Chester’s tone sent a chill throughout Chris. It was threatening, yet hid a disturbing truth that would never be spoken.
“Thank you, Chester. I’ll make sure these Road Runners never see the light of day again.”
“Come in and have some tea with me,” Chester said, softening his tone. “It’ll make us both feel like normal people again.”
“I wish, but I really need to get back home. I’ve got a team working on this issue, and I’m ready to make the next move.”
Chris stuck out a hand to shake, grabbing the fragile bones that belonged to the former most powerful man in the world. He’d never see Chester again, his old leader slipping quietly into his self-induced death without an announcement. A sense of rage brimmed within his chest as he walked away from the rundown condo, a burning fire that would make a permanent home in his soul for the rest of his life.
29
Chapter 29
The meeting with Chester sparked a wave of changes for the Revolution the day after Chris arrived back in New York. Before, they had a security team of five that patrolled offices. Now, Chris started assembling an army of Revolters to protect the entire organization. They were under attack, regardless of how small the Road Runners were.
“A threat is a threat,” Chris said on the phone to his longtime friend, Duane Betts. Chris had done as Chester advised all those years ago, and used Duane to bounce ideas off and stay grounded in this chaotic life of time travel. But now he was asking him to step into a much more important role for the organization.
“You want me to form a military, is what it sounds like,” Duane said, his voice flat and uninterested, never fazed by anything Chris said.
“No, don’t be absurd. We don’t need an entire military . . . just an army.”
“Why me? I have zero experience. Surely you can find someone who does.”
“It’s not about experience, it’s about trust. I’m talking about someone to not just form and lead this army, but someone who will be working with me every day and ensuring that things run smoothly. There’s simply no one else I can ask.”
“Do I have to move to New York?”
“Not initially. I do want us in the same location eventually, but for the start of this you’re going to need to travel the continent. I want groups of soldiers trained and ready to fight in every city. This will be a very long process, but one that takes us to the next level and kills any hope these Road Runners might have. Did I mention you’ll be doing a ton of traveling?”
Duane chuckled in a rare show of emotion. “Yes, you did.”
Duane craved traveling, and Chris knew it. He had visited all seven continents, each in different eras of time to gain an understanding of the world. His assigned missions from the Revolution always included trips across the country, sometimes even across the ocean. After becoming friends in their early years as Revolters, Chris had watched as Duane became the smartest person he’d ever known. Choosing anyone else to lead this special project would be a disservice to the Revolution.
“You can count me in, but I want you to know I have no interest in moving to New York.”
“Don’t worry, it would only be temporary. I’m looking into a new location for our headquarters, and it’s going to be somewhere very remote. I need it to be impossible for anyone to stroll into my bedroom and toss a bomb like we’re playing hot potato. If someone wants to find me, they’ll need to go out of their way to do so.”
“That’s probably a good idea. The more remote, the better. You have a target on your back. What is our total population?”
“Last time we counted, just over two million.”
“Okay, great. If we can recruit even one percent of that, we’ll have 20,000 soldiers across the continent. What do you think?”
“I think we need two percent, at least to start. And we’ll keep recruiting new members with this in mind. I’m going to send some teams out to canvass army soldiers and marines right here in the U.S. Imagine if we can recruit actual soldiers.”
“If I’m heading up this army, then you really need to focus your time and resources into studying the Road Runners. What if we recruit 20,000 soldiers only to find that the Road Runners have 30,000?”
Chris let out a childish laugh. “Please, Duane, their entire population can’t be more than 10,000.”
“We were once 10,000 strong. Look at us now.”
Chris sighed. “It’s not the same. They don’t have access like we do to recruit people from the street. They can only recruit from us. Having soldiers in place will help stop that. I can see it already, dead Road Runners caught trying recruit people away from the Revolution. Like they’re so much better than us. I gave these people their ability to time travel, and I’ll be damned if they turn their backs on me!”
Chris slammed a fist on his desk, rattling some pencils and paperclips. Just talking about Road Runners set him off. He wanted nothing more than to remove them completely from the equation. They threw a wrench into the day-to-day life of the Revolution, ending their once peaceful existence. All because a few people were upset with the terms Chris provided in exchange for their Juice.
“I’m sorry,” Chris said, Duane having remained silent on the other end of the line. “I’m frustrated. This wasn’t supposed to be part of the job, you know? This was supposed to be a good time, and it’s being bogged down by these Road Runners. Please tell me you’ll help.”
“Chris, you know I love this organization more than anything. I’m willing to help as needed—even leading this army. But I have to encourage you to look at other options first. It seems to me that this is a generational matter. You and I come from the same times. We understood the risks of doing what we did. We both got hurt and went through some emotional trauma, but we knew what we were getting ourselves into. This new generation . . . they don’t listen. They’re entitled, think they can have it all, the best of both worlds. Eliminating these people won’t solve your problems. As long as you’re recruiting for the Revolution—which I know you will—this issue will keep repeating itself.”
Chris nodded as he held the phone between his ear and shoulder. “You see, Duane, this is why I chose you to be my number two. No one else would tell me this. People act like they’re walking on eggshells around me and never tell the truth. But you always offer a fresh perspective.”
“Well, we go back far enough that I know you’re not a scary person. You may have everyone fooled, but I know the clown that you really are.”
Duane spoke in his same, flat tone, offering bits of sarcasm that made Chris howl with laughter. He understood his good friend’s desert-dry humor, and appreciated it as much as his brutal honesty.
“I must say, revenge sounds a bit more forceful. We need to make a fast statement, not coddle our enemies.”
“So you see these people as your enemies already?”
“They tossed a grenade on my lap – they’re not exactly my friends.”
“There are two types of leaders all throughout history. Leaders of compassion, and leaders driven by hate. You need to decide which you want to be.”
“I have no issue showing compassion, but I don’t exactly have the luxury of time to heal people of their hatred for me.”
“Aren’t you the Keeper of Time?”
Chris smirked, shaking his head. “That doesn’t mean much in this matter.”
“It means everything. You have all the time in the world. Clearly you can’t die, so what if you catch a few more grenades or bullets. You can afford to be patient right now. Retaliation will only escalate matters, and in the long run, that’s not the best play. You need to be making the best choices for the long term.”
“I’m always looking ahead, but I have to consider the present as well. What if these attacks start spreading to others? Then that’s innocent blood on my hands for doing nothing to stop this right away. I can hear it already: ‘How many Revolters have to die before Chris does something?’ I need to make a move yesterday.”
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Even though he couldn’t see Duane, he knew his friend was likely standing in his kitchen, face blank as he gazed out the window with focused eyes.
“I’m merely here for a different perspective,” Duane said after a few moments of silence. “You’re obviously more involved in the happenings of the organization than me, so if you feel something needs to be done sooner, then so be it. But I’ll always discuss what’s best for the Revolution’s health, not necessarily your own.”
“Thank you. That’s all I want.” Chris couldn’t help but smile as he sat at his desk and brushed a finger along its grainy wood. It really was all he wanted from Duane. A breath of fresh air among the clouds of smoke everyone else tried to blow up his ass.
“Are we done with this conversation?” Duane asked. “I’m ready to get to work on forming this army.”
“Yes, sir,” Chris said. “Give me a call in a week and let me know how things are going. In the meantime, I’m going to reach out and see what kind of resources we have available right now. I think bombing one of the Road Runners’ hideouts is the best way to go. A bomb for a bomb.”
“I’ll call you then,” Duane said, and hung up.
30
Chapter 30
When the sun broke the horizon the next morning, Chris was already awake. He refused to sleep the night before, and wouldn’t attempt the useless act for another fifteen years. Why sleep if you didn’t need to? And why sleep if you might wake up to your own guts splattered across the walls?
While his security team scrambled to figure out what exactly went wrong that night and worked to ensure it could never happen again, Chris authorized a bombing of the Road Runners’ Los Angeles office, a hideout in the basement of an office supply store that they had owned and operated as a front for their shady dealings.
It didn’t take his team long to find the location, especially since they already had eyes on the place for a couple of months. The man who had thrown the grenade into Chris’s bedroom was confirmed as Maxwell Hart, a former Revolter who had turned sour toward Chris and wanted revenge. Maxwell was on the run, spotted on occasion by teams of Revolters spread across the country and throughout time. They’d catch him eventually, and Chris would bring him to surefire justice.
What Chris never realized was his own devious transformation. Perhaps the thirst for revenge clouded his vision. He grew obsessed with the Road Runners, dedicating an absurd amount of the Revolution’s resources to studying them, finding them, and killing them.
The killing didn’t start off intentionally. It wasn’t until a Road Runner pulled out a revolver and showered bullets at the unsuspecting Revolters hiding in the distance. That was the final straw for Chris, promptly authorizing deadly force against any and all Road Runners. “Shoot them dead in the street if you have to,” he said in a meeting with his security team. “They’re an infection to our way of life. The sooner we get rid of them, the sooner we can return to peace and prosperity.”
While these matters waited in the future, Chris reflected on the prior night. Early news reports showed an office fire in Los Angeles that killed more than forty people who had been gathered in the basement. They speculated on why so many people were there at such a late hour, landing on a logical explanation that they were having some sort of company party. It sounded plausible, and no one questioned it. The police dug for more information on the place, but the entire building ended up a pile of ashes.
“Our boys did good,” Chris said to the TV with a hearty chuckle. He watched as the newscasters tried to piece together their fabricated story. Clearly no one had a clue about the Revolution or Road Runners, the fire still being investigated and presumed to be a gas leak.
“Today is a great day for the Revolution,” Chris said to his empty office. He wanted to call Duane and share the news of over forty dead Road Runners—and counting—but knew his good friend despised interruptions during his work. Soon enough, they’d have an army and could destroy all Road Runners on the planet if they wanted. It’ll be worth the wait, Chris had to remind himself.
He planned to spend the day following updates on the fire, needing to ensure that nothing of their existence somehow leaked. There were certain parameters in place should such a thing occur, and it wasn’t a pretty sight for the general public.
He was too giddy to sit still, pacing the room as thoughts ran rampant. The urge to keep killing Road Runners had swelled into borderline lunacy, and at times he had to remind himself that he was no murderer. He acted out of revenge, and to send a clear message to whoever was trying to attack his great organization. Chris Speidel never threw the first punch, and only responded with violence when cornered.
He wanted more, the thought of additional dead Road Runners gnawing in his stomach like physical hunger, so he snapped the phone off his desk and dialed their Los Angeles office who had successfully committed arson the night before.
“Hello?” a man’s voice answered, exhausted and a bit dazed. It was three hours earlier on the west coast, as compared to Chris watching the news at 8 A.M. in New York.
“Bobby, is that you?” Chris asked, voice packed with excited energy.
“Yeah, who’s this?” the groggy voice asked.
“Your fearless leader,” Chris replied with a grin.
“Chris? Good morning, how can I help you?” Bobby’s voice woke up like someone had splashed water on his face.
“Two things. I want to congratulate you on last night. I’ve been watching the news, and it sounds like everything went as planned.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Secondly, I’m curious if we might have enough resources left over to do another couple of these stunts. Perhaps tonight?”
“Tonight?!” Bobby gasped, unable to hide the shock in his voice. He sounded like a man who desperately wanted to go to sleep, but kept facing never-ending interruptions.
“Yes. Why stop where we did? Sure, it sent a message, but people tend to not listen. I want the Road Runners’ complete and full attention. Can we make this happen?”
“You want us to send the materials to another city, or what exactly?”
Chris giggled. “Of course not. You and your team are now the expert arsonists for the Revolution. I want you and your team to carry out this process. You made no mistakes, and that’s precisely what we need.”
“I’m happy to get my team on it again, Chris, but it doesn’t work like this. We don’t just show up to a place and burn it down. We need at least two days to scout the place and learn it inside out. That’s why no mistakes were made.”
“I’m sure that’s true and all, but your team is on fire, no pun intended. You just pulled off the perfect crime without leaving a trace. I’d say you’re locked in and can carry that momentum into the next city.”
“Chris, my men are exhausted. It’s been two days of long hours preparing for last night. Then we had to deal with last night, of course. They need some rest if we expect them to operate at the same level.”
“Momentum, Bobby!” Chris snarled. “Do you know what that word means?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now ride your momentum into Seattle tonight. And tomorrow night we’ll do Chicago. Are there any questions?”
“No, sir.” Bobby’s voice came out deflated.
“Thank you, I’ll make sure your flights and hotels are arranged. Someone will call you to confirm.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Oh, and Bobby. Don’t fuck this up. The future of the Revolution depends on it.”
Chris hung up and stroked his chin as he sat back in his office chair.
By the end of the night, another Road Runner hideout would go up in flames, but it was the response from his enemies that slipped under his radar.
The Road Runners had a much higher number of members than Chris believed, many still not publicly straying from the Revolution, but having plenty of closed door discussions about the Road Runners and their goals to overthrow Chris. In fact, the
Road Runners were ahead of the game in regards to an army. Theirs was already formed and ready to fight. Every single person they recruited had a strong interest in removing Chris Speidel from the world, and because of that, volunteered to take lessons in fighting, shooting guns, detonating explosives, and survival skills.
They were a determined bunch who believed they had the proper strategy and will to achieve what they desperately wanted. The Road Runners worked twenty-four-seven in their many locations around the continent, and were now creating decoy offices as a response to Chris sending one of their biggest hubs up in flames.
The war was brewing, and little did either side know the mess they were getting into. A war with no clear end in sight and a death toll in the hundreds of thousands over the course of the next several decades.
With one swift decision, Chris had set the Revolution and Road Runners on a collision course. Neither side would ever surrender, each continuing to recruit and multiply their army.
Time travel was now a vehicle for strategists to find a way to end the war and take more lives. More smoke and fire would fill the skies, chaos and madness looming on the horizon. Chris Speidel had wanted to go in the history books as the Keeper of Time who changed the world and the organization forever, and was getting exactly what he wanted.
III
The New Candidate
31
Chapter 31
Back in 2019, Road Runners were in hiding and Martin had returned to Denver. A busy week waited, primarily with Martin needing to announce his candidacy, and meeting with Commander Blair’s campaign team on a strategy for winning the election.
Keeper of Time (Wealth of Time Series, Book 4) Page 18