by Josh Law
They charged in to witness Bacardi running between oil drums and batteries she’d ripped out of the GI issued Jeeps that surrounded the small garage in the Lab’s backyard. Nick and Alex had resulted in fisticuffs to keep the Mad Scientist and a few of his personal bodyguards that had managed to slip out of Cipriano and Whitehorse’s crosshairs at bay. Several outstanding shots trained for Bacardi but Whitehorse had managed to steal a Plexiglas shield from one of the dead Lab guards and had knelt beside her covering her as she worked.
“It’s done!” Bacardi jumped up and stuck two thumbs to the air.
“You got it, brother?” Nick turned to Alex. Of the two of him, Alex was physically stronger. He’d have the higher chance of holding these guys off alone than Nick would.
“Heck yes! I could do this all day!” Alex smiled as one of the guards cracked a club over his ribs. He bowed over as the wind was knocked from him, but swung out with his head. Nick nodded and twisted around running to Bacardi.
“That’s it. This is goodbye.” He took the detonator she’d made out of a discarded cell phone one of the Wakers had tossed to her and closed it in his fist.
“Nicky?” Bacardi reached out and clutched his free hand.
“You have to go now! Don’t give up on them! Remember they’ve got the bronze, but you are the brains!” Nick cupped her face in his hand.
“I can’t. I don’t want this to be goodbye.” She was suddenly anxious, tears in her eyes, teeth clenched. Nick swallowed. Reached and kissed her forehead.
“You’re gonna be okay. You’ve got my vote of confidence, Sport!” He smiled at her. Like this was the last time he would ever smile. For the first time, Bacardi saw the threat of real tears in his eyes. His eyelids quivered, his pupils dilated, the whites had turned to wine.
Marilyn saw the whole thing as she knelt on the shoreline, picking off all of the squatter snipers that got within pistol range of the titanium fence. She froze, breath caught in the trap. Oh God, love could hurt!
Nick stood slowly as the wind began to swirl around him, beating his hair like earth turned under by the plow. He backed away face ignited in the sun. Bacardi had frozen in that spot. Words were exchanged. Then Whitehorse picked up the despondently pleading little girl and ran. He dove like a swan through the air, landing in the water beside the Jaguar missing the rocks by a hair. All the other Wakers were finally clear.
Alex came running to Nick’s side. Marilyn felt Renee drawing close to her, lowering her weapon as the moment froze their souls in breathless longing. Oh God, this couldn’t be what it looked like! They were a meteor headed for the Earth. No one could stop them now.
The guards were no longer hindered save by a few random shots from the Jaguar. There would be no stopping them now. Like a swarm of locusts upon the corn field, Dr. Swift and his cohorts converged on the two boys, meaning to kill them and so much worse.
Alex took his brother’s hand that clutched the detonator. It was a conscious effort to show that they had agreed on this as one. They lifted each other’s arms high into the air. Marilyn’s heart stopped. Her inner ears felt like they’d been air-picked out of her head. Her throat closed.
“No!” Renee cried.
They pressed the detonator together with one jerk that passed through both their bodies.
There was a swelling silence that was immediately traced with a supernova of heat and sound like the sun struck from the sky and all of the history books. The rush of the phoenix wings followed as those flames were spread. The Gate was melted before their eyes and the trees snapped like twigs.
Marilyn grabbed Renee running before they realized they were moving. They climbed on some of the jagged rocks and leaped into the water, paddling like mad on the debris- riddled foam as the Jaguar immediately motored backward from the shore.
Jaguars pounced from the deck and began to paddle to the forsaken island as Cipriano turned them loose. He then extended part of their old cage to the two women. They were hauled from the water and lay chattering on decks more from shock than cold.
Marilyn scrambled up listening to the viper hiss of trees on fire. She felt her whole psychological process morph its resource into trying to answer a single question. Her throat was throbbing with it. What had she just seen?
Nicolas was gone? The child she had risked life and limb, Hell and High water for had gone up in smoke before her waking eyes?
She passed out, wilting on the charbroiled deck.
Chapter 3:
The sea was covered with smoke. It stung in their teeth and trapped their souls in silence. They were in the tropics but the air felt suddenly frigid.
Marilyn eased herself up, looking from face to face. Renee sat head in hands, weeping bitterly now with no one to try to dissuade her. Bacardi was on her knees, staring back at the island with a wide, quivering mouth and a single hand extended. She may not have pulled the trigger, but she had built the bomb. She had killed them.
Sally tried to run and take a jump into the open ocean but Brandon and Peyo caught her. It registered to Marilyn that she was shrieking at the top of her lungs, but she couldn’t hear a word she said. The blast still echoed in her ears. This was all still a distant, confused dream. One she would wake from in a moment, jarred back into the fight by Nicky’s hands jostling her shoulders.
Nicky was gone.
The thought stabbed her in the chest with one rapid thrust. She caught her breath with a loud gasp and twisted her hands in her shirt. Impossible.
Nick and Alex were gone forever.
No tears came. She’d been expecting them, like the well-meaning guests at the funeral he would never have because he’d been scrubbed clean of the Universe, bone particles scattered for the wind to bury. Like those well-meaning, speech-making friends no tears could ever set this right.
Marilyn felt herself rise from the deck on tremulous legs. Clark had been sitting beside her, rocking back and forth to see if she would wake. He looked up at her, lips quivering. He’d sat at many death beds as his time as a physician to South America. He’d seen many violent deaths. This would be the first time someone he’d cared about someone much too young had been blown to Hell while he stood back and watched.
Marilyn looked into the sun. It was going down on her now. The wind was howling reminding her she’d failed. All was lost. The world was going to end. She may as well let it end.
No.
He may be absent from his body, but his spirit remained with her. Marilyn could feel Nick in her blood, moving like lava to the mountain’s throat.
The wind blew over her hair. It was Alex’s affirmation of his brother’s will. She closed her eyes. That wind carried mist from the ocean. Their spirits circled her with the power of guardian angels, giving her all the power she would need.
They were gone, but she was still here. Still bound to the flesh despite dying with them on the inside.
“Get it together! We’ve got work to do.” She turned to face the wheel. In their grief, they’d let the ship just wander, paying no heed to the whir of engines seeking the open water for them.
Renee looked up stunned.
“Are you crazy? It’s over…They-we-“Chance rung his hands.
“It’s not over until the last of us are dead.” Marilyn looked out over the water. Cipriano lifted his head, eyes tired. He smiled wistfully.
“Si. Dying for what we believe in is the only thing we have left to live for!” He hopped to his feet.
Whitehorse turned to look at them from leaning against the mast.
“It’s what they would have wanted. They were right. We can’t just let them die for nothing, no matter how hard it throws us. Back in the saddle, ladies and gentlemen.”
Cipriano plucked a radio off his belt.
“Time to signal Tito that he can break off from us now. Where we’re going, we have to go alone.” He nodded and turned some knobs.
“Which begs to be asked. I suppose you’re in charge of our little Light Brigade now that the bo
y has officially hung up his boots. Where to, Captain?” Riggs faced Marilyn, jaw clenched as he fought himself to keep his cool.
She strode to the wheel.
“Washington, D.C. It’s time to bring this trial full circle. Let the World see Guatavita for what she is. We will die, make no mistake. But we will die for freedom. Maybe then, someone out there… One lucky woman and her son…Somebody will live in peace. In a Free World. That woman, that child, the father that comes home to them every night. They have to know why it is they can lift their chin with pride and call themselves free people.
Once upon a time, there were two young men. Two brothers. Their names were Nicolas Avalon and Alex Vierra. They were the bravest kids that ever lived. It was because of their sacrifice that the Star-Spangled Banner can still flap over a mad science America. It’s because of them that life, and death, are sacred. We can never forget. Neither can these people. Come on. Help me hand it to them. ” Marilyn looked at Renee, having said her surname on purpose though that had never been Alex’s legal name.
“Somebody get me some throttle! Oh, and pin up that sail so we can have a little wind power too. We’ve got a long haul and we’ll need all the speed we’ve got in this super love boat, eh?” Marilyn touched the controls tenderly to see how they worked.
Their cries of sorrow turned to a battle cry. They had one purpose now. This was a kamikaze last stand. For show only and not victory. It had been doomed from the beginning. They would not settle for tragedy. It would have to be martyrdom.
Peyo went to the GPS system and started programming DC’s beach front coordinates into it. Cipriano fought with the radio.
“Oy! Yo, Tito. We made it off the island. Thanks for scouting the water, but you can pull out. No need to come toward us!” Cipriano’s brows twisted. Why was Tito bringing the yacht their way? He wasn’t far enough out not to see that they’d cleared their destination and could now be left to leg it on their own.
“Sorry, ‘mano. I can’t be certain of payment from a man that’s going to his Grave soon. So, I’ve decided that you’re not going anywhere unless it’s with me.” Tito’s voice echoed off the small radio, freezing their ears.
“Ah, I see how it is.” Cipriano’s eyes narrowed.
“That’s right, amigo. Me and my guys…We’re coming to kidnap you.”
Chapter 4:
Tito’s betrayal had thrown the last monkey wrench into their desperate clawing for life. Marilyn stood dumbstruck and watched with rose tinted eyes as the yacht was closing in on them.
Cipriano turned to look at her with shock white lips. Judas was the last to appear at any crime scene. No one could have foreseen this, least of all himself. How could he be so stupid? As a sicario, he’d learned to play life close to the vest, be cool and smart. Tito was the only exception. The smuggler from Panama City was like a brother to him and had been the natural person to go to when the world was reeling on its heels.
He looked at Marilyn with the sun in his eyes as the boat sped to them. Somehow in the face of this ultimate deceit, his face was a clean slate, guiltless. He reached suddenly and took her hand. Her eyes lit up.
“Senora…You have the same fire in your soul as your son, only somewhat calmer, I think, eh? It’s not a kidnapping if I surrender myself to him. Has to be something to do with a ransom. Something with the mistress wanting her sister’s killer and all of that.” He looked to his men. They were all wan-faced. Peyo withered under these words like a leaf to flame.
“No!” He began to beg but Cipriano cut him a look.
“My child will live to be ten times the man I was.” He nodded curtly to Peyo and suddenly Marilyn understood.
“He’s your son?”
The wind parted Cipriano’s hair as though the airbrushes wanted to spread its ink color to the canvas of this scene and give the end some kind of meaning. Other than the remorseful end, of course. He hummed softly.
“To see your loss, Marilyn. I thought I was a man of steel. Strong, perhaps even invincible. Now I know that I could not survive such a blow to my heart. Nicolas was carved from the same stone as me. I didn’t know him well, but I could see myself growing to care for him as a son.” His eyes told her that he may have begun to care for his mother too. She gasped for breath, but it was too late.
“Go now! Lead my men to the last stand you’ll try and make in Washington. Make the sparklers pretty, if nothing else.” He broke into a full blown run, heading for the Jaguar’s prow.
His men had never questioned him before. Now they shouted for him to reconsider, plowing their way to the rails.
“Pappi!” Peyo’s arms lashed out and he tried to dive from the boat but Brandon caught him around the waist.
“Cipriano!” Marilyn almost toppled off the nose of the ship. She felt Renee catch her and pull her back.
The yacht froze in the water, waiting now for the catch to reel itself in. They all watched aghast as a net came down, hauled Cipriano into the ship, and the boat set off various smoke bombs making itself invisible in the mist.
There would be no tracking him now. No feverish attempt at rescue. He was gone. Had it not been for his sacrifice, Tito’s guys may have ended their rebellion here and now in an attempt to pluck their bounty free.
Marilyn panted. He’d been trying to tell her something. She could feel it. It had been on the tip of his tongue. But what? What had that last look meant?
Now she would never know.
“Marilyn?” Renee held her friend up, waiting patiently for orders. Her jaw was clenched. Having lost so much, those who were present were sworn to follow her. Someone should be able to keep the things that they held dear. They would try to purchase freedom now that they had nothing left to lose.
If they failed, then at least there would be one last story for the World to share over the campfire embers of its destruction.
Chapter 5:
There was an art to being reborn. He hadn’t mastered it yet.
His first conscious feeling was that of his brother’s blood flowing through him along with his own. He could identify the separation but couldn’t put his finger on how. It was a double consciousness, the life of his brother passing through his brain. His eyes flew open and they saw on both sides of the room as if his peripheral vision had a full view camera for the back of his head.
Nick took a deep breath and felt his brother’s lungs move involuntarily with it. Alex startled. This was impossible.
“You’ve woken up. Good work, boys.” For a moment, they both felt panic in each the other’s constricting chests. The voice was a new one, though.
“Fear not, Dr. Swift is finally gone forever. Not you boys, though. No, I gathered you from the ashes. It took me hours, but this facility has everything.” The male speaker leaped from a metallic object. Nick could only see in faded colors. The man’s whole body appeared to be burning, boiling gold in the sunlight.
“Easy, Nicky. It’s just your eyes adjusting to the dose of Resheph serum I gave you. That’s what the good doctor renamed the Prescott1 serum after he started mingling it with test subject animal blood. The name comes from a pagan god of death and pestilence because he believed it would be the most weaponizable pharmaceutical that has ever been produced. It’s a wonder drug in reality. I used a dose with eagle’s DNA intermingled with its structure to reconstruct your vision as your face was damaged most when the blast took you out.” The man stepped around the double chair that Nick and Alex had been strapped to.
He shone a bright blue light directly through Nick’s eyes. Alex flinched as he felt both of their visions clear.
Nick swallowed. He felt Alex’s hands twitch as though he had ghost limbs. The man smiled.
“Hello, Nicolas. I am Rameses.”
“Like the ancient king of Egypt?” Nick’s throat felt like he had gargled sandpaper. He groaned and tried to sit up.
“No, not like. I was the king of Egypt, once upon a time.” He smiled as Nick’s eyes went wide.
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��Nice to know you’re not the only one to be called back from your grave against your will, my boy. Apparently, for you, this has been the third time. Alex, how do you feel? This is your first time out of the rabbit hole, so I hear. I had the hardest time reconstructing you as well.” Rameses leaned around Nick to look at Alex on the other side of the back to back metallic dentist chair.
“I’ll get back to you on that.” Alex shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Death had felt like sleeping in the bottom of forty-seven iron boxes. Stuffy, heavy, and exhausting.
“I had a wonderful scientific breakthrough with you boys. They resurrected me for my knowledge of ancient Egyptian medicine, you know. I’m aware of what they teach you in school, but you’ll be amazed to learn how much of history your scholars have wrong. How much more advanced my society was than your intellectuals give it credit for!” He chuckled and sat on his stool, rolling forward to study the catheters that he’d affixed into each of their chests the needle entering the brachiocephalic veins. He had many tubes running blood through each other’s arteries and capillaries as dual coagulation had occurred for the second time in their lives.
“The drug you see is what actually caused your bloods’ dual coagulation. See, when Prescott 1 mixes with the anomalies in eagle blood it creates rapid increase in the transposons of your brain. Transposons, boys, are your “jumping genes”. They sort of move genomes up and down the weaver’s shuttle of your DNA’s double helix, allowing for a tailor’s adjustments precisely where you need them. That worked very well when the two of you needed to perform a hetero-neurogenic osmosis as I’m calling it. Putting it in plain English, boys, I used these jumping genes that the drug woke up to sort of calibrate your DNA to move each other’s same and different genes (being brothers) up and down each other’s DNA to reconstruct your cells.” The doctor waved his hands ecstatically.
“Like Lego people?” Alex raised an eyebrow. He felt Nick’s lips twist into a smile although he couldn’t see it happen.