"What now? I'm busy." Blice snaps.
"I'm lost, Blice."
"Look at the map I sent you."
"Something's not right." Isidore says. "I can't think in here. We found blood on the floor."
"Just stay calm. Your mind is playing tricks on you."
"No, really. I'm going to die."
Blice is typing. "You're not going to die. God, Isidore, your pulse is ridiculous. Calm down or you will hurt yourself."
"Someone's in here." Isidore whispers. "I don't know who it is, but I know I don't want to be anywhere near him."
"I'm calling Inquisitor Clark right now and see if he has received any strange signals from your location. Just stay there and remain calm. I'll be right back." The signal goes dead.
So now he's all alone. The lights flicker again and Isidore goes into the main hall where the tables are still set for a meal. Some have food on them and others are balanced on the edge of the tables where the slightest breeze could send them crashing to the floor. Everything is spotless like it has recently been cleaned from floor to ceiling. Something cold and wet hits Isidore's shoulder and he reaches to touch it. When his fingers come back bloody, he nearly faints. He follows the dripping up to an air vent. There's no way he's going to investigate that. Maybe it's just rusty water. Yes. It has to be that. He wipes the liquid on his pants and the smell of blood tells him he's lying to himself. What now? The last thing he wants to do is stay in one place. He has to keep moving and push his mind past the ridiculous notion of fear. Blice is right. He should try to find the living quarters and see if they're asleep. He pulls up the map and tries to follow it down a long twisting hallway and through another set of automatic doors. The silence is the one thing that makes Isidore want to scream. He looks down the hallway at the rows of door on either side. He goes to the first one and pushes it open. The lights in the room and the hallway go black. Oh, this is perfect.
As Isidore steps through the doorway, the pungent aroma of stagnant air and mildew hits his sinuses. From across the room, he spots something flickering on a dresser. A candle? Who could have lit a candle in here? He goes towards the light. On the dresser is a tattered note with ink smeared over it. Isidore picks it up and examines the hurried writing.
He's back. I know he'll find me. We have to get to the transports. I let the others go first. I'm staying behind to make sure they get out alive. If Inquisitor Dark wants blood, he'll have mine.
Isidore's hands shake as he holds the note. Inquisitor Dark. The candle hasn't been burning for very long and the smell of sulfur from a match still lingers in the room. The ink on the note isn't even dry. He presses the button on his watch. "Blice, I found a note."
The transmission is silent.
Isidore swallows and tries again. "Blice, are you there?"
No answer.
He tries to call Byron's communicator. "Byron, answer, please."
Again, nothing. He tries Damien, but there's no answer there either.
The footsteps return and the raspy rhythm of someone breathing breaks through the silence. Isidore freezes where he is and someone's hot breath on his neck is enough to make him pass out. He can't move, only wait for whoever it is to leave him alone. A cold metal object slips into his USB port and an intense ringing fills his mind. His vision flashes red and then black. The last thing he hears is a man's whispering to him as fingers touch his face.
"I've been waiting, Created One."
* * *
"Seth, pick up. I know you can hear me so pick up the phone." Damien taps on the screen of his sensor. Nothing is working. Maybe it's the radiation that's lingering in here or electromagnetic fields. The longer he stays in this room, the more paranoid he becomes. He jumps when someone giggles nearby. Who was that? He draws one of his throwing knives and steps into the hallway. "Hello? Byron, was that you?" No one's there. The lights flicker one last time then go completely dark. Damien steps back inside the room.
"Damien."
Damien screams and ducks down in a corner.
"It's Seth. Pick up, man."
It's Seth. It's just Seth. "Where the hell have you been?"
"Trying to get in touch with you. We are getting some strange interference from the communications relay on the space station. Are you okay?"
"Um . . . I don't know." Damien says as his voice shakes. "There's no one here. All the T.I.M.E.s are missing and we found some blood on the floor. Everything is in perfect condition, though. There's no sign of anything going wrong. There are a few parts of the ship that have higher than normal levels of radiation, but that's not completely abnormal. I need you to stay in touch with me. I think I'm losing my mind. I keep hearing someone laughing in the shadows. It's not Byron or Isidore. I don't even know where they are. We got separated down one of the long hallways."
"Stay calm, Damien. Where are you now?"
"I'm in one of the cabins on the second floor." Damien whispers. "I got freaked out and I'm huddled down beside a bed in the corner. I don't like this place."
"Stay there. I will send a signal to Byron's sensor that will lead him to your location." Seth says.
When the silence is shattered by a low beeping sound, Damien's last glimmers of hope fade. He holds his sensor close to his mouth. "Seth?"
"What is it?"
Damien looks around the dark room. "Does that locator make a beeping sound when activated?"
"Yes. Why?"
Damien sees a pale light coming from under the edge of the bed and reaches out for it. He holds up Byron's square sensor. "I just found Byron's sensor."
Seth sounds concerned. "Tell me it was attached to him."
"No. It was under this bed. Why would it be under the bed? Seth!" Damien screams into the darkness.
"What? Get control of yourself, Montgomery. I'm sure Byron dropped it. Don't worry."
"Dropped it under the bed?"
"Stop. Making a big deal out of nothing isn't going to solve anything."
A loud alarm sounds over the speaker. "Seth, what is that?"
"The Paradise emergency signal." Seth says. "The Inquisition has issued an emergency declaration."
"Any details?" Damien asks.
"Not yet. I'm getting in touch with people right now. It's scrolling across the bottom of the television. There are news crews and everything. Looks like they've issued a code black."
Code black? This isn't good. "No. Are you certain?"
"Yes. I'm trying to get more details."
"Who is it? What's the inquisitor's name?"
Seth makes a pained sound. "Dear God, help us all. Get out of there, Damien. Get back to the transport and leave immediately. Inquisitor Williams is down."
9
In his home office, Blice watches hopelessly as Isidore's vital signs go flat. Nothing. He calls again. "Isidore, pick up. I think my program is malfunctioning. Tell me you're alive. Niko!"
Again, there is no answer.
He hurriedly tries to reboot the system and when the program starts up again, he is hopeful until everything is blank. "Come on, man. Answer. Damn it." Blice pulls on his boots and trench coat. Then he hears it. Isidore's emergency signal. In his heart, he knows. He bites his lip to keep from breaking down right here. He's still Master Director and he has to let them know. He will have plenty of time later for his own grief. Paradise must be protected.
Blice picks up the black phone from his desk and dials it. "This is Master Director McSage. Code black. I repeat, a code black is now active. Inquisitor down."
* * *
Blice storms down the street and throws open the doors to the technology center. Politeness will have to wait. He's in no mood for small talk or pleasantries. "Bring me Inquisitor Clark immediately."
The receptionist bows and answers the phone.
"Immediately!" Blice screams at her and she quickly hangs up the phone then runs off. He goes to the elevator and up to the tenth floor. As he makes his way down the hall to his office, reporters run up to him and
surround him, taking pictures and asking questions. "Please, not right now. I will send out a press release in a few minutes. The lives of three people are in my hands and I need to make sure they are safe."
"Master Director, is it true that Inquisitor Williams has been gunned down on the space station?"
"Are all the T.I.M.E.s dead?"
He holds up his hands and slips through the crowd. "There will be a press conference in two hours. I will take questions then."
"Did you sabotage this mission?"
Blice turns to the reporter. "Absolutely not. How dare you? Get out of my building before I have the Inquisition escort you out." He slams the door to his office and locks it. This is getting out of control.
He takes off his suit jacket and drapes it over the back of his leather chair. He sits at his desk and holds his face in his hands. Niko. He can't be dead. He just can't. This was never meant to happen like this. This mission was Blice's responsibility and now it has unquestionably failed. Failure has never been kind to Blice. He tries to ignore the sinking feeling and focus instead on the screen of his watch, looking for any life from Isidore's communicator. Still, all of his vital signs and processes have stopped and gone cold. Things like this don't happen on Inquisition missions. He double and triple checked the signals before he left his home office and came here. Nothing.
Blice picks up the photograph from his desk and smiles. It's of him and Isidore when they went into the mountains together. It was July, but it snowed and it is one of his favorite memories. Maybe Isidore remembers as well. They looked so happy with the snowflakes in their hair and throwing snowballs at each other. It never snows in Paradise, but if it did, he knows that Isidore would love it. Is there snow in heaven? Is there heaven for a being like Isidore?
The knocking on the door interrupts Blice's increasingly dark thoughts. He goes to the door and opens it for Inquisitor Clark. "Get your ass in here now. Where have you been?"
"Don't talk to me that way, Master Director."
"I can talk to you how I want to. Give me details, Clark."
"I've already told you everything I know." Inquisitor Clark says as he combs through his white hair. "There's nothing else. Have you had any other communication?"
Blice checks his watch again. "No. Nothing."
"What do you want me to do about it, then?"
The only thing they can do now. "Send another transport. Send some inquisitors and get them out of there. We have to find Inquisitor Williams."
"I can't risk losing more people for an exiled traitor, an escaped felon, and a computer."
Blice's hands tighten into fists. "Inquisitor Williams isn't just a computer."
"His life isn't worth another person."
"I will not sit back and let him die! Inquisitor Williams is my friend!"
"He's a computer!" Inquisitor Clark shouts.
"And you're an insolent pig. I don't give a fuck if he's a can of soda. He's my friend and I need him back alive." Blice says.
"You're insane."
"I need him, Clark."
"He's gone." Inquisitor Clark says. "You saw it yourself. His heart stopped an hour ago."
Blice looks out the window at the busy streets and the crowds of reporters, all anxiously awaiting his press conference. The sun is growing low in the sky and soon it won't be possible to get a team together to head up to the space station. "Send another transport."
"No."
Blice slams his fist on the table and screams at him. "I'm ordering you to send another damn transport."
"I'm under orders from your father to not take your orders."
"Excuse me?" Blice picks up the phone. "Miss Aveline, get my father on the line right now."
"Yes, sir. Connecting now."
The scratchy voice that Blice hates with every bone in his body comes over the speaker. "This is President Evans."
Blice puts the call over the speakers and he starts pacing around the room. "What are you doing?"
"Oh, hello, son. I'm doing my job as president."
"And that is?"
"Preventing you from sending our inquisitors to their deaths." President Evans says.
"Inquisitor Williams needs help."
"He's not an inquisitor. He's a computer, Blice."
Blice's anger shows in his voice. "He took the oath just like everyone else. He has an insignia, he takes orders, and he wants the best for the citizens of this city. Isidore is every bit an Inquisitor just like the others."
"I say good riddance. He held you back because you won't do what needs to be done. You messed up when you decided to treat him like a person. He will never be equal to a human. Don't you understand that? Do I need to remind you about what he really was?"
"Shut up." Blice snaps at him. "Send a transport, please. Don't do this to me. Haven't you hurt me enough? What would my mother say?"
"What would your mother say?" President Evans asks, his voice inundated with malice and mockery. "She would scream at me for not taking Byron in as well. Be grateful that I claimed you. I could have let her take you to grow up in the wasteland. You would still be plagued by your magic if I hadn't found the way to lock it down and control it. Just look at your half-brother. Is that the kind of man you want to be?"
Miss Aveline brings him a cup of coffee. Blice takes it then waves her away.
"This isn't the time for this conversation, Father. Besides, he's probably dead now on that damn space station with the other two. And still, you don't care about him or me."
"I have done nothing but support you, Blice. I even made a friend for you and you act like I've destroyed your life. You have all the money and everything you want, but you still want more. My wife never wanted me to keep you around, but I had her dealt with so I could keep my son. I've been president of this country for thirty-five years and not once have I done anything to undermine your goals. Now I suggest that you hang up this phone and call off your code black."
There's no way in Paradise that his father is going to push him around anymore. "You don't have the say in this. I do. It's Inquisition territory."
"I can override you with a majority vote of the Inquisition and I'm not afraid to call council."
"You wouldn't."
"I would . . . just to prove my point, boy." President Evans starts laughing as he speaks. "You only care so much about that android because you've been using him in your bed."
Blice chokes on his coffee. He didn't. "Excuse me? What the hell are you implying?"
"Well, you aren't married and I don't see any grandchildren."
Blice slams his coffee cup on the desk so hard that it shatters. "Never. That has never happened. I'm not you and I thank God with every breath I take that I am not you. You don't even know half of what you're talking about. Don't you dare try to slander my name and don't even think that I would abuse him like that. Isidore is my friend and that is a line I will not cross. Do you hear me? One more accusation like that and I will find a way to make you suffer."
"Try it. Try it and see what happens to you. Go ahead. I'm waiting. I have all the proof I need." His father hangs up the phone.
Since when does his father make accusations like that? He thought that taking this position would place him high enough in the government that he could actually get things done when they need to be done. However, all his father has done is tighten the reins and make it even more meticulous to get anything passed.
Inquisitor Clark has been listening this entire time. "Android, huh?"
"Go away, Clark."
"Oh my God. He's the android? The one who-"
Blice turns to glare daggers at him. "Shut up and leave. If you breathe a word of what you heard here, I will hunt you down and slaughter you in your sleep. Go."
"This conversation isn't over. If you are harboring an android, you will face justice. If we find that you were sexually abusing him-"
"Shut up! Get out of my office."
Inquisitor Clark leaves and begins talking to rep
orters outside.
Where did these accusations come from? Never. Not once has Blice even thought about doing something like that to his friend. It's sickening and now the rumor has spread enough that his father thinks it's true. Though he's probably the one who started it. And proof? What kind of proof could he possibly have that something so twisted and awful is going on? It's a threat. God knows that Blice has had plenty of female company. He's not married because he chooses to not be anchored down like that. And children? There is no way that he would put them through what he did to Isidore. If he loses his temper like he does with his best friend and hurts him, what would he be capable of doing to children? No. He won't even entertain the idea.
Blice watches the streams of steaming coffee spilling over the edge of his desk. He doesn't care enough to clean it up or even call Aveline to do it. He checks his watch again for any sign of Isidore. Nothing. The tears push into his eyes and he crosses his arms as he watches the crowds growing outside. He doesn't want to do this. He can't bring himself to admit that his best friend could be dead. Even more so, he doesn't want to deliver that news to the thousands of people who hate Isidore to begin with. Then there's Clara Lifestone. He prays that she isn't going to be watching the press conference. Maybe she's out in the wasteland and doesn't know what has been happening. It will crush her to find out that something has happened to Isidore.
He wipes his eyes and thinks about what he is going to say. This is the first emergency they've had since the Rubble Rebels invaded. Blice wasn't in good enough condition to deliver that message. He was in the hospital for two days with a concussion from Byron's fist. When he did regain consciousness, he couldn't remember anything that had happened for a few hours. At least the medics were able to remove the bullet from his arm without leaving too much of a scar. That's what the best medical technology on the planet gets you.
Miss Aveline enters his office. "Sir, the reporters are waiting for you."
Blice sighs and puts his suit jacket back on. "When are they not?"
Paradise of Lead Trilogy Page 34