Eminent Silence

by Tristan Carey

  I went right for them, slamming my shoulder into one and rushing another with my shield. Both were knocked down, and the third's hands shook on his gun. It fired, and I cried out as a sharp pain ripped across my right arm, just above the shield.

  I didn't look down to examine the wound — I could already feel blood running down my arm. But it could still move, I could still lift the shield without too much protest. It actually didn't hurt much, past the initial blow.

  Maybe it was the shock, or the adrenaline, that kept me from feeling the pain. It might just be a flesh wound. Or maybe it was so bad that my nerve endings had been destroyed.

  But I didn't have time to worry about that. Once the fight was over, I could take care of my wounds.

  The third Cheka didn't have time to reload his gun.

  I went at him, grabbing the muzzle of the gun with my left hand my good arm. It was hot, burned my hand, but I didn't let go, just wrenched it out of the way as I brought up my shield arm, and jabbed its top edge into the Cheka's face. Blood spurted from his nose, and he dropped, leaving the rifle in my hand.

  I spun it around so I was holding the much less-hot forestock. I glanced down at it, wondering for a brief moment why I didn't just use this instead of the shield. It would be faster. I knew without knowing that I could fire and reload this gun faster than anyone here. I could take out more men in one minute with this rifle than I could with the shield, at any other time.

  But knowing how to shoot is one thing. Choosing to pull the trigger is different when its aimed at a person.

  Even against forces like these.

  I dropped the gun, and faced the last tank.

  It's cannon hadn't even raised yet. I was outside the gates now, and I was mildly surprised by the sudden thickness of the forest just outside the walls. It was like civilization just ended, but the road the tanks were on stretched on, into the mountains. There would be towns and villages out there. A military base, too, nearby. Where these tanks and men would have come from. My eyes drew up to the gray sky, filling up with the smoke from the riots, the destruction. I wonder what all of this looked like, up there. To have a bird's eye view. To see everything, and know what to do.

  It occurred to me that if these guys could bring out tanks, they could probably call on helicopters, and those would be a lot harder to fight. I was a super soldier, not a Valkyrie, and there wasn't enough gun training or shield smashing in the world for me to be able to take a bird down.

  So it was time to get this over with before they showed up.

  My eyes dropped down. Right, Tank #4.

  They hadn't fired yet. They couldn't, I suppose. They were twenty feet outside the gate, and couldn't get in thanks to the now two tanks in their way. I suppose they could just push past. It was still crawling forward, as if confused with the recent turn of events. Maybe they hadn't seen me yet.

  Rolling my shoulders, I prepared myself for one last go of this. I'd never taken down a tank before. Now I had three under my belt. This was definitely a way to set a record.

  Let's make it four.

  I dropped down to a crouch, taking care to keep out of sight as I rounded on the last tank. I wasn't entirely certain on their field of sight, but I knew I hadn't been seen when I came around the right side with no response. As silently as I could, I climbed up to the top.

  And, after a moment of consideration, I knocked on the hatch.

  Tonk, tonk, tonk.

  A moment passed.

  Click.

  'Hello?' The Cheka soldier asked, as he popped out of the hatch door. When he saw my, sitting on the edge of the tank, he did a double-take.

  'Hey, there, how's it going?' I smiled, giving him a quick wave, before punching him in the face.

  His eyes rolled back, and he dropped down, unconscious.

  Leaning over, I said, 'I have a grenade! If you don't want me to drop it in, surrender now!'

  Instantly, two pairs of hands shot out over the top. 'We surrender! We surrender! Don't drop it!'

  Without further ado, I wrenched both of them out of the tank. The men stared at me in fear, before realizing that with both of my hands occupied with holding them, that there was nowhere to keep the grenade - that I never had one to begin with. Their looks of terror turned to surprise, then embarrassed betrayal.

  I just grinned at them. 'Glad we could work things out,' before throwing them overboard.

  I peered inside, grabbed the collar of the dazed Cheka still inside, and pulled him out, tossing him on top of the other two Cheka, still scrambling up. Then I took two actual grenades — the last from the ones I took off the unconscious Cheka, pulled their pins, and dropped both into the hatch before leaping off the machine, and joining the others in running away.

  The grenades exploded and, finally, the last tank was finished.

  The remaining three Cheka stared at the fallen tanks, before looking to me in a combination of fear and disbelief. I stood there, glanced at them, and said, 'Guess you should've brought more tanks.'

  'Y-you're not going to kill us?' One of them asked, stammering.

  'Not really my style,' I said, shrugging, then hooked a thumb over my shoulder. 'Besides, you surrendered. But if you ever thought of a vacation, I think now's a great time to take one.'

  The three shared a look, as if considering how seriously they considered their loyalty to the Chairman, before looking back at me. Then, together, they took off. I watched them go, before turning back to the gates, and ran back through.

  On the other side, I was pleased to see that the fighting was going well for the rebels. I was fast, climbing up on top of Tank #2, raising my shield over my head, and shouted as loud as I could, 'Tanks are gone! They've surrendered! You're free! Go!'

  I was met with a resounding chorus of cheers. The remaining Cheka soldiers swiveled around in shock, which was a mistake. Like dominos, they dropped, as Pietro swiped past, knocking each one out. Wanda, in the process of lifting massive chunks of rubble in the air, dropped in front of the feet of the surrendering Cheka, who dropped to their knees in relief. The rebels ran forward, jumping and cheering, disarming the Cheka, while others turned and ran back into the city, ready to share the good news.

  Jumping down off the tank, I reconvened with the twins, who were alight with grins again. Pietro clapped me on the shoulder, said, 'Impressive! I did not think you could actually do it! Once more, you prove me wrong.'

  'Thanks,' I said, although it was a little half-hearted. 'That vote of confidence really inspires me.'

  Wanda, however, stared at me. 'Amelia, your arm!'

  'Oh, right,' I said, looking at it for the first time. Blood was splattered across the sleeve of the raincoat, and I could feel it congealing against my skin, sticky and warm. I had completely forgotten about it until she pointed it out, and felt a sharp, stabbing pain as soon as I recognized it again. 'It's, uh, it's not too bad. I think.'

  'Here, let me help,' Wanda said, shrugging off her scarf and tearing off a strip from the end. I almost tried to stop her from helping, but there was a light in her eye that said she'd use magic if it meant my arm would be fixed, so I decided not to complain.

  Instead, I asked, 'Everything go well with you? Looks like you had to deal with more guys than I realized.'

  'All is well on my part,' she said, pointing down the street before returning to tie the strip around my arm. 'I cleared the way so citizens can escape. The Cheka brought extra vehicles and men in from downtown, but I took care of them. It was very easy.'

  'No Komitet, no Lava Agents,' Pietro informed, his smile wavering a little. He scratched the back of his head, as the crowd in the square grew, people rushing past us to filter out of the city. We pulled in closer to hear each other. 'I do not know where they are, or where they have gone. Why they did not come here. Do you think they have decided to ignore us?'

  'Pfft, no way,' Wanda shook her head, sneering. 'They hate us. We embarrassed them by escaping
— twice. They will not forget us anytime soon.'

  'I think she's right. If they're not here, then they're nearby.' I said. 'Waiting, I guess. For what, I don't know. But we should get out now, before the Cheka reorganize. They probably have more tanks, helicopters, and we've already handled all we could today. They'll wear us out with sheer numbers. We still got that train, right?'

  'Yes,' Pietro nodded, then pointed down the road. 'It is off the path. Supply train for the Chairman. But we can reach it tonight, before it leaves the station. It will take us three hours, if we do not stop, and I do not go fast.'

  'Can you?' I asked.

  Pietro opened his mouth, then closed it again, hunching over a little. Even Wanda noticed he seemed out of breath, and put a hand on his shoulder. 'No, probably not. I need food, rest, first, before I can run like that again. Especially carrying either of you.'

  'That's fine, we planned for this. Hopefully there will be food along the way.' I said, and stepped back, making to turn around.

  'Wait!' A voice called out, making us pause and turn around. From the crowd emerged two adults, a man and a woman. The reporters. Frank and Julia.

  The twins drew together immediately at their approach, expressions suddenly guarded, but I cut between them. 'It's okay, guys, they're on our side.'

  'That was incredible!' Julia exclaimed, holding out her arms, almost as if she intended to hug me. Both of their faces were lit up with smiles, bewildered and awed. 'What you did — all three of you! I've never seen anything like it before.'

  'We've been through a lot,' Frank added. His camera was in his hand, looking a little dinged up but otherwise still operational. I wondered how much he captured of the fight. 'But we've never met anyone with…with powers before. Are you — are you Mutants?'

  'It's like 1973 all over again,' Julia said.

  'What? No,' I held up my hands to stop them before they could run away with that idea. Were the twins Mutants? Probably. But that was perhaps too controversial a topic to be talking about right now, and if these guys were as dedicated to their job as I thought, I didn't need them telling the whole world that Sokovia's uprising was due to angry Mutants. The last time Mutants were this upfront about politics, one tried to assassinate Nixon. Lying was better than nothing right now, at least for who were essentially complete strangers. 'They're Sokovians, just like everyone else here. All of this is just to get out of here.'

  'And if we were,' Pietro said behind me. 'If we were Mutants, so what?'

  Frank and Julia shared a look, one I couldn't read, before turning back to Pietro. Julia said, 'Well, I guess I don't really know. Some people still think you're too dangerous. But Frank and I will do our best to be unbiased. There's a good chance you'll be seen a freedom fighters. As…heroes, even. Like the Mutant woman who saved Nixon from that radical.'

  I glanced over my shoulder and saw the looks on the twins' faces, and could tell they had no idea what Frank and Julia were talking about. 'Well, that's a history lesson for later. Right now, we need to go. Thanks, for everything, I guess. I hope you get this story out safely.'

  'Oh, we will,' Frank nodded enthusiastically. 'The whole world will know about Sokovia by the end of the week, I promise you.'

  I sensed Wanda and Pietro shifting behind me, straightening at the news. 'Really?' Wanda asked, sounding elated. She clasped her hands together, a ghost of a smile on her face. 'They will hear about us? The UN? Will they help us?'

  'Not sure, but it's a good start,' Julia said, then gazed down the road, in which Novi Grad citizens were all walking on, rushing out. Cars were coming out of the streets now, people high-tailing it with everything they could carry. 'If you're leaving now, you can come with us. The BBC would just about die to interview actual participants. Have real, first-hand accounts, on live television. We could take you there, get you home safely.'

  It was a tempting thought. Britain was practically the closest thing to America I was going to get for a while. At least they spoke English there. But with Pietro and Wanda with me, I knew it wasn't going to happen. It was too dangerous.

  'We can't.' I said, my shoulders deflating a little. 'We're, um, we're not exactly low-profile targets. There are other people after us, agents of the Chairman. Traveling together will just make us slower, easier to catch, and I know they won't hesitate to kill you if you get in their way. You'll be safer, faster without us.'

  Frank and Julia seemed disappointed by this, but nodded in understanding. Frank said, 'Well, I suppose that makes sense. You three seem to be the only ones with powers here, so I can only imagine what the Chairman would want with you. I hope you kids know what you're doing.'

  'Way too young to be freedom fighters,' Julia agreed, reaching out to pat me on the arm, then jolt when she noticed my bleeding arm. 'Oh! Well, just be careful out there. Maybe we'll see each other again someday.'

  Wanda was already starting to turn, walk away, Pietro at her heel. They beckoned me to follow, and I gave one last wave to the correspondents before joining them.

  'Maybe.'

  'Nixon,' Pietro said out of the blue, a few hours later. 'He was one of your presidents, right?'

  'Infamously,' I replied, throwing him a strange look as we peered down over the edge of the building. 'Why?'

  The three of us were crouched on top of the train station, watching the Cheka working beneath us, streaming back and forth like ants as they loaded and unloaded the boxcars beneath us. There was no town here, the train station being a small complex in what was essentially the middle of nowhere. Our getting here was covered by trees and snow, and we literally came across no one else in that snowy trek. It was almost ridiculous. I'd gotten so used to Novi Grad that I never considered that the rest of Sokovia wouldn't be so urbanized.

  I had dumped the shield back in Novi Grad, deciding it faster to travel without it. The thing was so busted up anyways that it wouldn't have lasted for much longer, and it was annoying having to keep holding it one hand. The hasty bandage Wanda made was tight enough to impede me, or at least impossible to ignore. It made my fingers tingle and pulse, but at least it kept me from reopening the wound.

  We made it to the train station in one piece. Trekking through woods and snow was the fastest way there, avoiding roads so we wouldn't be easily spotted, and hoping the trees would provide us enough cover in case any reinforcements came from above. It seemed to have worked.

  Pietro seemed distracted, however, and I couldn't tell if he was still worried about the lack of Komitet (which I was still thinking about), or something else entirely. When something goes this well, I guess your mind tends to wander.

  'I was thinking about what those reporters said to us,' Pietro replied, kneeling against the edge wall. His fingers tapped along the brick impatiently, that constant twitching that betrayed his instinct to use his powers. 'What they said about Mutants. Is it true, that one of them saved your president?'

  'Yeah,' I replied, deciding to humor him for now. Pietro seemed legitimately bothered by this, and if I told him now, I figured it would be less of a distraction later. 'It was caught live on television. The whole world was watching when it happened.'

  'Who was she?' he asked, a line between his brow. 'What was her name?'

  'I don't know. No one ever found out.' I shrugged, and when he threw me a disbelieving look, I added quickly, 'I'm not kidding, man. Like, she had blue skin and red hair, which would stand out in a crowd, as you'd expect, but popular theory is that she was a shapeshifter, a Mutant who could change her appearance. That's probably how she got away.'

  'So no one knows who she is,' Pietro stated flatly, disappointed.

  'No. The government calls her Mystique, though, since they don't have a name,' I said with a shrug. 'That's what they teach us in history class.'

  'Mystique,' Wanda repeated on my other side. She was twisting her fingers, gazing off with a distant look on her face. 'I like it. She sounds cool.'

  'If she's a hero, though,
' Pietro said, gesturing with his hand. 'Then why does she hide her identity? Certainly the Americans would not persecute her for saving their president?'

  'I don't think being a hero is all it's cracked up to be,' I said. Below, the Cheka were shouting, and I could see trucks rolling away with cargo. It was almost time to go. 'When you're a hero, then that means you've got enemies. It's even worse if you're famous, like Mystique was. If they know you, if they know who you really are, then it's just that much easier for them to find you, to hurt you. Or your family. Being a Mutant makes it that much worse.'

  'Oh.' Pietro was silent for a moment, dwelling on this concept. He rested his chin on his hand, eyes following the path of a Cheka below, carrying a crate of bananas in his arms. 'I guess that makes sense. I would rather be safe than famous.'

  'I wish I could meet her,' Wanda said dreamily. 'She must be so brave, to stand up in front of everyone, and be unafraid of who she is. Unafraid of what the world thinks of her. I hope I can be like her someday.'