The Best of All Possible Worlds

by Richard D. Parker

  “We’ll be leaving soon,” Galen told her happily. “I’m very close.”

  Christine frowned and glanced back at Galen. She was about to ask him what he meant when another round of rocks, batteries and bolts dropped down upon them from the second overpass, including something large and loud that struck the center of the coach with enough force to actually crack the plastic light fixture on the ceiling.

  Dorothy screamed as the vehicle swerved sharply to the left and tipped slightly, but Ned quickly righted the coach and then they were passed the immediate danger of the bridge.

  For several long minutes the only sounds were the faint shouts of the protesters lining the roadway and the occasional strike of a rock pinging against the side of the vehicle.

  And then as suddenly as they appeared the crowds vanished from the roadside. Dwight, Illinois was behind them.

  “Do you think it will be like this all the way to St. Louis?” Christine asked, her eyes wild as she looked to her brother for the answers. Adam shrugged and glanced back at the agents.

  “There’s no way to tell,” Collier answered and looked to Sanders. “Think we can get a copter in the air?”

  Sanders grinned. “We can try.”

  “My insurance agent is going to have a fit,” Ned commented. “Let’s hope the reception at Odell is a little more hospitable.”

  It wasn’t, but they surprised the crowds by turning off and heading east through the town, which was nearly deserted.

  “Everyone must be up at the interstate,” Adam commented as they raced through the empty town and headed southeast.

  “Let’s just hope the rest of the way is clear,” Ned replied and they all concurred. Their prayers were answered as they drove along the back roads of central Illinois. The route remained clear even when they reached I-57 just south of Gilman. Thankfully the alternate interstate remained free and clear of protestors and during the empty hours of driving south the group began to relax once more. It helped everyone’s peace of mind immensely when a dozen state patrol cars suddenly joined the caravan, just north of Effingham. They turned onto I-70 without incident but as they moved farther west groups of protestors began to line the road once more and at Vandalia they encountered the largest, most hostile crowd thus far and again rocks, bolts and batteries were thrown but thankfully there was little damage and they were nearly out of the town when gunfire suddenly erupted striking the RV and punching several holes in the siding.

  “Get down!” Adam yelled just as a window in the lead escort vehicle exploded. The Buick swerved sharply toward the median. The tires threw up dirt and gravel along the shoulder as the vehicle spun out and hit the grassy ditch before flipping and flipping and flipping. Marigold screamed and clutched at her mother.

  “Oh God!” Christine yelled as more shots riddled the side of the coach. Sirens wailed from the escorting patrol cars and Adam could see the crowds on both sides of the road fleeing in all directions, clearly panicked and then they were by and out of Vandalia.

  “We’ll never make it to St. Louis!” Christine shouted from the floor of the vehicle, she was hunched close to Agent Collier and was surprised to see real fear in the women’s eyes.

  “We have to,” Galen suddenly said, lying nearby and Christine was shocked to see that the ever-present smile was now gone from his face. “They’re coming...soon. If we’re not there thousands will die before I can stop it,” he told them all. “St. Louis…I need to get to St. Louis. Vio and Avigail will meet us there.”

  “What the hell is he talking about,” Sanders asked, thinking perhaps this protection detail was not such a comfy job after all.

  Christine shrugged, tired and frustrated by Galen’s cryptic answers. When all seemed safe, they crawled off the floor and took their seats once more just as one of the trailing FBI vehicles went by and took up the lead. They left the interstate at Greenville and headed south before picking up highway 50 near the southern end of the Carlyle Reservoir.

  “The Garners are leaving us,” Ned piped up and everyone moved to the windows. Two of the RV’s in the convoy were indeed heading off on their own, leaving the safety of the escort.

  “They’ll be fine,” Galen insisted with a smile, apparently unconcerned by the abrupt abandonment. Of course there were still nearly a half dozen other RV’s still following along with a host of police cars.

  They turned west onto highway 50 and cruised through Breeze and Trenton and a half a dozen other small Illinois towns before once again venturing onto an interstate, this time I-64. Thankfully the way was quiet and they all breathed a sigh of relief as they entered the outskirts of St. Louis, none of them aware that death followed behind in a rented car.

  †

  Alberto Torres followed about a half mile behind the caravan and was shocked by the crowds that gathered along the sides of the interstate. From the distance, he could not see the missiles as they were thrown, but as he neared he had to weave through the scattered small debris that littered the roadway. The mob along the interstate was enormous and nearly everyone present was carrying a sign, though Alberto noted that a few carried baseball bats. As he drove by some glared at him suspiciously, but most were turned and watching the line of recreational vehicles as they retreated into the distance. Alberto shivered, suddenly very relieved that he was not the boy in question.

  The caravan surprised him when they turned off the interstate at Odell and he played with the idea of just driving on to St. Louis, after all, he knew the city was their ultimate destination, and by the crowds lining the road, it appeared everyone knew it. However in the end, he decided that it would be much easier to keep tabs on them by following along at a discreet distance. There was always a danger, what with the hostile crowds, that the group would rethink their plans and avoid the gateway city all together. For most of the trip through the empty Illinois countryside Torres followed along nearly half a mile behind the caravan. He did not want to arouse any suspicions and knew it was likely the embattled group ahead was on edge and watchful, but once they pulled back onto busy I-70 he quickly closed the gap.

  The assassin followed along steadily, listening to KMOX, the powerful talk radio station out of St. Louis for any new developments in the ongoing storyline. Currently conservative Limbaugh was on, and though he had nothing new to add to the situation, his callers insisted on discussing the topic of the boy created at Cryogen. For the most part Torres tuned out the lively radio discussion except for the top and bottom of the hour when the national CBS news interrupted, then he listened closely for any further mention of the boy, but for the most part the news anchors just repeated the same story over and over again about Galen leaving Chicago and heading toward St. Louis.

  The boy had attracted widespread attention. He was an enigma and was quickly polarizing the nation. Some believed him to be the savior reincarnate; others a soulless devil, and a few considered the boy just the helpless victim of modern day science. Everyone however, seemed to have an opinion on just what should be done with him. The majority of the more vocal listeners screamed for the boy’s head and that concerned Torres. He wanted to exact a personal revenge on his brother’s killer and it would give him no satisfaction at all if some religious zealot did the job before he had the chance.

  Torres’ worry deepened when the missile throwing crowd at Vandalia managed to overturn one of the FBI vehicles and he had to drop back even farther for his own safety. This time the caravan did not surprise him when they once more turned off to travel along a two lane highway, heading west. Torres was worried. The crowds were growing more and more hostile. The boy could well die before he even reached St. Louis. But the back way seemed to be clear and Torres relaxed slightly, at least until the radio reported gunfire activity and then a sick panic began to rise in his chest.

  ‘I will have to hurry,’ he thought and almost immediately discarded the idea of a close kill. It would take far too long and be much too risky. With the crowds, everyone would be on guard, alert for any
thing suspicious. No, he would have to kill from a good distance…and relatively soon. His instincts told him the boy was not long for this world. He could feel it in his bones. The boy was going to die; the fact hovered like a tangible mist in the air and there was no dispelling the fog of death around him.

  Torres, however, did not care, just so long as he would be the one delivering the final verdict.

  XXV

  “The act of creation is the core of our essence.”

  Galen Dawkins

  April 28th 3218 The King’s Island

  The pressure was building; Arnot was not sleeping well and hardly eating. Guilt and worry for Avigail was eating at his insides like a deadly, fast growing parasite. It felt as if any minute his head would explode and spew bone and brains all over the room like some long dormant volcano, but no matter how he begged his father to hurry the next attempt, the old man would not be swayed.

  “We need to be strong…all of us,” Gwaynn told him, “or else we will find ourselves failing and be in the very same position once more, but with yet another week or two to recover.”

  “But father…”

  “Avigail can look after herself,” Gwaynn shouted abruptly. “As you’ve said, it was her decision to go.”

  Arnot deflated at once and Gwaynn’s expression softened and he sat down behind his desk. The desk was large, made of polished cherry and immaculate. Gwaynn was not one for paperwork and delegated such chores whenever he could. “It’s not as if she’s alone. N’dori and Vio are with her. She’ll be safe enough with those two at her side.”

  Arnot stood silently with his head down for a very long time. “Father,” he finally confessed, “I should be with her…I got scared and at the last moment stepped back instead of forward…and then it was too late. They were gone.”

  Gwaynn leaned back in his chair; behind him was a large plate glass door that led to an immense balcony that overlooked the vast expanse of the Inland Sea. The air was cool, but the nights were growing warmer as summer approached. It would not be long before they could all swim comfortably in the sea, hopefully as a family once again. “It was her decision to go….and your decision to stay,” he finally replied as gently as he could.

  Arnot shrugged. “Leaving this world to find Galen was always her dream...never my own, but I didn’t decide to stay. I was a coward. The bridge frightened me and I stepped back but I never meant to leave her.”

  Gwaynn stood and put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “You’re too hard on yourself. One moment of indecision does not make you a coward.”

  It was clearly apparent that Arnot remained unconvinced, so Gwaynn continued. “If your Aunt Gwynn’s death taught me anything, it’s that twins or not, the two of you can’t share the same destiny…no matter how hard you try. You were in the womb together…but you were born alone and you will die alone. It’s the way of things.”

  Arnot frowned at his father’s harshness. “Childhood is the time for togetherness, but it naturally ends as you grow older. You will always love each other, but that love will change as your love for others blossoms.”

  Arnot’s mind flashed to Elin. He would marry her. She was for him. His mind was made up, though he had yet to tell anyone else…even Elin.

  “You cannot be truly committed to Elin if your heart still belongs to Avigail,” Gwaynn commented, guessing his son’s thoughts.

  Arnot’s head shot up and he gave his father a wry smile. His father’s words took him by surprise, though in retrospect, they shouldn’t have. Arnot knew that many believed his father to be a very intelligent and wise man; in fact Arnot now belatedly realized his father was very wise and was for the first time in his life thankful for his council.

  Gwaynn stood and pulled on a long black cord, moments later Simpkin, the manager of the household appeared at the door.

  “Send for Sommers,” Gwaynn ordered and Simpkin bowed and left to do the King’s bidding.

  Gwaynn turned and pulled open the large glass doors which led to the balcony beyond. He stepped out into the thick air that smelled heavily of sea water. Father and son walked as one across the balcony’s expanse to stand against the marble rail. Both glanced down and watched as ships moved in and out of the harbor. Gwaynn smiled. The Inland Sea was at peace and he loved it this way, but ever since Avigail’s disappearance an itch, somewhere deep inside him had begun to grow…an itch for something more.

  Scott Sommers appeared at the door to the balcony.

  “Hello…” He said his voice still thick with his strange accent, but he was growing more and more comfortable with the language of the Inland Sea. Gwaynn turned and motioned for the man to join them. Sommers did so, giving a special nod to Arnot, who’d been his primary teacher since coming to this land.

  “You sent for me Sire?” Sommers asked very slowly once he was close.

  Gwaynn nodded. “Yes Mr. Sommers, I thought you should know that we will be making another attempt tomorrow evening.”

  Arnot gasped, then noticed Scott’s confused look. He explained what his father had said in the man’s own language and Sommers smiled broadly, but Gwaynn held up a hand in warning.

  “But only if both Monde and Nyx agree that we are ready,” he finished.

  “Thank you!” Arnot said excitedly. “Father…thank you!”

  Gwaynn did not smile at his son’s enthusiasm. “Be warned Arnot. I think we may succeed this time.”

  Arnot’s smile dropped quickly from his face but after a moment his expression hardened. “I hope so father…I truly do.”

  †

  Vio tucked and rolled at the sound of the report but the bullet would have missed her in any case. As she came to a stop she spotted the black case, which was now open, kali strewn about in the tall grass. Without hesitation she grabbed a pair, spun and dove once more.

  “Hold your fire!” Armstrong yelled from the ditch, but one of the agents fired at Vio again. The bullet grazed her neck, causing a deep gouge but missing her vital artery. Vio felt the sharp sting of the bullet’s passing and it galvanized her. She burst from the ditch. Another shot was fired but it too missed and seconds later three headless FBI agents dropped in unison onto the dirt road.

  “Christ!” Armstrong yelled and Vio turned on him, her eyes piercing and her swords dripping with blood.

  Armstrong’s eyes widened momentarily but then he saw the blood pouring down her neck. Avigail stood, feeling dizzy and a little weak, but the first of the hunger cramps did not hit her until Vio collapsed on the road.

  Vio groaned, her hand going to her neck in an attempt to staunch the blood. “It’s not bad, but I need food…quickly,” she told Avigail in the language of the Inland Sea.

  Avigail nodded and collected her own swords. She spun one as Armstrong staggered from the ditch and toward Vio. He held up his hand and a stump, showing he was unarmed.

  “We need to see to her wound,” he told her and after a moment Avigail nodded. Armstrong quickly removed his tie, his button down shirt and then pulled his undershirt off as the two women watched, slightly amused.

  “I think he likes you,” Avi said with a smile, but then groaned as another cramp rumbled through her midsection.

  “Hush,” Vio commanded and eyed Armstrong closely as he attempted to tear his shirt into strips. He was having great difficulty with the task, for it required two strong hands, and in the end he left the job to Avigail. When she was finished wrapping Vio’s wound, she bound everything tightly together with Armstrong’s blue, Government Issue necktie. Armstrong looked at Vio shyly and smiled. Vio sighed.

  “Thank you,” she told him, her accent still present but he understood her clearly.

  Armstrong smiled. “You’re welcome,” he answered and then helped Vio to her feet. After he pulled his button down shirt back on he caught sight of Agent Olsen’s head, and then his eyes shifted to the three dead bodies.

  “Holy shit!” he exclaimed. “You two can’t keep killing agents!”

  “They shot her
!” Avi yelled back and after a moment Armstrong nodded. “Well help me get them off the road. I’ll call it in once we’re safely away…if we can figure out where in the hell we are.”

  Avigail nodded and though the hunger pangs were growing steadily stronger the three of them soon had the bodies safely hidden in the nearby ditch, the heads of the agents grouped neatly alongside. Armstrong, not knowing what to say, crossed himself quickly and looked to the heavens.

  Once they were back on the road, Vio checked the sun and then began to head east following the dirt road. She made it only about twenty feet before she suddenly staggered. Avigail moved to support her but then also winced and doubled over in pain.

  Armstrong frowned. “Are you alright?” he asked them both but moved to help the older woman. Her body was warm and firm and he definitely liked the feel of it. Armstrong quickly decided that he would help support her all the way to St. Louis if necessary

  Avigail nodded, once the cramp was gone. “I’m fine…just very hungry,” she told him. “I don’t understand, we didn’t Travel that far, only a few miles, but it feels like much more. Perhaps the speed of the plane was the cause.”

  Armstrong’s frown deepened. He had no idea what the girl was talking about.

  “Food,” Vio said weakly to the man holding her up. She was thankful for his help but if she was to go much farther she was going to need a great deal of food.

  “Do you know where we are?” Avigail asked but he shook his head negatively. Avigail stopped along the side of the road and tried to get her bearings. Armstrong, still holding tightly to Vio with his one good arm, stopped next to her. There was nothing much to see but dirt, ditch and corn.

  “We must be in Kansas…or Iowa….or Nebraska. Hell I don’t have the foggiest,” Armstrong finally admitted.

  “We need food…quickly,” Avigail told him. “Fruit would be best, but anything will do for now.”