Tesla Evolution Box Set

by Mark Lingane

  “But I had no one else. She lay dead at my feet and I had nowhere to go and no one to go to. You’d be horrified to know what a child will do for food when it’s starving.”

  His eyes snapped open. “Your mother? Me? Wait, I’ve never killed a woman. I’m a soldier, not a murderer. Would I kill my own mother, or sister? No.”

  “I saw you. Now that I see your face, I’m completely sure it was you. You said the same phrase. It’s something I’ll never forget. I ripped it into my body as a constant reminder.”

  “I have a … I had a brother. My brother Dylan was bloodthirsty, and he buried himself in battle until it claimed him. He did the kind of thing you’re describing, and much worse. I’m sorry. My brother was not a good man or soldier. The world is a better place without him.”

  “No! You’re lying. I’ve waited my entire life for revenge. You can’t take it away from me.”

  The medic stood up and came over. “You must give him rest,” she scolded.

  “It’s okay,” Brad replied. “It’s helping me think.”

  “You don’t need to think, you need to rest.”

  Memphis was verging on tears, the confusion of her emotions bouncing around in her head.

  Brad took out a small wallet from inside his shirt and handed her an old photo. She sat on the floor against the module wall, lurching with each irregular movement, and stared at it. It was a picture of two young men. She recognized Brad on the right. And on the left was the face she’d never forget. Now, seeing it, there was no mistake.

  “This is your brother? Is he dead?”

  “Very definitely. I had to gather the pieces to hand to the gravedigger. Then come up with a lie to tell my father so he wouldn’t be ashamed.”

  “No,” she whimpered. She stared out the window at the horizon that was as empty as she now felt.

  “Revenge will eat you from the inside out,” Brad said. “If you let it be your only emotion, there’ll be nothing left. My brother was nothing but hate and jealousy. You don’t need to go that way. You’re better than him. In the last days, you’ve proved yourself a hero. Don’t destroy that.”

  She continued to stare out the small window. Brad watched her closely until the painkillers washed away what remained of his consciousness.

  Sebastian was riding erratically beside the truck. Memphis’s face changed, hardened, as she watched him ride.

  For two hours the convoy rolled through the darkness, slowly ascending a shallow incline and up the hills. A group of dim lights appeared ahead as they neared the Raiders’ facility. Like many other similar outposts where small armies congregated, the northern defense outpost consisted of the remnants of a small town eaten away by time and isolation. Only the town arena had survived because it had been fortified using the town’s resources. The convoy reached a cleared area, with the arena at the rear. To Sebastian, it looked like an exact copy of the Chargers’ base, except half the size. The building towered above them, with the huge circular walls bending away on each side. A small version of the larger complex was set off to one side.

  Above the main facility was a large red sign that read COLISEM. Sebastian sighed. He didn’t hold out much hope for a place that couldn’t even spell their one and only identification. Well, not how he’d been taught to spell it by his mom, who was always right.

  They waited on the large expanse of tarmac. Nothing seemed to be happening. The men in the cab of the first truck looked at each other.

  “They are still here, aren’t they, Joey?”

  “There’s nothing on the radio other than static,” the radio tech said.

  Eventually, a small service door opened and a guard with a flashlight stepped out hesitantly. “Halt, who goes there? You’ve entered Raiders’ territory.”

  “Does anyone say that anymore?” the driver whispered.

  “And we’ve already halted. Is he blind?” Joey said.

  “We’re a medical convoy from the island,” the driver said. “We request assistance and shelter.”

  The guard made his way over to the truck and shone the torch into the face of the driver. “You’re presenting yourselves as Forty-ninth Division?”

  The driver nodded, shielding his eyes from the bright beam.

  “Why didn’t you use your radio to let us know you were coming?”

  “There’s nothing but static on it,” Joey said.

  “You’re not on analog? You heard of the digital frequencies?” He shone his flashlight over the rest of the convoy. “Has anyone been attacked?”

  “They shot at us,” the driver said.

  “I meant physically attacked.”

  “No.”

  “All right. Enter and proceed straight to quarantine.”

  “I said we hadn’t been attacked,” the driver replied.

  “But I don’t necessarily need to believe you.”

  “A Raider with a strong defense. Now I’ve seen everything.”

  Alan stuck his head out of the window of the second armored truck. “What the hell’s going on? We have an injured officer here.”

  The guard’s demeanor changed instantly. He jumped to attention and saluted. “Sir, I didn’t know, sir.”

  “Let us in. Who knows how long we have before we’re attacked,” the q-backer roared.

  The guard signaled inside the facility and the main doors opened.

  “Three armored, one medivan, and a bike,” the driver shouted, as the convoy rumbled forward and entered into the arena.

  The guard gave a final watchful glance around the area and ducked inside the gates just before they slammed shut.

  The trucks rolled forward into a small enclosure. There was barely enough space for all the vehicles to fit. They disembarked, and were instantly surrounded by soldiers pointing weapons at them. The enclosure was constructed of three solid metal walls, and a fourth wall that consisted of a large window. Several soldiers were watching them through the glass.

  Alan Finchley stepped toward the window and presented himself.

  One of the men behind the glass saluted. He leaned forward and pressed a large button on the panel by the window. There was a loud click and his voice echoed through several speakers.

  “My name is Shane Jackson. I’m the center in charge of this facility.”

  “And I am Q-backer Alan Finchley of the Forty-ninth Division. We’ve been attacked, and seek medical assistance and safe housing. I respect the facility’s commander and expect his cooperation with our requests.” Alan felt pleased with himself. He was not too pushy, but assertive enough to let the center know who was boss.

  “I’m aware of that, sir, but rules are rules. Something you are very vocal about on our intermittent communications. In fact, I have your name on the front of the quarantine procedure right here.” Shane waved the document. “We’ll give you full support and admittance once we’re sure we’re all safe.”

  “Damn you, man, when we get in there you’ll be sorry.”

  “Sir, with all due respect, I would rather be sorry than dead.”

  “You may be both,” Alan snarled.

  “Please remain outside of the trucks. We need to be able to monitor your movements.”

  Everyone tried to bed down as best they could, not an easy task on the concrete floor. They used whatever comfort they could extract from the vehicles. Sebastian offered Memphis half of his blanket, but she sat in a corner away from everyone, moody and isolated, looking at no one.

  37

  IN THE MORNING, Center Jackson appeared at the window again. He looked bright and well rested; Alan Finchley’s appearance was at the other end of the spectrum. Brad’s condition had rapidly improved and the medic had him moving around the enclosure very slowly.

  “Everyone still human?” Shane said.

  He pressed another button and the wall to their right swung open. Morning light filtered into the area. They stumbled out and were greeted by another set of soldiers, this time with no weapons.

  “Quarters fo
r those who need them are located on the east side,” one of the soldiers said. “The receiver will take you over there if we can find him. Mess is open and available in the center of the arena.”

  A young soldier saluted Alan. “Sir, the center would like to meet with you later. He extends his apologies over the process, but hopes you understand.”

  “I’d understand better if I hadn’t had to sleep on a concrete floor next to my injured son,” Alan said.

  The soldier led them to the mess, where the guests tucked into the plentiful spread.

  Memphis sat well away from the others. Sebastian saw that she was still in a bad mood, but sat down next to her anyway.

  “What’s the matter?” he said.

  “I want to go. Get out of this place. I’ve had enough of these people.”

  “What’s changed? We were all getting along.”

  She wanted to scream at him: You like them then you stay. But she looked into his face and softened. It wasn’t his fault. And he still was a meal ticket out of the zone. He had wheels.

  “Come on,” she said, “why don’t we just kick off and go? We’ve done our bit for them, saved San Francisco, disarmed the bomb, all that. We were going to get you to New York.” She put her hand on his. “Please.” She looked close to tears.

  “I’m not sure that I’m any more use to them, so maybe you’re right,” he said. “Maybe we should move on.”

  Center Shane Jackson approached the mess table and saluted Alan. He waited for the response, but the q-backer gave the minimum response possible. Shane took that to mean things could progress, so he sat down next to him.

  “Sir, we’ve been receiving odd and disturbing messages all night from the various members of the alliance outside the gates, to the south. Requests for assistance, among other things.”

  “They need to learn to look after themselves,” Alan grumbled.

  Shane signaled for the Raiders’ radio tech. “Is he on the line yet?”

  The radio tech listened, then nodded. He offered Alan the comms headset. “Island HQ, sir, someone called Tyler requested to talk to you once you were out of quarantine. He’s managed to get some information out of Thomas, who he says is the Chargers’ center. Do these names mean anything to you?”

  Alan hesitated.

  Brad put up his hand. “I can vouch for them.”

  “He relayed to me earlier that they’re under heavy attack, but defenses are holding,” the radio tech said. “And he also wants a private word with Brad.”

  The line crackled, but Alan could hear Tyler’s voice clearly.

  “Sir, the situation is grim,” Tyler said. “The attack continues to fail against the defenses, and the weight of numbers is a concern. But on the plus side, they seem to have no strategy other than throwing themselves at us. Weapons seem limited to outlaws and Chargers. The infected don’t use weapons. We’ve intercepted and decoded signals. There’s been a rallying call for the other southern divisions, allies of the Chargers, to join. They’re saying they’re planning to cut off resources to anyone who isn’t an ally. They were planning to set off the fault detonators and destroy San Francisco, but that failed, so now they’re now throwing everything at us. They’ve been entering via the south gates. We’re trying to sweep in from the east, but they’re a ruthless enemy. We need assistance or we’ll eventually lose the city.”

  Alan pursed his lips.

  “I await your command,” Tyler said.

  “Can you secure the gates in any way?” Alan asked.

  “No, sir. It’s too late for that. There’s no guarantee the eastern sweep will have the numbers or firepower to take back the gate.”

  “Await my instructions.” Alan handed back the handset.

  There was a squeak from the earpiece. The radio tech listened and said, “Who’s Brad?”

  Brad raised his arm and winced. He reached out to take the headset. He clutched at his shoulder, closed his eyes, and listened.

  His eyes snapped open. He looked over at Sebastian and Memphis. They were sitting at the end of the table whispering to each other and occasionally looking over at them. They didn’t look happy.

  “Understood,” Brad replied. He handed back the handset and stared down at his plate, thinking about the information he had been given. “Ouch! What was that?” he said, rubbing his neck.

  The medic stepped away, wiping down the needle. “A testosterone shot. It’ll speed up the healing process. You take it with food. But you need to know it may make you a bit … aggressive. Try not to get angry with anyone. Your emotions may get the better of you.”

  Everyone waited for an update from Alan.

  “They say outlaws, southern divisions with help from the east, and these infected have come together,” Alan said. “We can’t defend against all that. They’ll win by force of numbers. And they’ll execute us when they come. I don’t know where else we can go.”

  The group sat in stunned silence.

  “What about the Peacemaker?” Brad said. He felt angry that the urgent state of affairs had brought such a weak response from his father, their leader.

  “What about him?” Alan said.

  “Can’t we get him to talk to these people?”

  “The Peacemaker is a man of politics and diplomacy. He never just ‘talks’ to anyone.”

  “He has the potential for a large army,” Brad said. “He can bring them together.”

  “Can he mobilize quickly enough?” one soldier asked.

  “We won’t know unless we ask,” Brad said.

  “Wouldn’t that be a little suspect?” Sebastian said. He looked at the medipack cover in his hand. “The Peacemaker is a man who does business with everyone. To him, there’s no good and bad, only customers. Is he always ready to support?”

  “If there’s something for him to gain, yes,” Alan said. “If there’s a profit to be made.”

  “Just out of interest, what does he need the most?” Sebastian asked. “What does he do with his profits?”

  “He maintains the Great Wall,” Brad said. “He also buys fuel from us when he needs to. Somehow he always seems to walk away with the better part of the deal.”

  “He won’t mobilize,” Alan added. “His tactics are slow. There’s always a cost to dealing with him. But I suppose we have no option. If we do nothing, we lose. But if he agrees to help, I’m sure the price will be so steep it’ll be the same as losing.”

  “So, we do nothing?” Brad said.

  “What is there to do? Eat your food and enjoy the freedom while it lasts.”

  “What about the civilians?” Brad cried. His face began to flush.

  “In all honesty, they’ll be gone,” Alan said. “There’s nothing that can be done for them. Unless they have exceptional weapons, they’ll fall like petals in a strong wind,”

  “They’re our people,” Brad said. “We can’t just abandon them. They’ve placed their trust in us.” He slammed down his fist on the table. The cutlery went skipping away.

  “I think you overestimate the appreciation and understanding they have, Brad,” Alan said. “They sit there, half smashed out of their skulls on coro or similar, resenting the fact that they can’t move around freely, locked behind the borders that keep them safe. But all they see are prison walls stopping them wandering where they like, as if there was somewhere else they could go. Everyone outside wants to attack us. We stand there, keeping the peace, hated inside and out. I say let them learn what it’s like when the enemy does come knocking at the door. They don’t bring flowers or more unlimited coro. They bring disruption and suppression.”

  “And you’ll tell them that?” Sebastian said.

  “We have to tell them these things. We have to be transparent or they won’t understand the danger they’re in. Not that they’ll believe it. Their neighbors die of depraved addictions, yet all they shout about is the misdemeanors they hear about in other lands.”

  “That’ll go down well,” Sebastian said. “You can’t kee
p shouting that doom is coming. People will either live in fear or despise you for trying to make them live in fear. If you’re at war, you tell your people you’re winning. That’s what the Church of Truth was doing.”

  “Don’t compare us to them. Beyond our walls trouble constantly boils. The outlaws and freaks rule the central lands. The different factions war against each other and then us. Where is the appreciation?”

  “We don’t do it for the glory,” Brad snapped. “We do it for the people because it’s our duty.”

  “I won’t send you to defend people that don’t care. I won’t sacrifice my only blood, my heart, on a foolish gambit. I’ve played and lost too many times.”

  “We have do something,” Brad said.

  “No, we don’t.”

  “Father, what’s wrong with you?”

  “I will not lose you. Your brother—”

  “Don’t you dare bring him into it, not now. Please, listen to me. Me. I’m here in front of you. He was a fool.”

  “Don’t you dare talk about your brother like that. He was a hero.”

  “Dylan was never a hero. He would never go and defend the people.”

  “Exactly. He had a sensible head.”

  “What? You don’t know the things I had to clean up after him. He was just as much a junkie as the people you’re so vocal about hating. With or without you, I’ll do my duty to these people. I will not abandon them.” Brad stood up.

  “Soldier, you will stay where you are.”

  “You’re no longer my leader,” Brad said. “You’re no longer my father.” He turned to the radio tech. “Call HQ. Tell them I’m coming.” He stormed away, clenching and unclenching his fists, his face flushed with anger.

  “Son, please.” Alan stood up and reached out for the retreating center. “I can’t lose you, not as well …” he whispered. But Brad was gone. His eyes misted over as he slumped back onto the bench. He started to mumble to himself, rocking back and forth.

  “Sir,” the radio tech said. “Sir!”

  There was no response.

  “Q-backer Finchley?” The Raiders’ center gave him a push. There was no response.