Final Empire

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Final Empire Page 21

by Blake Northcott

Jeremy must have noticed the confusion that washed over our faces. He let out a friendly, Santa-like chuckle, holding his belly as his shoulders bounced.

  “I know, it takes a lot of getting used to. The pyramid, the community…it’s a shock when it’s new, but you’ll get used to it, I assure you. Come along.”

  We marched the well-worn path that lead to the staircase, trekking up hundreds of stairs. Though if you’d asked my calves, they would’ve have guessed there were roughly a million. I actually stopped half way up to catch my breath.

  Once we’d reached the top stair the bearded man waved us into the single, narrow opening. A short, dark corridor opened to an expansive foyer, hundreds of feet high. It was an ornate room that glittered with golden flecks, the stone from the floors and walls giving off a serene light all their own. It bathed everyone in a bright yellow sheen that made our skin reflective. I had no idea how long this pyramid had been here, but the work that had gone into every conceivable detail was staggering; waterfalls cascaded from openings on the walls, spilling into shallow pools where people bathed; hieroglyphic patterns were etched into the walls; and the floor was so precisely crafted that the spaces between the tiles were microscopic.

  Long stone tables were piled high with gold platters and bowls, overflowing with every fruit, vegetable, cheese and bread imaginable. Followers filed along each side in orderly lines, filling their plates as they passed by. And at the center of the room was a statue: a meticulously sculpted marble depiction of Kenneth Livitski, built to three times his scale, posed heroically in his ‘Living Eye’ costume.

  We drew curious glances from the men and women who ate and bathed, but everyone responded with warm smiles and friendly waves. Not a single person seemed threatened, or even questioned our presence.

  “Would you like to freshen up?” Jeremy asked, motioning around the room. “Some food, perhaps?”

  “Not hungry,” Peyton muttered, gazing around in awe.

  “No? All right then, maybe we should introduce you to The Herald. She pretty much runs things around here.” Jeremy wandered off past the crowd, and through an archway at the opposite end of the expansive chamber.

  The four of us stood in the center of the room as activity bustled around us, awaiting our escort.

  “So,” Gavin noted, “this is some pretty nice craftsmanship. Mox, you think you’ll ever deck out one of your fortresses like this?”

  “Not my style,” I replied.

  McGarrity approached the twenty-foot marble statue with his hands resting on his hips, nodding in approval. “Now this…you see this, guys? I need one of these carved for me. When my first royalty check clears for my autobiography, I’m getting a place in the Hollywood Hills, and one of these is gonna be right out front in the driveway.”

  “Classy,” Peyton said dryly.

  “I know,” he agreed. McGarrity ran a hand along the base of the statue, as if admiring the craftsmanship that had gone into its construction. “Maybe my next book cover can be me next to a statue of myself.”

  “Please refrain from touching the statue,” a voice chimed, rising above the chatter of the crowd. A group of people in line for the buffet had parted, allowing The Herald to make her way towards us. She was just as I’d remembered her: a wave of golden hair pulled back with a bow, her piercing blue stare, even the hint of a Russian accent that she was unable to rid herself of no matter how hard she’d tried. As she approached her white linen dress swayed to and fro, like a bell chiming in the wind. It was Valeriya Taktarov.

  “Holy shit,” Gavin whispered, attempting to keep his lips as still as possible. “Is that…”

  “The girl who tried to kill us all,” Peyton added. “Yup. That’s her.”

  Valeriya had recognized us around the same time as we’d recognized her, and it stopped her in her tracks. She stood rooted to the floor, crystal blue eyes suddenly blazing with fury.

  “You,” she seethed, locking me in her crosshairs.

  Everything snapped into focus. The Herald – the one who’d been reaching out across the globe to the downtrodden, encouraging them to seek enlightenment – had been Valeriya all along. Of course it was. When Kenneth promised he’d help her I didn’t know what he’d meant; I assumed she’d end up with relatives back home in Russia, or possibly locked in an insane asylum where she belonged, pumped full of enough thorazine to drop a charging T-Rex. Kenneth had other plans. He’d instead brought her to this bizarre island cult, where she could put her considerable abilities to their best use. The diminutive, pre-teen girl had an almost superhuman ability to bend people to her will, and she was using it to build this colony.

  The jovial bearded man rushed to Valeriya’s side when he noticed her stiffened posture and hardened glare. “We have a problem here?” he said, clearing his throat.

  Valeriya let her eyes fall shut, taking in a deep, meditative breath. When they opened she’d seemingly regained her composure, though the tightness around her mouth told me otherwise. “No, Jeremy…I am fine. Thank you for asking. Please assist Felipe and Hadassah with the lunch clean up.”

  With a smile and an obedient nod Jeremy rushed off to the tables and began clearing away platters.

  Valeriya turned on her heel and began striding back towards the archway at the far end of the corridor, her leather shoes clacking the stone underfoot. “Follow me,” she called out.

  Our group exchanged unsure glances, not sure if it was wise to pursue her.

  “We’ve come this far,” Gavin shrugged.

  McGarrity agreed. “And if they’d wanted us dead, we’d probably already be hacked into pieces, or hanging in a meat locker somewhere.”

  Peyton shot him a sidelong glance. “That’s reassuring.”

  Chapter Twenty

  We followed Valeriya through a series of passages, wide enough for the four of us to walk side-by-side. She marched up the steep inclines with military-like precision, forcing us to keep pace behind her. For a pre-teen who stood barely five feet tall she was surprisingly fast – she power-walked about as fast as I could jog.

  After weaving our way through the twisting labyrinth we were lead through a set of doors that opened to the apex of the pyramid: the King’s Chamber. Unlike traditional pyramids, this particular King’s Chamber occupied the entire upper third of the structure and stretched well over two hundred feet above us. The enormous space was bathed in the same golden flecks that illuminated the lower sections; no lights, no opening in the walls for sunlight to penetrate – the walls just gave off a brilliance of their own as if powered by some unseen electrical source. The room was dominated by a pulpit. A dozen stairs let to a raised dais where a throne carved from black marble rested as the centerpiece. Sitting comfortably in the chair was Kenneth Livitski.

  A glowing blue bodysuit clung to his muscular frame, the fabric alive with energy. His boots and gloves were darker but had a similar sheen. Kenneth’s cape and cowl – the same he’d worn when he appeared in the Liwa Desert – were a new addition to his wardrobe; he’d come and gone so quickly that I didn’t have the chance to stop and take notice, but now, studying the design, it was eerily reminiscent of another super human…a man I’d killed back in Arena Mode.

  Valeriya ascended the short staircase and went to Kenneth’s side. She brushed her white dress beneath her knees and took a seat on the wide arm-rest of the imposing throne, properly folding her hands in her lap.

  The four of us stood at the foot of the stairs, unsure if we should follow her. An awkward moment drifted by with Kenneth studying us. We gazed back up towards him, unsure of how to respond.

  Gavin glanced at me and offered a tiny shrug, his eyes flicking towards the pulpit. It was the slightest gesture, as if to say, ‘well, we came all this way…might as well say something?’

  I cleared my throat before calling out to him. “I know you hate me right now,” I said, my voice carrying effortlessly through the massive room. It was as if the space had been expertly engineered for pitch-perfect aco
ustics, like an opera house’s auditorium. “So I apologize for coming here. And I know you asked me to never come looking for you.”

  “That is not the case at all,” he said offhandedly, seemingly unfazed that we’d showed up unannounced. “I’ve moved beyond those fragile human emotions; hate, bitterness, revenge, anger. They’re petty. Useless. What do these feelings really accomplish in the end? You hold a grudge, seek retribution when you’re wronged…it’s an endless cycle of violence and nothing is achieved. Together, as a collective, we can accomplish so much more.”

  “Apparently,” Peyton said as she peered around the vast chamber, eyes widened. “So who are these people who decided to…‘collect’ here?”

  Valeriya sprang to her feet. “You question the Living Eye?” she blazed. “He owes you no explanation. Be thankful that he—”

  Kenneth cut her off with an absent wave of his hand. It was subtle, dismissive even, but the gesture stopped her in mid-sentence as if her words had been choked off, crushed before they could escape her lips. Valeriya obediently shrunk back to her seat, hand folded in her lap as she’d been before. She remained silent, but her crystal blue eyes continued to flare.

  Kenneth shook his head at the young girl, like a disappointed father. “I should apologize for Valeriya. She’s only human, after all. Prone to emotional outbursts.” He rose and approached us with a confident stride, breezing down the staircase, his cape billowing behind him. He stopped an arm’s reach from Peyton, eyes locked on hers as if she were the only person in the room. “So to answer your question, Peyton Lockridge: these people – everyone who has chosen to gather here – has done so of their own volition. I have not coerced or convinced any one of them. They are free to leave at any time, and they owe me nothing.”

  McGarrity burst with one of his trademark laughs, rusted nails scraping down a cheese grater. “So why are all these zombies coming here, then? Is it the bizarro Fortress of Solitude ambiance you have going on, or are they here for the free Kool-Aid?”

  Kenneth’s eye twitched, a tick rippling down his cheek. He pressed his lips into a thin line and stepped towards McGarrity. He stood closer to him than he’d been to Peyton. An attempt to intimidate, possibly.

  McGarrity never flinched. He was either brave, or (more likely) was too dense to realize that he was being threatened.

  “You’re the one everyone is talking about,” Kenneth said plainly.

  McGarrity raises his brow. “Sweet, you checked out my book?”

  “No,” he continued. “I know of your history, though. The stories of your battles. You bend light into weapons.”

  “I can bend it into a lot more than that,” McGarrity boasted. “Shields, projectiles…I’m even working on objects that stay solid in total darkness. You should see the shit I have planned for my next challenge.”

  Kenneth nodded, bobbing his head lightly, his gaze never leaving McGarrity’s. “I see. I’m sure whatever…‘shit’ you plan on constructing will be very impressive. I wonder how effective you are in combat, though. When you need to defend yourself, for example…or defend others.”

  McGarrity barked out another grating laugh. “Are you kidding me, bro? I took home first prize in the last competition.”

  “The ‘last competition’?” Kenneth asked. He was legitimately confused.

  “Okay,” McGarrity conceded, “Technically, the Occupation at Fortress 23 wasn’t an official, sanctioned, Arena Mode tournament...but I think we can all agree about who won.”

  “So you claim that as a victory…” Kenneth asked, eyes narrow.

  “Come on, man – check out the iTube clips. Back in Alberta I shredded super humans: I carved up The Beast, flooded Frost’s army of pissed off Go-Bots, and led my team to safety. If that ain’t victory, I don’t know what is.”

  “And yet,” Kenneth stated, folding his powerful arms over his chest, “when you were in the Liwa Desert yesterday, it was I who had to intervene. You have this power – this ability to harness light and do with it as you will – but were unable to stop Sultan Darmaki. Had I not arrived at that precise moment...”

  “About that,” Gavin cut in. “Look, I’m appreciative that you got there when you did. Don’t get me wrong, dude, everyone here owes you. But Mox thought that the timing…it was just a bit coincidental.”

  “Don’t let your friends speak on your behalf,” Kenneth said, spreading his hands wide. He strode towards me, his eyes now locked on mine with laser-sharp focus. “Matt, please, we’re all friends here…tell me more about this coincidence.”

  “We’re still friends?” I asked.

  “Of course,” he replied.

  “How did you find me,” I said flatly, my voice leveling off into a monotone. “How did you know I would be there, at that exact moment?”

  A smile stretched across his face, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s what I missed about you, Mox. Your certainty. Like all of us, you have self-doubt, but the conviction that swells up inside you when you’re absolutely positive that you’re correct – it’s mesmerizing. In the short time we had together, it was the one attribute of yours I envied.”

  “Isn’t envy one of those pesky emotions?” I asked.

  “It is,” Kenneth said, his smile fading ever so slightly. “And it’s one I’m glad to be rid of.”

  “You’re deflecting,” I shot back.

  “Deflecting?”

  “Ignoring the question I just asked you. How did you know I was there, and how did you know I was in danger?”

  His general tone of indifference was beginning to fade, and a darkness was settling in. A flare of his nostrils, a variation in his breathing pattern – it was subtle, but it didn’t go without notice. “I was tracking you,” Kenneth said, biting off his words. “Every moment of every day. I’ve known your location since the moment I left the hospital in Thunder Bay.”

  “The Eye sees all,” Valeriya added, shouting down from the pulpit.

  “So you’ve been spying?” I asked.

  “Is that what you call it?” Kenneth asked, cocking his head curiously. “Very interesting, Mox. Because if that were the case, and if I believed in squabbling and petty arguments, I’d accuse you of spying on me. Or does tracking someone with invisible dust not count as ‘spying’?”

  It’s not often that someone catches me off-guard, but his verbal jab struck me like an uppercut to the solar plexus. “You knew,” I said, my voice hushed.

  “There is little I don’t know,” Kenneth replied. His cheeks twitched, resisting the urge to grin with self-satisfaction. “I’ve known about the tracking dust for quite some time. Ridding my blood of it was no small task.”

  “I wanted to know you were safe.”

  “I know,” he said calmly. He placed a powerful hand on my shoulder, squeezing it gently. “And I wanted the same for you. I know we left things awkwardly in Thunder Bay, but like I said, I’ve moved past those emotions. I was protecting you.”

  “I-I wasn’t trying to violate your privacy,” I stammered. “Really. I just—”

  “You want the best for everyone,” he interrupted, finishing my sentence. “I truly believe that, which is why I can’t fault you. In your heart you believe that you have the best solutions for every single person on this planet. Though as smart as you are, you’re only human. You simply don’t have the power to solve the world’s problems. That’s my responsibility now.”

  We all exchanged glances as Kenneth’s words hung ominously in the air. I was curious about the ‘responsibility’ he spoke of, but I felt that pressing him further might not be wise at this point.

  Kenneth turned and levitated, floating back up the staircase before repositioning himself on his throne. He took a moment to flatten his cape out beneath him, adjust his gloves, and fold one leg over the other. “I appreciate your concern,” he said, “and I know you all wanted to satisfy your curiosities about me and my island.”

  “And now you have,” Valeriya added icily. “So your presen
ce is no longer required here. Though if you would like to stay and assist downstairs with the clean-up, you are more than welcome.”

  McGarrity chuckled at her comment, stopping suddenly when he realized that she wasn’t kidding.

  Without another word we left the King’s Chamber, made our way down the passage that led through the base and out the front entrance, all without incident. We received nothing but well-wishes and friendly smiles as we left, and plenty of cheerful hopes that we’d return.

  Once we’d descended the front staircase and were safely out of earshot, we let out a collective sigh of relief.

  “Holy shit,” Gavin said, shaking his head.

  “Yeah, what was that about?” McGarrity said. “Did you see that guy getting all up in my grill? Could you believe him?”

  Kenneth tracking us to the Liwa Desert, his motives, his desire to ‘re-make’ the world? “No,” I said flatly. “I don’t. I don’t believe a single word he said.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  We blinked back to the South China Sea, and were inside Fortress 18 within a few minutes. The teleportation left me a little nauseated, and for some reason craving pretzels (it might have been a sodium deficiency; an unexpected side-effect of so much teleportation within such a small timeframe).

  After eating dinner, guzzling down a gallon of Dr. Pepper and scouring the kitchen for a bag of pretzels I’d sadly never locate, everyone returned to their rooms for some downtime. We were all exhausted from the trip. I was looking forward to a shower and an evening of binge–watching a series on my HoloFlix account. Unfortunately, that would have to wait. I had a call to make.

  Peyton and I trudged into our bedroom. The lights popped on automatically, bathing the already paper white room and décor with even whiter light. I needed to add color at some point in the near future – I felt like I’d been sleeping in a rubber room. The metallic door whooshed closed behind me. Once it had latched shut I swiped open my wrist com, enlarging a holoscreen.

  “Want me to step outside?” Petyon asked, pointing towards the exit. “I don’t mind, I can go to the common room while you make your calls.”

 

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