Defenders

by Will McIntosh

  They caught each other up on their lives. Oliver told her what it had been like to be in Australia when the war broke out. How he’d be dead if not for Lila.

  Vanessa described watching from her bedroom window as the first bombs dropped on D.C., then hiding in her basement, terrified, as the bombers flew overhead, evidently saving their bombs for more densely populated areas.

  “I’ve never felt as alone as I felt in that basement,” Vanessa said. “Most of the time, I’m happy on my own. I enjoy my own company; I thrive in the silence. But when you’re terrified, when you’re watching bombs drop on the roofs of your city, suddenly it’s awful to be alone.”

  Oliver was surprised by Vanessa’s honesty. It reminded him of the early months of their marriage, when he’d felt closer to her than he’d ever felt to anyone.

  “I tried calling my mom, but the phones were out by then. The power was out; I was in the dark. I would have given anything to hear another human voice.” Vanessa’s mother, who’d lived in Albuquerque, died in the war. So did her brother, and an uncle.

  A defender came around the corner. Oliver tensed, ever afraid one of them would demand ID and somehow see that his was fake. He and Vanessa pressed close to the wall to give the defender plenty of room to pass. As the thump of the defender’s boots faded, Oliver’s pulse returned to normal.

  Vanessa noticed how tense he’d become. “I don’t know how you do it. I could never disappear like you did, and worry all the time about being discovered.”

  Oliver shrugged, put on a brave face. “The trick is to hide in plain sight. If you seem to be avoiding them, they get suspicious. I really had no choice; even with Lila’s protection, sooner or later they would have killed me because of who I was.”

  “You hated it when they drafted you into the CIA. Do you remember? You absolutely didn’t want to do it.”

  Oliver nodded, watched a concrete mixer roll by, driven by a man who must have been ninety.

  “But you adapted. You thrived.” After a pause she added, “I didn’t think you would.”

  The comment took Oliver by surprise. He nearly stopped walking before regaining his composure. “No?”

  She touched his shoulder. “You were such a gentle man; too gentle to fight a war, I thought.” She must have seen something in his expression, because she quickly added, “Don’t get me wrong, I liked that you were gentle—it was one of the reasons I married you. But I confused gentle with weak. You’re not weak.”

  “Thank you” was all he could think to say. When he first joined the CIA, he’d been afraid he was too weak. He wouldn’t necessarily have used that word, but that was the crux of it. Over the years those fears had vanished. Still, it did his heart good to hear Vanessa say she didn’t think he was weak.

  “We probably should have done this a long time ago,” Vanessa said. “Get things right with each other. Lots of divorced people reconnect and become friends after some time passes.” She glanced at him, smiled. “We shouldn’t have waited twenty years.”

  Oliver nodded. His throat had tightened; he didn’t trust himself to speak, but he was afraid Vanessa hadn’t seen him nod, and he didn’t want her to think he didn’t agree with what she’d just said. So he added, “I missed you,” almost choking on the last word.

  Vanessa studied his profile. Oliver kept his head down, face forward, not wanting her to see how choked up he was.

  “I missed you, too.”

  How long had he imagined taking this walk, having this conversation? He felt… he couldn’t put it into words. His senses felt sharpened; he felt lighter than he had in ages. The wars hadn’t made Vanessa sour and brittle, or depressed and anxious, as it had so many people. At her core she was still the same woman. There were wrinkles around her eyes, the softness of middle age showing under her chin, but it was still Vanessa. She’d made it intact through two wars; Oliver wondered how she’d fare in a third.

  “I want to tell you something I’m not supposed to tell anyone. But for now, you can’t ask me for details.”

  Vanessa swallowed. “This is the thing you talked about on the phone. ‘Ask me again in six months,’ you said.”

  Oliver scanned the street, looking for any sign of defenders, or security cameras. It would be too dangerous to go into specifics, but he felt he had to say something, or he would be lying to Vanessa in a very real sense. “There’s another storm coming, Vanessa. Very soon.”

  She slowed. She understood exactly what he was saying—Oliver could see it in her reaction. “You’re sure?”

  “I’m positive.”

  “As bad as the other storms?”

  Oliver squeezed his eyes shut for a second. “Just as bad.”

  Vanessa took this in, then nodded. “Good to know.”

  A few blocks ahead, the row of colorful three-story connected houses ended, replaced by the towering frames of new defender construction, cranes and bulldozers, and piles of rubble—the remains of the human buildings that had been demolished to make room for more defender dwellings. Hopefully, they would never be completed.

  “We’d better turn around,” Oliver said.

  They headed back the way they’d come.

  Vanessa took out her phone, tapped the keys for a moment, then held it up. “I haven’t listened to this in twenty years, but today, I need a laugh.”

  Sounding like he was speaking from inside a can, Oliver heard his own quavering voice. “Yes, Vanessa, this is Oliver Bowen? My sister, Leslie Bowen, gave me your number, and I hope you don’t mind my calling you, but—”

  As they laughed, Oliver watched for defenders. If a defender happened by and saw two humans laughing as hard as they were, it would raise suspicion.

  83

  Kai Zhou

  January 12, 2048. Washington, D.C.

  The crawlspace under Erik’s house was large enough for Kai to walk upright. When Kai and Lila had owned their own house, it had been a struggle to move around in the crawlspace with his back bent, squatting. And that had been before the war, when his body was strong and fully intact.

  Kai located the plumbing that went up to the kitchen, listened to each of the pipes in turn with the stethoscope he’d brought. He marked the one connected to the sink, which he’d purposely left running, with a red X, then went to find the main circuit panel.

  He felt like he was deceiving Lila by planning this without telling her. But there was no doubt in his mind that Erik was going to try to kill him; he was too good a poker player to misread what he’d seen on Erik’s face.

  He flipped the breaker switch leading to the heater for Erik’s pool. Erik would never notice it was off; as far as Kai knew, Erik had never been in the pool—it was just a prop, a display of his wealth and power.

  Rerouting the wiring was the hard part, especially with only one good hand. During basic training he’d received cursory instruction in booby-trapping, including about two minutes on how to electrocute someone using a house’s typical 110-volt setup.

  An hour later, shaking from the exertion, his hip throbbing, he had the wires from the pool’s heater wrapped around the pipe leading to the kitchen faucet. In theory, when the time came all he had to do was flip the breaker, then get Erik to touch the faucet. He hoped he’d done it right.

  84

  Dominique Wiewall

  January 18, 2048. Washington, D.C.

  It was a pathetic war room. In place of interactive high-definition electronic maps, they had paper maps and pushpins on the walls. And Spider-Man. Dominique didn’t even feel qualified to participate in planning an insurrection. She was a geneticist, for God’s sake.

  We’re in direct contact with hundreds of high-ranking officers with combat experience, Five said in her head, probably from miles away. They’ll be making the military decisions.

  “I know, I know,” Dominique said. “They’re just my thoughts, Five. That’s where we express our private doubts and insecurities. If we’re all going to live together in peace and harmony, your kind
is going to have to learn to politely ignore what you hear us thinking.”

  Sorry. You’ll have to excuse my manners, but thousands of my people are being slaughtered at the moment, and each time it happens, it feels a little like dying myself. I’d appreciate it if you’d cut me one fucking inch of slack.

  Dominique swallowed. “I’m sorry. I forgot for a moment.”

  Oliver took a sip from his third or fourth cup of coffee, politely ignoring the altercation. He had three days’ growth of dark stubble on his face, and smelled like a defender. Dominique wasn’t sure how to tell him that if he didn’t have time to shower, he should at least change his shirt.

  They were all on edge. Forrest had his face buried in his computer, trying to find a way to hack into the defenders’ video feeds to give them a better idea of what was going on out there. He cursed under his breath as he pounded away on the keyboard.

  “Five, how are the evacuations in those cities going?” Oliver asked.

  Chaotically. Some people are trying to get out, others are staying put. The defenders are saying no one who stays will be harmed, and anyone who tries to leave without a pass will be killed. Meanwhile, we’re doing our best to panic people into fleeing. If we can create stampedes out of the cities, the defenders won’t be able to kill as many refugees. The defenders are frantically trying to understand what’s happening.

  “How do they think people learned about their plan to gas those cities?”

  They’re guessing it happened through an intercepted communication.

  Oliver nodded. “So they’re not suspicious that some of their own have been altered?”

  That would be an impressive leap of logic, don’t you think?

  “Don’t underestimate their capacity for paranoia,” Dominique said.

  Someone knocked on the door.

  Oliver jumped like he’d been goosed. He looked at the Invincible Iron Man alarm clock sitting on a nearly empty bookshelf. “Oh, shit. I invited Vanessa over. I didn’t realize what time it was.”

  Dominique surveyed the room. “How were you planning to explain the battle maps?”

  “I told her to come for coffee, but the real reason I invited her was to warn her of what’s about to happen, and hopefully convince her to stay here with us.”

  Another knock. Oliver went to answer it.

  It wasn’t Oliver’s ex, it was Lila, who stormed in, dropped her bag on the couch, and went to the map. “What’s happening?” Her eyes were red, and her nose sounded plugged.

  “Didn’t we agree you should go to work, as usual?” Oliver asked.

  “I infected myself with rhinovirus yesterday, then played up the symptoms like I had the flu.”

  That seemed risky to Dominique, but she kept her mouth shut. Lila liked to be in the middle of things. Dominique could relate.

  “Here we go!” Forrest shouted. “I got it, I got it.”

  Everyone hustled to see the laptop screen. “We can choose country, then city or town, over here.” Forrest pointed at a menu to the right of the screen. “Then scroll through the various feeds.” He toggled through a dozen views of D.C. until he found one that showed a handful of defenders with rifles shooting dozens of Luyten, who’d evidently been hiding in a warehouse. The Luyten were fighting back (in fact, one defender was down and unmoving), but they were cornered and outgunned, and they were dying. There were twitching, bullet-riddled Luyten everywhere.

  “It’s time,” Oliver said, staring at the carnage. “Let’s send the call out to the human side of the resistance. They’re being slaughtered.”

  Not yet—we have to allow the images of Luyten resistance to spread. It will make it much easier to convince your people to fight at our side.

  “Are the images spreading?”

  Yes. Quickly. We’ve recruited human allies who are making sure.

  “What about the Luyten in the wild, the ones who are armed?” Dominique asked. “Couldn’t they help?”

  Lila turned. “What Luyten in the wild?”

  “We stumbled on a camp of armed Luyten in Alaska. They looked like they’d been there since the war. If there’s one camp, there must be others.” She was surprised this was news to them; she’d assumed if she knew about them, the others would by now.

  “Five?” Lila sounded supremely uneasy. “Are there others?”

  There was an uncharacteristically long pause. Yes. Some of your military strategists are aware of them, and have plans for them.

  “How many?” Lila asked.

  Several million worldwide, Lila. And yes, to what you’re thinking. That was the original plan.

  Dominique looked at Lila. “What was the original plan?”

  Lila folded her arms. “They were planning their own rebellion. Why else would they have secret camps all over the world? And I’ll bet they were breeding as fast as they could, weren’t they, Five? You were biding your time, waiting to grow an army big enough to wipe out the defenders, and then us.”

  Look out your fucking window, Lila. We’re dying by the thousands. If you still can’t see past your own hatred of us, then I give up. We’re monsters, bent on killing. You’re angels, with nothing but noble intentions. Are you satisfied? Now, get the hell out of our way. The rest of us have work to do.

  There was no missing Five’s rage. It burned inside Dominique’s head like a blowtorch.

  “He’s right, Lila,” Oliver said, speaking gently. “Since we formed this alliance, they’ve done everything they promised, and more.”

  “Except tell us about the existence of millions of other Luyten.”

  “They told others. I’m guessing they withheld the information from us because they knew how you’d react. Can you blame them?”

  Lila looked at Oliver, her eyes like razors. Dominique had seen her angry like this a few times before; it had never ended well. She needed to defuse the situation before things got out of hand.

  “Well, you can’t blame them, that much is clear,” Lila said, her tone acid. “What is it about Five that makes you crave his approval so desperately? Even after he broke up your marriage, you still want his approval more than you want your wife back.”

  Oliver’s face trembled, with rage, hurt, or both. “You don’t know anything about what I want.”

  Lila opened her mouth to reply just as the doorbell rang.

  “That’s Vanessa,” Oliver said. He went to the door.

  “Five, tell us the Luyten’s original plan, so we can understand,” Dominique said.

  Oliver led Vanessa into the room; Dominique nodded a brief greeting, as Five replied.

  Stay out of sight. Multiply. In about thirty years, if we weren’t discovered, we’d have had enough strength to rise up against the defenders. Humanity would be forced to choose a side.

  “But you changed your plan when you learned about the defenders’ plan to cull the human population. You couldn’t stand idly by while it happened,” Dominique suggested.

  Vanessa looked utterly confused. She was hearing only half the conversation. Oliver whispered something to her.

  “Or they saw it as an opportunity,” Lila said. She headed for the door. “I’m going to go. Five is right; I’m only getting in the way.”

  No one tried to stop her. Dominique was tempted, but it was probably best for her to be elsewhere; the stress was getting to her. The stress was getting to everyone, even Five. Hell, Dominique wished she could leave, too.

  Oliver was still whispering to Vanessa. Her mouth dropped open. “Oh my God.”

  Your military strategists are offering a range of opinions, from launching the human side of the uprising immediately, to waiting several days. The consensus seems to be to wait another hour or two. So that’s what we plan to do.

  “Explain to me again how you’re going to convince people to pour into the streets, poorly armed, against defenders armed to the teeth?” Dominique asked.

  Wake up, John Smith, your people are rising up, and they need your help. Get the ax from your ga
rage and report to your commander on Main Street. I’m hiding under your house. Don’t make me come in there and get you.

  The room erupted with laughter, except Vanessa, who looked confused, and scared. Oliver whispered something else, clearly trying to console her.

  “That would get my ass into the street,” Forrest said.

  It won’t take much prodding. Most humans are ready to fight.

  Forrest nodded. He looked dead on his feet, his eyes half shut, his hands shaky. It occurred to Dominique that this might be a good time for them to go back to the little apartment they’d commandeered and get a couple of hours’ sleep. Oliver would probably appreciate some time alone with Vanessa, and in this little studio apartment that wasn’t going to happen unless Dominique and Forrest left for a while. When she suggested getting some sleep to Forrest, he didn’t argue.

  85

  Kai Zhou

  January 18, 2048. Washington, D.C.

  Kai went to the kitchen, plugged the sink, and turned the water on full-blast. He was so nervous his stomach ached. The water overflowed, spilling across the counter and onto Erik’s tile floor. Erik would turn off the water when he saw this; he wouldn’t be able to resist. He’d better not be able to resist.

  Kai left the sliding glass door open and went around to the crawlspace entrance, then contemplated the circuit panel for a long moment before flipping the breaker on. He went back inside to wait for Erik. If Erik stuck to his usual routine, he’d be back for lunch.

  “Kai?”

  The front door banged open. “Kai?”

  From his hiding place in the laundry closet, Kai heard Erik curse. He peered through the crack between the sets of folding doors into the empty kitchen, his heart racing. Something scraped along the wall and clattered to the floor, then Erik stepped into view, cursing a blue streak, glaring at the faucet.

  “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” He reached toward the faucet. “Because you—” As Erik’s fingertips brushed the handle, there was a blinding flash. Erik was blown backward into the wall of cabinets. He landed on his feet, then tipped forward, his face slamming into the counter before he crumpled to the flooded tile floor. It wasn’t what Kai had expected. He’d pictured Erik dancing like a marionette, unable to let go of the handle while the current flowed through him, seeking ground.