by Matt Ward
Fitz was still out? Must have been wicked sedatives. It had been twelve hours according to my SmartCore.
What if he was going through a torture sim? I punched his arm to wake him. No reaction, not even a groan. Not a good sign.
Bending, I tossed him over my shoulder and squeezed through the door.
Zedda interrupted my train of thought, “Welcome to The Initiative.” She smiled. “It’s not much, but it is all we got. Ashlo, Henk, get over here. Search him. Raek, meet Ashlo and Henk. They’re brothers, vets of the cause. Been with us for years, ever since their dad died.”
Two man-shaped mountains appeared from a hallway off the main entrance, each two meters and pushing a hundred kilos. Round black eyes, thick, matted brown fur, powerful arms and legs: bearish. Dark beards and battle-tested noses rounded out the look, and apart from a few centimeters difference, I couldn’t tell them apart.
“I’m Ashlo,” the taller one said.
“I’m Henk,” the second added.
“I’m Raek. Nice to meet you.”
“We gotta search you,” the first said.
“Standard operating procedure,” Henk added.
“You’re part cynetic?” Ashlo gave me a skeptical look.
I nodded.
“We’ll use this.” He pulled out an ominous rod.
I must have winced because Henk added, “You won’t feel a thing. Checking for bugs—”
“And weapons,” Ashlo finished. “Anything metal or biofabbed out of the ordinary. Hold out your arms—”
“Spread the legs too,” Henk commanded. “Got to ask you a few questions.”
I did as I was told, but not before priming my blasters in case. They were big, but I could probably take them.
Ashlo passed the rod over my arms, legs, and abdomen while Henk hooked polymetal sensors to my head, arms, and chest, and quizzed me on everything from where I was born to my family origins. Once satisfied, he said, “Looks like you’re clean.”
“Same here.” Henk held a cup. “Spit into this.”
“What for?” DNA was a whole nother can of worms.
Henk’s face hardened. “DNA test. Gotta make sure you are—”
“What you say you are,” Ashlo finished.
Ashlo laughed. “We’re messing with you, dude. You’re all clear. We don’t need your DNA. It’s obvious you’re cynetic and you’re wolfish. Welcome to The Initiative.” He grasped my hand and gave it a firm shake.
“Thanks,” I murmured. Finishing each other’s sentences... talk about a crappy sense of humor. “You had me going there.” I peeled off the sticky devices and handed them back to Henk.
“We’ve been working on that,” Henk said. “No one can tell us apart, figured we’d have some fun with it.” He shook my hand as well. “It’s an honor to meet you, Raek.”
Zedda reappeared. When’d she leave?
“Your room’s over here.” She led the way toward the far corner. “They do that to everyone, big goofy idiots. They’re harmless, well except in a fight,” she added with a hard stare. “They’ll rip your face off. Stone cold killers, the both of them. Other than that, they’re teddy bears.”
Was that a threat? Neither of us said anything. I’d have to watch my back.
“Wait, where’s Fitz?”
“What? Who?” She gave me a look. “Oh, your friend. I had Ashlo carry him to the medical ward to get checked out. End of this hall, on the left. He’ll be out a bit longer, but we can go see him if you want. He’s in good hands.”
“No, that’s okay. Can you show me around, get a feel for the place?” Always prepared, just in case.
She shrugged. “Suit yourself. This is your room.” She opened the door. “It isn’t much, but it’s a little privacy.”
The layout was similar to old cubicle offices at the turn of the century, temporary dividers creating isolated solitude.
And she wasn’t kidding, it was small: two meters by three, maybe a hair more. The concrete floor had a simple blue mat. Everything about the place screamed underappreciated and underfunded. Made sense. When fighting the government, fundraising was tough and frills, irrelevant. I could respect that.
“It’s perfect,” I said. “Thanks.”
“Laundry is where you came in and the mess is toward the middle. Upstairs has more sleeping quarters, and the fitness room, far side.” She pointed.
It was a lot to take in. I saved it all for later.
My stomach rumbled. “You said there was a mess hall.” Sounded pretty good about now. I’d kill for a good steak.
“Follow me.”
We walked a few minutes, weaving this way and that, passing many empty sleeping quarters and a few interested faces. Twice, people came to stare.
Stopping in the middle of a hall, Zedda knocked on a cell door. “Hey, Paer! Come here, I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”
Zedda whispered, “Agtha’s one of the oldest and most experienced members of The Initiative. Been fighting the GDR since the start of The Troubles. She was there during The Experiments, remembers the Fall. She’s kind of our oracle, our good luck charm. Everyone calls her by her last name: Paer.”
Cue the fairy godmother: wizened, kooky, with a hunched back and all.
The door opened and a wiry woman with short, caramel hair, a square face, and the eyes of an intellectual emerged. Wow, was I off... A raw energy permeated her, it was contagious. According to Zedda, she must be seventy, at least, closer to eighty. She looked thirty-five and fiery.
Paer stuck out a furry hand. “I’m Agtha, good to meet you.”
“Paer, this is Raek, the hybrid that posted on the forums. He’s legit. Wanted you to meet him.”
She nodded. “See you around.” With that, she stepped back into her quarters, closing the door.
“She can be frosty at first,” Zedda explained. “It’s not you, she’s like that with everyone. Takes a while to warm up. She’s lost so many friends in this fight, it’s hard for her with new people.”
Imagine, decades of undercover fighting...
“That’s why I wanted you to meet her. She’s rough, but critical to our operation and on the Council of Elders.” She must have noticed my confusion because she said, “Our group of elected leaders. Holds a lot of weight, given her experience. Plus, she’s an animal in the gym and the field. The Initiative’s the only family she has.”
Family... “ Zedda, can you help me with something?”
She pursed her lips. “Maybe. What’s up?”
I told her about my family.
“And you want to find out what happened?” she asked.
I nodded. “I’d appreciate it. If it wouldn’t be too much to ask,” I added, feeling the beginnings of hope.
She smiled. “Sure.” In a more serious tone, she added, “You might not like what I find.”
They were okay, they had to be…
A delicious aroma hit me. “Smells good.”
“Well, it’s food,” Zedda said with a gag. “Avoid the meatloaf. Anti re-cooks it and re-serves it over and over. Anti’s the cook by the way, or at least the one who cooks,” she added with a grim grin.
“You hungry?”
She shook her head. “I need to take care of some stuff, operational updates and such. I’ll find you later.” Turning to walk away, she added, “Watch your back, Raek. I trust everyone here, but only so far. We have new recruits all the time, you never know. There’s a bounty on your head, a big one.”
She left, leaving me to think about what she’d said.
The mess was empty when I entered, except for a chubby black-haired man singing to himself as he worked away in the huge, well-equipped kitchen. Must be Anti.
“When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore!”
The thump of the door made him jump and send a pan clattering. “I didn’t hear you come in.” He turned red as his marinara and studied me closer. “I don’t think you’ve met Anti. Are you new? I’m Anti.” He wa
lked out of the semi-divided kitchen and offered a gloved hand. “I’m the official head chef of this mess, and I’m at your service. Today’s special, a savory spaghetti with me grandma’s signature meaty marinara. You hungry?”
I was starving and said as much.
“Help yourself. Anti’s got to get back to dinner prep. A larger than usual crew tonight.” He smiled. “Rice and beans with a side of meatloaf for over three hundred. Need anything, let Anti know.” He left, humming away.
I grabbed a seat at one of the many long wooden tables and was on my second helping when Ashlo and Henk came in. A wave. They lumbered over after loading up.
“Can be a bit intimidating, all this, I mean.” Henk motioned around us.
“It’s huge. How many people live here?”
“Ranges from about 120 up to 200-300. Tomorrow will be a big day, lot of folks coming in,” Henk added. “Average is about one-fifty.”
That’s it? “The whole resistance?” No wonder they hadn’t made more progress...
Henk chuckled. “Not even close. There are a bunch of cells around the world, and smaller grassroots movements in most towns.”
Ashlo scowled. “Should be more. We outnumber elites but we’re the repressed ‘minorities.’ How’s that possible? How’s that okay?” He shook his head in disgust.
“That’s why people like us need to start the movement, the pushers. Once we get it going, there will be followers. You’ll see.”
“I hope you’re right,” Ashlo murmured. “As long as the hippies don’t get their way.”
“Hippies?” I asked. “Why?” What did this have to do with hippies?
Henk nodded. “Heard of Martin Luther King, Jr.? Gandhi?”
“Of course I know Gandhi,” I added, louder than I’d intended.
Ashlo rolled his eyes. “His whole thing was a peaceful protest. Sitting in squares, civil disobedience… that kind of thing.”
“What’s wrong with that?” I asked.
“It doesn’t work!” Henk growled. “The elites don’t give a shit about us.”
“What Henk means,” Ashlo cut in, “is since The Experiments and subspecies divide, elites feel justified in their position. In Luther’s era, in Gandhi’s time, people were the same, intrinsically equal. That’s why slavery was abolished, democracy thrived, and everyone could vote. But today, they say: ‘Should we give pigs and cows the right to vote?’ That’s how they view us…”
“But is war the answer?” I said. “Isn’t there another way?”
“You mean a sit-in, a demonstration?” Ashlo replied.
I nodded. “Yeah. If we banded together—”
“Two groups tried it, one in Zone Three and one west of here. It wasn’t pretty.” Henk gritted his teeth. “Several hundred gunned down in each. Rumor is, Minister of Security Fury ordered the DNS to open fire on protesters that wouldn’t disband.” He sighed, we all did.
I felt their hopelessness. They were on edge, they needed something. They needed a miracle.
They needed hope.
18
Hitting The Deck
After eating, I went to the infirmary. The door opened to a state of the art medical ward complete with propped beds, IV racks, and a freckled nurse at a spotless desk in the far corner, beady brown eyes eyeing me. “What can I do for you?”
She listened and led me past an inverted imaging array into another room. “He’s in there.”
Sure enough, Fitz was asleep on a gurney, wireless sensors hooked to his arms, chest and forehead. “Is he okay?” He looked horrible.
She nodded and checked her band. “Sorry. Another patient, allergies…” She hurried off, leaving us alone.
He wasn’t moving and that worried me. How was he still asleep? It had been fifteen hours. He should be awake by now. I should wake him up, right?
Another group raced in carrying a red-faced woman as I closed the door. Everything fell silent. I leaned over him. “Fitz? Fitz.” Nothing.
After a series of hard slaps didn’t help, I grabbed a small cup from the dispenser, filled it in the sink and dumped it on him.
He rocketed upward, eyes wide, sensors squawking.
“No!” he screamed. “Not again!”
Our eyes met and horror crept into his gaunt face as he paled, recoiling. His biomarkers skyrocketed, beeping. “Not him, not Raek! I won’t fall for this again. I don’t know where they are.” He touched his ruined ear.
Jeez. “Fitz, it’s me. It’s Raek.”
He launched himself at me, massive shoulder slamming my face and sending us flying into the wall. We fell, hard, and he sprang on top of me, using his weight to pin my arms.
“Fitz!” I shouted. “What are you doing? It’s me! This isn’t a sim, this isn’t virtual.”
He pounded me, fists raining down. “Where did we meet that night?”
What was he talking about? Shit.
“Where?” he roared, eyes half-mad. “The night you disappeared.”
Um… “Behind our house.” What did that have to do with anything?
His voice weakened and the punches slowed. “And where did we hide in the school when the DNS came?”
“In the basement, but we went to your room.” That’s what he was doing. “We barricaded ourselves behind desks and used micro mats as blast absorbers. Is that good enough? There were officers inside my house that night, three of ‘em. Waiting for me. You saved my life. Fitz?”
He collapsed, sobbing onto the floor, an inhuman gasping laugh escaping his shivering lips. Jeez.
“Raek, you have no idea how glad I am to see you. I thought, I thought I might never get out of there.” He looked me dead in the eyes, a serious expression on his face. “You have no idea how bad the food is.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “That’s the Fitz I know. It isn’t much better here, but there’s food.”
He didn’t want to talk about it and I couldn’t blame him. It was bad enough for me, and he was under twice as long.
“You’re right, I’m starving. But where are we?” he gestured around us. “And are you okay? What happened?”
Heck if I know. I told him everything, including my simulated torture and escape. He listened, focused, never once interrupting.
“So, this is the new rebel headquarters,” he remarked when I finished. “Must mean we’re near Caen. Right under their noses.” The beginnings of a smile. “You mentioned food?”
“I’ll show you around. Let’s find Zedda.” We exited the medical ward with little more than a look of shock and a few quick exams from the nurse.
After that, the day passed in a blur. At eight p.m., we found our way back to bed and I passed out the moment I hit the mat.
When I awoke, my SmartCore told me it was 6:00 a.m. Ugh… The lack of windows and natural light was unnerving.
There were a decent number of early risers when I swung my door open and weights smashed above. Might be just what I needed.
Jogging upstairs, people stirred, the occasional early morning romp.
Halfway down the hall, a figure emerged. Bending to clear the low doorway, out stepped a tall, athletic beauty. She wore simple crimson and blue fitted pants, her skin an ornate golden brown pattern. She was intoxicating.
“Hey,” I said, unable to help myself. My pulse ramped. What was it about pretty girls?
She gave me a funny look, warm eyes inspecting me. “You’re new here, aren’t you? You must be Raek.”
I nodded, confused and on edge, despite her good looks. “You know my name?”
“Zedda told me. I’m Lilia.” She offered a manicured hand, a stark contrast to her powerful grip. “Pleased to meet you, Raek.”
I shook it, not too hard I hoped. “Pleasure’s all mine.”
“How do you like it here? Are you getting settled?” She seemed genuine.
“I am. It’s good, a bit overwhelming, but good. You talked to Zedda about me?”
“For our meeting tonight. I’m on the Council,” she
added. “Going to train?”
I nodded, grinning like a fool. Get it together, Raek.
She checked her band. “It was nice to meet you, but I need to run.” She hurried in the other direction as I continued down the hall, unable to get her out of my head.
The hallway ended in a big metal door with a Do or die! sign on it. Intense bunch. But in war, it was do or die. I guess it made sense to practice with a similar intensity.
The door opened to pounding music—Metallica 2pointAI, banned now—and a familiar sweaty blast. I downregulated my nose—something I’d learned by accident in a weird dream—and after a second, could breathe again.
Ashlo and Henk were sparring in the far corner and I headed over.
On the way were hulking guys and gals squatting heavy weights, athletes on rings and bars, and a small girl with sim goggles blasting imaginary targets. They’d pulled out all the stops.
When I reached the brothers, Ashlo and Henk were locked in a heated struggle, a small crowd gathered around, grimacing in excitement.
Ashlo—the bigger of the two—had his brother pinned to the floor, massive arm tight around Henk’s bulging throat. “Tap, come on.” His face contorted in a panting smile as he applied more pressure but Henk kept fighting.
Henk’s eyes were closing when he sprang into motion, blasting off the red mat and flipping forward. The crowd gasped, going silent.
Ashlo’s face smashed the mat and Henk twisted from the choke, spinning his brother into an armbar, legs squeezing Ashlo’s vulnerable shoulder.
It hurt to watch.
“Tap, Ashlo. Don’t make me break it.”
“Screw you, Henk! I’m not tapping.” Ashlo gritted his teeth. “I don’t tap...”
“Cut it out, the both of you!” came a loud, commanding voice. “The fight’s over! We have more important issues. Henk, your brother’s arm, now!”
Paer strode over. “You idiots aren’t going to break another arm or leg. You’re too damn important. Get off that mat and get yourselves dressed. Lilia was looking for you.”
“Yes, ma’am!” they snapped, jumping from the mat and jogging to the showers, tails between their legs.
Wow. Paer was a powerhouse. She headed toward me. “They’ll want to talk to you downstairs as well. We have a meeting at 10:00 every Monday, you need to be there.”