Black Parade

by Jacqueline Druga

Billy lifted the phone. “I'll call General Baker. He knows I have the machine. I will tell him I am conducting a test of a new power source. That’s it.”

  “Won’t they track where we go?”

  “Only if they need to. Usually they don’t. Power up once a week, go back a few hours. Nothing ever shows.”

  I thought about it. Really thought about it. Billy had gained their trust. He had a working time machine and the perfect solution to my Jack dilemma.

  We could go ahead and see what the future had in store. If things were going well, then our war was correct. If things weren’t, then perhaps we did need to plan for a protected species future.

  I gave my approval and Billy placed the call.

  We had to wait two hours, and that was not a problem. During that time Billy and I joked about how the Time Travel Police was just a joke. How they really didn’t monitor time. And how we’d find out soon enough.

  “How far?” I asked.

  “My calculations using their rate of reproduction and our rate of removal, makes this a hundred year war. Add ten years … rebuilding phase,” Billy said.

  “So if the hundred year war plan is on its way to working, then we’ll know.”

  “The second we step through.”

  We were in New York City, not the destroyed part, the part that had been rebuilt. Surely, New York would be standing a hundred years from that point in time.

  Billy set the machine.

  We had the pendants ready for the return trip.

  I had to ask, “Billy, you told Baker we were only going two hours into the future.”

  Over his shoulder, looking so much like Dean, Billy replied. “Please. You really think they know where we’re going?”

  “Jason said …”

  “Fear tactic.”

  “Is this your knowledge or arrogance speaking?”

  “Both maybe.” Billy shrugged. “Ready?”

  I nodded.

  We thought ahead. At first we were on the second floor. Then it dawned on us. What if the building wasn't there? We’d fall to our deaths. So we moved to the basement. Safe bet, especially since all basements in the new cities and rebuilt cities had escape routes.

  Prepared and armed with laser weapons just in case we faced the LEP, we embarked on our time journey.

  The flash of light.

  We stepped through…

  Darkness.

  The dark took us by surprise, not that we didn’t plan for it. We did. Billy lifted a flashlight.

  The basement we left was clean and new. Concrete.

  The basement we arrived in smelled of mold and the outdoors.

  “Something’s not right,” Billy said.

  Another voice answered. “You’re right. Something is not right.”

  We both spun around.

  Standing there was a man. He wore black and carried a weapon. A blue laser light on his chest lit him and the initials TTP.

  “Fuck,” Billy said.

  “President Hoi,” TTP said. “I must insist both of you leave right now.”

  “What is your name son?” I asked.

  “AGA-113.”

  It took me a second. Dear God ! He was one of the batch babies. One of the babies bred to be born, that didn’t have mothers or whose mother had died.

  “And people call you that?” I asked.

  “People call me Ag.”

  I nodded. “Ag. Aren’t you curious?”

  “It’s not my job to be curious, sir.”

  “But it’s my job,” I said. “To make sure we have a future. Obviously we do. I just need to know if we’re on the right path or not.”

  Billy interjected. “We can’t be.” He shined the flashlight upwards. “Roots.”

  Through the ceiling of the basement of what was once a four-story building, tree roots grew.

  “There’s no building here.” Billy said. “And judging by these roots, there hasn’t been for quite some time.” He shined the flashlight around. “No one’s been here for some time.”

  The place was overgrown with mold. The door we came through was encased in moss and hardened gook.

  Just then AG whispered out in a question. “Aragon?”

  We both looked at him.

  Adjusting his chest light he pointed across the room. “Does that say Aragon?” He walked across the room and to a wall. The words could barely be seen. He swiped his hand across the lettering.

  Painted in red letters read the words, “Aragon enter here.”

  He looked over his shoulder at us. “Isn’t the name of your machine project, Aragon?”

  Billy nodded and both of us walked nearer to Ag.

  Ag cleared more dust and growth to expose an arrow.

  Billy whispered . “The escape tunnel.”

  I cocked my head, looking around. Why would we need the escape route? Surely nothing had been done there or headed down there.

  When I turned back, Ag was clearing the seal of the escape door.

  I said. “I thought it wasn’t your job to be curious, son?”

  “It is now.” With a grunt, Ag pulled the open the door and dust bellowed out. He brightened his light, took a step and stopped. “There’s something here.”

  Hurriedly, we joined him. When we entered through the escape hatch, Ag lifted a tin box.

  Clearing yet more dust, he handed it to me. “It says it’s for Aragon.”

  As I took the container, no bigger than a shoebox, I noticed the escape route hall. It was like a jungle. Thickly over grown.

  I opened the box. A folded sheet of thick paper was in there. I removed it and looked.

  “It’s dated five years ago,” I said.

  “From who?” Billy asked.

  “Your … great grandson.”

  Billy chuckled. I knew the reason he did so at first. He was over forty and didn’t have a child. The smile soon dropped from his face. “What does it say?”

  “Dear Aragon,” I read. “I’m not sure that this is even true. That you will even show. I am the third generation descendant of Billy Hayes. I drop this here as instructed by my father and his father before me. Before my great grandfather died, he saw the change, and passed on the request. There was to be someone to meet you. But at this rate, I won’t be lucky much longer. Despite my best attempts, my weight has increased. So I take this opportunity now while I have not been chosen.”

  I paused. I didn’t know what that meant and I continued to read.

  “To understand, you must follow the passageway until you see where I have marked an ‘X’. There you will turn left. Slowly and quietly move fifteen paces until the next marking. Do not go any further. You need not. You only need proof. My mission for this date was to give evidence of this world with the LEP. Hence forth in your journey there shall be. God save us. Peter Hayes.”

  There was a silent moment between all three of us. I could see it on Ag’s face. The same trepidation that I felt. I folded the note and placed it in my pocket, nodding to Ag to lead the way.

  He did.

  There was no way to tell that it was an indoor passageway. It had the look and feel of the outdoors.

  When we hit the first marking, I heard noises. Voices. I couldn’t distinguish the words, they were distant.

  As instructed, moving slowly and quietly, we neared the second marking. And as we did, I winced. The smell was horrible, rancid. It smelled of animals and waste. We made it to the second marking, and just as the note said, we didn’t need to go any further.

  I lost every bit of my breath.

  From where we stood, I could see what lay ahead for mankind. The passage way was an ignored escape route, or maybe even one the people never thought of taking.

  It was huge, it actually looked like a prison, but the cells were cave like with no bars. There was some sort of attempt to create privacy within the caverns. But not much. It was four levels high and set up like a prison with a center court. The caves or small rooms couldn’t have been more than eight feet h
igh and deep. I couldn’t see any furnishings.

  Men, women and children moved about. Small fires burned, their clothing was minimal. Whatever the place was, it must have housed thousands.

  The question came to my mind. Was this just here, or was this the fate of man everywhere?

  Just as I had that thought two things occurred.

  The first...

  “Ba.”

  A tiny, child voice called up with question.

  “Ba?”

  All of us shifted our eyes downward.

  A small child stood there, maybe three or four years old. His belly large, the rest of him thin. He was dirty and smiled. “Oom.” After a giggle, he darted off. We were on the second level and about twenty feet from the first cave. Our opening was covered with vines and weeds. He had probably spotted our shoes.

  I watched him run to the second cave as a woman and man came out hugging him.

  Then the second thing happened.

  A loud buzzing sounded.

  People scurried. Screamed. Ran.

  A door opened on the level above us, and through the big metal door walked six LEP’s.

  “Oh my God,” Billy whispered. “This is what happens.”

  I saw what he meant. The LEP had weapons.

  They carried weapons and they wore clothing.

  One called out an order in a language I didn’t understand, motioning with his arm. The other five fanned out.

  They went into caves, pulling people out and dragging them to the walkway of the level.

  Another shifting sound and the ceiling opened up. A huge crane-like arm reached in and where ever a LEP held a man or woman, the arm reached down, snatched onto the person and lifted them out.

  We all heard it because we all looked. The voice, the cry of the child that had greeted us.

  He sat crying outside his cave as a man and woman were dragged out and fed to the crane. The LEP ignored the boy and moved on to another cave.

  They were selecting people for something. But what?

  Then I remembered what Peter had said in his letter.

  His weight had increased. He didn’t know how much longer he’d be safe.

  My God, it was a farm. A feeding arena. Like pigs in a bay.

  In the midst of those thoughts, I felt it, then saw it. Billy darted out.

  “Billy, what are you doing?” I yelled.

  Billy looked different from everyone else, and the sight of him along with my voice, caught their attention.

  Just as he snatched up the child, he was spotted.

  “Go, go, go,” Billy ordered as he raced our way, holding the child.

  Ag led the way, backwards from where we were. I followed as fast as I could and Billy caught up.

  We could hear the LEP behind us. We made the turn into the final corridor then through the door of the basement.

  Once in there, Ag stepped aside, and he slammed the door shut after Billy made it safely through. He pushed the slide metal rod to lock it.

  “Hit the code! Now!” Ag ordered. “Take us back. This won’t hold.”

  I lifted the pendant. The child cried, disrupting me for a second.

  “Hurry, Danny,” Billy said. The banging on the door growing louder.

  Code in. Enter.

  The Aragon window illuminated.

  Billy stepped through with the child, Ag lunged our way at the same time the door blasted outward and an LEP stood there.

  I went through.

  And luckily, the doorway closed before the LEP could join us back in our own time.

  When it came to the time police, there was an immediate trial and conviction. The second we stepped through we faced our destiny in our own time.

  The child was evidence of what we saw, and Ag’s testimony protected us from prosecution. Word would never get out. However, it didn’t stop the dismantling of the Aragon window.

  The time machine was done.

  But that didn’t mean we couldn’t change the future.

  In the morning I requested Jack to come and see me. I didn’t tell him what we did or even why. I merely said to him, “Tell me what you need, and do what you need to do.”

  By afternoon Jack’s voice carried through the streets and in the galleys of our safe centers.

  “There is more out there. There is life, different than this. Freedom. We just need to find it. We need to be brave, to face our challenges, instead of hiding. We need to forge ahead and venture out into the forbidden zone in order to carry on.”

  His spoken words.

  Who would listen? Who would follow?

  It didn’t matter. I firmly believed in Jack’s mission and applauded his efforts to achieve it.

  29.

  Jack’s Side …

  When I was a young boy, maybe thirteen, my father took me into the city for the funeral of my grandfather.

  It was an amazing experience until I caught a glimpse of our pending future.

  My grandfather was a great man, as was my father. The strength my grandfather projected carried through like a rippling energy.

  It seemed and actually was, in the snap of a finger, the moment he died, all hell broke loose.

  We’re all theorized that the presence of my grandfather scared the LEP. They just didn’t know what he’d do.

  Maybe they feared him or respected him. No one knew for sure. But once he was gone, they emerged.

  At the funeral, just before the LEP attacked, my father told me that it was my destiny to lead the people from destitution and misery. I didn’t quite understand back then, but I do now.

  With each passing day and year, we become more and more prisoners of our own mistakes. We live behind walls, hide when needed, run and die.

  It isn’t life. It is existence.

  From what I learned, this great country was founded on freedom, yet mankind was no longer free. Despite what Dan told us.

  And despite the democracy that this country was founded upon, we turned totalitarian.

  I was fortunate enough to have my father and family teach me what I needed to know about history. But the rest of our young were taught a selective history.

  Our society did what we were told. We worked the jobs we were supposed to work. We stood in line for our food rations and never asked questions. We didn’t stop questioning out of fear, we stopped for lack of knowledge.

  Most didn’t know it was all right to speak your mind. The younger generation, my generation was 90% without parents. We had been raised in farms or camps and taught nothing but obedience.

  We were raised from birth to work a specific job based on genetics and build.

  My destiny wasn’t to just save the people from the LEP and lead them to safety. It was to save the people from everything this country had become and lead them to freedom.

  It’s hard to believe that merely forty years earlier there were things called ‘States’. Of course, that was when it was all just government. States ran like mini countries within a country. Fending for themselves financially, medically and through their own government. They were governed by the country, but were self sufficient.

  Now, the government governed all. There was no need for states.

  So the maps weren’t any good. Not anymore.

  We had people draw newer maps, which were based upon satellite images and zones.

  Zones.

  Not states. There were no state lines like there used to be.

  Only in very old history books would you find a map like that.

  There were four main zones.

  The Safe Zones which were small, scattered and in cities.

  The Savage Zones – they were territories that were run by LEP.

  The wastelands were land and areas that had been destroyed by war and were uninhabitable

  And the forbidden zones were unknown areas. Perhaps previously savage or waste.

  Most Safe Zones were around bodies of water.

  Further south marked on the map were Savage Zones. LEP d
idn’t like the cold.

  So much wasteland was along the eastern portion of the country and the Midwest, and it seemed like everything from the halfway point of the country heading west was forbidden.

  Legend told that a great meteor had come, flooded the area and left nothing. Then what remained was destroyed by the Great War.

  Not even the LEP could survive there.

  So the wastelands north and west and the forbidden zones was where I placed my focus.

  I asked once when the last time was that anyone was there. I never received an answer. The last recorded journey was twenty years earlier.

  Good God, how did we become so isolated?

  Danny told me it was for safety. We didn’t know if the air and water was safe, or if things could grow in the soil. The last testing showed it wasn't inhabitable. By all accounts and by satellite photos, it looked mostly dead with only patches of life.

  And we didn't know if, within those patches of life, the LEP existed.

  Armed with supplies based on the number of people that followed, we carried with us testing equipment and weapons. I marked my map. I planned my route. I laid out my destinations, those patches of green within the brown forbidden and wasteland zones.

  What did we have to lose? If nothing was there, we had enough supplies to turn back.

  A journey I thought I would take alone, ended up being a journey with seventy people.

  A pilgrimage of hope.

  Charles was my right hand man on the journey. Having known him since training, I moved on to a level five LEP fighter, while he maintained a three. Not because of his skill, but by his own choice.

  He was a man of little words and a non-emotional thinker. A skill that was totally needed on this trip.

  Most of our people were young, very young. In fact, I don’t think a person over the age of 27 took part in our pilgrimage. Which was fine.

  We left in February. Though the starting portion would be cold, it would also be safe. The LEP hated the cold, and this gave us a good head start through this unknown land.

  Not to say we didn’t run into problems. But our armored buses were well protected during any attacks.

  We had crossed into the northern territory, and made our way west at the Three Finger lakes.