The problem was the trip wire. He knew it was useless, but the crew didn’t. They expected the whole block to blow up once someone touched it or, in this case, accidentally tripped over it.
He saw Maxon, whose gun still had wisps of smoke rising from it, try and get to Sara before she got to the trip wire. He wouldn’t make it. He was too far away to cover the distance in time before Sara reached Harley. She would trip the wire and everyone would see that this whole thing was a charade. If he survived, they would surely bring him up on sanctions for obstructing a wreck and inciting a violent act. That’s when Harley saw Bruce lift his weapon and take aim at his running wife.
He was helpless to stop what happened. The gun went off and his wife stumbled to the ground. It didn’t look like she was shot. It looked like she just lost her footing and tripped, almost like she had too much to drink at a party and fell down on her way out. The impact of her body hitting the ground proved otherwise. It hit with a hard thump, her whole upper body doing a slight bounce off the grass as it did so.
Harley screamed his wife’s name. She was motionless on the ground, her arms sprayed out to her sides. He began to crawl to her, willing his strength and ignoring the searing pain in his abdomen that was starting to spread throughout his upper body now. The shotgun lay just to the left of him. He went to grab it, but Bruce’s booming voice stopped him.
“Don’t you move a muscle towards that or I’ll blow your fucking head off!” Bruce yelled. He had his gun aimed at Harley. Maxon stood next to him, a stunned look on his face. He just stared at Sara lying face down on the ground. Then someone from the crew yelled out. “Holy shit, the wire!”
Sara’s body lay on top of the trip wire. Everyone scrambled to take some kind of cover. The crew ran behind the truck and braced themselves. When nothing happened, each one began to poke their heads out one by one, questioning looks on their faces.
“It’s a damn fake,” Bruce exclaimed, rather excitedly. His voice had an ‘I told you so’ quality to it. “I knew it. We’re standing here like a bunch of chicken shits while he’s over there with nothing but piano wire and a remote control. Let’s finish this.”
He started to move in but Maxon once again stopped him. “Stop! You don’t know what the situation is. It could be a dummy or it could be malfunctioning. You go over there and touch anything you risk killing us all.”
Bruce waved him off, “Fuck that. We’re moving in and finishing this job that should have been done the minute we got here. Wreck it.” He signaled to the crew and they all complied. It was clear who they all chose to follow in that moment. Maxon was left to stand by himself without a crew as he watched Bruce hijack the job and the position right out from under him.
Harley watched as the dark figures of men in alien suits walked across his property and into his house. He felt like an impotent dog lying on his back. One crew member kicked the shotgun out of his reach. It didn’t matter anyway, he couldn’t bring himself to move even if he wanted to. All the strength left him. His breathing slowed and he began to feel desperately cold.
He stared up into the night sky and gazed on the constellations that twinkled above him millions upon millions of miles away. His grandfather taught him all the constellations in the sky and how to navigate by them if he ever got lost in the woods. Looking on them now gave Harley a sense of comfort for the first time in a long time. It was the feeling of being right where he belonged, that if it had to end here it was worth it. That image above him was one that he knew inside and out. It was an image of home.
In that moment it was just him and the night sky, the eternal void that was soon to take him. He felt his memories begin to fade from his mind one by one, like someone shutting off a computer one processor at a time. Even his wife began to fade in the ether of oblivion. He was able to hold on to one thought. He grabbed on to it like a child would grab hold of a toy he didn’t want taken away. It was Jasper.
The memory of him teaching his son to play catch popped into his head. Jasper was two at the time and got excited when he caught the ball for the first time without dropping it. He ran over with it to show Harley that he had caught the ball. Harley took him in his arms and lifted him up in the air. He swung him around as Jasper laughed, giddy with two year old joy.
Harley lay there, a faint smile on his face, as he continued to swing his son around over and over until the void began to overtake him.
Chapter 21
Maxon watched as Bruce broke in the door and entered the home of Harley and Sara Jacobs, both of whom lay on the ground, ignored, like two disposable objects left to be picked up.
His crew turned their backs on him. An egregious affront and it would have been punishable to the highest level if it hadn’t been so unanimous. It was a public vote of no confidence. They followed Bruce into the house, smashing everything in sight. Windows broke, furniture was overturned, walls kicked in. The destruction was unnecessary. It wasn’t even part of protocol. This wreck had ceased to be protocol a long time ago.
Maxon took off his helmet and let it drop to the ground. Harley and Sara still lay on the grass - neither having moved in the last five minutes. He had to call it in. Even if he failed in his duties as Lead, he was bound as a citizen to call in an emergency.
He pressed the button on the side of his suit and spoke into it. “Crew one to base. Crew one to base.” He released the button and waited for a response. In less than a second a male voice answered.
“This is base, we read you.”
“Requesting an emergency service vehicle out here immediately. Two civilians down.”
“Any crew down?”
“Negative. Crew is all standing.”
“What’s your status?”
“Status is normal. Commencing wreck now.”
“Copy that. Emergency vehicle is on its way. ETA eight minutes.”
“Copy. Over and out.”
More sounds of glass being shattered came from the house. It sounded like it came from the back. After a few minutes Bruce walked out. He radioed the crew while he made his way back to the truck. “House all clear. Commencing wrecking in two minutes. Make your way out.”
The crew all filed out of the house. In less than ten minutes there would be nothing left of it. The efficiency of the wreck was a marvel to behold. Maxon mused that it was amazing how far they’d come in the field of destruction in just under a decade, yet made no strides in the field of human interaction. Power was still our major motivation. The only thing technology did was give people the tools to wield it more effectively against others.
Bruce came back to the truck, nearly pushing Maxon aside as he walked past. He opened the cab and set the on-screen computer to the initiate wreck mode. A two minute countdown appeared on screen as the truck hummed to life.
It pivoted on its axis, turning forty five degrees until the front of the truck was facing the house. Two pipes extended out of the top of the truck, creating a kind of railway that spanned the entire length to the door. These pipes pumped in the special gas that essentially demolished the house from within. The gas carried millions of microscopic nanobots that were programmed to eat away at the structure, much like termites but at one million times the speed.
Maxon checked his watch. The emergency vehicle was still five minutes away. “We can’t start it now. There are two civilians still on the ground.” Bruce seemed not to hear. He only looked ahead with an intense gleam in his eyes, eyes that said this was more than just an operation, that he actually got personal satisfaction from it. “We have to wait for emergency services before we do anything.”
“Leave them. We’re already twenty minutes behind schedule,” Bruce said. He still didn’t look at Maxon when he spoke. “How would it look if we fall further behind?”
“How would it look if we proceed with a wreck with two dead bodies lying there?”
“They’re only dead because you couldn’t handle the situation”.
The truck entered execution mode as
the gas began to be pumped into the house.
“Besides,” Bruce continued, “they’re not just civilians-they’re enemies of the Council. Nothing more than terrorist agitators and protocol is clear when dealing with agitators. It states to wipe out the threat and proceed as planned.”
“That woman is innocent. You know that.”
“Is she? For all we know this was all an elaborate plan.”
“There’s no proof of any of that being the case here.”
Bruce narrowed his eyes at Maxon. “Is that something you can say for sure? What else do you know not to be the case?”
“What are you trying to imply?”
“I’m not implying anything. You claim to know certain information that you wouldn’t have unless you knew certain things.”
Maxon saw what Bruce was doing. He couldn’t allow himself to fall into a trap and say something that Bruce would use later on to jeopardize him in some way to the Council.
“We know what went down here, anything else you say is a lie,” Maxon said.
“I only know what will be in the report and it will be known that agitators tried to block our wreck tonight.”
“I write the reports. The title on my suit still hasn’t changed.”
“I have an entire crew that I’m sure would be willing to testify in front of the Council of how you botched the wreck and caused the death of two innocent civilians or would you rather them testify to the stopping of two terrorist agitators”.
Maxon turned to the crew, his crew. They drifted their eyes down from his when he looked at them. They will certainly play into whatever story Bruce composed. They were young and they didn’t want to go up against Bruce in this matter, especially knowing the influence he held with the Department Chief. Maxon looked back to Bruce. Maxon didn’t say anything, he didn’t have too. His eyes did all the talking.
“That’s what I thought,” Bruce said. “Commencing wreck as scheduled.” He had one foot up on the trucks front bumper while he held the steel grill with his hand. He looked like a general surveying a battlefield before sending his troops in to take it.
The gas was pumping at full capacity now. The house already started to crumble in a few sections. It looked almost to be losing color as well, as if the life was being sucked out of it and in many ways it was. Whatever memories were made in that home were in the process of being eaten away, molecule by molecule. The gas cared not for precious family photos, homemade video tapes, pre-school drawings, spelling bee awards, or antique heirlooms. It wasn’t programed to care, only eviscerate at will. A hundred years of history evaporated in a fraction of time. To Maxon, the process didn’t seem fair, no matter how necessary it was.
He looked over to the two bodies that were the sacrifices of that night and stopped when he noticed something. Harley’s chest was moving up and down. He was still breathing. Maxon went over and knelt by him. He inspected the wound and cringed when he saw the gaping hole in Harley’s stomach and the mangled remains of his intestines. Maxon felt his stomach rise and put his hand to his mouth to try and stop himself from vomiting. He was able to swallow it back down. He thought to himself that it was his shot that did this to this man. Such destructive force had no business in a man’s hands.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, not sure if Harley even heard him or not.
Harley’s eyes were dilated and staring straight up at the night sky. They had an empty, blank expression to them. Maxon thought he might have fallen into a coma, but then the eyes shifted slightly, adjusting their focus and Maxon knew that Harley was still of this earth, for however short a time.
“You need to try and hold on,” Maxon said. “There is help coming.”
Harley’s eyes slowly looked over to Maxon. “My wife.” Harley’s voice was croaked and weak.
Maxon shook his head. “I’m sorry. If she can be saved, she will be.”
“It’s over.”
“There’s still time. You can make it if you just hold on.”
Harley struggled to speak. Every breath he took was an effort. “Nothing left.”
Maxon knew what he meant. Even if he was able to survive he’d have nothing to go back to. He gave his life for his home, something that Maxon couldn’t even fathom someone doing. No one was ever asked to sacrifice anything in Elysia. You were given all you needed and wanted. No one ever had to worry about not being able to eat or get medicine for their child or not having a place to sleep at night. That was all in the dark time before the Great Change, or so he was taught growing up.
A part of Maxon wanted to know how it felt to believe in something strong enough to actually die for it, to be so passionate about something you were willing to leave everything behind to fight for it. He never put stock in causes or beliefs, there were no need for them, but as he looked upon the dying body of Harley Jacobs he thought that maybe he didn’t know as much as he thought he knew. Maybe there was indeed more to the world out there beyond the borderlines.
Harley slowly reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out an envelope that was covered in blood. He handed it to Maxon, his hands trembling as he did. Maxon took the envelope, unsure of what to do. They were instructed not to take anything from a civilian on a wreck as it could mean any number of things. Mostly it was a precaution against an attack, but given the current state of the person handing him the letter that seemed unlikely.
“My son,” Harley croaked. “For him.”
Maxon didn’t know what to say. He only nodded once and put the letter in his pocket. He never expected to see the child to give him the envelope, but he didn’t want to say that to him.
The roof of the house imploded on itself, crumbling into a thousand little pieces as the gas did its work. It sounded like the tearing apart of hundreds of pieces of paper at the same time. It was a sound that he never got used to. There was something unnerving and unnatural about it that made him uneasy every time he heard it, like his senses were going to overload. He felt if he listened to it long enough he would have a complete mental breakdown.
In the distance Maxon heard the approaching wail of the emergency transport. It was too little too late. Harley’s breathing had slowed to a faint rattle and the amount of blood he lost was too much to reverse. At that moment Maxon wished for nothing more than to be home in bed with his wife next to him, away from this nightmare, away from Bruce, away from the crew, away from Harley and his disintegrating house. He wanted to be away from it all.
He felt Harley’s hand squeeze around his and there was an unexpected amount of strength in that squeeze. Harley looked at him and all of a sudden his eyes were alive and on fire. “You can’t demolish the spirit. You can’t wreck the human will. Remember that.” Then his hand loosened and his head slumped to the side, the fire extinguished from his eyes and replaced with a blank void.
Maxon stood up as the ambulance pulled up to a stop. Two emergency technicians came out of it and made their way over to Harley’s wife first. One tech inspected her vitals with a bio-unit, scanning her from head to toe. He read the results and shook his head to his partner. They moved on to Harley, pushing Maxon aside as they did. He knew what the result would be. Harley, along with his wife, would be jotted down in the official log as deceased. Their ages and status would be given but nothing else - just another reduction from the populace.
He walked away from the scene and the crew. The house was down to its frame and foundation. Maxon couldn’t bring himself to look at it, the sight of it made him ill. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out the envelope. The blood had dried on it, making it feel stiff as cardboard. Scrawled on the front were the words “For Jasper”. He fingered the sealed flap and thought about opening it. He decided against it. Now didn’t seem appropriate.
He put the envelope back in his pocket and looked down the street. It was dark. The street lights stopped working in this part when the sector was declared Out of Date. Despite the darkness there was a peaceful quality to it, like you could walk into tha
t night and disappear forever, no one ever being able to find you.
It was a pervasive thought, but one that Maxon found very appealing at that moment. Maybe he would go for a little walk. Maybe he could disappear into the night. Maybe he could walk away forever. He stood there staring into the darkness as the last remaining pieces of what was once Harley Jacob’s home, built by his grandfather eighty years ago, evaporated into the still air and performed the only disappearing act of the night.
Epilogue – Thirty Years Earlier
He ran out the back door, his nerves still shaking from the gun shots he fired. He had just shot two people, and took one life. It didn’t feel real to him. The entire thing happened in an instant. One second he was with his grandfather, the next he was in the arms of a big man who smelled like he wore too much cologne.
Branches hit at his face as he raced through the woods, not knowing exactly where he was going. All he knew was he had to keep running. Running meant survival. He thought he could hear them on his trail, chasing him. He was out of breath, sucking in mouthfuls of air. A cramp grew in his right side. He struggled to fight through it. He’d be okay if he could get to the stream. His grandfather told him to run east until he reached the Black Rock stream, then turn right and follow it as far as it went all the way down to the dirt road. Lee and Ruth would be a quarter of a mile away. They would keep him safe, his grandfather promised.
He couldn’t stop the tears from coming. He left his grandfather on the floor, bleeding. He left his father too. He couldn’t go back to help, he had to keep running, to the stream.
He thought about his mother. Would he see her again? Would that even be possible? It felt like he was running from an old life and the further he ran the further he left it behind. He didn’t stop. He didn’t look back over his shoulder to see if they were coming. He only ran.
He’d keep running until he got to the stream. He’d keep running until the sun went down and he couldn’t see his way anymore. He’d keep running until his body gave out on him. He’d keep running forever if he had to because running was survival. We only stopped moving when we died.
The Midnight Stand (The Elysia Saga Book 1) Page 12