The Spire

by Peter F Smith

  “What about the children and their mom?”

  “McGinnis saved them.” He nodded. “Turns out they barely knew each other. He had found them when she was in labor with the twins and he stayed to protect all three.”

  He held the cloak up. “She was carrying her babes in both arms and wearing this when we found her. The kid was probably going to draw their attention while she made a break for the tree line. Once there, it would have been hard as hell for those sons of bitches to follow her."

  “Why are you telling me this?” Maria asked, suddenly overcome with guilt at how privileged her childhood had been.

  “Because, you needed to associate this garment with something positive, and it doesn't hurt for you to know what people have been through since the shit hit the fan."

  She took it and held it in her hands, what moments before had seemed so ominous and dread inducing had taken on an entirely different feel. She nodded her head and slipped it on, covering her entire body in the head to ground fabric.

  David slowly stood his hand motioned toward the stairs. “After you."

  9

  Well, she was sure of one thing. She was in a forest, possibly on the East Coast; however, she couldn't be certain. Botany had been the only subject she barely passed during her instruction with Tobor. She walked along a game trail, following behind Sean and being followed by Williams. Trailing her was likely far easier for the older man than it was for her to follow his son. The advanced material that made up his uniform made it incredibly difficult to keep track of him. She often found herself looking for the impression caused by his foot prints and on a few occasions Williams had to place a hand on her shoulder when she had slowly begun to drift from their intended path.

  Now she understood how these people had avoided detection for so long. She was, however, curious how they communicated over long distance without being noticed. She was surprised at the level of technology they had managed to maintain after so many years. The inner lining of the cloak was warm to the touch, keeping her somewhat comfortable in the cooling air. The cloak even managed to slowly pull moisture from the atmosphere and provide her with a sustainable if limited supply of water. She put the drinking straw from the base of the hood into her mouth and took a drink. So she wasn't thirsty, nor was she uncomfortably cold, her legs however were beginning to protest.

  “Okay, we’ve been hiking six hours straight. Can we take a break now?" Since she couldn't see her companions, she felt slightly foolish speaking into thin air, as if this were all just some crazed fever induced episode and she was really just talking to herself.

  “Sure thing,” David said, his voice coming from centimeters to her right. She jumped slightly; had he been that close the whole time? They really did have impressive capabilities, which made her worry. After being so careful to hide their presence for so long, why was he risking so much by letting her have access to this much information about them?

  She shook her head and found a nice patch of soil that didn't look too moist. “Anyway, you guys can deactivate the active camouflage setting on those uniforms. Talking to invisible people is kind of creeping me out."

  “Just think of us as your very own personal pooka," David said with a laugh. A moment later he appeared sitting a meter from her, covered from head to toe in armor, a rifle cradled in his arms.

  “What's a pooka?”

  “A pooka, like Harvey."

  She stared at him blankly and he shook his head in disgust. “Your parents have done you a grave disservice."

  Sean's voice came from somewhere to her left. It was clear he had not deactivated his camouflage. “Yeah, poor her not having to sit through hours and hours of 1900s classics.”

  She could swear she saw his hands go into the air and make quotation gestures with them when he said, “Classics."

  David chuckled and the three settled into a lengthy silence. She stretched out her legs and looked up into the tightly packed forest canopy, stretching her neck and back muscles. A thought occurred to her and she looked over to the older man. “The satellites can't see us through the foliage, that's why you were willing to show yourself."

  He nodded and said, “My thermal signature is still being blocked though. Plus, we never both go normal at the same time."

  She hesitated a moment and decided to ask the question that hand been either directly on her mind or had been lurking in the back. “After all that I've learned about you why should I believe that you are going to let me go?”

  “I take it my word isn't good enough?” She could hear him smirking.

  “Hell no, I barely know you, but that isn't the big issue. What gets me is that if our roles were reversed then I doubt I would let you leave."

  He nodded, his helmeted head bobbing away but the visor obscuring his facial features. “Don't think the thought hadn't crossed my mind Miss Patterson. I had a strong inclination to just throw you in a hole and toss the key."

  “Why didn't you?”

  “You and Sean had the same question. When I was your age, I would have said the same thing probably, but getting old helps you to understand long term consequences and missed opportunities."

  “I already told you. I won't help you against my family, no matter what you think we will see at the end of this trip."

  He waved his hand dismissively. “Your father's enemies are taking care of that Miss Patterson. I’m thinking about what happens after.”

  Before she could answer, he stood. “Sean, keep our guest company, I’m going to scout our path."

  His combat gear pixilated and then he essentially disappeared. At this short distance she could somewhat make out where he was as the optical camouflage wasn't perfect at translating the blocked image to the opposing side. She guessed that he was about twenty meters away and imperfection or not, she had no clue where he was. The processing power to maintain such an optical illusion must have been intense, as was the power consumption to run the nanoparticles. At least she assumed it was nanoparticles; that's what she would have used. Maybe it was a pigment based system and the fabric…

  She fell backward in shock as Sean appeared a foot away from her, kneeling with his opaque visor a short distance from her face. As she scrambled to her feet, she could hear him laughing at her so she quickly shot forward and pushed him backward onto his ass. “Pinche pendejo!” she shouted at him.

  He sat up, one leg resting on the forest floor and his other knee positioned upward, his gloved hand resting on it playing with a stick between his fingers, still chuckling. Her heart was still pounding from the incident but at least it wasn't a total loss, apparently the speed of the wearer was more important in the effectiveness of the combat gear than was distance. He had managed to sneak right up in front of her without being noticed. Well now it was her turn to get some pay back. “So now that Daddy is away you finally grew a pair and decided to mess with me, huh?"

  His laughter ended, “Screw you princess."

  “You wish.”

  He leaned forward slightly. “I would rather piss glass.”

  She smirked and decided to test his statement. She pulled her arms back in a stretch, pushing her chest out, even under the cloak she was certain enough of her form would show for her purpose. His head lowered just a touch, almost imperceptible but enough to be noticed. She grinned, satisfaction at controlling his behavior coursing through her. “Pretty sure that isn't the case."

  He stood up quickly tossing the stick to the ground and walked to a nearby boulder where he sat, rigidly straight watching her, likely obeying some instruction to never take his eyes off her. As quickly as the satisfaction had come, it faded. Sure she had humiliated him and repaid him for the several times he had been a douche nozzle to her but what lasting benefit did she get from the exchange wherein she had just antagonized the least restrained of her captors? Well, at least he knew she would fight back. They sat there in silence for nearly twenty minutes, but thanks to Grandpa Einstein, it felt far longer than that.


  “He sure is taking a while,” she said, needing to break the awkward silence. He only huffed in reply to her statement.

  “So, do you have any food on you?”

  He continued to stare at her for another minute. “Yeah, why should I share with you?”

  “I assume you don't want me to bother you and your dad with a consistent string of complaints about how famished I am?”

  “I might like the idea of her highness having to rough it by missing a meal. Give you a very small taste of the life the rest of us had to endure while you looked down on us.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You going to feed me or not?”

  His hand reached into one of the many pouches on his chest. He pulled out a thin bar and tossed it at her feet. “Bon appetit.”

  She pulled the wrapper open and took a bite. It was nearly tasteless, but she ate it ravenously. As she finished, she looked at him and decided to extend an olive branch. “Thank you."

  He didn't respond, instead opting to unrelentingly stare at her. At least she thought he was. His visor was so opaque as to make it impossible for her to see his face. For all she knew he could be napping. She decided to press further with the faint hope of bridging the gap.

  “So…” she hesitated knowing what she said next was going to be a sore subject, “your dad let me know a little bit of how you two met. I'm sorry for what you went through.”

  He began to laugh, his helmeted head tipping backward. “Oh, thank you so much Miss Patterson. Your condolences certainly make up for my dead parents.”

  She stood up, her hands balling into fists. “You ass hat, I’m trying to treat you like a person.”

  He stormed over to her, his armored form towering over her but she held her ground. “That doesn't mean shit because you and your father aren’t people. People wouldn’t have poisoned the world and watched as we rotted away below them.”

  “I didn't do shit to you.” She thrust her finger into his chest armor. “I was four when it all happened, trapped in a safe room and scared out my mind that when we got out that my father would have died."

  He stepped in closer, his face plate centimeters from her, so close that she could clearly see her reflection. “It's a shame he didn't.”

  Every fiber of her being told her to spit in his face, to strike at him, but she knew it wouldn't do any good, instead she took a breath. She turned and walked away before looking at him again. “You blame me for something I had no part in."

  “Your dad was the mastermind, and you've lived a pretty damn comfortable life because of his actions. So yeah, as far as I'm concerned, you're just as guilty."

  “But he didn't do it. We didn't do it.”

  He shook his head and walked back to his rock, clearly giving up. She stood there going over their exchange in her mind. She walked over to his rock and rested against it as well. “You like to think that you're a fair person?”

  He hung his head. “Where is this going?”

  “Yes or no?”

  “Yes, I want the world to be fair. It wasn't for me or billions of others.”

  “I am willing to create a hypothetical situation in which my father did what you’re accusing him of, mind you all of it is hypothetical.”

  “The truth isn't hypothetical, but I'll play along. What's your point?"

  She took a breath, centering herself after his comment. “Your dad has killed people right?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Answer the question and you'll find out.”

  He shook his head, not in refusal but more likely exasperation. “Yes, it's not something he really likes to talk about, but it does come up from time to time.”

  “Did those people have families?”

  “Of course some of them had families.”

  She smiled at him, warmly, trying her best to make a connection that would end the hostility. “Would it be okay for them to blame you for what your father did, to exact vengeance against you for his actions?”

  His head came up, and she heard him start to speak and then stop. He took a moment. “You really believe he didn't do anything.”

  While it came out as a question, it was a statement he made in an attempt to process his revelation. “It's pretty easy to not know something when it never happened.”

  He slowly lowered himself to the ground. She followed trying to build off this recent success. “We don't have to be enemies.”

  He nodded and said, “I was five when they died. I don't remember a lot.” His head dipped and his chin nearly rested on his chest.

  “I know it can't be easy to talk about. You don't need to say any more.”

  He shook his head. “I was too little to understand most of what was going on. I just remember my parents being really upset, us going for a road trip, and me being so happy that they let me play my Monroe the Mighty Monkey game for the entire drive. They had always restricted my time and made me read or play math games.”

  A strained laugh escaped him. “They knew they were going to die, and all their son cared about was a stupid game.”

  His hands balled into fists and for a moment she was nearly overcome by the strong desire to place her hand on his bicep, as a way to comfort him. Slowly his hands relaxed and his tone evened out, he spoke as if he were reciting a speech, “Mom started displaying the final symptoms before Dad. Dad did everything he could to hide it from me. I think I knew though. We pulled over and Dad unpacked all the camping supplies we had brought and set up the tent. He had me playing my game the entire time he moved mom into the tent. She was probably already dead by then, but he told me she was tired and needed to go to sleep early. He showed me how to use the car’s self driving feature. He told me that I need to go get my grandparents because ‘he needed to take a nap with Mommy.’ The coughing got worse and not long after that it stopped. I knew, I knew at that moment they were both dead, but I couldn't bring myself to leave, so I sat on the cold dirt crying for them, begging for them to wake up. I don't know how long I sat there for. I have a vague memory of being lifted off the ground, I must have passed out and a man talking to me and then I woke up surrounded by soldiers and doctors. It was my dad’s team” He stopped and motioned toward the forest with his head, “My living dad, who found me, he was the one I remember talking to me”.

  He reached up and pulled the helmet off his head. She hadn't realized it, but her hand had travelled to her mouth, her middle and index finger lightly touching her lips as she processed his story. He looked at her, with his own two eyes, no longer filled with hate but intense sorrow. “I know you can't believe what we are saying about your father. I probably wouldn't either if I were in your shoes, but now you understand why we have so much hate. But, you're right, it shouldn't be directed at you. I understand why Dad wants you to see the stadium. He knew what I'm only now accepting, you had no idea of any of this.”

  “What happened to you and your parents was terrible, but my father had nothing to do with it.”

  For the first time since she met him, a look of pity crossed over his face. He brought his helmet back up to his head and put it on. “I'm sorry,” he said to her.

  “What for?”

  “What comes next.”

  She was about to respond when Williams’ disembodied voice interrupted them, “Path up ahead is secure. Sean, radio in that I encountered ferals.”

  She watched as Sean replaced his helmet and then reached behind his head to a small cable sticking up from his pack. He grabbed it and connected it to a port on the back of his helmet. Her mind immediately began to dissect the scene, wondering how it was possible for them to use radio broadcasts without her father detecting them. And then Williams’ statement sank in for her and her pulse quickened. “Are we in any danger?”

  David's disembodied voice responded from in front of her, “Nope, I put them down for a nap.”

  “Is that a euphemism for killing them?” she asked, not sure how she felt about the idea. They were
mindless animals roaming the wild and her past experience had proven as much, but given the technological and mental advantage he possessed over them she didn’t feel as if it was fair. Then again what was fair in life? In the end what mattered was that your side lost the least.

  “Nope, it means that I tranquillized them.”

  She turned the direction of his voice, wanting to feel as if she weren't having a conversation with thin air. “You normally pack tranquilizer guns?”

  He didn't respond immediately, hesitating as he figured out what to say. Maria’s curiosity became piqued. This man had not hesitated once in their conversations. While he had stopped to consider what he was going to say next, it was always over important topics, not simple yes or no responses to something as basic as what type of equipment he might take into the field. He clearly had unintentionally given away information he had not meant to and the fact that he had hesitated only served to make it obvious. What was he hiding?

  “Yes we do. We run into ferals from time to time. We prefer to tranquilize rather than kill them if we can avoid it.”

  “Why radio your friends?”

  “Ferals are nomadic, moving with the seasons, but they do stick to certain hunting grounds. Whenever we encounter them, we always share that information so others know to keep an eye out when traveling in this part of the wilderness during this time of year.”

  She shook her head, disagreeing with a thought she hadn't shared yet. “Seems like a pretty huge risk, using a radio signal that we could detect just to avoid killing creatures that wouldn't think twice about feasting on you.”

  He laughed, disconcerting her slightly as it seemed to come from thin air. “Why don't you just ask it?”

  “Ask what?” she said feigning ignorance but also hiding how impressed she was at how quickly he had determined her true intention.

  “The question you actually want answered.”

  “Okay, you aren't stupid or suicidal so how are you communicating without risking my family’s detection of your signal?”