The Devil's Playground

by Ray Wil

  Each man carried a silver metal briefcase. The smaller man placed his on a nearby counter his steely eyes studying me like a shark to a meal.

  “I’ve always believed any man can be pushed to do what he feels is necessary, even if it runs conflict against his moral beliefs”

  I said nothing but gripped the gun tighter.

  “What is your name young man?” The oriental man asked. The cigar odor now filling our occupied area. Next to him, the smaller man had pulled a chair from a nearby desk and wheeled it towards me, sitting down. The other men had gathered around also. Their expressions saying I was more a minor distraction, displaying even less concern for the gun I held.

  Images of the past weeks wondered through my head. From the unending loneliness I felt to despair rifled with thousands of continuous broken bodies. Then the inconceivable battle for my life at the Condo the day before. There was no doubt that these men had every intention of killing me if not just because I was around. They already said they would. My only dilemma now would be how long I’d hang around. Even if they held answers that I desperately wanted.

  I regarded the Asian man enjoying what looked to be a Cuban cigar then glance over the others.

  “How about I ask the questions for now. No mystery to what I’m trying to do. Like survive and get some answers and I get the feeling you all have more info than I do.”

  The small man responded in his calm tone. “Very well. I hardly see any harm in that. We’ll indulge you for now. We are merely five of a few thousand. A corporate collective if you will. I am Mr. Three. That is my designate.”

  A thin silence hung in the cigar colored air.

  The biggest man nodded halfhearted when I looked at him. “I am Mr. 604.”

  It was now my turn to show my indifference. I leaned against a counter feeling impatient and frustrated at their composed mechanical attitude.

  “Ok. What the hell does that mean. ‘Mr. Three and Mr. Six o’ what…?”

  “Four.”

  “And who are they…?” I asked, pointing to the other three men.

  Mr. Three had reached into the breast pocket of his three-piece suit causing me to flinch until he took out a small plastic bag of what looked to be candy.

  “I have an affinity for chocolate, a weakness unlike no other.” He commented, spotting my sudden movement. After throwing several chunks into his mouth he continued.

  “It is not important who they are. For now I am Mr. Three and he is Mr. 604.”

  Neither man said anymore for a while consume in the rustling of removing their rain protection. I waited impatiently. The Oriental man blew out a deep puff of his cigar.

  “If he’s the anomaly I don’t see anything special about him. Are we sure it’s not an error on our part?”

  “No matter.” Replied Mr. 604.

  “But perhaps it does.” The balding man replied. “I am Mr. Twenty. What is your name sir?”

  I turned toward Mr. Twenty putting the gun inside my pants near my backside, the way they do on television. I figure it made me look like I knew what I was doing. It was a quiet confidence, while my heart raced, that I never possessed before. An ownership of my newly vacant city and acknowledging my place in it. Who but me was the one taking care of it where everyone was unable. I had grown into the role of custodian. It’s sweeper, cleaner and caretaker. Keeping myself unbelievably sane and in command amongst the human silence. For the first time in my mundane life, I felt needed by my empty surroundings. Now I had intruders implying I was nothing more than a nuisance. A superfluous ornament on a Christmas tree.

  “My name is Cain.” I answered.

  It really wasn’t. I didn’t want to tell them my real name. I felt better about lying, supplementing the biblical character Cain for the time being.

  Mr. Twenty chuckled adjusting the rims of his eye glasses. “Mr. Cain.”

  “No, just Cain.” I replied.

  “How about Mr. Cain, OK. Do not get in the way and you might live long enough to see something phenomenal.”

  “And what might that be?” I decided bravely and perhaps foolishly to ignore the threats. Maybe learn as much about them as I could.

  Mr. Three uncrossed his legs and stood up. The others taking his cue turned like a school of fishes walking towards the rear of the bank. I followed tentatively with the small man a few steps ahead. His voice trailed from in front.

  “You are seeing what very few men get the chance to see in a hundred life times. You are witnessing the remaking, the remodeling…the reinvention of a new world.”

  I was silent after that. His answer only served to provide me with more questions. Running in the opposite direction was the thought I pondered on most. But that wouldn’t calm the burning fear and rage that was mounting. These men somehow were responsible for killing the whole damn planet.

  * * *

  “What do you mean I’m the anomaly?” I asked, to no one in particular. We had entered a meeting room at the rear of the building with a large oval table in the center surrounded by leather chairs and a small black refrigerator in a corner. A large flat screen was mounted on a far wall underneath an overhead projector. It was obvious this was the first time they were inside the room. Some of them look around for power outlets adjusting the swivel chairs and even checking inside a cabinet and the various shelves. I stood by the door where I felt safest. The five men though seemed more intent on seating themselves and with the contents of their silver briefcases. I decided to try again determined to find out more.

  “You did this didn’t you? All of you killed the fucken planet.”

  Mr. 604 was sitting closest to me. “Please remain quiet Mr. Cain. You are being allowed to observe the following procedures.”

  “What procedure! Fuck this procedure. You’re all murderers! Do’you know how many friggin’ people are dead cause of all of you people!”

  I suddenly found myself pressed high against the wall compliments of Mr. 604, my legs dangling a foot above the floor. His movement before he reached me was a blur. Any resistance I attempted to offer was futile at best like a child trying to fight off a monstrous school yard bully. The hulking man’s face was still calm with only a slight furrow in his brows.

  “You will remain silent or I will snap your neck with my bare hands. Know your place. At this moment we are the rulers of this world. This is a good thing. You are alone except for us. Do you understand that?”

  Stubbornly yet painfully, I wrestled to pull away his steely arms to reach his face. I was unsuccessful. Across the room I heard Mr. Three’s voice.

  “I think Mr. Cain understands you perfectly Mr. 604.”

  He gave me a last brutal shove against the wall punishing my impertinence before letting me flop like an unhinged marionette to the floor. I coughed, trying to breathe with a burning pain in my upper body. What a powerful man, I pondered before quickly and unceremoniously blanking out.

  Unsure of how long it might have been but it felt like minutes. Their conversation continued as if I wasn’t at all present. I was sure their intent was to kill me. Eventually.

  Someone had asked, “Did you kill him?”

  I guessed it was someone whose numbered name I didn’t know. Then the voice from Mr. 604, the pain inflictor.

  “No. He’s just a very weak little man.”

  “Not all of us carry our strength in our muscles Mr. 604.”

  I was certain those words came from Mr. Three. He and I after all were roughly the same size despite the age difference. He was the smallest of the five.

  The behemoth Mr. 604 finished, “Not everyone does carry strength in their muscles, but everyone wishes.”

  I was able to sit up on the floor feeling somewhat small and useless listening to the men talking. In the center of the deep oak table, they placed a black electronic circular device about the size of a laptop with several buttons and lights on it. I reached behind me for the handgun making sure it was still there. Mr. 604 looked over at me upon hearing my gr
oans.

  “You see, I did not kill him.” He uttered more to me than to his colleagues.

  I decided quietly to myself that I would simple watch them for the time being. The black electronics on the table made a light buzzing sound followed by beeps then a bright blue light exploded from the top section. A large holographic image of the planet earth filled the room as if anyone could reach out and touch it. The details inside the image was stunning. A small interface was also projected in front of each man with buttons and monitors which came from the silver briefcases. I had never seen anything like it before. The technology was beyond what I believe was even possible.

  “Are things beginning to make more sense now Mr. Cain.” Mr. Three tapped the holographic keypad, as were all the men with their eyes glued to the screens.

  “No, not really.” I answered.

  He continued, “Don’t worry. It will all soon become clear.”

  “Oh come now, there’s no need to tease the young man.”

  One of the still nameless men, a thick bald black man with a British accent spoke.

  “Mr. Cain we are all here because of the investment we have implanted into humankind. Each of us cares vociferously about this planet. However, this world has been ruled by fear, recurring wars, senseless terrorism, starvation, corrupt governments, and even more bad irresponsible governments. Collectively we have all pooled our resources together. We really don’t appreciate the avenue we are travelling on. We feel an obligation to steer the course this planet has ignorantly taken. We have the will and the power. We are willing to cripple this vessel to rebuild it stronger. The culmination and work of over one thousand engineers, biologist, specialist in every field. This plan has been in place in utmost secrecy, research and tested, as much as you can test something like this. Money and resources in the billions. The breath of surreptitious locations throughout the globe is monumental. And finally but no less empirical, the man power itself. We are, if you did not know Mr. Cain, five thousands strong and powerful. Excuse me, where are my manners. I am Mr. Eight.”

  I felt my stomach sliding, sinking, descending precariously just from his sheer words. As if I was standing at the edge of a cliff knowing I would soon fall over.

  “…How long?” I asked, trying without success, not to show my shocked expression after the explanation.

  “Three thousand three hundred and sixty days before worldwide suspension was initiated. Launch of initiation was twenty seven days ago.”

  I worked the payroll department at my job. I knew numbers in terms of weeks and months and checkbooks. Three thousand plus days was ten years. Ten years ago, I was a sixteen. My parents were still alive and I worked the Burger King on the weekends. My only desire at that time was buying a new pair of running shoes and maybe purchase my own cell phone. My only desire now was to stay alive and perhaps see the world how it once was.

  I was still seated on the floor trying to display a strong outward veneer even if my body was betraying me.

  “How did you do it?” I asked.

  The last man, the tallest of the group, was a pale complexioned six foot six at least figure. He simple threw out his name not hiding his disdain for my company.

  “Mr. Hundred…”

  His fingers tapped the keypad parsing a short silence until he resumed. “We will be online and synced to the Corporate Collective in two minutes. I have contact with the eastern seaboard division rooms A through C. All reports from groups eight hundred through eight hundred and ninety, grid controls are in the blue.”

  My eyes held to the screens with its colorful 3D interfaces showing various maps and numbers.

  “We did it Mr. Cain,” Mr. Three began, “through perseverance and an unyielding desire to our mission. We simply placed strategic stations around the globe inside every country on the planet within secret locations. The major Metropolis and cities of course needed more attention and towers. Which you can imagine is a tricky task in stealth, ignorant partnerships and detailed logistics.”

  “I still don’t understand why.” I pressed. “Why would you go through so much planning and secrets and people. To destroy the world. Why?”

  He smiled when he spoke now his voice swollen with pride. “Mr. Cain we are not destroying the world we are making it like new.”

  I stood up feeling a coldness run up my spine. It wasn’t really what I wanted to hear. The thought of breaking their equipment occurred to me but if what they said was true then that would only cause a minor inconvenience than any disruption. And at this point what would a disruption even do. I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t understand any of it. I turned to walk out of the room.

  “Oh do not leave now Mr. Cain,” Mr. Three continued. “Aren’t you curious of how all this comes together?”

  It took all my will power to control the crest of anger in my stomach. “What does it matter? You ruined the planet.” I answered sharply trying my best to muster past my fears. They continued tapping the keypads.

  My voice squawked vociferously cracking in rage and short breath. “Who the fuck do you people think you are?”

  Mr. Twenty with his overpowering chimney billowing cigar paused for a moment to gaze at me. He expunged a fog of smoke, his eyes still gleaming in my direction. He then regarded Mr. Hundred who also stopped typing as if to utter something but simple took a sip from a coffee mug that sat beside him. I hadn’t noticed the brown mug before and was side tracked for a second wondering if he had gotten it from the refrigerator and how long I was unconscious on the floor.

  I tried to continue, “I mean there’s…there’s wars and…what the fuck…and people are just…”

  “Stop,” Mr. Twenty interrupted. “What really are you trying to say. Your efforts are best spent reclaiming your breath.”

  I was undeterred in my words. “Are you serious. Are you fucken serious! Do you know how many people that you all killed. You’re like, you’re like fucken Nazis. You’re mad! Evil fucken men!”

  The tapping on the key pads eased to a crawl. Mr. Eight removed his glasses while Mr. Three tossed another piece of spiteful chocolate into his mouth. The big Mr. 604 stood up and earnestly loosened his fingers. With the prospect of being chocked again still fresh in my mind, I quickly pulled out the firearm from behind me. He moved swiftly when he saw the gun, reaching for my face. I fired twice hitting him in the chest.

  Blam! Blam!

  The force stopped him from advancing. The other four stood up abruptly. Mr. Three might have even blared something but I didn’t hear. Unshaken, the big man lunged forward again and once more I fired two more times.

  Blam! Blam!

  This time the jolt staggered him and sent him off his feet crashing to the table.

  The measured Mr. Three screamed, “Enough. What are you doing? Stop. Dammit!”

  The big brute groaned then slowly and incredulous stood up rubbing his chest. A slight smoke and four indents remained where the bullets hit him. Mr. 604’s enraged eyes hinted a more painful annoyance.

  “Mmm…These modified protected suits can withstand a shotgun blast from four feet away. You’ll have to do better than that.”

  My heart jumped, quickening, until I pointed the gun at him again. This time aiming at his forehead.

  “How about where you’re not wearing a suit.” I scowled.

  The tall thin Mr. Hundred had step out from his chair putting his hand on the brute’s shoulder to sway him from approaching again.

  “There are things much more important than our pride, Mr. 604 may we remind you. Mr. Cain is merely displaying his instinct to survive no different from any one of us put in a precarious situation. Only he is simply using the tools that he possesses in his hands.”