Revolution

by Shawn Davis

  I don’t even know what the procedure is to exit the place! Do I just walk out? Or do I have to say something to the guards? Maybe I will just tell the truth, or more accurately, give them a detailed lie.

  “Good evening, gentlemen,” Rayne said, approaching the security station and putting on what he hoped was a convincing confident smile.

  “Hello, sir,” the guard on the right said. The guard on the left merely nodded at him.

  “My companions will be along shortly, but I have been forced to cut my tour short due to pressing business,” Rayne spoke to the guard who said “hello” and made occasional eye contact with the other guard. “I’ve never been to the Underworld before, so I’m not sure if there are any security procedures I have to follow before returning to the surface.”

  “Are you the guy who was with the Director?” the guard on the left asked.

  “Yes, I was with the Underworld Security Director, Tom Burke.”

  “Then, you’re all set. You don’t need to show us your wrist code,” the guard said, waving him through.

  “Thank you, gentlemen, and have a good night,” Rayne said, smiling as he walked through the checkpoint.

  He arrived at the elevator door and pressed the “up” button. The door opened.

  Apparently, no elaborate code is needed to exit the Underworld; only to enter it. They don’t care who leaves; just who enters.

  Entering the elevator, Rayne pressed the button for the top floor; L-1. The elevator ascended rapidly, causing him to feel the familiar drop in his stomach that he was now accustomed to during his many travels on the island. The elevator sped upward for several seconds before coming to a halt at L-1. The metal door slid open and he found himself looking out at the lobby of the Bureau of Statistics.

  Rayne walked toward the pair of guards standing next to the body-scanning machine at the front doors.

  “Hello, gentlemen, how are you?”

  “Very good, sir,” one of them said, nodding at him.

  The other guard simply looked bored and didn’t make eye contact with him. He was staring out the wide Plexiglas window to the right of the door. Rayne realized the guards seemed disinterested in him, so he simply nodded at the one who had addressed him as he walked through the scanning machine.

  “Have a good day, sir,” the guard said, as Rayne pushed open the front doors and stepped into fresh air

  This is working out better than I thought.

  Rayne took a right, walking quickly along the sidewalk. Looking up, he saw the starry night sky beyond the roofs of the buildings.

  There should be an anti-grav transport stop somewhere around here.

  Rayne turned the corner onto another street. He walked several blocks and, sure enough, arrived at an anti-grav shuttle stop. Peter only had to spend a few anxious minutes of pacing before a shuttle arrived. Stepping aboard, he sat in the first seat of the car.

  “YOUR DESTINATION, SIR?” the transport’s computer spoke to him in its soothing female voice.

  “I’m trying to find a ferry off the island. Can you please tell me how to get to one?” Rayne asked, enunciating his words to be sure the computer’s receiver understood him. The computer hesitated a few moments while it processed the information.

  “THERE IS A FERRY LEAVING THE ISLAND IN EXACTLY 10.8 MINUTES,” the computer said.

  “How long will it take us to get there?” Rayne asked.

  After a few tense seconds, the computer answered, imperturbably, “IT WILL TAKE US 8.6 MINUTES TO ARRIVE AT THE SOUTH DOCKING AREA.”

  “Okay, take me to it,” Rayne said, leaning back in his seat, relieved.

  I am just going to make it.

  The floating platform with seats raised itself fifty feet into the air and sped down the street. Peter took some time to glance around at the cityscape as the transport rushed down the mostly-deserted avenues of New Washington.

  This place is beautiful.

  Rayne observed the shapely modern buildings and the many quaint parks and plazas between them.

  It’s too bad we have to destroy it.

  True to its word, the computer-operated shuttle arrived at the South Dock in exactly 8.6 minutes. Lowering to the ground, it stopped next to a walkway leading to a pier. Rayne saw a long, sleek boat docked, which looked identical to the one he had been on when he came to the island. Passengers wearing suits and dresses were standing or walking on the open deck. Rayne hurried his pace, approaching a pair of Shock Troopers standing in front of the gangplank.

  “Your wrist code please, sir,” a Trooper’s metallic voice spoke through his air filter.

  “Sure, officer,” Peter said, extending his wrist in front of him.

  The Trooper quickly swiped his portable scanner across Rayne’s wrist and looked at the small screen.

  “Okay, sir, you may board.”

  “Thank you, officer,” Peter said, forcing yet another smile as he nodded at the guard.

  He jogged up the gangplank and stepped onto the deck. He felt a surge of relief as he walked across the deck, trailing his fingers on the metal railing. He passed by the other passengers, ignoring them so he could look out at the ocean.

  I’m almost there. If I can just make it a little farther, I’ll be all right.

  Peter gazed across the dark ocean. Looking up at the spectacular night sky, he felt like he was almost free. He heard a deep rumbling below deck as the boat’s engines powered up. This time, he held onto the rail. He was glad he did because the boat accelerated rapidly away from the pier. Peter smiled as the sea wind blew through his hair. He felt his forehead and was happy to find no sweat.

  I’m almost free! All I have to do is reach the mainland and I’ll be just another anonymous pedestrian.

  “Would you like a drink, sir?” a voice spoke behind him.

  Turning, he saw a waiter in a white tuxedo standing behind him holding a tray.

  “Sure, I’ll have a Pina Colada,” Peter said, flashing his first genuine smile of the day.

  The waiter returned quickly and Peter found himself sipping his favorite drink as the ominous black wall of New Washington steadily receded. Peter watched the reflective buildings of the city towering high above the wall into the night sky. He gazed up at the awesome reflective dome at the apex of the tallest building on the island: the Frump Presidential Tower.

  I can’t believe I was actually there.

  Turning away from the island, Peter faced the wind.

  This has been quite an adventure.

  Rayne sipped his drink, staring across the waves toward the mainland.

  From the Powerdrome to the Crest Club; never a dull moment.

  Peter could barely make out the silhouettes of buildings on the far shore.

  Yes, this has been quite an adventure. But I’ll be glad when it’s over.

  Suddenly, Peter felt tired. As his adrenaline high began to fade, exhaustion set in. Walking several feet along the deck, he sat down at the top of the stairs leading down to the bow. Placing his drink at his side, he leaned back on his elbows as he had done on the ride over.

  Almost there.

  Rayne looked up and felt overwhelmed by the immensity of the night sky. Staring into the infinite firmament, he felt like he could be sucked up into the vastness and catapulted across the galaxy. The scope and majesty of the evening sky made him feel suddenly small and insignificant.

  Are the things I’ve done going to make a difference?

  Peter felt himself drifting off to sleep. He had only dozed for a few minutes when the footsteps of nearby passengers woke him. He looked up, startled, to find himself lying on the deck at the top of the stairs.

  Rayne stood up, leaned on the railing, and looked down at the water. He glanced around to see if anyone had noticed him. The other passengers were talking, leaning on the railing, and staring at the ocean.

  No one cares what I’m doing.

  Gazing toward the stern of the boat, Rayne saw the buildings of New Washington as tall, thin
black shapes on the distant horizon. Something else was gleaming on the distant water. Straining his eyes, Rayne moved toward the rear of the boat, trying to make out the metallic shapes in the distance. As he approached the stern, he realized the gleams were coming from metal objects skimming over the waves behind the boat.

  Leaning on the back railing, Rayne tried to identify the line of metal objects racing across the water. There were at least eight of them, getting larger by the second. As they got closer, Rayne realized they were small vehicles skimming along the ocean’s surface. They reminded him of skimming flat rocks thrown across a lake. He tried to make out their shape and design. They were air-bikes.

  What are they doing following the boat? Is it just a normal patrol or are they after me?

  A surge of adrenaline pulsed through Rayne’s system as he watched the details of the air bikes become clearer. He could make out the metal shapes of Shock Trooper armor. As they got closer, they looked like motorcycle riders of the sea. Peter felt a sinking in his stomach. A panicked feeling swept through his brain.

  Shock Troopers are following the boat on air bikes! And they are getting closer.

  Turning around, Rayne looked toward the bow of the boat. The mainland was getting closer, but it was still some distance away. The buildings still looked like tiny rectangular silhouettes. Turning back toward the rear, Rayne saw the gleaming shapes becoming steadily larger.

  They are only fifty yards away and closing. I have little doubt that they intend to intercept the boat.

  Glancing around the deck wildly, Rayne searched for a way out of this mess. A Shock Trooper was patrolling the starboard side of the vessel.

  Maybe he can help me.

  Rayne quickened his pace toward the Trooper. Adrenaline flowed as his muscles tensed up for action. The bored Trooper was standing by the railing, gazing out across the ocean. His rifle was slung casually over his shoulder. Rayne eyed the pistol in his side holster. Moving steadily toward the Trooper’s position, Peter prepared himself.

  “Excuse me, sir, do you mind if I ask you a -” Rayne interrupted his flow of speech as he lunged forward with his arm extended, striking the Trooper in the neck.

  The sudden force of the attack knocked the Trooper off balance, dropping him heavily to the deck. Before he could recover, Rayne reached down and seized the butt of the pistol in the holster. As the Trooper scrambled to get to his feet, Rayne squeezed the trigger, unloading an explosive bullet into the Trooper’s chest armor.

  Screams erupted across the deck as metallic thunder filled the air. Rayne had to cover his eyes to shield them from the sparks and shrapnel blasting out of the Trooper’s shattered chest armor. The Trooper slumped back onto the deck, spilling blood from deep gouges in the armor plating like a squashed beetle.

  Explosive bullets always take care of business.

  Shoving the pistol in the back of his pants, Rayne reached down to collect extra ammunition cartridges. He grabbed magazines from the Trooper’s belt and shoved them in his pants pockets. Rayne reached down for the Trooper’s automatic rifle. Pushing the body onto its side, he grabbed the rifle strap and pulled hard. The strap got caught in the Trooper’s armor at the elbow, but Rayne quickly changed his position, wrenching it free. Rayne held the rifle in front of him and swept it across the deck.

  He was startled when another Trooper emerged from a cabin across the deck. Rayne aimed his rifle and pulled the trigger before the Trooper could point the barrel of his weapon. The armored body dropped heavily to the deck. Rayne swept the rifle to the left and right, searching for more targets. Frightened passengers dropped to the deck, covering their heads with their hands.

  Rayne made his way toward the rear of the boat. The air bikes had closed in to a mere hundred feet away. Peter could make out the details of the Shock Trooper’s gleaming helmets and body armor as they skimmed across the water on their metallic steeds.

  Let’s hope I still remember how to fire a rifle.

  Rayne got down on his knees, laying the automatic weapon across the top of the boat railing. He took aim at the closest metal shape. White fire spat from the barrel of his rifle as he launched a bullet barrage at the centermost Trooper in the line of air-bikes. Peter tried to line up the air-bike and its rider in the gun-sights, but his shots went wide, kicking up spray as the bullets skimmed across the waves.

  He stopped firing, using all his concentration to hold the rifle steady and line up the rider in his sights. He pulled the trigger when he thought he had him. His shots went slightly wide again, so he swept the rifle from left to right. A lucky shot struck the Trooper’s air bike. Sparks and smoke exploded from the side of the metal hull. The bike did a bizarre figure eight in the air and crashed into the ocean. The other air bikes continued to close in on the boat.

  Rayne lined up the next air bike and pulled the trigger. His rifle made a clicking sound. He popped out the spent magazine and locked in a fresh one. He took aim again and fired. His body lurched forward as the powerboat suddenly began to decelerate. The air bike lined up in his sights shot closer as the boat decreased its speed.

  The bikers were now within fifty feet of the boat and closing fast. Metallic thunder filled the air as the bikes opened fire with their front-mounted machine guns. Bullets exploded on the deck around Peter’s feet as white fire blasted from the nozzles of the bikes’ machine guns.

  Clearly, I am outmatched and outgunned.

  Peter turned and fled. Automatic gunfire ripped the deck to shreds behind him as he sprinted toward the central cabins. Skirting past the rear cabins, he made his way toward the front control cabin. Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted a pair of air bikes sweeping over the deck railing behind him.

  Rayne ducked into a doorway just in time to miss getting shredded by automatic gunfire. The other passengers on deck were not as lucky. A young, well-dressed couple was in the way of the bullet storm. Their bodies blew apart and pieces of them scattered across the deck like bloody, broken rag dolls.

  Rayne found himself in a service cabin surrounded by tall shelves filled with various types of liquor. He left through a door on the other side. Reaching the other side of the deck, he glanced over his shoulder as he ran. Nothing behind him.

  He could hear the air bikes’ guns firing on the other side of the cabins. The metallic thunder didn’t let up. Taking a right, Rayne ran for the front control cabin, kicked open the door, and focused his rifle barrel on the captain’s face.

  “Get this crate moving,” he growled.

  The captain let go of the wheel and raised his arms in a surrender position. The first mate did the same.

  “Now,” Rayne added, firing several rounds into the back wall to get his point across.

  The first mate scrambled to the front control panel and pushed a lever forward. The deck lurched as the powerboat accelerated again.

  “Bring it back up to top speed,” Rayne instructed, keeping the gun focused on the captain’s face.

  The captain ducked out of the gun’s sights temporarily and pushed a second lever forward. The boat increased its acceleration.

  Automatic thunder continued to explode from the rear boat cabins. The air bikes were hovering on the starboard deck, firing their guns into the service cabins. Screams punctuated the thundering roar of the machine guns.

  “Now get out of here,” Rayne commanded, motioning to the doorway he had entered with his rifle barrel.

  The crewmen kept their arms raised in the air as they stepped through the doorway onto the outer deck. The instant they stepped foot on deck, more metallic thunder exploded as they were cut down by a hail of bullets.

  The air bikes have me surrounded on both sides!

  Rayne smashed out a side window and aimed his rifle through it. He squeezed the trigger as the closest air bike swept directly across his line of fire. The bullets struck the engine, exploding the bike into a massive ball of flames.

  Rayne ducked behind the wall as hot pieces of shrapnel shattered the control c
abin’s side windows. The momentum of the exploding fireball caused it to race along the front deck, colliding with a pair of fleeing tourists. The tourists were instantly incinerated and swept away with the fireball.

  The air bike following closely behind the fireball was equally unlucky. It crashed into the remains of the first bike, exploding and adding to the carnage. The flaming wreckage of the two bikes smashed through the front deck railing and crashed into the sea.

  Rayne flung himself onto the cabin floor, extending his rifle forward in a sniper position. His instincts served him well as a sudden bullet storm shattered the windows on the opposite side, ripping up the wall he had been leaning against seconds before. Peter aimed his rifle at the far wall of the control cabin, which looked like a piece of Swiss cheese after being ripped apart.

  Rayne fired when he saw blue metallic gleams through the bullet holes in the wall. He knew he hit his mark when another explosion thundered from the other side of the deck. The windows on the opposite side of the control cabin shattered as additional shrapnel shot through the room. There were sharp, stinging sensations in his forearms and back as small pieces of shrapnel bit into him, drawing blood. When he lifted his head again, he felt as if his forearms and back had been stung by a swarm of bees.

  Ignoring the pain and blood, Rayne gripped his rifle and got to his knees. Turning, he crawled toward the back wall, moving through pieces of hot shrapnel – burning the already sliced skin on his hands and forearms. Grunting with pain, he dropped flat on the floor when a second burst of gunfire erupted from the opposite wall of the cabin. Hot shrapnel on the floor burned into his chest. When the hail of bullets stopped, he got back on his knees and crawled for the door.

  Peter dove through the doorway and crawled across the deck until he was behind the shelter of the wall on the left side of the control cabin. The machine gun attack resumed, laying waste to every square inch of the cabin.