Nuclear Rising

by Christian Smith

  “Do you think we have a chance?”

  Vonn replies, “They will just have to verify the credentials. We should be good. You made a convincing enough Mech.”

  The guard returns, alone, carrying the papers as he squints at the papers. As he comes to the jeep, he asks, “Answer me three questions, trader.”

  “If I have to – You know, if you find Charles, he’ll tell you we’re legit to proceed.”

  Unphased, he asks his first question. “What are the colors of the Mechanicus tribe?”

  I thought it was odd, but at least we had covered the topic with our robes.

  “Olive green. Gold. Red. Obviously.”

  “Correct,” replies the guard. “Next question – What is the Mech tribe’s signature emblem?”

  I look down at my hand and see the star, but I feel a prod in my seat as Vonn mouths something in the mirror. It looks like mocking-

  “Mockingbird. Can we go now?”

  “Correct,” answers the guard. “Last question. Who is your president?”

  My mind is completely blank. We never covered who that was. Panic starts to hammer into my heart until-

  “President H.R. Rasmussen,” Vonn yells from the backseat, making the guard jump back from the sudden outburst.

  The red-haired guard looks in the backseat at Vonn, who hides his face under a cloak. A stray hand drops down to his side as he replies, “That’s what I thought.”

  I say, “Is there a problem or can we go?”

  The guard makes a subtle motion with the hand at his side, and immediately I know we’re in trouble.

  The guardhouse door swings wide open as twenty armed soldiers pour out of the building, all very armed with laser rifles and grenades to the brim. I feel my hand reach down for my gun, until I realize Vonn had hidden all of them under the jeep in a secret compartment. So all I can do is smile awkwardly.

  As the soldiers encircle our car, small red dots start appearing on all of our faces and chests.

  I can’t seem to catch my breath.

  My heart is trembling now.

  There doesn’t seem to be any escape.

  The guard lifts his own rifle just inches from my face.

  “Rasmussen was just assassinated three days ago. I would think any good Mech tribe member would know that. We received a call earlier some imposters would be attempting to sneak into our city. Otherwise, your papers might have worked even with him being assassinated. But now we know who you are. Just a bunch of filthy Semper dogs needing to be locked up and put down.”

  I glance at Vonn, who can only stare blankly at the ground.

  I look over at the guard.

  What can I do?

  Admit it. Suffer the consequences.

  Fight them. Suffer the consequences.

  Lie. Suffer the consequences.

  I was going with option one given the choices.

  CHAPTER 17

  Nova

  Drip.

  Drip.

  I was staring mindlessly at a small tube where water dripped and collected in a plastic mug.

  No escape.

  A cell the size of a bathroom had become my new home. A dank little thing, it had white walls and a white floor surrounding me on all sides, and except for the sound of water rations slowly hitting the bottom of the cup, it was complete silence. A small cot sat in the corner of the room, and on the other side a small basin, mostly for using as a toilet, and occasionally a place to wash yourself.

  The worst part of the cell was the appearance that it was wide open.

  But it wasn’t.

  A sheet of glass, thin, but incredibly strong, blocked off the way in and out of the cell. I was guessing it was bulletproof and pretty much everything-proof, which was why there was almost no sound to be heard. The only view I had was out into the white, windowless hallway where occasionally a soldier would pass through. Between the water dripping and the white floor and walls, I was pretty sure I’d be certifiably crazy in a week.

  I just wondered what happened to the others. Especially Bree. We had turned ourselves in, they had taken us in with high-tech red-glowing handcuffs, placed hoods over our heads, and separated everyone into different cells. Here we waited for something to happen – they hadn’t explained if we were to head to trial or just be executed, but either way, I had to get out. I wasn’t about to roll over and give up looking for Celeste.

  Hours could have passed, even days, and I had no idea – I just knew that every so often, I would get tired, fall asleep, and wake up like it was the longest airplane ride ever with no landing in sight. One of those times however, I stirred awake as someone was bring dragged across the floor, apparently unconscious.

  Running to the glass wall, I banged on it as hard as I could. I noticed a locket with a rose hanging around the prisoner – no doubt the hooded person they were dragging was Bree. I continued to bang on the glass long after the two guards had taken Bree past my cell. I had almost given up when-

  A stocky, wide-shouldered guard appeared in front of my cell, and pushing a button, spoke through the glass. “Good morning prisoner. The Matriarch requests your presence for a formal inquest.”

  Seconds later, a hydraulic hiss rang out and the glass slid upward as another guard who was much taller joined the other stocky one in the cell. “No trouble now prisoner,” he said. “You’ll only regret it.”

  The stocky guard slapped the red handcuffs over my wrists, immediately immobilizing my hands as if they were paralyzed. I smirked at the two guards, commenting, “You two must wake up every morning thinking, ‘Man am I so glad I get to torture innocent girls and children.’”

  “Careful, prisoner,” the tall man whispered, showing a small clicker in his hand. “This little device can trigger total paralysis in the rest of your body – just enough time to cut something off without you knowing, that is until it wears off.”

  Speaking as they cover my head with a black hood, I say, “Yep, you two must have burned ants for fun as kids. You know I love the accommodations here but I will speak to your manager about the customer service.”

  A quick whack to the back of my head left a tangible lump and intangible stars flashing in my vision under the head.

  Needless to say, I stayed quiet.

  Another five minutes or so must have passed while I attempted to spot anything at all under the hood, but all I succeeded in doing was tweaking my neck so it had a funny ache to it. The two guards held both of my cuffed arms, guiding me all sorts of directions, up and down elevators and stairs until suddenly we came to a stop.

  The hood came off.

  I felt a small stab at the base of my neck.

  But something had happened.

  I was no longer a prisoner, no longer even in Terra. Somehow I was back about five years ago, before N-day, before everything had changed.

  I was back in one of my memories – in fact it was one of my worst memories that I had buried deep ever since I woke up. It was when Jackson, my best friend growing up, had died.

  He spoke, kneeling in front of me, his arm twitching violently as I breathed deeply through a gas mask. His jet black hair hanging down with sweat against his brow, his toothy smile no longer smiling. Sounds of gunshots reverberating in the distance as we stood in dusty terrain.

  “Do it,” Jackson pled, glancing up at me. “Shoot me already.”

  My breathing quickened, my heart beat deeply. “I’m not going to shoot you – you’re my best friend and we need to get out of this place.”

  A single tear dripped on his cheek. “You saw what that gas does to people. You need to end it now for me, as my best friend. Don’t let me become one of those monsters for the terrorists – I can’t be a skulk.”

  Something shouted in my brain as confusion drowned my senses. I knew that word somehow, but here I was in the past again. I replied, “No – I, I won’t do it.”

  Though I wanted to tell the memory to end or take control, I couldn’t do either. It was like a nig
htmare you can’t wake up from until it’s over.

  Another violent twitch and Jackson fell to the ground. “Please…” he muttered. “It hurts.”

  I stare in horror at myself through my own mask as a gun is raised to Jackson’s head. Don’t do it, I thought, but I knew what was going to happen next – at least I thought I did.

  Suddenly, Jackson’s head lifts up from the ground, an eerie grin showing on his face as his voice sounds distant. “Tell me before you kill me Quinn. Why did you break into the Terra city of Pyre?”

  A million thoughts collided chaotically as I tried to rationalize the past, present, and future. I couldn’t understand, but I felt myself answering before I could think too much.

  “I came to see Celeste.”

  “Is that all?”

  “I was told to steal something, but I don’t care about that. I just want to find Celeste.”

  “Understood.”

  And before I can scream out, I see Jackson’s head getting shot by my own bullet.

  I wake up as someone shakes me.

  Screams are coming out from my lips as I mutter, “No…” over and over, cold and clammy hands wringing my hair as my breathing tried to catch up.

  A figure in a white doctor’s coat stands over me.

  “So glad we could meet Quinn,” the man says in an acute, articulate voice, the hint of an East Coast accent trailing through. “I’m Doctor Grant Decker – I was asked to ascertain whether or not you had hostile intentions to my people, the Terras. It sounds like you’re merely here for love, compared to your other companions. The other three – Captain Vonn, Sledge, and Rose, I believe are their names, they didn’t fare so well on our exam.”

  “What did you do to them?”

  He laughs, and I wish I could punch his sophisticated, handsome face, but I’m handcuffed again. “Don’t be so drastic – they unfortunately have to go to reassignment, where they will be assimilated and reintegrated into society.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Their minds will be erased and they will become good, healthy contributors to our society.”

  I try to ball my fists, but instead spit at the doctor’s direction. “You can’t do that! They haven’t done anything wrong!”

  “To you maybe,” Decker replies. “To myself however, they gave quite distinct replies about how they would like to kill me, steal my people’s technology, and return to the Sempers as heroes. You and the other girl however –“

  “What about the other girl?” I ask hastily. “What did you do to Bree?”

  I feel some callused hands reach themselves around me, lifting me onto my feet, where I stumble for a few seconds.

  Again the doctor laughs, and this time I curse at him. “You know, love is a funny thing,” Decker says amusedly. “It seems like you chase it and chase it, always within your grasp but never quite there.”

  “Get on with it already,” I stammer, cutting him off.

  “You’re here looking for a girl named Celeste,” the doctor replies, smirking as his green-brown eyes narrow. “Well that girl, Bree you said, was here just because of you, Quinn.”

  My heart and stomach do a somersault. “You’re lying. Just trying to mess with my head more.”

  “I don’t have a reason to lie Quinn. She wants you, whether or not you acknowledge it. The only reason she came was to be with you, and to prove something to her father, the General. Her words, not mine. Either way, she’s innocent, other than her trespassing charge.”

  I shake my head, incredulously, though somewhere inside of me is secretly excited.

  “What do you want from us then?”

  “Me,” Decker replies. “Nothing now – my work is all done, a little cognitive interrogation does wonders on one, but I’m afraid the Matriarch will be the final judge of what happens. Either way, we’re finished here. Your guards will be your escorts now.”

  “Wait-“ I start to say, only to be muffled again by the black hood. Again I’m shuttled against my will through various corridors, once or twice crashing into a wall or door, which I’m sure is on purpose.

  Yet again we come to a stop, only this time, one of the guards whispers in my ear. “Kneel for the Matriarch,” as he kicks against the back of my leg, forcing me to kneel against the ground.

  The hood is pulled away from my face.

  The smell of vanilla floods my senses as bright light stings in my eyes.

  I try to catch my breath, though it sticks in my throat.

  It can’t be.

  From somewhere distant, I hear a man’s voice announce, “Her Holiness, the Matriarch Queen Celestia the first bids you welcome traveler.”

  I can only stare.

  Into those eyes.

  Those eyes with sharp blue like an electric azure sky, cold as glacial ice though fiery as the hottest flame.

  My heart pumps blood through my body like it can’t do it enough. All I can do is kneel, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

  It’s her.

  Celeste.

  CHAPTER 18

  Prison Cells and Seven Hells

  I’m standing in front of a wide hall, large Grecian-style pillars on each side of me, leading to a raised platform above at least fifty steps high. White marbled floors shine as if they’ve never been stepped on, enough so that I see my dirty, shaggy reflection looking back at me, dark bags under my eyes and brown stubbled-hair in patches on my face. Long, green and copper banners drape from the ceiling with the star, rifle, and rake insignia showing at the bottom of each banner. Rising high above me sits three chairs, the middle one where Celeste now sits, an enormous wooden throne with large branches intertwined in the middle so the ends fan out like a tree. The other two chairs beside her are less ornate, but still fancy in their intricate design of tree branches engraved in the wood. Two men, one wearing a tailored suit, the other wearing a funny looking bowler hat, sit at her sides.

  I glance at Celeste in the middle. She looks as gorgeous as ever, though definitely different than any of the photos I’d seen in the past days. Her eyes glow blue, as if they were filled with neon lights, and the dark eye shadow around her eyes only enhances their brilliance. Her hair is straight, flowing strands of platinum gold cascading down past her shoulders. She wears a white, fitted, satin dress enveloped by sheer white fabric like a robe for royalty, her long, smooth legs crossed in front of her. Thick vines wrap around her forehead like a crown, woven with precious green emeralds that glisten in the light. Her arms are delicate, her frame light as if it could float away, and her face is slightly thinner than it used to be. A tattoo of a thorny vine wraps itself up her left arm, interspersed with inked white lily flowers as it twirls past her elbow.

  “Welcome to the Green Hall, traveler,” Celeste says as she stares down at me suspiciously. “State your business in Terra.”

  Denial.

  Unbelief.

  Anger.

  Rage.

  Emotions crash into me, swelling up, until I feel like I’m about to punch the guard near me but also laugh and cry hysterically at the same time. It was Celeste, but she acted like I was a complete foreigner.

  Maybe she didn’t recognize me? Maybe she didn’t know me anymore? Forgotten me…

  It couldn’t be possible though. She knew who I was – I could tell just from the brief flicker that flashed in her eyes that she knew me. That she hadn’t forgotten me.

  “Celeste,” I mutter out loud, unable to control my words. “It’s Quinn. You know, your almost husband until the end of the world happened. You remember me I imagine.”

  She wrinkles her eyebrows, thin and sculpted, as she says, “You must have me mistaken for someone else – I’m afraid I don’t know anyone by that name.”

  “You’re kidding me!”

  Suddenly the man to the left of her pipes up, a long slender man with a well-manicured beard like a cologne model. “You will address her Holiness by her proper name! Either Matriarch, your Holiness, or your Majesty would even suffice!
You will not disrespect her in her own court, traitor.”

  “Bastion,” Celeste says, raising her hand toward him. “It’s okay. I’m sure that Quinn here did not mean any disrespect, did he?” She turns to look at me, but I’m fuming at the ears, my face suddenly a pale shade of red.

  “No disrespect…your Holiness. I wouldn’t dare do that to you…your Holiness.”

  Irritation crosses her face as she purses her lips, considering her next move.

  Finally she speaks, glancing over at who I’m guessing is her other advisor, a stockier, muscled man with sun browned by so many days in the hot sun. “What are you doing here boy? Are you here to kill someone? Steal something?”

  My fingernails dig into my palm, and I do everything I can to keep from shouting back.

  “I came for you, your majestic Holiness,” I say, sarcasm straining my speech. “But I can see, I must have been mistaken like you said. The girl I knew before must have died somewhere. That is most definitely not you.”

  Celeste narrows her eyes to tiny slits, then replies monotonously. “I’m sorry about your loss – Truly I am. But I can assure you that girl is more than likely long dead at this point.”

  Her voice sounds empty, distant to me.

  The smell of vanilla incense in the air has become almost sickening now, as my face gets increasingly hotter.

  The well-manicured man, Bastion speaks, indifferent in his tone. “Now if we will get back to the business at hand. You were caught trespassing, traveler, with your group from the Sempers. Dr. Decker tells us it was to find someone, which you’ve already bored us with discussing at length. What were you sent to steal though?”

  Staring fiercely toward Celeste, I grumble, “Not telling. Don’t care.”

  Bastion rolls his eyes, shaking his head as if it’s a waste of his time. “You will tell us at some point though. It could be now, tomorrow, or ten years from now. But every day, and I repeat, every day, we will subject you to some form of cognitive interrogation, and you will relive every single bad memory until you break.”