“Yes sir,” John said without hesitation. “Clear as a bell.”
For a split second I could see John nervously looking around at the cadre of Blackshirts surrounding Franco, concerned they might be there to do just that now that Franco had what he wanted. With Moto and me already his hostages, the balance of power shifted dramatically in Franco's favor. There was no longer any need to pretend, as far as he was concerned. I could see the realization dawning in the horrified look etched on John's face.
If he can execute us without kicking up a fuss on base, I thought, a guy like John doesn't stand much of a chance. That means from here on out he'll have to go along with whatever Franco wants; he’ll have to fight to curry favor with him, or he's a goner.
If the guy hadn't worked so hard on so many occasions to ruin my life, I might have felt sorry for him.
“Good,” Franco said with a cold, calculating smile. “Now that we've got that cleared up, let's get back to business. By now you can see that I'm serious. That little beating is just the tip of the iceberg for you if you don't smarten up and get in line. You can't win. It's over. This is the end of the line for you guys. You had a good run, but all good things come to an end. Tough luck.”
“You can talk in circles as far as I'm concerned,” Moto interrupted. “It doesn't make any difference.”
“Let me make myself clear then,” Franco stated, obviously frustrated. “You've got something I need. Plain and simple. You either give it to me, or you and your little brother are dead. Is that simple enough for you, smart ass?”
“Save your breath,” Moto said with a smile. “There's nothing you can say or do to us that will ever make me tell you where those plants are. You've lost, Franco. Admit it.”
“That's where you're wrong,” Franco countered. “After all, I'm out here and you're the one in the cage. I think you're just trying to fend off the creeping fear with your useless taunts. You can feel your impending death inching nearer and it terrifies you, but it doesn't have to be this way.”
“How long do you think it will be until word gets out what you've done here?” Moto smiled at Franco. “A week? A month? Maybe they know now. Maybe they're already on their way to put down your cowardly little rebellion, you and your insolent pack of thugs. What do you think they'll do when they get here? Have you thought about it?”
“Actually, I have,” Franco fired back. “We'll be ready if that happens. We're not afraid of any army, not anymore, not with the new weapons we have at our disposal.”
“You might have thought about it,” Moto said, “but have these guys?”
Moto looked at the unblinking faces of the Blackshirts behind Franco. They were frozen in place, but behind their eyes he knew he'd just given them new food for thought.
They haven't, I thought. Most of these guys are just caught up in the moment, doing what they are told. They don't want to be on the wrong side, and now that Moto is back they're starting to wonder. Maybe we'll be able to turn one or two of them back to help us escape!
“My men are loyal,” Franco scoffed in reply. “Each and every man here knows he's on the right side, the winning side. Together we're going to forge a brilliant new destiny for this country, and maybe even the world.”
“You'll all be executed,” Moto said in a clear, somber voice. “When Edwards hears about what happened, they will put the word out. Others will come as well. Can’t allow even a single base to decide to defect from the United States Armed Forces, now can you? Especially not now. That would make us look weak. No. They'll want to make an example out of you; make sure no one else ever gets a similar idea.”
I could see a few of the Blackshirts gulp at the thought.
He's getting to them, I thought. They're starting to wonder if they did the right thing. There might still be a chance for us after all.
“Those of you not cut down in battle will be rounded up,” Moto charged on, not wanting to lose their attention. “You'll be court-martialed, found guilty, and sentenced to death for treason against the US Government and its people. At best you'll spend the rest of your days as a prisoner doing hard labor on a work gang, and at worst you'll be forced to dig your own graves before being erased off the face of the earth. Have you really thought about it?”
Before Franco could reply, one of the Blackshirts closest to him stepped forward with a sneer, looking Moto up and down like he was less than nothing.
“Why don't you show him?” The man said, turning calmly to Franco and smiling like a loyal lap dog. “Let them see firsthand why we're not afraid of any army anymore, sir.”
“That's an excellent idea, Zane,” Franco said, the glimmering of pride in his eyes shining like a teacher when her star pupil gets an answer correct in front of the rest of class. “Maybe then they'll understand just how futile their position is, and make the wise choice before it's too late. Get them out of there and bring them to the viewing chamber.”
Franco leaned down to whisper to us, while his men hurriedly unlocked our cell and seized us by our arms.
“Soon you'll see just what kind of terror awaits anyone who stands in our way,” Franco gloated. “Then you'll be begging to join our side, begging for mercy for you and the people closest to you. In case you're wondering, I'm looking forward to hearing you grovel.”
Franco turned and left without a word, John scurrying to his side and Tank falling in behind him. Most of the Blackshirts went with them, but some stayed behind to help escort us. Zane had Moto by the right arm and was taking obvious pleasure in jerking him around.
“Okay tough guy,” Zane barked. “Let's go. And keep it zipped. I'm not interested in any more of your pathetic fantasies about how this is gonna end.”
I hated the way that jerk was talking to my brother. I'd been convinced he was a disrespectful punk from the minute I met him, but I never imagined that anyone would give him a shot at power. Most of the guys didn't like working around him, so he'd often been left to his own devices, which meant hanging out with the other kids like him, the trouble makers and malcontents. I saw a lot of those faces among the Blackshirts. He was their de facto leader and they'd followed him into Franco's mess, for better or worse. There was no going back now.
I opened my mouth to say something smart to Zane, but Moto caught my eye with his iron stare and shook his head, warning me to keep my trap shut. He was right. It wasn't going to do any good trying to pick fights with Franco's henchmen. No matter how many insults I hurled, I would never make a dent. More than likely they'd just make our life extremely uncomfortable in the process. It was better to go along for now, and trust that when the moment came to make our move Moto would let me know.
We walked out of our cell and along an empty corridor that resembled the hospital on base, but instead of looking like a place you'd go to get better, the equipment I saw appeared designed to do the exact opposite. Other than the occasional kick to the back of the legs, or elbow to the kidney shoving us along, we were left alone. I could feel a knot throbbing on my head from where I'd been punched. I didn't even want to know how bad I looked.
Please just let us survive this, I thought. If not for me, then for Felicity's sake. It would kill her to learn I'd been tortured, and then executed in cold blood.
My legs burned as we walked along; my extremities feeling every point of impact from the previous beating I'd taken. I felt the bitter tendrils of self-pity beginning to curl up inside of me, but fought them back with all my spirit, unwilling to believe this was the end.
Don't let them infect you with their propaganda, I reminded myself. If they get inside your mind they've won, but you can fight to keep them out!
At last we reached the viewing chamber and were roughly pushed inside. It was a dark room, not unlike a theater, with cushioned seats that faced a thick wall of bulletproof glass. On the other side was an empty white room with rounded corners and a bright but gentle overhead light.
Zane marched us in and sat us front and center, giving us the best se
ats in the house. In the back row John sat next to Tank and several of their men I'd seen in Ojai, their faces now visible. John looked much more comfortable than he had when he'd woken me up not so long before. He was easing back into a false sense of security to avoid admitting just how precarious his position with Franco had obviously become. The Blackshirts stood at attention behind the seats, awaiting orders from their new general. When placed in such close proximity to John's men, they didn't look that much different at all.
They're cut from the same cloth, I thought. Neither gives a damn about doing the right thing as long as they are on the winning side. That's all that matters to them.
Franco walked up and tapped the glass. It made a thud as his knuckles rapped against it.
“Don't worry,” he said. “It's strong enough for the purpose of today's demonstration. I assure you, no harm will come to us while we are in here.
“Whatever you think you have to show us,” Moto said, “whatever you think is going to change our minds, you can just skip it. It ain't gonna work, Franco.”
“Oh I think you're going to want to see this for sure,” Franco laughed. “It's not every day one gets to witness the next level in the evolution of warfare. Imagine for a moment the surprise that the Indians felt when the white man showed up with spears that screamed like thunder, sending hot lead missiles like deadly darts singing through the air to kill them.”
Franco began to pace back and forth as he spoke, using his hands for emphasis.
Man, I thought. This guy really likes the sound of his own voice.
“Soon you will know just what they felt like,” Franco bellowed. “And just like those brave pioneers of old, who took their destinies into their own hands and forged empires out of sheer will, soon we will be unstoppable. See for yourself.”
He turned back to the glass just as two Blackshirts walked in with one of John’s men. The man looked sick; he was stumbling and barely able to stand on his own. The Blackshirts roughly ripped the dark ninja warrior hood from the man’s head, revealing a beaten and bruised Haki.
“Just what in the hell is he doing in there?” John brayed from behind us. “That's Haki! He's one of my main guys!”
“Your trusted servant was in fact a double agent,” Franco informed him, without turning around. “He'd been helping out Moto and his band of rebels for some time before they helped him break Xander out of your custody in Ojai.”
“Now just hold on a minute right there,” John protested, but Franco turned and shut him up with a glare.
“It was so obvious a child could have seen it,” Franco said plainly. “The fact that you didn't makes me seriously question your judgment.”
John seemed to shrivel back into his chair, doing his best to make himself as small as possible, while Tank groaned in disbelief and shook his head, as if to say I told you so.
“What's wrong with him?” I asked, unable to help myself.
The men who brought him in had quickly retreated, locking the doors in place behind them as they went. Haki was doubled over now, clutching his stomach and moaning in obvious pain. Franco made no effort to answer, but looked on with obvious glee. Haki began to sweat profusely, then threw up black bile all over the ground. He began to visibly shimmer, his body vibrating with violent seizures, his skin resembling a pot of boiling water. A loud cry rent the air as he threw his head back and wailed, his eyes now solid black, his clothing visibly ripping as his body expanded. The veins in his body pulsed and throbbed as his muscles expanded, turning him into a shredded bodybuilder right before our eyes. For a moment I was reminded of a similar monster I'd battled in Paradise City before being turned by a small child. I felt a sting at the memory, accompanied by the urge to search out with my fingers the ring of scars at my midsection and examine it again.
I can't believe this is happening, I thought. It's too horrible for words. Poor Haki.
Just when I thought it was all over, Haki let out a fresh roar, now sounding more like an animal, and began another growth spurt, increasing rapidly in size like a loaf of bread rising in a hot oven. His skin took on a sickly grayish-blue hue, tinged with hundreds of new rippling veins crisscrossing the stretched skin. When he was brought in, Haki barely reached five-foot-ten. By the time he was done expanding he stood well over seven and a half feet – a monstrous giant zombie with an insatiable appetite and terrifying raw power. He roared in anger and beat his fists against the glass, eager to turn us into his first meal. I flinched, turning to see that the rest of them had the exact same reaction as the glass spider cracked in several places, but held strong just as we'd been promised it would. The only one who didn't seem anxious was Franco.
“He's just hungry is all,” Franco said, looking like a proud new papa. “All that growing takes a lot out of ya. We're gonna need to put something back in his system soon, otherwise he's liable to break free and start causing havoc on the base. We can't have that.”
Franco turned to me and winked. My mouth fell open in shock at how cavalier he was acting. What he'd done was unspeakable beyond words, taking a man and transforming him against his will into an abomination, and yet he acted like he'd brought home a new puppy from the pet store. For the first time in my life, words failed me.
Haki hit the glass again, and the smile vanished off Franco's evil face.
“Sit down, Haki,” he commanded. Instantly Haki sat and began whining, like a frustrated pet not getting his way. “Good boy.”
“I'll be damned,” John said, amazed. “He actually listened to you.”
“So you see,” Franco laughed cruelly, “there is no longer anyone on earth that can stop me. I've got a big enough batch of this new strain to infect half the base. Anyone who resists will simply be turned into a permanent new member of my front line super soldiers, where instead of causing me problems, they'll become an instrument of my vision for the world.”
“You're mad,” Moto said, visibly shaken by what he'd seen happen to his friend.
“You might be right,” Franco said casually, sitting next to Moto and staring him in the eyes. “But it's too late to stop me now. If you refuse to help, eventually the people you love will come looking for you. We both know it. The first things they'll see are the dead bodies of you and your irksome little brother on display for the whole world. Then I'll torture them until they give me what I want. You know I will. I promise you, they will suffer like you can't even begin to imagine. I'll spare no humiliation from them, especially the women.”
“If you even think of laying a hand on her,” Moto threatened, but Franco cut him short.
“It's a lot to take in all at once, I know,” Franco said casually. “It really takes a bit for the true horror of it all to hit you. That's why I'm going to give you some more time to mull it over, to reflect on what you've seen, so you can make the correct decision this time. And for the record, when you do finally realize that you can't fight me anymore, when it sinks into those thick proud skulls of yours that I've beaten you, and you fall to your knees and beg me from the bottom of your bleeding hearts not to wipe everyone you love off the face of the earth, or make them my wretched slaves for the remainder of their miserable days, please don't forget to grovel. It's such a treat for me.”
“I'll die first,” Moto snapped.
“The choice is yours,” Franco replied. “You have until sunup to change your mind. Otherwise, be prepared to meet your maker.”
He gave Zane a nod and we were rustled back out of our seats. The mood was so heavy, Zane didn't even bother with any further insults. When we reached the end of the hall just before our cells, I looked up to see another familiar face.
“Benji,” I cried out running to him. I threw my arms around him, but he pushed me back with a harsh shove.
“Get off me, man,” Benji spat, his features twisted up in anger.
“What's wrong with you?” It was all I could manage. “And why are you all dressed in black?”
A disturbing feeling began to wash ov
er me, as I looked him up and down. He was different, a more callous version of the kid I'd known before I'd left less than a year before. Benji looked at Franco and laughed.
“Nothing's wrong with me,” Benji said. He looked so different than the last time I'd seen him. He was taller now, more muscular, and obviously arrogant. “I'm not the traitor who sold out his country to save his own backside. What's wrong with you?”
He's buying into it, I thought in disbelief. Franco's got him brainwashed somehow.
“Benji,” I pleaded. “They're lying to you, man. You've got to see that. Everything you've heard about me is a lie. Franco and his men are working with John and the bikers to take over the world. Remember what happened in New Lompoc? Tank is here with them. Listen to me.”
The words were a panicked jumble in my head. There was so much I wanted to remind him about, so many obvious reasons he was wrong, but I couldn't get them all out clearly.
“Listen to you,” Benji said in disgust. “Still completely out of touch with reality. Still unwilling to admit the truth, so you've got to make up crazy lies. You're delusional, you know that?”
“Who are you, and what have you done with my friend?”
“I'm still Benji,” he scoffed. “I just woke up is all. Franco recruited me into his operation, and when he did he told me the truth about you and your brother.”
“You know the truth about us,” I blurted out. “You always have.”
“You hero worship your older brother, but if you knew how he plotted with his Indian Princess to kill General Conrad, you'd think differently about him. He's nothing but a traitor. I guess, like Tank says, it runs in your blood.”
“Tank tried to kill us,” I screamed in frustration. “You were there. I saved your life. Don't you remember that?”
“I remember you tricking us in New Lompoc,” he said. “John took us in and treated us like family, but you were so obsessed with finding your brother and joining his side that you made up some wild story about Tank, just to get us to leave. You cost the Parker twins their lives, and nearly killed me as well. It's been you that's been the problem all along. I was just too young and dumb to see it before.”
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