“What happens when the other cars join up?”
The attendant shrugged, gave Darren a perfunctory smile and said, “Retirement, I guess.”
Darren gave him an uneasy smile. Surely the man had no way of knowing the double meaning of the word retirement from his time. Why would he? Still, it gave him a chill and he looked more closely at those around him after the meal cart rolled out of the car and silence returned.
Up front, a group of three were deep in discussion, but it didn’t look ominous in any way. They were laughing now and again, then returning to more serious talk. He dismissed them. Another pair of ladies, both fuller figured after their transition-time gorging, seemed to be showing each other exercises, imaginary weights in their hands as they squeezed at points on their arms or shoulders.
No, the mood was fine. Just a collection of people at the start of a new phase in their lives. Darren returned to looking out the window at the passing scenery. The ground was getting more uneven, a series of hills appearing in the distance. Above him, the sun was high in the sky, too high for him to decide which way was west. He’d never been good with that sort of thing anyway.
Deciding he’d been spooked by his own associations rather than anything real, Darren leaned back and let the chair recline, molding to him in a way that invited rest and sleep. He did and dreamt of flowers blowing in the breeze.
Chapter Nine – New Life, New World
When the train slowed, Darren started, instantly awake. He looked about in confusion for a moment, then collapsed back into his seat when he saw nothing except the same people around him. Outside, the sun had shifted in the sky and now he could tell they were moving generally westward. More than that was beyond him, but even this small amount of information somehow made him feel better, more in control and less like a blind follower.
The doors at both ends of the car opened and a few new people shuffled in. They were older, like all the rest, but their clothes were cut just a little differently. Not enough to be significant, but enough so that Darren knew they came from someplace distant enough from his city to have a few differences.
Most smiled a little shyly before taking the remaining empty seats. The woman who sat next to Darren held out her hand in the peculiar horizontal handshake they used in this time. He laid his hand on top of hers and let their palms touch for an interminable second, then pulled away. The custom wasn’t so bad, but the stillness of two hands together like that unnerved him. Still, he must have done it well, because the woman gave no hint that his movements were too abrupt or socially incorrect.
“Good afternoon. I’m Paga,” she said. When she smiled, her teeth were small and perfectly shaped, her lips curiously full. It was as if the bottom half of her face were young while the upper half—with fans of lines radiating from her eyes—had aged normally.
“Darren. Pleased to meet you.”
Paga looked around at everyone in the car, nodding to someone she knew a few rows away, and then turned her eyes to the window. There was no station, just a sort of juncture with a pattern of single guide rails where many different trains might pass. She sighed.
“Are you from around here?” he asked.
“Here? Oh, no. I don’t think anyone is from around here,” she laughed. “I’ve been on my train since this morning. You?”
“The same,” he said.
They both quieted, having exhausted the easy topic of travel people resort to when meeting a stranger. It felt awkward.
“I…uh…do you know where we’re going?” he asked.
She seemed relieved to have something to say. “No, not at all. Do you?”
He shook his head. “You’d think they would tell us something. Doesn’t seem right to just get on a transport and wind up someplace entirely new without knowing where.”
Perhaps it was the aggrieved tone he couldn’t quite suppress, or maybe it was just the idea of someone questioning the way things were, but Paga seemed to pull back a little, to disengage from him.
“Sorry, I’m just not a fan of change,” he explained. “And, well, I found out I was going to be a father today.” Surprised at the emotion those words brought up in him, he turned his face away from her and toward the window.
For a moment, Paga said nothing. Darren could sense that she was waiting for him to collect himself, giving him space. When he coughed the thickness in his throat away and stuffed the emotions back inside, he turned back to her and said, “Sorry again.”
Paga patted his arm and then squeezed it with the easy familiarity of this time, “That’s all right. You waited a little late in the game to do that, didn’t you?”
Darren had no desire to try to explain his situation so he merely smiled and nodded, letting her imagine her own.
Another meal came just as Darren began to doze again and that revived everyone in the car, the noise of their conversations rising and joining the clinking of utensils on plates. It was an almost celebratory atmosphere. This attendant knew no more than the other, but what really drew Darren’s attention was his age. He appeared about the same age as the train’s occupants, maybe even older. Darren assumed he was close to retirement.
The data screens on the walls had been dark the entire trip, but as soon as dinner was done, they lit up and silenced the car immediately as all eyes went toward the nearest screen. The message didn’t say much, just that they would arrive at their destination in fifteen minutes. A countdown started on the screens.
It was the longest fifteen minutes of Darren’s life. And from the way the others in the car peered out the windows—and then got up to crowd the windows if they were in the aisle seats—he wasn’t the only one.
Outside, the trees were thick. No signs of human habitation marred the wall of trees just beyond the rail that the train followed. There was nothing. But then again, the way they made their cities so contained and with little urban spread, he wasn’t sure he would see any sign of a city until he was in it.
With less than a minute left on the clock and still no sign civilization, he wasn’t the only one feeling nervous. Hands came up to the glass, eyes searching the trees and brows drawing together all around him. At thirty seconds, the train made a turn and began to slow.
Around the curve, Darren finally saw their destination. He recognized it. The layout, the neat rows, the fence. He let his hands drop to his sides, a bitter smile coming to his lips. Oh yes, he knew from a thousand news reports and television shows what he was looking at.
A military camp.
Chapter Ten – The Price We Pay
Whatever façade they used to maintain compliance fell away the moment the train stopped. The side door, the one facing the camp, opened and the intercom told them to exit the train.
Every potential route of escape went through Darren’s mind, but strangely enough, he seemed to be the only one interested in it. No one else seemed to understand what was going on, at least not well enough that any of them joined him in seeking a way out. Some were smiling, others were examining what they could see of the camp through the windows, uncertainty on their faces, but no one showed fear. Not one of them seemed to understand what this place was.
Darren tried to open the exit doors on the opposite side of the car, but they were stuck fast. Others began filing out and he looked around the car, searching for any place that might be big enough to hide him. There was nothing. Not even the food cart. Why hadn’t he noticed this before? The lack of storage, the spare frames of the seats, the open floor plan.
He stomped his feet around on the floor, looking for a trap door or storage area—anything would do at this point—but there was nothing. A man, a young man nowhere close to retirement age, dressed in a recognizable attempt at fatigues stepped up into the car and eyed Darren. He didn’t have anything as crass as a gun that Darren recognized, but on his utility belt he had several items in various holders and clips. Darren had no doubt that something among that collection functioned as a weapon.
"Please
exit the transport,” the young man said. He didn’t say it like an order, but the way his hand rested so casually on his hip near his belt, and the way his feet were a little apart, as if knowing he might need the stability, told Darren it was an order. Nothing less.
“Where are we?” he asked, his tone flat, but not overtly defiant.
The young man took a half-step back. He was so much taller and bigger than most of the people in this time. Clearly, this young man—soldier—wasn’t going to take chances.
“You’ll get your indoctrination as soon as you join your friends,” the soldier said.
Darren walked across the train, making the soldier shuffle aside a few steps to stay clear, and stepped down off the train. Only then did he turn a little toward the soldier. “I don’t know them. I don’t have friends.”
The soldier stayed a few steps behind Darren during the eternal hundred yards they walked toward the gathered retirees. Darren did his best to examine his surroundings and catalog anything and everything that might be of use to him.
Behind him, the train idled, the last car still halfway through a gate. The fence itself was at least fifteen feet tall and topped with coils of wire. In addition, the links were threaded with thick bands that probably carried an electrical charge. The fence seemed to encompass the entire camp, though he couldn’t see the whole thing from where he was.
What bothered him most was the angle of the coils of wire at the top. They were angling the wrong way. If the fence were meant to keep them inside, then they would tilt inward, but instead they tilted outward, as if to keep something out.
Rows of portable shelters lined one side of the clearing and a collection of larger versions of the same lined the other. On the far side of the clearing sat a metal building that reminded Darren of a warehouse.
The soldier hurried ahead, keeping a wary eye on Darren while he did, and then pointed toward the cluster of his fellow travelers. They mingled in nervous groups, their complacency gone. Their resemblance to sheep had never been as obvious to Darren as it was now. If one of them started bleating, it wouldn't have surprised him.
“Just go over there if you would,” the soldier said and hurried away.
Behind him, the train jerked backward and exited the open gate. Once it cleared the fence, Darren saw the tower and the soldiers inside it. Even as he watched, they swept the area around them with some sort of device that looked like a cross between a searchlight and a cannon. A truck came into view as the train left the enclosure. It waited its turn to leave the compound and the sight of it made Darren's blood run cold.
On the back of the big truck rested three large clear balls, each one large enough to hold the person seated inside. Two men and a woman, all clearly retirees, sat on little pedestaled chairs inside the balls. Even from here, Darren could see that they were meant to be in those balls for a long time. One man even had his tablet out, his face unconcerned as he tapped away. The other two looked more like they should look, fearful. The worst part was the holes. Each of the balls was covered in small holes. A less astute man, one not accustomed to seeking the smallest signs for an advantage, might think those were to allow the inhabitants to breathe. The not-quite-human scream of anger Darren heard coming from beyond the fences somewhere in that wild forest told Darren it was something else. It was so that whatever was out there would smell the inhabitants.
Bait. They were bait. The truck lumbered out of the gate and it closed with a final sounding bang.
From the warehouse stepped a trio of men, one of them clearly the leader. Something in the way he walked, the confidence in his stride and the hard lines of his face, said this was a man entirely unlike the others he’d met in this gentler time. This was a man like Darren. And it didn't surprise him to find himself looking at the politician, the one who had retired early.
When he came close, the man’s step faltered a little when he caught sight of Darren. His mouth twisted in a bitter smile and he nodded a brief, curt nod Darren’s way. They recognized each other, these lions amongst sheep.
Another of the men in the trio, this one wearing his uniform as if it were a too-large costume he didn’t feel comfortable in, spoke first. “Alright everyone. I’m sure you have lots of questions and we’ll get to those, but first things first.”
He paused and licked his lips in a nervous gesture that looked decidedly weasel-ish. His hands twisted in front of him for a moment before he put his hands behind his back and continued, “Welcome to Tennessee!”
The politician kept his eyes on Darren, and at those words, he nodded. Darren returned the nod, the anger inside altering his own expression to match the man’s. They were back where they’d started, back in the place so dangerous that their containment pods had to be moved away before they could wake. A protected zone.
Chapter Eleven – Your Past, My Present
Later that night, with the sounds of insects in the forest beyond the fence loud inside his ears, Darren started laughing. The short partitions between the beds in the portable building didn’t provide anything in the way of sound dampening. At best, they preserved a little modesty while people changed clothes and slept.
He couldn’t seem to stop laughing. Deep belly laughs gave way to staccato jolts of sound and then to long wheezing guffaws that sounded hysterical even to his ears. He was perilously close to crying, at the edge of descending to screams and throwing things. He was wavering on the line between living and going on a rampage that would see him dead at the end of it.
Faces began to peer in at him from other partitioned areas, his disturbance drawing others from their beds. Even over the top of the partition to either side, two of his neighbors were looking in, clearly standing on their beds to do so.
Darren pulled his pillow from under his head and smashed it into his face, hoping that either the lack of air would stop him or, if not that, at least stifle his laughs. Soon enough, one of the guards would come.
The sound of tentative shuffled steps made him pull down the pillow enough that he could see. Paga was there, just beside his bed and standing patiently, hands crossed in front of her. Her hair was mussed a little, and though it was hard to be sure in the dim light, he thought her eyes looked puffy from crying.
What finally made his laughter stop was her attempt at a smile. It was shaky and she couldn’t hold it, her lips trembling and then lifting again, torn between crying and smiling. And her confusion, because that was there too.
While she may have understood the words that the General had said—about their purpose, the great sacrifice they would make to ensure a safer future—she didn't understand how her life could really be meant to end this way. How could they, these coddled progeny of the future?
His laughter died and he pulled the pillow away from his face. They looked at each other in the glow of the night lights around the perimeter of their little cubbies. After a time, with all the others still watching from their places at the entrance to his little space or from the top of the partitions, Paga seemed to almost fall toward him. She sat on his bed, her butt heavy on his leg, and leaned forward, her face in her hands.
Her sobs were almost entirely silent. Only her hard, hitching breaths came through. Darren sat up and put a tentative hand on her bowed back, looking at all the other faces, at the dark pools of shadow where their eyes should be.
“We’re bait,” he said finally. “Just bait.”
No one answered him. They didn’t need to. They all understood. The protected zones—the thousands of miles around them—needed to be cleared. They need to be contained and the genetic mess his generation and the ones after his had left behind had to be cleaned up. What had Genarae said? That they did it slowly, because time was the best solution? He almost laughed to think of that idle conversation now. These people lived their whole lives without knowing what awaited them.
What had been progress in his time was now a serious pest control problem in theirs. It almost set him to laughing again to remember how many bi
otech firms he’d invested in, how many he’d gotten thousands of people to invest in.
And now…what about now? Now it was a simple problem with a complex answer. People here drew them in, the creatures of many shapes and sizes and levels of intelligence. And as they came near or set up their nests nearby, the soldiers killed them off. No more genetic solutions that caused more problems. No more drones or hunter-killer automatons to go haywire. Just bait, soldiers, and mechanical elimination of the pest.
Simple. Complex. Terrible.
Darren thought of Genarae, who would one day be his age, who would one day board her own train. He thought of his as yet unborn son, who would also be his age someday. And he thought of the camps like this one spread out all over the world. The slow and torturous retaking of the land at such momentous cost.
He, like all of the others, had been given a choice. Just go along with the program, be deployed into areas in cages or inside hollow balls dangling from trees or whatever else might be devised, day after day, until the day his luck ran out. Or he could choose to fight with them, just like the politician who now led them. That man had gotten his wish to see the future—just like Darren had. But choice or no, none of the soldiers he saw were old. They were young. Choosing to fight with them apparently meant nothing for extending a retiree’s life. Except the politician, the man from their past.
There was no question what he would choose. Darren had built an empire from nothing, had cheated time, had leapt into the future. No, there was no question what he would choose. The lion inside him had napped for a while, enjoyed the food that appeared each day, but now it realized it was in a cage and was wide awake.
And he had no intention of being a lone lion. He would create others. These sheep didn't have to stay sheep.
He punched his pillow back into shape and lay back down. Paga lifted her head from her hands, perhaps sensing the change in his demeanor. She seemed to be waiting for him to say something. They all had that expectant air, poised to hear something that might make their nightmare go away.
The Time Travel Chronicles Page 24