Age of Power 1: Legacy

by Jon Davis

  As Red Hair started toward him, Alex said, “Don’t bother, you won’t be able to get away with holding all three of us. You won’t even get past the window.”

  With a sneer, the convict hefted the sledgehammer and said, “Really? Do you think you’re that good punk? I’ll ram this down your throat once we have you!”

  Alex said, “No. I already told you. You won’t make it past the window.”

  “Fuck you!” Lifting the hammer Red Hair started after Alex.

  He had only gotten to the window when he pulled back with a grunt of pain. I saw Alex whip his arm out, and that was it. Something smacked hard off the man’s head, falling among the smashed glass on the floor. It was the other brick. Blood was on it. I noticed that it complemented the lighter color of the brick. Throughout all of this, not one convict spoke as their leader fell to his knees, then onto his back. His face was covered with blood from his now smashed-in nose. His eyes just stared, lifeless.

  “You little bastard!” the skinhead holding Brand yelled. Shoving Brand away, he rushed forward toward Alex, ready to kill. Then, he lurched to a stop when sirens began to fill the air.

  Alex pulled a cell phone from his jacket pocket.

  He held up a forefinger and said, “One; this may be a small town, but we still have police.”

  He raised another finger, “Two; the phones still work.”

  Then, he pointed down at Red Hair and said, “And three; he was warned.”

  Alex met my eyes. I didn’t know what to say. His voice was hard and flat, and from the way he was standing, I knew that he hadn’t just killed in self-defense. No, he had chosen to kill. All the years of thinking he was just putting on an act of being hard and edgy fell away. The mask was off, the real mask. When it came down to it, Alex really was hard-core.

  But I didn’t have time to think much about it. Cop cars came screeching to a stop in front of the store. Reacting with panic, the convicts turned to run out the back. They made it only so far before police rushed in to stop them.

  Yelling filled the store while I crouched, hoping I wouldn’t catch a bullet. But no guns fired. After a more few minutes, I heard someone calling my name. Slowly, I looked and saw convicts pushed down on their stomachs with cops cuffing them. I saw a cop helping Brand to his feet. Another officer reached out a hand to help me. Getting to my feet, I looked up and saw a man coming in from the front window.

  The man looked down at the convicts and snarled. He sounded disgusted as he said, “Get these sons of bitches out of here.”

  Police Chief Michael Sinclair was a tall man with reddish hair styled in a military cut. He had the same ice blue eyes as Brand. His build wasn’t the biggest, but there was this feeling of hard authority that just existed wherever he went. Maybe it was the way he stood, calm, confident, yet coiled and ready to strike. I was so glad to see him and his police force.

  Coming farther in, he stopped at the body of Red Hair. He bent to look at him for a moment and sighed, “James Jessup. Well, he promised he’d be back. Damn bastard…”

  The police gently guided us outside, and soon Brand and I were both in an ambulance. After some pokes, prods, and many questions, an elderly man in an older looking EMT jacket told Sinclair that we were mainly just scared and shocked. Afterward, sitting on the bumper of the ambulance, I looked over at Alex talking with Sinclair.

  From what I overheard, Alex had been walking around town when he had seen us. He had been about to call out to us when the convicts had yanked Brand into the store. By the time he reached us, I had already gone into the store. Instead of being stupid and coming into the store, as I had done, he called the cops. But things were moving too fast for him to wait, so he had to make the decisions that he did. They were very cold and hard decisions.

  And he had saved our lives. I met his eyes at one point and mouthed the words, “Thank you.”

  Alex looked at me for a moment, and nodded slightly. Then he looked up, as did Chief Sinclair. I looked over and smiled while both Brands and my parents came running up. For the next few moments, we were too busy hugging our worried, but happy, parents. I lost sight of Alex for a few minutes. But, as Mom and Dad talked with Sinclair, I glimpsed him walking away, his hands in his trench coat pockets. I hoped I’d see him one last time before the end.

  CHAPTER THREE

  And the Day came. Nothing more could be said about it. When we awoke that morning, the world was as ready as it was going to get. On the Day, the talk shows were quiet. The news stories were of people making noble decisions to come together to settle their differences. Leaders declared peace throughout the world, and governments and armies laid down their arms. Governors were releasing criminals from prisons to be with their families. People also married or divorced at the last minute, if only to finish up things in their personal lives. All these last minute announcements pushed more than one desk anchor to suggest that this would be humanity’s finest hour.

  I didn’t believe it.

  If those escaped convicts hadn’t tried to kill me, I might have felt different. But only two days had gone by, and I wasn’t ready to forgive them. I wanted to hurt those convicts. I wanted those bastards hurt so bad that my stomach twisted in knots just thinking about it. I was angry with not just them, I was angry with Yama because it wouldn't let me hurt the convicts. Yeah, no, I wasn't feeling very sane just then.

  Yama had already destroyed everything I had ever known. There weren't going to be anymore musical groups, like Sick Puppies, no new comics would come out about Superman, or Batman, or X-Men. There wouldn't even be any more thinking up of my own stuff to write on the fan-fiction sites. I would never see the Chicago University, or ride on the ‘L’ train again. Hell, I’d never have sex. That was just wrong, damn it!

  I turned off the television as Mom and Dad came into the room. The announcement about the cookout had said that this was going to be a casual affair. So I had just tossed on a pair of black and a t-shirt that said, ‘The Floggings Shall Continue Until Morale Improves.’ It felt fitting somehow. After all, my morale wasn’t going to improve much. I knew that. Mom smiled a little at my choice of shirts, but said nothing.

  I was silent as we left the house and drove to the high school. Mom looked at me in the rearview mirror, worried at my silence. At one point, she started to say something, but Dad touched her on the arm and shook his head. He might not have been living with us all these years, but he still knew my moods. While I didn’t want to yell at them, I also knew that if anyone said anything to me, I’d snap.

  Heading into the parking lot, I looked at the building I had come to almost every morning for nearly four years. Once, I’d wanted to get through high school as quick as I could. I now wanted to find a way to do it over—the cliques, the fights, the laughter, the parties, the dances. I didn’t want all of it obliterated. I felt a lump in my throat thinking how nice it would be to be bored silly in high school for one more day. But that wasn’t going to happen.

  Getting out of the car, I counted maybe three dozen cars in the parking lot. Usually on a school day, cars and pickups would pack the lot full. I shook my head, saddened by the whole scene. With a quiet sigh, I walked into the school with Mom and Dad walking behind me. Just inside the front doors to the school, the Biology class teacher, Mark Wells and his were wife were busy setting up a large indoor grill inside the school’s front atrium. Gina Carter, the Home Economics teacher was offering joking suggestions about getting it to work. Past all this, I could see people milling about in the school cafeteria. It looked as if we were the last to arrive.

  I heard laughter and joking. I could see kids running around and playing games. I didn’t have a clue as to why everyone was so damn cheerful. I was getting tense and the rage started to boil. I wanted to yell how stupid they were. Damn it! Didn’t they realize we were just hours away from dying? I started to say that aloud when I felt a hand on my arm. I glanced up and saw it was Brand.

  He shook his head, and mouthed, “Don’t!�
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  Before I could give a retort, Brand went over to Mom and Dad, offering to take their coats. My parents were with the others at the grill, giving them cheerful advice of their own. They were distracted, so they simply thanked him and handed them over. I was about to walk over there to make a snide remark, but Brand didn’t give me a chance. He came up to me with a knowing look in his eyes.

  He said, “Don’t do it. Come with me—now.”

  I ignored him and started to push past him when he stopped me by grabbing my arm. Without another word, he pulled me along into the school. There, I saw Jim and Karla talking with others. Before they noticed us, Brand dragged me down the hallway. We were the only ones there. I started to say something, but, again, Brand held up a hand and stopped me. He stopped at the door to the teachers’ lounge and pulled it open.

  Pointing at the room, he said, “Get the hell in there! We’re talking!”

  Inside the lounge, I saw that the room had a soda machine and a snack machine along one wall. There was a long couch in the middle, and lounge chairs were set on either side. Brand turned on the lights and tossed my parents’ coats onto one of the chairs as he came in behind me.

  Then turning to me, he said, “What the hell, man? You looked like you were ready to lash out at everyone! What gives?”

  I looked away from him, not saying anything for a moment. I decided to let him get a taste of his own medicine. No, I couldn't do it. I always had to say what I felt. I said, “Why aren’t you pissed? Those convicts nearly killed us! And we’re going to die! You’re the one who’s always pissed! So why ain’t you now?”

  For a moment, Brand just looked at me, and then looked around the room. I didn’t wait for him to talk. Instead I brushed past him as I said, “Come on, the parents will start wondering.”

  Brand said, “Because!”

  I turned back to look at him. “Because…what? Is it because we managed to escape being killed just in time to die from an asteroid impact? Because there’s nothing we can do? Come on! Say it! Talk, Houseman! Or are you too scared?”

  Brand snarled. I gave him a sour smile and said, “There’s the asshole I know and love!”

  Brand shook his head. He looked at me with consternation. He wasn’t used to me being the angry one. That was fine; I wasn’t used to him being the calm one. Weird.

  He sighed. “Look, I know this isn’t easy. I mean, I saw what happened down south. People freaked out. But it’s the final day; people are either going to celebrate or go crazy in places like this all over the world. We can’t do anything to stop it. And those cons? Those losers are in jail! What do you think they’re doing? Those assholes are stuck in a room by themselves. They’re each in a ten-by-ten square room with no windows! They will go insane worrying about what’s going on until the very end.”

  He grinned and said, “And that to me, makes for a fucking good payback!”

  “What the hell is good about it?” I snapped back at him.

  Brand said, “You saw the sign out in front, right? Whoever put it up is laughing. Why can’t you? It’s the way it is, man.”

  I said, “Seriously? Come on! All this joking around is bull! We’re going to die!”

  Brand nodded. With a serene look, he said, “Yes, Vaughn, and we’re going to die today. What, do you think that no one else has figured that out by now? Come on, what’s really bugging you?”

  I hesitated. I couldn’t say what I was thinking because it was too ridiculous. But he wasn’t going to quit pushing me. So, finally, I said, “It’s not fair. I…just…outside the hardware store, I thought how wrong all this was. That it...”

  Brand gestured, a half-smile on his lips. He said, “Come on…say it.”

  I looked out the windows for another moment before I finally said, “It’s not fair.”

  Brand gave a soft sigh before he answered. “Fairness stopped being a problem for me on the day I said goodbye to my brother at his grave. I knew life wasn’t fair when people said he had died while trying to run away from his duty. So, yeah, now I’m just glad he isn’t here to have to see how…”

  I looked at him when he stopped talking. I said, “He doesn’t have to see how…what?”

  He shrugged it off and came to join me at the door. “It doesn’t matter. If God is real, or the afterlife, well, Kyle will see that he’s gonna have lots of company.”

  Brand walked past me into the hallway. On the way out, he said, “Come on. The ‘rents will be wondering what’s up if we don’t go hang with them for a bit.”

  I stood at the door for a moment, watching him walk off. I said, “You really think all that shit you just said is gonna make me less pissed?”

  Brand just turned, walking backwards, and gave me one of his usual cynical smiles. He said, “No. But just think on this for a moment; that is a big ass asteroid about to kill us, not one of your comic book super villains. It’s a rock; do you think it’s going to care about you being angry? Or that people are laughing at it? Or that we feel sadness, or grief?”

  I blinked and rocked back against the open door’s edge. I said, “No.”

  He shrugged and turned to walk down the hall.

  I followed, slowly walking behind Brand but saying nothing more. There wasn’t anything that needed saying. Walking into the cafeteria, I put on a smile, forced as it was, and joined Mom and Dad. They were talking to people I didn't know. That was to be expected. I couldn’t be friends with every person in a town of fifteen thousand people. And the few who had stayed hadn’t exactly done so in a mutual suicide pact…or something. Hmm, bad thinking. I pushed down the dark thought. I smiled when Brand looked at me and jerked his head to the front.

  I glanced back and saw the cooks put the first of the hamburgers and hotdogs on the tables set just inside the cafeteria. The cooked food was next to very small bags of potato chips and cookies I recognized from eating lunch here over the years. The organizers had emptied the school kitchens in town for this little ‘blowout.’ And I saw the sign. Even from the back, I could make out the words. ‘EXTREME COOKOUT! TODAY ONLY!’

  Gods…

  Joining up with him, I whispered, “Guess even the looters couldn’t stand school food.”

  Brand nodded and pointed at the banner. I sighed, “I guess that’s how we’ll go out. Not with a bang, not with a whimper…”

  He said, “But with a horrible sense of humor!”

  We both laughed, and the tension that had been hanging between us fell away in my mind. I realized that if I was going to die, at least I was with someone who was the closest thing to a brother that I would ever have. Then Mom came over with Karla in tow. Mom was carrying a pack of cards. Smiling mischievously, she said, “Come on boys. Let’s play a hand.”

  My eyes widened out of reflex as I took a step back. Oh no. Not on my last day. I mean, yes, I wanted Mom there when it happened, but not with a bad hand of bridge. I was horrible at the game. If we had to play a card game, I would prefer to be playing Magic the Gathering during the last moments of my life, not Bridge!

  Karla saw my reaction and laughed. She said, “Oh let them go have their own fun, Andrea.”

  Smiling, I gave them a vigorous nod and walked away quickly. I could hear their chuckles. Joining Brand, I went over and listened to Dad and Jim talking about getting a quick game of football going. Oddly—given that he liked the sport—Brand looked at me with his ‘I’m bored’ look, and pointed to the hallway that led into the northwest wing of the school. Seeing other teenagers, I found myself wanting to head that way myself.

  Our dads were both busy discussing who to get involved in their game. We quietly backed away and walked out of the cafeteria before they started to look for us. Once we got out of there, we saw that the kids for the most part were off in the hallways, talking about the stuff we liked to talk about. And while I had no problems with what was going on in the cafeteria, the people there were mainly adults. And they were talking about their adult interests. I needed someone around my own age
.

  Outside the Home Economics classroom, we ran into a group of online gamers I knew. Talking with them was fun, especially when we got into game and MMO talk. A couple of us talked about the last comics that had been published.

  After only a few minutes, though, Brand was bored silly. He’d never gotten into the gaming or comic books the way I had. Unfortunately, there weren’t many more people near our age around for him to hang out with; so after talking a few more moments, we continued walking down the hall way. We turned down a smaller hall to head towards the school gym. Inside, we saw some guys and a couple girls setting up for a final session with guitars, drums, and a fair number of instruments that, normally, just didn’t belong in a band. Tubas? No, thank you.

  We went back to the hallway and continued walking. We stopped again at the guidance counselor’s office where we saw that people were watching a television. A big plasma screen showed a live-feed from the ISS with some newswoman speaking about a last minute nuclear attack failing to move the asteroid off course.

  That we were even hearing about this surprised me as I had thought all the cable news stations had been shut down. But I guess one or two had decided to go back on the air once they they’d gotten wind of the last ditch attempt to take out Yama. Then I was startled when a time clock popped up at the bottom of the screen. It was set at fifty-nine minutes…and counting down.

  There it was. Our doom was less than an hour away. Given where Yama would impact, we’d have a perfect view when it slammed into the atmosphere. I had that thought just as one of the people watching mentioned that the ISS was in orbit above us for a final record of the impact.

  Someone else whispered that one of the astronauts on the ISS had killed himself by stepping out of an airlock. And another astronaut was uploading all the history and knowledge he could get from NASA’s database and the Internet to store on the space station. Volunteers around the world were assisting with the upload. If this was going to be our last hurrah, at least we would leave a message for some aliens to find.