“So you’re joining the Revolters?”
“Hell no. I’m just living and waiting to see what happens. As long as my dad is alive, I have to stay in hiding. I’m at just as much risk as him to get killed by the Road Runners.”
“So you hide out in the city where Road Runners aren’t allowed. It actually makes sense. But did you know there are undercover Road Runners in the city? I got through just fine.”
“Of course I know that. That’s why I don’t mingle with anyone unless I know for certain who they are.”
“Is it just dumb luck that I happened to be sitting in the same bar as you?”
“I suppose it is. I go to new places for dinner every time I go out— I don’t want to be seen as a regular anywhere. But Martin, you can’t tell them about me. If the Road Runners know where I am they will hunt me until I’m dead. Who’s in charge right now anyway, with Strike missing?”
“I have no idea. I was only told that Strike was missing, but they might already be onto you. Strike told us to keep an eye out for you before we came on this trip.”
“It’s logical to assume I would hide in this era within the walls. They know I can blend in with the Revolters if needed.”
“So what am I supposed to do? Just go home and pretend like nothing happened?”
Sonya nodded. “Yes. But I know you won’t actually do that, so I can sweeten the deal for you.”
Martin’s eyebrows raised in curiosity. “What do you mean?”
“I can get you that medicine.”
“Are you shitting me? You’ve had access to the medicine this whole time?”
Sonya raised her hands for Martin to relax. “Look, I was just doing my job. I can’t say I felt guilty about the whole thing, because I can’t feel emotions, but I do know it was a dirty thing to do, not telling you.”
“You can say that again,” Martin snapped, rage instantly flaring through his body. Not only had she laid the perfect trap for him in 1996, she had access to the most valuable medicine in the world, at least to Martin. But beneath her surface was an innocent woman void of any emotion, and he felt sorry for her. If what she said was true, she had gone her entire adult life without experiencing the ups and downs of reality, subjected to a job that made her act to lure the innocent into joining the Road Runners.
They paused as a couple of joggers passed them by on the park’s trail.
“I’m sorry, Martin,” she finally said. “Let me help you get the medicine. It’s the least I can do.”
“You can answer one question for me, actually,” he responded dismissively. “Why did you drag me along for 6 months in 1996? Why did you come back with me to 2018, only to plan another trip into the past where you eventually led me into the trap? It seems like you had plenty of easy opportunities to turn me over.”
“The Road Runners don’t just recruit anyone,” she said, her nervous stare returning to the ground while she spoke. “It’s a long vetting process that often times can take an entire year.”
“And what is it you’re looking for during all that time?”
“Certain traits. I was actually on a special mission from Strike to find a worthy successor to her Commandership. She had trust issues with Julian, and wanted to see other options.”
“Me as Commander? That’s absurd.” Martin shook his head, grinning at the thought of him leading the Road Runners in any capacity.
“It’s not. You don’t give yourself enough credit.”
“I’ve never had any leadership qualities. Not in this sense.”
“Really? Then why are you here? Where’s the rest of the group you came with?”
Martin paused, thinking of a good response, but coming up short.
“Martin, you have the traits of a high-ranking Road Runner. You take initiative, are organized and extremely determined, and for the most part seem to be fearless. These are the things I had to judge as part of my job, getting to know you behind closed doors. When you came out of your coma ready to continue work, I knew you were the real deal. Anyone else would have called it quits at that point; you did not.” Sonya let her words hang above Martin like a cloud of truth.
He thought back to their time together in 1996, mentally picking apart each moment and trying to categorize what had been real, and what had been a test. “Was the coma done on purpose?”
“Of course not. We would never cause a potential Road Runner any harm. But it was a unique opportunity for us to see how you’d respond in the most difficult of moments. Look, we can talk all night about this, but nothing will change. We’re in 2064, and you’re not even allowed to be in this city. Come back tomorrow morning. Let’s meet in this same spot and I’ll have your mom’s medicine.”
“What happens after that?” Martin asked, sensing a familiar desire to spend every waking moment by her side.
“You go home and save your mom, and we never see each other again. I’ll be moving to another city. Even though I trust you, it’s too risky having someone know where I am.”
“Sonya, you don’t have to do that. I’ll leave you in peace.”
“I think we both know that’s a lie. I know in some other universe, where there’s no such thing as Road Runners or Revolters, you and I probably have a life together. But that’s not our reality, and it never will be. After tomorrow, we’ll say goodbye forever.” Sonya leaned in to Martin to kiss his cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning. Please don’t follow me home.”
Martin watched her turn and walk across the street, back where they had come from. Somewhere in the city she lived her life, hiding out one day at a time. He checked his watch to find it was already nine o’clock, and Gerald was waiting for him outside the city walls.
119
Chapter 26
Julian locked himself in his office. Tension and pandemonium brewed outside as teams of Road Runners prepared for the upcoming attacks on Chris’s mansion.
“Can he do this?” people murmured, excitement and angst heavy in their voices.
I certainly can, he thought. Only one group could attempt to stop him. The Council, a panel of seven Road Runners elected into their positions, served a role similar to the United States Supreme Court. With the Road Runners lacking a type of congress, the Council provided the only checks and balances on the Commander, aside from the lieutenant commander.
Anyone within the organization could bring an issue to the Council for review. If interested, a member of the Council had to motion the topic for review, and it needed to be seconded by one other member. Once a motion was approved, The Council gathered in their private chambers to hash out a discussion before putting the matter up for a vote. Every Council member was required to vote, and not a single person could overturn their decision.
Julian had always found this unfair. Why should one group of Road Runners be able to wield all of the power? Not even the Commander had any influence over them, so who was really in charge of the organization?
If there were only two Council members who felt strongly against dropping bombs on Chris, then the issue was already being discussed in New York City. All Julian needed was four Council members to side with him and everything would proceed without backlash. For whatever reason, the Road Runner community blindly accepted whatever decision the Council made.
It had only been thirty minutes since he delivered his speech, and his office phone began ringing constantly. The issue appeared more polarizing than killing Sonya, only this one had involvement from the public.
Julian left the phone off the hook, basking in silence as men and women worked in organized chaos to prepare the arsenal of bombs for deployment. He had decided to move forward as if nothing would stop him. Even if the Council ordered him to stop, he would still push forward, pretending to not receive the message. Disobeying the Council put him at risk of life in prison, but if the people could just see what a peaceful world looked like on the other side of the bombs, they’d have no choice but to forgive and forget.
“All leaders
will be faced with one decision that defines them,” Strike had told him once. “That decision forms how you’re viewed by the public. It can turn you into a hero or the enemy of the people—there is no in-between.”
He hadn’t known why she shared this with him, but figured she was more talking to herself to arrive to a final decision on Sonya’s fate, but he looked back at her words today with a wide grin.
“This is my grand decision,” he said to the empty office. “Only my second day on the job, and the people will love me for ending this war.”
Forty-five minutes had already passed since Julian authorized their preparation.
The Council was surely up in arms over the issue, hopefully equally split on the matter to burn more time while the rest of the world waited.
A knock rapped on the door, authoritative and rushed.
“Who is it?” Julian called out, not moving from his desk.
“Sir, Councilwoman Murray is on the phone for you. She needs to speak with you.” The voice belonged to Danielle, and Julian sat in silence. “Sir?”
He wondered if he sat there long enough if she’d give up and tell Councilwoman Murray to call back later. But the call was too important; they would deliver the message to him one way or another. No way they came to a decision that quickly.
“Danielle, can you please give me two minutes?”
“Yes, sir, I will let her know.”
Julian whipped out his cell phone and scrolled through his list of contacts until he found the one he needed, pressing on the call button with a shaky thumb.
“This is McGuire,” a deep, hoarse voice answered.
“Mr. McGuire, this is Commander Caruso,” Julian said.
“Hello, Commander, what can I do for you?”
“It’s time to deploy the bombs to our target. I authorize you to do so immediately.”
A brief silence filled the airwaves, and Julian sensed McGuire hesitating, debating to take the order or not.
“Mr. McGuire, right now, please.”
“Yes, sir.”
Julian hung up the cell phone and picked up the desk phone. “Danielle, you can patch through Councilwoman Murray.”
“One moment,” she replied before the phone cut to a brief silence.
“Commander Caruso,” a woman’s voice said, stern and disgusted.
“Good morning, Councilwoman, is everything okay?” Julian asked in the most laidback voice he could muster.
“No, Commander, it is not. We need you to cease all of your operations immediately. The Council has voted unanimously against dropping bombs on the Revolters’ headquarters.”
“Unanimous!” Julian jumped out of his chair, nearly choking on the word. He had expected this phone call after a long debate between the Council members, but a unanimous decision? “Why on Earth was it unanimous?”
“Commander, you’re a suspect in Bill’s murder. We can’t have you making any major decisions until your name is cleared. There is support for the bombs in the Council, but this is the right thing for us to do. Once we clear your name, we can resume this discussion.”
Julian checked the time to see two minutes had passed since he spoke with McGuire. In their prior conversations, McGuire had mentioned it would take four minutes for the bombs to be deployed upon receiving the order. Julian needed to stall two more minutes.
“Councilwoman, this isn’t fair. I have a voice recording from Bill himself giving his approval. The Council has never reversed a decision agreed upon by a Commander and his lieutenant. Never.”
“That is true, but this is an investigation. The recording will be part of it, and if our team determines the recording is real, we have no choice but to allow the bombs to move forward.”
“How would I get a fake recording of Bill agreeing to this? Do you know how crazy you sound right now?”
“I know it’s frustrating, and I know it’s been an emotional morning for you,” Murray responded calmly. “And I know this is probably the most difficult start to a Commandership we’ve ever had, but I need you to understand these are our laws, and this is how we have to enforce them.”
“I understand,” Julian said with a darkening grin. “By the way, Councilwoman, I already placed the call to authorize the bombs, the fireworks should begin in about thirty seconds.”
Julian hung up the phone, leaned back in his chair, and clicked on the TV hanging on the wall. He flipped up one channel for the camera view showing Chris’s mansion. It stood peacefully in the snow, moments away from its steel barriers being destroyed.
A helicopter flew above, rumbling their underground headquarters, signaling the start of the bombing. The crew in the helicopter studied the wind and relayed the information to the nearby arsenal where the bombs were loaded into futuristic cannons.
Julian dashed to the door to join the rest of the office huddled around the main screen. “It’s time, everyone!” he cried. A few whispers spread through the office, but it remained otherwise deathly silent.
Julian leaned against a desk and crossed his arms, already proud at his decision and being the first to authorize the bombs that had been stored for years. He grinned, thinking about Councilwoman Murray on the opposite side of the country, running around in a panic trying to figure out a way to stop this already moving train of destruction. She could thank him later when they recovered Chris’s body from the rubble.
Due to the silence, the rupture of four blasting cannons was heard clearly. Julian’s heart raced as all eyes turned from the sound above their heads back to the big screen TV. It seemed ten minutes had passed with no action, but it had maybe only been ten seconds in reality.
The first bomb hit squarely on top of the mansion’s barricade, exploding into a ball of flames and black smoke. The next three bombs followed within seconds, smoke filling up the entire screen in a blackout of doom. Julian giggled, but no one would ever hear it above the majestic explosions. More bombs struck the mansion in terrifying unison, rumbling the entire world.
One more round, Julian thought, smiling wide like a child walking into Disneyland for the first time.
Twenty seconds later the final bombs dropped, leaving them to wait for the smoke to clear and see the results. Surely the mansion was a pile of rubble. It took three treacherous minutes for the smoke to clear.
The mansion stood in its same place, undisturbed with the exception of black powder marks scattered across the steel barricade like a muddy child’s handprints.
“Are you shitting me?” someone screamed out from the back. “Not even a dent?”
Julian watched in disbelief, nausea eating away his insides. With nothing to show for this bold stunt, the Council just might vote to remove him as Commander, or worse, send him to prison.
“No!” Julian screamed, barging back into his office and slamming the door shut behind him. “Goddammit!” he grabbed the phone from his desk and hurled it across the room, bits and pieces exploding in every direction. He debated running away, but had nowhere to go with the tracking device lodged in his arm, a virtual handcuff that kept him in place.
After all of the risks of going to the mansion to negotiate with Chris, turning Strike over to their greatest enemy, and ignoring orders directly from the Council, the reality sunk in that Julian was fucked. All of these truths would be uncovered during an investigation that would surely be underway by the evening, and he had violated nearly every major rule in the book.
The screens cut out, flickering as if searching for a signal. After a few seconds, the signal strengthened, but showed Chris sitting in an office, the same office Julian had met him.
“Hello, Road Runners,” Chris said, grinning into the camera. “I hope you’re all having as pleasant of a day as I am. I have Commander Strike here, and she is fine and well. For now.”
He paused and took a drink of water he didn’t need, only doing so to add dramatics.
“I need whoever ordered these silly bombs to come over here right now. If you do, we can all carry
on business as usual. If you don’t, I’m afraid I have no choice but to respond to your malicious attacks. And trust me when I tell you this, there will be no more Road Runners by sunrise tomorrow. So, I suggest you turn yourself in and save thousands of lives. You have six hours to arrive before I unleash every weapon you can imagine on your little hideouts. Ta-ta for now.” Chris winked and blew a kiss to the camera before the screen cut back to the still image of his charred mansion.
Julian sunk into his chair, an invisible fist pressing into his gut as a million thoughts flooded his mind. The next six hours won’t end well for me.
The Road Runners had no time to grow an allegiance to him, and they would absolutely turn him in to spare their own lives. Stepping foot outside of his office all but guaranteed his death by Chris’s hands, probably in a public humiliation for all of the world of Revolters and Road Runners to see. If he stayed in the office, a crew sent from the Council was surely on its way to arrest him. If found guilty of Bill’s murder, the penalty for killing a fellow Road Runner was death by firing squad.
He briefly debated making a run for it, but how far would he honestly make it with both Road Runners and Revolters chasing after him? There wasn’t a place in the world to hide and feel safe.
Julian looked around the office, the wall of past Commanders gazing into his soul. They would never hang his portrait, even though he was soon to be the shortest-tenured Commander in history. The walls closed in around him, barricading him within his own mental prison. He heard the initial banging on the door from those in the office, surely trying to break in and take him to Chris’s house. They punched and kicked the door, shouting mumbled phrases that he’d never hear.
No one was going to dictate how Julian Caruso left this world, so he pulled the pistol out from its drawer and pointed it at the door that would soon burst open, his hand steady on the desk.
The tumultuous knocking and banging ceased and was replaced by the sound of a bigger, quaking thud that rattled the door in its hinges, dust and debris puffing from the edges of the door frame in little clouds.
Wealth of Time Series Boxset Page 71