Amped Up

by Merrell Michael

  "That sounds reasonable." Glen said.

  Rebel flag started forward.

  Glen pointed his cane at him. "I didn’t say I was feeling reasonable."

  Rebel flag took a step back.

  "Like your friend said." Glen continued. "We aint have no rights. But we do have are friends. These are all my friends, here." Glen put a hand on Galilee's shoulder. "My friend right here even, he's something extra special. He's got the real good stuff. Him by himself, I'd put up against you and your'n and that double-aught buck. But with the rest of them..." Glen shook his head. "You go on and scat. Look for your boy somewhere else."

  "You think we can’t take you?" Baseball bat leered. But Rebel flag waved him off.

  "This aint over." Rebel flag threatened, and the three of them stomped on down the dirt road, away from the trailer park gate. As they went out of sight, the crowd let up a huge, raucous cheer. Glen smiled despite himself, and even Galilee looked pleased.

  That night I slept alone, in my new bed, in my own trailer. I woke up when the troops came.

  Nine

  In the end, there was nowhere to run, and no point. I woke up in the middle of the night, to gunfire and people shouting, running around. I was in my underwear. When I stepped outside there was a bright light in my face, and a voice double muffled by a gas mask and a loud speaker, telling me, "Keep your hands where we can see them. We will fire."

  I did what I was told. I had bile rising in the back of my throat and a hangover. Two black clad SWAT officers hustled toward me and pinned my arms back with flex cuffs.

  "It’s her." One of them said. "The one from the list."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yeah." A rough hand in a latex glove grabbed my chin and moved my face around. "Positive ID."

  "Bag her and tag her." The other voice said. "And make sure she stays docile.

  The sandbag was thrown over my head. My Actuator was blinking on, despite itself, and letters popped up reading SYSTEM ERROR, then I felt a harsh stab of a needle in my right arm. Warm numbness soaked through my skin, and the last thing I was awake for, was the feeling of being put inside a truck, and strapped to a stretcher. Then blackness.

  I awoke in the hospital. I say it was a hospital because that's what I was strapped to, a hospital bed, and the people hovering over me may have very well been doctors. They were wearing white gowns and surgical masks, at any rate. "She's awake." One of them said.

  "Should we dope her up again?"

  "No. We need to keep things going."

  A woman walked up, in a perky business suit, and a plastic smile. "Can she hear me?" She asked.

  "Yes, Congresswoman." One of them answered. "She's fully cognizant."

  "But not-" The Congresswoman gestured "Fully, capable, with the- the thingie?"

  "Wave installed a block on the Actuator." The doctor said. "She's unable to access it."

  "Peachy." The woman said. "If you could? Just give us a quick minute?"

  The doctor muddled out of the room, and when the door closed, I heard the hiss of an airlock with it.

  "Kara." the Congresswoman said. "Can you hear me?"

  I tried to say yes, but it came out as a squeak. I nodded instead.

  "I'm Michelle Bachmann." She said. "How are you doing?"

  When I said nothing, she continued. "This is a pretty rough spot, huh? That you've got yourself into."

  I said nothing.

  "Kara." Bachmann clasped my hand, around the IV tube. "I just want you to know, that through all this Jesus is real, and he loves you. Do you know that?"

  I said nothing.

  "Isn’t that amazing?" She said. "How someone like you, even you, a terrorist, can touch the heart of the creator himself? The only perfect man who ever lived?"

  "I'm not a terrorist." I managed.

  "Kara. Oh Kara, honey." Bachmann said. "You can lie to yourself all you want, but you can’t lie to the Lord Jesus Christ. We've been watching you for a long time, and we know all about EAP."

  I said nothing.

  "The Lord looks on all of this." Bachmann brushed my hair away from his cheek. Those men you killed, in Arizona. I checked on it, and some of those men were Christians, and they went home with their savior. You'll have to answer to him for that, Kara. And for your other sin." Bachmann tapped my temple, with its maintenance port. "The Lord hates perversions on the flesh. We can help you with that."

  "Help how?" I said.

  "Why cut it out like a darn cancer!" Bachmann said. "Snip that puppy out and get rid of it, for good."

  "I need it." I told her. "To live."

  "Kara, honey." Bachmann said. "This is your earthly life, on this fallen world. It’s not important. What matters is the eternal." Bachmann leaned in close, and her eyes radiated pure crazy. "Can you imagine?" She said, in a hushed tone. "Burning in complete darkness? An eternal lake of fire, for ever and ever?"

  I say nothing.

  Bachmann drops my hand like it’s a dead fish. And then she pulls down on her jacket firmly, a little executive tug. "Someone has to make these decisions." She says. "In the rulings of the court, and in the eyes of the Lord. Leadership is needed in these cases. Christian women have led in the Bible, in the books of Esther and Judith. I am not one of those ungodly feminist, I submit myself to my husband, and take my dutiful place in the home. But I have listened to the Lord and his plan from me. We will cut the machine from your head. We will present you in your fallen, comatose state to a federal court for your terrorist plot against our Christian nation."

  "You’re a crazy bitch." I say, and spit at her. Bachmann lunges at my, teeth bared, and grabs my throat with her left hand.

  "Harlot!" She hisses. "Sodomite! I know your kind. You blaspheme and put yourself ahead of the Lord's work. You think yourself so important? You and your people will be treated as God told David to the fallen nations of the world. Kill every man, woman, and child. No survivors. As we should have done to the Canaanites, when they attacked our nation. The Lord tells me this. His time is coming soon."

  She walks out, shaking with fury. A moment later the doctors come back in.

  "Ah, okay." One of them says. "Getting to it. Let’s open her up."

  A circular saw whirls.

  KARA

  My Actuator is coming online, and speaking to me.

  ITS YOUR MOTHER

  The blade whirs, an inch from my face.

  I HAVE SOMETHING FOR YOU

  The world goes white.

  ****

  When color swirls back in my vision, I'm sitting at a table, in front of my mother. We are in my mother's laboratory, the way it was right before her death.

  "Hello, Kara." She says to me.

  "Am I dead?" I ask.

  "You are inside your own consciousness." My mother says. "I am a recording of your mother, stored in the Actuator for emergency purposes, based on the last time we spoke."

  "So I'm not dead."

  "No. But your life is in danger."

  "What’s going on?"

  "This conversation is taking place in a fraction of a second." My mother says. "It was a failsafe I put in based on the possibility that your Amp could be damaged, and your life put in jeopardy. I have something to say."

  I look at my mother and realize how much I have been looking forward to this conversation, dreaming it was possible. "Okay." I tell her. "Go ahead."

  My mother smiles. "Kara, I love you." She says. "More than you can know. I realize I have a hard time expressing that. But it’s true."

  Something hard inside me breaks down. "I know." I tell her. "I love you too."

  "When you were in that accident I was terrified." She says. "I knew I was going to lose you. So I went to Glen Miller for the prototype Actuator, and I implanted it in your head. Maybe I was wrong for doing that. Maybe you hate me for it now."

  "No I don’t." I say. "I don’t hate you."

  "The prototype had something extra." My mother says. "This failsafe. When activated, the fa
ilsafe will give you augmentation beyond your abilities thus far. You'll be able to do things that I can’t even guess, Kara. What I'm trying to say is, you'll be more than human. It’s an enormous decision. And I can’t force you to do it, even though its life or death. I'm leaving it up to you."

  "You never forced anything on me." I tell her. "You tried your best. Thank you so much, for keeping me alive."

  "We have limited time." My mother says. "Do you want this?"

  "Yes." I tell her. I fade back, through my brain. The letters floating in front of me read

  FAILSAFE ACTIVATED

  BIOKINETIC ABILITIES

  MOLECULAR DISRUPTION

  I LOVE YOU KARA

  When I come back the circular saw just nicks a shallow cut above my right eye, before I tear through the restraints, grab the doctors heart, and pull it out of his chest.

  ****

  Corporal Nancy Sevchanko, or "Sev" as he was better known to his friends, woke bright and early in the basement of the high rise building he lived and worked in. It was time for watch.

  His gear was sitting next to his bed. The Private Military Contractor who employed him had a much nicer kit than he had enjoyed in the Marines. But it was still arranged neatly, the way he had been taught while enlisted. The Enhanced Combat helmet had a built in communications system, as well as active camouflage. The ballistic vest used a system of fluid that harden under the severe impact of a gunshot. The Crye systems camouflage uniform had built in knee and elbow pads. Perhaps the best part of it all, was the ACR rifle, which had been modified by a gunsmith to fit Sev's exact specifications. But here, in the morning, the gear was the way it was in the Marines, it was the heavy shit that caused his neck and shoulders to hurt.

  After saddling up, he spent a few minutes smoking a cigarette. There was no smoking in the building, technically, but he didn’t care too much about that. Disabling the smoke detector had been one of the first things he did, coming in. He had started the habit in Fallujah, during a particularly disturbing firefight. Smoking may ruin your lung capacity, and raise your chances of contracting cancer, but in life and death situations it did wonders to calm your ass down. So he justified to himself. When he was done he stubbed out the butt into a 20 ounce bottle of Mountain Dew that served as a combination ashtray and receptacle for tobacco spit when he felt like Copenhagen.

  Turnout was before every shift. Sev lined up with the rest of them, while the lieutenant checked their gear and spouted nonsense. This wasn’t the military, and the lieutenant was no more a lieutenant than Sev was still a Corporal, but in the PMC hierarchy for which they both worked, he was indeed a supervisor, and Sev was a subordinate. The lieutenant had a mannerism in which he would swing his arms rapidly in front and behind him. As he brought them forward he would snap the fingers on both hands and slap one fist into the other palm, a clickety-pop that, to Sev, was the mating call of the eternal douchebag.

  Thankfully, the alarm sounded.

  Alarms were constantly going off in the building. Each time the Contractors rushed out to React. Generally it would be something simple, like a heart attack, or an Employee that needed to be escorted from the premises. More or less in was simply a matter of show of force, that dog and pony show. Occasionally they would be told to sit in front of some room or another and guard a series of crates. Sev did not know what went on in the building, other than it seemed dull, and he was being paid more than he needed for something very simple.

  The React force did what they were paid to do, and Sev ran pell mell for the express elevator. They lined up inside, a tight fit, and the lieutenant said “fifty-three.” Sev took an extra couple seconds until the lieutenant said “Belay that. Fifty-four.” Among his numerous other deficiencies, the lieutenant never could get the floor right.

  The fifty-fourth floor of the building turned out to be a maze of doors that required key card access. They made it through the first three, and the last one wouldn’t work, so the lieutenant called on the radio and the door opened on the other end. The floor was stark white, a kind of child’s horror show idea of what a medical ward looked like. Inside were two technicians and one very nervous looking suit.

  “What’s the situation?” The lieutenant asked.

  The suit looked fretful, and pointed to the door. “We need something retrieved from inside that room.”

  “What is it?”

  “A specimen. Mid-twenties female.”

  “Is she alive?”

  “Were not sure.”

  “Do you have video feed?” Sev interjected.

  “You’re going to need clearance for that.” The suit said.

  “If you want us to go in and get her, we need to know where she is. Especially if you want us to use non-lethal means. I know there’s footage in every room of this place.”

  “I’ll show you.” The technician replied.

  The video footage was short and unhelpful. A group of doctors, or other medical technicians, were standing over a girl in a medical bed. The girl sat up and jerked her arm out. The screen went black. “Can you show us anymore?” Sev asked.

  “That’s it.” The technician said. “The end of our feed.”

  “So she sits up, and the camera’s go out. Is that really the problem?”

  “I’ll show you the last few frames.” The technician said. “And slow it down.”

  They watched closely. “What are these?” The lieutenant asked. “These lines across her body.”

  “Those are straps. Medical restraints.”

  “So when she sits up, she’s breaking out of those.”

  “That’s what it looks like to me.” The technician said.

  “Bath salts.” The lieutenant said. “That new stuff that’s like LSD and PCP put together. She’s on Bath salts.”

  “We can use gas.” Sev said. “Gas and Tasers.”

  The suit frowned. “Are Tasers electricity?”

  “That’s right.” Sev told him.

  “I’m uncomfortable with the idea of electricity.” The suit said. “There are sensitive electronics at play here.”

  “Are you comfortable with the idea of bullets?” The lieutenant said. “Because, sir, using Taser rounds is a step down from that.”

  The technician cleared his throat. “Ah, guys.” He said. “Can I say one thing.”

  “Go ahead.” Sev said.

  “I really need to go ahead and do my thing. Because it’s entirely possible everyone in that room is dead.”

  ****

  Everyone was quiet for a moment. Then the Technician flipped open a case. “So.” He said. “The camera’s in that room are very small, and built on a modular concept. Their designed to be easily replaced. This is a camera and a microphone, so we can get some eyes on the situation. Because right now, were grasping for straws.”

  The suit reached into his own briefcase, and passed out a set of folders. “Before we go any further.” He said. “I need each and every one of you to sign on of these.”

  “What is it?” Sev asked.

  “A non-disclosure agreement.” The suit told them.

  "We've already signed one of those." Sev told him.

  "This one is different."

  "Different how?"

  "You need to sign it." The suit said.

  After the paperwork had been signed, and the technician was working away on the wall, Sev talked to the lieutenant in private.

  "You know she's an Amp, right?" Sev said.

  "How so?"

  "The thing about electronics. The suit was telling us without actually telling us."

  "That could be a problem."

  "And this non-disclosure agreement has plenty of stuff in it about 'domestic terrorist activities'. So she's probably EAP."

  Sev could tell the lieutenant was struggling to arrive at a conclusion. "This could be a problem." He said. "We'll wait until the tech's done."

  The lieutenant hopped away to fiddle with something in one of the pouches on his ballistic vest. S
ev grew angry. Why couldn’t that idiot see how things were going? They needed to shoot first. When they got in the room, they needed to unload, at whatever was behind the door. The suit might be pissed, but people were almost certainly dead. How many people were in that video? One, two... at least five white lab coats. Doubtless one of them had a cell phone, or an access key card for the door. If nothing else, one of them would beat on the door, and scream help! (or the equivalent. There were a lot of Indians working in the building. What was Farsi for help?)

  He was sitting there, waiting, and his mind reeled. Maybe that was the wrong idea. Maybe no one was dead, there was a gas leak, and everyone in the room was unconscious. Maybe the woman was someone’s wife, or daughter, and firing that first round would have him unceremoniously fired. A worse fear: maybe the lieutenant firing a round would do the same thing, for all of them. Or worse; detention, with what the military and Central Intelligence Agency termed "Enhanced Interrogation Techniques" but where really just methods of torture, ways of breaking people down until they would tell you what you wanted. And with Sev it would be worse, there was nothing to tell. Sevchanko? The interrogator would sneer. Is that a Russian name? Is that it? Did the Russians send you to kill her? The interrogator would be old, and remember the cold war, and despite the demise of the Soviet Union two decades ago, a vivid hatred would exist in his brain for anything remotely red.

  "I’ve got a picture." The technician said. And a moment later, "I think I'm going to be sick."

  ****

  There was plenty to be sick about.

  The camera the technician had installed was full color HD, not grainy black and white. Which was amazing by itself, because the actual item looked like a long black worm with a small black light bulb for a head. The technician could turn it around, pan it back and forth, which showed the whole grisly scene.

  An attractive woman with red hair and pale skin was standing in the center of the room in question. She was wearing nothing but a green hospital gown, which was stained heavily with blood. The gown was loose on the sides and open at the back, so when the technician turned around just so Sev had a view of a spectacular apple bottomed ass. Between that and the overall loveliness of the woman, he began to get an erection.