate them without inflicting physical harm. They had tried to release the child, but she refused. Pete, Rose, and the others were handling things well considering.

  Truby was the one who’d just woken from reliving the nightmare of her past. Something had caused her to return to consciousness. Listening, Pete was snoring softly. Then it came—a loud, and long-winded report.

  “Ew, gross!” Rose called. “Sway!”

  He snorted, inhaling sharply, “Mmm, aren’t your own the best?” He sighed, rolling over. “I’m hungry. I wish I could go home.”

  She speculated it wouldn’t last long, any of this. Though one of the off-gridders had stumbled into a tiny water closet in the corner, they had to eat soon and attend to other personal hygiene. There were legalities to be considered, though Truby nearly laughed out loud at the thought that any of them had any civil rights during a global state of emergency.

  “Truby? Are you okay?” whispered Rose.

  She couldn’t answer. Truby didn’t know if she would be okay or not. She was near the finish, she viscerally felt it in her bones. Her story tied to the collective and vice versa, she wondered where it would take her and what would happen next.

  She wondered about Las Vegas and the families including the man from her past who’d contacted her. She wondered about the peoples of the world. She even wondered about Zedd, Cadence, and yes, even Young. Most of all, she wondered about the little girl in the baseball uniform.

  She stared into the ambiguity of the “blackout” room, anxiety nearly swamping her. Truby didn’t know what was worse, her life when she was awake or when she was asleep. How she wished she could turn on a light. Never back down, she reminded herself. She’d backed down plenty of times in her life, and she was ashamed.