by James Hunt
“You sure?” Luis asked.
“Yes!”
With the two other boats still scrambling to take off, Alex followed Luis up the side of the dock and onto the splintered wooden boards. Steam rose off his wetsuit from his body heat meeting the cool night air around him.
Alex’s wetsuit dripped onto the sentries’ bodies and blood that littered the dock and the two boats that were still tied to the dock. Luis cranked the boat’s engines to life, and his men untied the ropes from the cleats. Alex held onto the boat’s railings as they made their way out of the marina and into the bay.
Gordon’s boat was still visible in the distance. Alex gripped the boat’s railing as the bow bounced over the ocean waves, sending salty sprays into his face. The wind whipped viciously against his body, triggering involuntary spasms.
“Where is he going?” Alex asked, screaming over the whine of the boat’s engines.
“I don’t know. The only thing north of here is a nature preserve. Other than that, it’s nothing but ocean until you hit the southern Alaskan coastline,” Luis answered.
With both Gordon’s boat and their boat maxed in speed to the point of capsizing, neither party was gaining ground or losing it. The distance between both vessels remained equal until Gordon’s boat took a sharp turn into the coastline toward the nature preserve.
“There!” Alex said.
“I see him,” Luis answered.
The boat disappeared around the tip of an island, and by the time Luis and Alex made their way around the tip as well, Gordon’s boat was already pushed firmly up against the shoreline, with him and his men running into the woods.
“This is Commander Luis Claire requesting air support.” The radio crackled until the commanding voice on the other end broke through. “Negative, Commander. The Canadians have not authorized the use of any birds in the sky.”
“Shit,” Luis said.
Alex’s body leaned forward from the momentum of the boat as they made landfall. He jumped over the side, splashing back into the frigid water, and trudged up the shore until his feet were firmly planted in the sand below him.
The tree line was filled with lush vegetation, intermixed with bare trees affected by the winds bringing GMO-24 to the Canadian coasts. Still, even with the sparse patches of death, this was the first time Alex had seen anything resembling an actual forest in years. Memories of hunts from his youth flashed in his mind. Despite the cold gripping him, and the soggy suit he wore, this was the first time in a very long time where he felt like he was home.
“All right, boys,” Luis said. “Let’s go hunting.”
Alex lowered the pair of night vision goggles that he was allocated for the mission, and the forest morphed into a fluorescent green. In the distance, one hundred yards away, he could see the flicker of bushes and leaves. With no breeze in the area, the violent movement could only be from Gordon and the fleeing sentries.
“I have movement,” Alex radioed. “One hundred yards north. They’re moving fast.”
Alex double-timed it, weaving through the trees and bushes soundlessly, finally in his element. The NVDs allowed him an advantage he’d never had in his hunts before. Whenever he hunted at night, he relied mostly on his ears and his nose, but with the added sense of sight, his agility and precision doubled.
The rustle of leaves and branches grew wilder as Alex continued his pursuit, with Luis and his men flanking him on either side. Through the trees, Alex could see flashes of limbs. An arm there, a leg here, all sprinting toward whatever safety they thought they could find.
Alex scanned the trees in front of him, searching for Gordon, whom he knew was out there among them, when a bullet exploded a piece of tree bark in the trunk next to his head. Alex dropped to one knee and shifted his view left in the direction of the shot. The crosshairs of his scope nestled right over the left eye of the sentry who fired the shot, and with one quick squeeze of his trigger finger, the sentry fell backwards into a lifeless heap.
Alex pushed himself off the ground and continued his pursuit forward as gunfire erupted into the quiet night. The flashes from the tips of the rifles exploded in brilliant white lights through the lenses of the goggles. The radio grew loud with chatter, and Alex pulled the voices from his ear to focus on the hunt.
The brush and leaves around him scraped against his thighs as he pushed forward as he brought another sentry, who stuck his neck out a little too far from behind the tree, into his crosshairs and ended what fight he had left in him.
The farther Alex pushed, the denser the sentries, and the firing grew. But he could feel them on the run. He could sense the retreat.
A bullet smacked into Alex’s chest, slamming him backwards onto the ground, where his left elbow smacked into a rock with a resounding crack. The pain sent vibrations of tingles through the rest of his arm. When he tried to bend it, the pain only worsened. “Shit.” He picked up the rifle with his right arm and one-handed it as he forced himself forward. The bullet that connected with the Kevlar on his chest made it feel like the breastbone had cracked. He focused on his breathing, trying to keep it steady until the pain subsided.
The farther Alex’s pursuit led him, the thinner the trees and forest grew, until he saw exactly what the sentries and Gordon were running toward. There was a clearing in the woods where the lights of a jet blinked anxiously to take the convicts away from their persecutors.
The jet engines roared to life in preparation for takeoff, and Alex broke out into a sprint, each step forward sending a pain up the side of his left arm, radiating from his elbow. Luis’s men kept pace with him, together in their relentless pursuit. The steps of the plane lowered as Alex watched a few men climb inside. They were running out of time.
The sentries made a stand just outside the jet. The wall of bullets forced Alex and the rest of the soldiers to seek the cover of the trees just before the clearing where the jet stood waiting to take off.
Bits of wood and bark splintered from the tree trunk that protected Alex from the deadly fire. The moment he felt a lull in shots, he dashed to his left, dodging the concentrated fire from the sentries. The farther left he went, the scarcer the trees became, allowing the sentries to take their time as they waited for his perilous sprints.
The pain radiated from Alex’s arm and intensified the longer he continued his cat-and-mouse game until he finally made it parallel to the door of the jet, where there was only one sentry focusing his efforts on him. Once Alex took him out, he would have a clear shot straight into the cabin of the jet, whose engines were whining more furiously now.
With the Class 3’s aim moving dangerously close to Alex’s head, and the thin tree he managed to find cover behind slowly disappearing one bullet at a time, he had to make his move now. Just one shot. That was all he needed. Just one shot.
Alex spun around from the protective barrier of the tree and jumped forward, where he landed on his stomach. Another blinding shot of pain pulsated from his elbow upon impact, but he clenched his jaw and brought the chest of the sentry between his crosshairs. He squeezed the trigger, sending the sentry onto his back. Alex jumped from his position, keeping his rifle aimed at the lifeless sentry on the ground. When he popped his head up, Alex sent one through his forehead then focused his attention on the ladder. Shadows from the inside hurried back and forth, and before any of them could close the door, Alex rushed up the steps.
The moment the front of his rifle entered the cabin, he felt it yank forward from a forceful grab and was met with a quick punch to the face. Disoriented, Alex managed to keep a good hold of the rifle as Jake reached for the pistol under his jacket while trying to subdue Alex.
Alex released his grip on the rifle and brought the full force of his body into Jake, which blocked him from removing the pistol and sent the two of them crashing to the ground. With his left elbow still in excruciating pain, Alex only had the use of his right arm to keep Jake’s pistol from aiming at his head. The two men exchanged blows, each slamming th
eir elbows, knees, and feet into whatever piece of flesh they could find.
Jake’s finger slipped from the barrel onto the trigger, sending three rounds into the jet’s ceiling. Both men recoiled from the repetitive shots of thunder, which gave Alex just enough time to reach for the blade at his side and bring it to Jake’s neck. Jake froze, still with his hand on the gun. Alex kept a firm tension on Jake’s neck with the edge of the blade. “Drop the gun, and get up.”
Jake set the gun down, and Alex picked it up, removing the blade from Jake’s throat and replacing it with the tip of the barrel into Jake’s temple and stepped behind him, using Jake’s body as a shield. “Gordon!”
Alex looked over the rows of seats until three heads popped up, two of which were Asian, and the third was Sydney. Alex motioned for them to step into the aisle and keep their hands in the air, with which they complied. “It’s over, Gordon. Come out. Now!”
Finally, in the very back of the plane, Gordon revealed himself, flashing both palms in Alex’s direction to make sure Alex knew he was unarmed. The gunshots outside started to fade, becoming more sporadic.
“Out of the jet, now,” Alex said.
“And go where?” Gordon asked. “I don’t think you realize what we have here, Alex.”
Sydney was the first to come down the aisle. He picked up Alex’s rifle and pointed it at the two Asian men.
“It’s over, Gordon,” Alex said.
“You walked away from a golden opportunity once before, Alex. Don’t make the same mistake again. Think about it! We have the most valuable resource at our fingertips right now, and we have a buyer that’s willing to pay us whatever we want!”
Jake’s body tensed up as Alex kept the gun aimed at his head.
“Don’t be as stupid as you were three years ago, Alex,” Gordon said, his voice lowering to the tone of a threat. “It didn’t work out for you then, and it’s not going to work out for you now.”
“I think it will,” Alex said.
“Pity.”
Gordon pulled a pistol from his back and emptied the magazine into Jake’s chest and the backs of the two Asian men before Alex could even get off a shot. Sydney fired the AR-15 but didn’t hit anything other than a few seats before the recoil of the gun caused it to slip from his weak grip.
Alex ducked behind the first row of seats on the jet as Sydney took one in the shoulder and dropped to the ground. Alex pushed Jake’s body off him as he heard the click of a firing pin, signaling that Gordon was empty. Before he could jump to take him out, a Class 3 made his way up the stairs, and Alex sent three rounds into his chest, which tumbled him backwards. Alex was to his knees when Gordon came flying over the top of the seats and crashed into him, knocking him back to the floor.
The two wrestled for the gun in Alex’s hand, as Alex struggled to overpower Gordon with only the use of his right arm. Alex brought his knee to Gordon’s side repeatedly, knocking the wind out of him. Gordon retaliated with a harsh right across Alex’s chin that ejected a combination of blood and saliva from his mouth.
“You know the first thing I’m going to do when I make it out of here?” Gordon asked, sweat dripping down his forehead as Alex’s fingers slowly started to lose their hold on the pistol. “I’m going to hire the best assassin money can buy to come and kill that fucking kid you’re so fond of. I’ll make sure he’s awake when it happens, and that you’re tied up and watching it unfold. You’ll see every piece of him torn apart, and just before you reach the moment where you can’t handle it anymore, he’ll put a bullet in your head. So that way the last thing you’ll ever see will be the boy’s mangled body, and the last thing you’ll hear will be his screams, haunting you in whatever hell of an afterlife you’ll have waiting for you.”
With every last ounce of will Alex had left, he lifted his left arm, and a massive crack sounded from his elbow as his fist connected with Gordon’s jaw, knocking him to the floor and releasing his hold on the pistol.
Alex got to his feet, still hunched over from the pain. Blood dripped from the corner of Gordon’s mouth as he stumbled around on all fours in the aisle between the seats. Gordon held up his hand, breathing heavily. “Okay. All right. Haha, you win.”
Alex placed his finger on the trigger and took a stumbling step forward. His left arm was completely numb and seemed frozen at his side, unmoving like a piece of concrete. “Do you even know what you did?” Alex’s voice escaped in breathless gasps. “There wasn’t a family in this country that wasn’t affected by how you ran things. The way you herded people like cattle and then slaughtered them like animals. No.” Alex shook his head. “No, I’m not taking you in.”
“Alex, listen, you don’t want to do this,” Gordon said.
“Yes. I do.”
Alex squeezed the trigger and dumped the rest of the bullets into Gordon, causing six red stains to shimmer on his chest and abdomen as he fell backwards onto the pile of bodies he’d killed himself.
Alex dropped the gun and collapsed to the ground. He rested his head on the seat behind him, and his eyes grew heavy. His left arm rested on the floor, and the oozing river of blood that had gathered slowly made its way over to him.
He watched it glide onto his hand and then onto his leg. He just sat there, letting the blood wash over him. He could feel the finality. The scales had been tipped back into balance, and the maniac who had disrupted the harmony of justice was dead.
Chapter 13
Video cameras, lights, sound equipment, reporters, and White House personnel had flooded the Oval Office in preparation for the president’s speech. Admiral Frizen stood in the corner, his uniform neatly pressed and cleaned, waiting for the proceedings to begin.
It’d been almost a month since the Soil Coalition’s collapse, and the country was still very much in a state of recovery, and the way the president handled tonight’s speech would determine whether the nation would continue toward healing or begin another civil war.
The attendees in the room rose as the president walked in and immediately sat behind the desk while he flipped through a few note cards in his hands. “How much longer until we’re live?” he asked.
“Sixty seconds, Mr. President.”
Frizen knew the risks the president was taking by giving this address, but he believed it was something the country truly needed. It was the act of lies and cover-ups that put them in this position in the first place. It was time for the truth to have its day.
The room went silent as the president set his notes aside and the director counted him down. The camera’s red light turned on, and the president began his address.
“Good evening, my fellow Americans. I come to speak to you this evening in the spirt of truth and forgiveness. Something that I, and many of my colleagues here in Washington, believe is needed in light of recent events. It is no secret that the crimes the Soil Coalition performed under the authority of Gordon Reath were despicable horrors, but many are unaware of how those atrocities came about. The Soil Coalition’s original purpose was to be a driving force in the search for a cure of the plague that GMO-24 set upon us, which ravaged our farmlands and prevented us from providing the food necessary to sustain our country and its people. I’m here to tell you that it was your government, under my order and direction, that allowed the atrocities of the Soil Coalition to go unchecked and unrestricted. However, I want to make it clear that at no time did I ever order for the torture or murder of any American enrolled in the Soil Coalition’s community program. But a lack of knowledge does not forgive me of the horrors committed by Gordon Reath and the men under his command.”
The president’s throat caught, and Frizen watched him grab a glass of water. Frizen knew that what the president was admitting was suicide. He would be tried for treason, crimes against humanity, and sentenced to life in prison, or worse. But despite the president’s negligence of the past events, he was glad to see that the commander in chief was finally leading by example. This would be an historic first that would hopefu
lly purge the rest of the rats out of Washington.
“However, the greatest atrocities committed by this government happened long before the Soil Coalition was even thought into existence. When many of the countries around the world, including our own, had millions of men, women, and children going hungry, this administration took the first bold steps to end famine. The result of those efforts culminated in the creation of GMO-24. While we learned later that some of the test results were tampered with, and some even destroyed, this was the cause of the devastation that brought so much pain to our country and to many of our neighbors in Mexico and Canada. But as this evening’s announcement will no doubt trigger anger and frustration to the American people, let me also tell you that we have found a cure for the disease that plagued our nation. Right now, in the great state of Kansas, the first round of soil treatments is being administered to allow food to once again grow in our country. Every square acreage of land that was affected by GMO-24 will receive its vaccine to return the soil back to its fertile state.”
The president paused, and the teleprompter in front of him stalled, waiting for him to continue. He had reached the end of his speech, and the only words left were “God bless us, and God bless the United States of America.” But he knew it wasn’t enough. There was one final leap to take. “I failed you. Your government failed you. Now, as citizens of this great nation, it’s up to you to decide what happens to us. We have always been a great nation. And if you choose, we can be again. God bless us, and God bless the United States of America.”
***
Jared Farnes clicked off the television after the president’s first few words. He didn’t need to hear any more. Despite his perjury on the stand, he knew the American people were too weak to do anything but wail about how they were mistreated and betrayed. Once the stomachs of the nation were full again, this would be nothing more than a distant memory.