Wake the Dead

by Victoria Buck

  “Let me guess,” Chase said. “You’re with the Dissenters of the Republic.”

  “That’s right. You?”

  Chase didn’t know what to tell him. He wasn’t a part of the man’s group of rogues. He wasn’t a Constitution Rebel. He was looking for the Underground Church, but he didn’t belong to that group either.

  “Just set out on my own,” he said after a moment. “Heard something I thought I should share with the world, but I don’t want to go to prison for it.”

  “What’d you find? Got some dirt on the WR?”

  “Cancer vaccines cause organ failure. Big government cover-up. Tell your people.”

  “I didn’t get no vaccine. I knew they’d screw it up. I guess I was right.”

  Chase had gotten it—all normal working citizens of the WR got one. He thought about his replicated parts. At least organ failure was one thing he didn’t have to worry about. The train lurched forward and quickly worked up to full speed. The boxcars were old, but the engine was nuclear, and the tracks were revamped for speed. That’s what the exoself reported.

  With the train on the move and the sunlight dimming, Chase decided to drop the mask. The old guy wouldn’t come close enough to see him in the dark. He put the face shield at his side and got out the sandwich.

  “Can’t see it too good from here,” the man said. “But it smells like turkey.”

  Chase scarfed another bite, but then he wrapped the poly around what was left and slid the sandwich across the boxcar floor.

  “Thanks. I ain’t eaten in two days.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Wonder how long it takes to get to Shreveport,” the man said with his mouth full.

  “Six hours, seventeen minutes, allowing for stops in Abilene and Fort Worth,” Chase said it too quickly.

  “How’d you know that? I thought you said you just set out on your own.”

  “Well, I studied the schedule before I left.”

  “Oh. Sure. What’s your name, stranger?”

  “It’s Charles, or Charlie. Yours?”

  “Gabe,” he said. “In Abilene, I’ll get off and get us some more food.”

  “That sounds good, Gabe.”

  Hours passed, and Gabe said little else. He slept for two hours. In Abilene, he slithered off the boxcar. Chase thought he’d been snagged or else had a change of plans. But right before the train started moving, the rogue food grabber returned with a bag of burritos, two colas, and a cherry pie.

  “How’d you end up with a whole pie?” Chase asked.

  “Little old lady was taking it to her grandkids.”

  “And you just took it?”

  Gabe laughed, the way he did before. “Man, you are so green. Ain’t no old ladies getting on this train. Let’s just say I bought it with tokens I had coming to me. How else would I survive?”

  “Oh.” The exoself made Chase smart. But he wasn’t too bright.

  They ate in companionable silence. They still had a long way to go. Gabe kept his distance, and Chase stayed in the shadows, the face shield still at his side. Conversations came and went. Gabe had been an oil rig worker in his younger days. When the world stopped drilling, he dropped off the grid. He had a wife and two kids when he joined the DR, but his wife couldn’t deal with it. She left him and integrated back into the work force. He hadn’t seen his kids in years.

  “They must have kids of their own by now,” he said.

  Chase wondered, if he tried, maybe he could tell Gabe where his kids were. Maybe the exoself could reunite long lost family members. It would make a great show. He shook his head and smirked. “Idiot, those days are gone.”

  “Well, don’t insult me, man. I can’t help thinking about what I lost.”

  Chase lifted his eyes and looked at Gabe’s dark form. “No, not you. I’m sorry, my mind wandered. I was calling myself an idiot, not you.”

  “What’s your story, Charles?”

  “I told you, I’m protesting.”

  “You said you just took up the cause. What’d you do a month ago? A year ago?”

  “I had a good job. Better than most. I worked for SynVue.”

  “SynVue—don’t get me started. You left because of all that mess with those two game shows, didn’t you? Everybody’s gonna get smart and live forever. Bunch of liars. I hope they shut the whole network down. The whole blasted thing. The world don’t need more lies. The world just needs to know the truth.”

  “What’s the truth, Gabe?”

  The man moved back between the crates until all Chase could see was his legs.

  “The truth is this world is messed up, friend. You did the right thing—getting out of that circus. You’d be welcomed by the DR if you want to join us.”

  “Thanks,” Chase said. “I’ll think on that. Right now, there’s someplace I’ve got to go.”

  43

  Chase said good-bye to Gabe in Shreveport. Hours to go before he got to Atlanta. He settled back and thought about the night he’d carried Larin off the stage. Gabe said there were promises that everyone would be smart and live forever. Is that what Larin told the audience when Kerstin sent him back to the stage?

  What a world it would be if everybody had what Chase had. Not that he expected to live forever. But he’d live longer than he should, and he knew more than he needed to know. If everybody became like him, could they end war and poverty and social injustice?

  Or would smarter people who live longer only add to the world’s problems? “I’ve got to concentrate on what I can do.”

  He sparked his processors—all of them. “Somewhere in there is a drone tracker and a trail of information about the Underground Church.” He stretched his arms. “Maybe if I just start combining processors and factors, I’ll get lucky.” He pulled the apple from his bag. “Or maybe I’ll accidentally call the WR security force and tell them where to find me.” He took a bite. “Or maybe I’ll blow up the world.”

  He knew better than to start some random coding process. In the dream he’d had earlier, his father told him to use the code again: 32-7. But it was just a dream—not like the ones from before. Not that they meant anything either.

  “I need an instruction manual. Come on exoself, old friend. Give me something.”

  At once the visual of the phantom screen that had hovered in the lab filled his mind. Numbers were there, and lines of code. They moved up and down until numbers and lines crossed. The exoself had given him his request.

  He did not find the number thirty-two on the mental screen at all. What did pop out brighter than the others was the number fifteen. Three lines of code pushed the number to the top.

  He sparked the fifteenth processor and gave a mental tug to the number three. And a complete grid of drone deployment was there. No S-drones active—not within the borders of the WR. But thirty were in ready position in and around Atlanta.

  “Drones around Atlanta means I’m headed in the right direction. Thank you, Robert. You should have told me all I had to do was ask the exoself for instructions.”

  He watched the screen in his mind again, and the number twelve intersected with two lines. He sparked the twelfth processor and pulled twice. And he knew the device in his ear—the one Robert used to replace the NP—was installing a link to an information route that would end at an old laptop. The antiquated system was registered to Robert Fiender. That’s where Chase could send a message.

  “I’m on a train, Robert. Headed for…” He decided against giving too much information. Somebody might intercept. “I’m going to the place I belong. I don’t know how I know that, but I do. I’m working with the exoself to gain access to the programs I need. Thanks for all you did for me.”

  He let the lines drop the number and the transmission ended. The drone tracker, he sealed in place. He wasn’t sure how he accomplished this, but the tracker was connected permanently. This new manipulation of the exoself was a mental and physical chore. Chase closed his eyes and let the screen fade away. “I
’ve got to find somebody in the underground. Give me a few minutes.” Sleep nearly took him, but the train slowed enough to get his attention.

  “Must be coming in to Birmingham.” It wouldn’t be long now before he arrived in Atlanta.

  The next time he opened his eyes, the train was at full speed. He checked the exoself’s familiar program of mapping and mileage, and knew he was only forty miles from his destination. He’d better get the phantom grid back up and see if he could find Mel’s information trails, or else he’d be wandering around Atlanta at sunrise with no idea where to go.

  But the exercise produced nothing that he didn’t already know. The number of secret churches in particular cities of each territory was there. No way to find the exact locations of the underground operations. Three base churches were in or around Atlanta, but that limited information didn’t do him any good. Some church houses in certain cities showed directions, but not one in Atlanta listed a location. Maybe he was just tired. The process did seem to wear him out. Or maybe some things were so hidden that they didn’t come up easily. The train slowed, and he tied on his mask and grabbed the flight pack. Once the old boxcar gave its last grind on the tracks, Chase eased his way to the big door and slowly pulled it open. He peered through the crack.

  Workers came and went from the train, removing crates from the boxcars and swiping their VPads or taking crates off pallets and stacking them on electric loaders. Before he could jump out of the door, it slid all the way open and a man began yelling instructions.

  “Get this car emptied. We’ve got twenty minutes.”

  Chase backed against the wall. He held his breath. But the man came onboard and it didn’t take long for him to spot the stowaway on his train.

  “Get out of here. You got your ride,” he yelled as he pulled a metal rod from behind his back. “Now get.”

  Chase jumped to the track and took off. He slowed when he realized no one was after him.

  The Atlanta station was one of the largest in the country, so said the exoself. All supplies for the Southeast Territory came through here. Dozens of people filled every walkway. Chase found an old terminal that was probably used when the trains carried passengers. A few loners were huddled in corners or stretched on the floor of the dilapidated building. “Larin’s village would be a step up for these people.”

  The bathroom was filthy, but it didn’t matter. After he washed his hands and face, he walked back into the budding daylight. He noticed two cyber-guards and turned and went the other way. But he listened for anything coming from their direction.

  “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me, though he die, yet shall he live.” The voice was feminine. Chase could hear the shuffle of guard boots and the resistance of the woman as she continued speaking. “He who believes in Me will live, even though he dies.”

  Nearby, he could see a guard transport. A blunt sound like the smack of a cyborg’s arm against flesh filled his ears, and then the two guards came by him with the woman in a laser band. She was young—probably no more than twenty—and her arms were bound at her side by the beam of light. Long blonde hair fell against her ripped green shirt. She was forced onto the open-sided Selfdrive and hauled away. Chase powered down the hearing enhancer. He didn’t want to hear this anymore.

  “Though he die, yet shall he live,” Chase said. He considered this in light of his own recent revival from death.

  “Lots of guards around here ’cause of all the stuff that goes on in Atlanta.” The voice came from just behind Chase, and he turned around. “What’s with the mask?” A small boy stood before him.

  Chase studied the child. Grime covered his sandy blond hair and tan face. “What are you doing here by yourself?” he asked the boy. “How old are you?”

  “Goin’ on ten. I’m here ’cause I get fed. Boss man gives me chores. And dinner.”

  “Where are your parents?”

  “Jail, I guess. Haven’t seen them in a while. But when they get out, I’ll be here. They’ll find me.”

  “Did they get arrested like the young lady? Were they proselytizing?”

  “Huh?”

  “Talking about religious stuff when they should have been quiet.”

  “No, they’re not Christians, just DR people. All of them go to jail, though. Everybody with a message goes to jail.”

  “And there are a lot of guards around Atlanta, because there are a lot of messages. Is that right?” The exoself streamed information about the number of cyber-guards in Atlanta, but Chase made the correlation on his own. Even this kid knew why the guards were plentiful here.

  “Yep. All kinds here. Dissenters of the Republic, Constitution Rebels, all kinds of religions. But Christians get the most trouble. I don’t know why they take grief from the guards. They don’t talk too much, and they’re good people. Fed me lots of times.”

  “Do you know where they hide out?”

  “Underground.”

  “Yea, I know it’s called the Underground Church. But do you know where I could find some of them?”

  “Mister, you ever been to Atlanta?”

  “Not since I was a kid.”

  “You go downtown. Get on MLK, go past the old parking garages—they’re all boarded up. So are the tunnels to the underground, but a smart man can get inside.”

  “You mean the Underground Church is really underground? Underground Atlanta?”

  “Hey, you didn’t hear it from me,” the boy said. “But yeah, that’s it. Under the roads, down where the stores used to be. That’s where they go before the sun comes up. If you got a VPad on you, it’ll give you better directions to get downtown.”

  “I can get directions,” Chase said. “Thanks, kid.”

  The boy stood there, staring. “Mister?”

  “What is it?”

  “I hope I didn’t just turn in all those people. You standing there with that face shield on makes me wonder if you’re a guard.”

  “You ever heard a guard carry on a conversation like this?”

  “No, they don’t say nothing but ‘move along,’ or ‘stop,’ or ‘come with me.’ That’s about it.”

  “That’s because they can’t talk like you and me. Their programming is basic enforcement stuff, and I’m not one of them.” Chase pulled the boy closer to the wall. “I’m protesting. That’s all. That’s why I’m wearing the shield.”

  “I heard guards can talk more than they used to. They got a guard in the Southwest Territory that looks like Chase Sterling.”

  “You heard about that? What else did you hear?”

  “He’s showing up all over the place, asking people what they think, giving them cars and flight packs.”

  Chase smiled. Not that the boy could see his face. “Really? Cars and flight packs?”

  “Yeah, some new game show. I guess it’ll be on GV soon.”

  “Well, it might just be a rumor. People have a way of blowing things out of proportion.” Chase hefted his pack over his shoulder and held out his hand to the boy. “Thanks. What’s your name?”

  “Thomas.” The boy shook his hand. “What’s yours?”

  “Charlie. Maybe I’ll see you around, Thomas.”

  “Be careful out there, Charlie.”

  Walking away, Chase waved to the boy. Then he pulled a map from the exoself and headed for downtown Atlanta.

  44

  The exoself gave Chase more information than he needed about the old shopping venue and the night clubs that used to draw people to the underbelly of Atlanta. The WR didn’t maintain the place, and it shut down.

  He figured the best way to get to downtown was to fly. It wasn’t far. He hooked up the pack and powered it. Takeoff was easier this time. But the sky over Atlanta was filled with flyers. Even with the sky grid marked clear by the exoself, maneuvering brought a new level of fear. He wouldn’t make a habit of this mode of transportation. At least not in metro areas. The heart of this city was not where he’d expected to go. This was not the place to
find an open field like the one in his dreams. He looked as far as he could see to the outskirts of the city. Just business parks and housing. A couple of sporting areas spread out to the south.

  Chase put his feet on the ground in a parking lot between two skyscrapers. A man in a booth yelled at him for landing in a parking space instead of on the personal landing pad at the north end of the lot. The exoself hadn’t explained anything about parking lot protocol.

  As he came to the boarded-up tunnels that hid Atlanta’s past, he searched the exoself for anything Mel might have programmed. A cyber-guard walked the distance from the nearest parking garage to the boarded-up entrance. When Chase passed within ten feet of the guard, it stopped and seemed to study him. “Move along,” was all the simpleton said.

  But Chase knew better than to defy orders. Even with his augmentation, the thing was stronger than him. So he walked away. A few blocks brought him to a lady with a cart selling hot dogs. He ate one as he walked back to the tunnels, and he hid behind an old dumpster and watched the guard.

  He also watched for people sneaking into, or out of, the place. For six hours no one even walked by. Except the cyber-guard.

  But before the sun was completely gone, a real live policeman came by in a Selfdrive with a light band on top. He stopped a hundred feet from the dumpster and got out of his vehicle. Then he whistled like a man would do to call his dog. The cyber-guard walked right to the cop, and the human stuck his hand in the robot’s shirt. And he shut him down. He looked around before he grabbed the guard by the arm and hauled him in the direction of the dumpster.

  Chase squatted close to the backside of the green receptacle, but the officer came to the rear, the guard in tow. Chase could run, but he knew he couldn’t get away.

  The cop didn’t seem surprised to see him hunched there. “Guard’s off duty ’til dawn, buddy. Go on in if you want.” He bent the guard so that its face shield came an inch from its knees, and he walked away.