by L. Eira
“Computer, can you reproduce that frequency and open the door?”
“Yes, Mackenzie.”
Within moments, she reached the back entrance, and, in an instant, Mackenzie heard a click of the door release. She pushed the door ajar and entered a long, narrow corridor. No one there. Cautiously, she crept toward the prison proper. She reached two doors, one on each side of the hall. She pushed past the one on the left. A sign over the door declared, “Women’s Lockers.”
Inside, there were lockers and benches on one side and lavatories on the other. Two women talked deep inside the restroom area, but Mackenzie couldn’t make out what they were saying. She approached the voices hesitantly, and then realized two women were taking a shower, each inside a different cubicle with walls that were around ten feet tall. Steam billowed overhead. On the wall, there were several hooks, two of them with hanging clothes. Prison-guard attire. She smiled. She took the shirt from one of them and realized it was several sizes too big. She put it back. She released a big breath when the other top was only slightly big on her. Passable! She donned the shirt and pants over her own clothes. She looked in the mirror but couldn’t see a thing, as the steam obscured her view. She wiped the mirror with her hand and looked at herself. She was now wearing a prison guard’s uniform, the nametag over the breast indicating that she was Joni Kay Steele.
She exited the locker room and closed the door behind her gently.
William sat on the bed in his small prison cell. On the adjacent cell, only a few feet away, sat Harvey. Both boys faced away from each other.
“I told you,” said William, “I didn’t kill Valerie, and I didn’t kill Doug.”
“Everybody in this prison is innocent.” Harvey shook his head slowly. “Except me.”
“Actually, Harvey, you are innocent. The two people you shot survived and are fine now.”
“How do you know that?”
“Well, I guess you’re guilty of shooting them, but not murder.”
“Why are you lying to me?” said Harvey. “How do you benefit from lying to me? I don’t get it.”
“I told you. I’m not lying. I was there, remember?”
“I saw all the blood and guts,” said Harvey. “There’s no way they survived.”
“They were taken by aliens to another world and—”
Harvey laughed loudly. “That’s a good one. You’re a funny guy.”
William turned back, and they faced each other. “OK, don’t believe me, man. I don’t give a shit,” he said.
“Why aren’t your parents here?” said Harvey when he finally stopped chuckling. “My mom died last year. My father is too busy with work. He’s out of town, in Alaska right now. He’s a doctor of arboriculture, a tree doctor. Most of the time, he’s incommunicado. He just doesn’t have time for me.”
“Mine too,” said William. “Except that they’re both alive.”
“I’m going to prove to him that I matter,” said Harvey, rancor in his voice. “I’m going to prove it to the whole world. People will finally see what I’m capable of doing.”
“Great. Knock yourself out. I’m—”
The heavy main door into the chamber with all the prison cells opened, its metallic sounds reverberating through the humongous room.
“William Baten,” yelled out one of the male guards. “Harvey Homer. On your feet!”
Three men and one woman approached the cells. They wore prison-guard uniforms. One of the men carried a machine-gun-type weapon, which he held at the ready. The others carried holstered handguns.
“Where are you taking us?” asked Harvey.
“Do you see my name tag?” said one of the men, pointing to his ID badge hanging over his left breast. “Does it say Google on it?” He smirked.
“To the firing squad,” said another guard, an ugly grin on his face.
That’s Mackenzie, thought William. I’m sure of it. Whatever bit of doubt he had disappeared when he unmistakably noticed her winking at him.
“I know my rights,” continued Harvey. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me where I’m going and why.”
“You’ll go anywhere anytime I say, little man,” said one of the guards. He turned to the other officers. “Handcuff them. Let’s go. I don’t have all day.”
“I know my rights. You can’t—”
“Shut up, Harvey,” said William, offering his wrists through the jail bars.
“No, man,” said Harvey, sitting on his bed. “I know my rights. I’m not some animal or slave they can just push around as they please.”
Handcuffed, William exited his small cell. Mackenzie held his right arm, her hand on her gun holstered at her waist, mimicking the other jailers. One of the male guards held William’s left arm.
The guard with the machine gun took a step back. The one in charge opened Harvey’s cell door and briskly walked to him, who was now lying on the bed and holding its rails tightly.
“What are you, a seven-year-old spoiled brat?” the guard said, yanking hard on Harvey’s arm and pulling the scrawny boy off the bed and onto his feet with ease. He shoved Harvey’s back vigorously, making him take three hurried steps toward the door and the guard with the machine gun.
William couldn’t believe his eyes as the next incident unfolded. In an instant, he saw Harvey’s hands clutch the automatic weapon on the guard who was laughing out loud at it all, obviously lacking the necessary attention of an officer of the jail transferring a prisoner out of his cell.
Just like that, Harvey shoved the guard off balance, causing him to fall backward, and grabbed the automatic firearm. Once steady on his feet, within a split second, Harvey shot multiple rounds at the lead officer, who was charging him from within the jail cell. The man fell backward, spurts of blood spraying out of his chest and abdomen. Harvey next fired at the guard who had been carrying the machine gun and who was still trying to get up from the floor. He took two in the chest as he contorted right and then left with the impact of the bullets.
The guard next to William and Mackenzie hoisted his pistol, the barrel now facing Harvey’s chest.
Mackenzie stood, paralyzed, horror painted all over her face, her breath on hold.
“No,” yelled William. He jumped on the guard’s pistol, pushing it to the floor. A bullet meant for Harvey’s chest hit the floor next to his foot.
Harvey looked at the hole on the wooden floor left by the slug meant for him and took two steps backward, smoke still exiting the machine gun’s barrel, which was now pointing downward.
William and the guard both went for the revolver at their feet, four hands now grasping the pistol. Out of the melee, a shot rang out. The stray bullet hit Mackenzie in the forehead. She tumbled back and collapsed, crimson oozing down her face. William rushed to her and used his palm to put pressure on the gunshot injury, attempting to control the loss of blood.
For a second, Mackenzie and William locked eyes. I shot my own daughter, William thought, tears shedding down his face. “Don’t die. No!” he cried out. “Mackenzie, don’t die on me. Oh, please God. Don’t let her die. No!”
Suddenly, William gasped, a shudder traveling up his spine. He heard the high-pitched sound, koo eeky. He looked all around. He knew Alexandra had to be near. And then, in the corner of his eyes, he saw her. He saw the black shoes engulfing the tiny feet, the red dress covering the skinny legs, the petite hands swaying slightly at her side. His gaze followed her features until their eyes met. Wordlessly and unemotionally, the albino child approached William and Mackenzie and knelt down at their sides. She extended her right hand and touched Mackenzie’s wound.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Several days went by. Zack ate, slept, and trained with General Homer’s soldiers. He did everything except handle the weaponry. He was assigned a buddy to watch his every move. The drills were intense and extreme. At night, he coveted sleep. Zack wondered when Alexandra would bring dreams with instructions and news from the past and from the others. But none had a
rrived in a long while.
A few days earlier, Dr. William Baten requested a visit from Zack. He had a good feeling inside while he was being escorted to the doctor’s den. Perhaps his dad had finally realized that Zack was his flesh and blood and would dismiss him from this hellhole. Perhaps he would tell Zack that he was planning to stop General Homer from his mad crusade to conquer the country. Perhaps. Zack knew the man he was about to rejoin had been somehow transformed in this lifetime into an evil being, but deep down he hoped there was some fraction, even if small, of the loving dad who had raised him and Mackenzie.
Alas, the meeting had merely been to collect more fresh DNA samples from Zack for his ongoing genetics studies. Wordlessly and without a smile or evidence of affection, William had swabbed his inner cheek with the probe to obtain the material he desired. Then, still without a word, he had gestured for the soldiers to take Zack away, back to the barracks of doom.
That night, Zack was too tired to sleep. The lights were out in the grunt quarters. Zack could hear snoring from many of his fellow soldiers. He lay on his back, his hands underneath his head.
Why can’t I go to sleep? he mused. Alexandra, are you bringing news tonight? He sat up and looked all around the huge quarters. Bursts of snorting from deep-sleeping soldiers erupted into the air here and there.
Zack sat at a table, reading. He and his sister were doing homework. It was four years ago, the day it all began. The day the world slipped down the slippery slope and landed close to the edge to abysm of eternal damnation.
“Honey,” his mother said, “the war has just begun.”
“Our worst fears just came true,” said his dad. “The rogue army is commanded by General Homer Harvey.”
“What do they want?” asked Mackenzie.
“A coup-d’état,” said Mom. “They want to overthrow the present government and change our country back to the way it was fifty years ago.” She took a deep breath. “Or so they say.”
“My biggest fear is that they’ll find a way to use the pulverizer,” said Dad. “If it gets in their hands and they modify it for military use, we’re all doomed.”
“Do you think General Homer would do that, Dad?” said Mackenzie.
“Either side might do it,” said Dad. “It would be a disaster if the US Army or the rogue army—”
“That’ll never happen,” said Mom. “You kids don’t have to worry about that. Dad put enough safeguards on the pulverizer to make sure it isn’t used for malice or—”
The familiar voice of the computer interrupted. “Excuse the interruption, Dr. Valerie Baten, but you asked me to inform you immediately of—”
“Computer, display news,” said Mom, her voice excited. She sat up on her chair.
The wall the family was facing came alive with scenes from the capital. A reporter talked into the camera. “Here in New York, President Denise Wagner was just informed by General Harvey Homer that he would declare war against the United States of America unless she was willing to proclaim him as the new president and give him complete control and all power. She refused to grant the general such authority. In an unprecedented show of force and malice, General Homer had one of his own rogue soldiers placed on a pedestal, and then turned one of his own weapons on him. This weapon is the pulverizer, a medical instrument, which the general had modified for military purposes with devastatingly destructive powers. With the touch of a button, Homer showed the world in front of media cameras how a human being can be pulverized to nothingness. The full identity of the targeted soldier is unknown at this time. We have learned that the name of the young man was Zackary Bat, and he appears to be in his early twenties. The young man has been dubbed the Target Soldier.”
These thoughts of yesteryear resonated wildly through Zack’s mind over and over. To make his brain change gears, he tried to think of his twin sister.
I hope you’re doing all right, Mackenzie, he mused. Soon we’ll be together again.
There was a knock on the door.
“Come in,” said Director Misty Shores.
The district attorney, Detective Sparks, and CSI Kigler were all seated around the oval table. All eyes now turned to the entrance into the room. An FBI agent peeked through the door.
“Director, there was an incident in the jail a few minutes ago,” said the agent. “When the prison guards went to transfer William Baten and Harvey Homer from their cells to the courtroom, the prisoners somehow obtained access to the guns the guards were carrying and opened fire. Three guards were killed. Everything was caught on video tape.”
“Where are the prisoners now?” asked Misty.
“There is a hostage situation,” said the agent. “The two prisoners are heavily armed. They are holding one of the guards hostage. They are demanding a car to escape in, or they’ll kill the officer and themselves.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
The cameraman held up five fingers as he listened to his earpiece. The commotion on the jailhouse steps was extraordinary today. People rushed up and down the stairs, entering and exiting the front doors—all visual testaments to the bizarre goings-on inside the building.
With this backdrop, the pretty reporter gave a thumbs-up as she mentally prepared her commentary.
“You’re on in five, four, three, two, one,” mouthed the cameraman. He pointed at her. The red light on top of the large camera indicating she was on the air.
“This is Christen Smithson reporting live from in front of the city jail,” she began. “We learned that two prisoners, who were being temporarily housed in the jail, awaiting trial for murder, took one guard hostage. They were about to be transferred from their jail cell to the courthouse when the inmates killed three guards before taking the fourth guard hostage. Sharpshooters and negotiators were immediately dispatched to the building. After what was described as a fierce gun battle, three officers as well as one of the inmates were wounded and taken to Memorial Hospital. The second prisoner was killed during gunfire exchange. Details continue to be sketchy at this time. More news later today at six and ten o’clock.”
As soon as Ellie from the future arrived at the cave, she shared the news about the hostage situation and Mackenzie’s death. Brent and Ellie from present time listened intently, tears forming in their eyes. She went on to explain how she had cleverly implicated Detective Sparks in his dishonest deeds and set up the framework for William and Harvey to be released from jail. She told the kids that she had arranged for the prisoner transfer from the jail cells into the courts. It was during the transportation from their cell that an altercation, apparently started by Harvey Homer, ended up in the death of Mackenzie, who was disguised as a prison guard. “It looks like William is the one who shot her dead. Two male officers were shot to death by Harvey. All this was caught on camera.”
“Do you know what’s happening with William?” said Ellie from the present. “Where is he now? Is he OK?”
“I don’t know,” said older Ellie. “The SWAT team overtook the cell block and killed one of the two prisoners. I don’t know if William or Harvey was killed. But if William wasn’t killed, I think he will be charged with first-degree murder of Mackenzie.”
“William wouldn’t just kill Mackenzie,” said Brent. “What did you see of the footage of the incident?”
“William and one of the male guards are initially off camera,” said the older Ellie. “But when they come on to the footage, it looks like the guard is trying to stop William, but William points the gun at Mackenzie and shoots her in the forehead.”
“This may all be a moot point,” said Brent. “William may have been killed by the SWAT team.”
Older Ellie nodded. “I’ll have my computer get us intelligence. I pray that William is OK.” After giving the proper commands to her computer to hunt down that information, the three embraced for a long moment, tears cascading down their cheeks.
“I don’t get it,” said Present-day Ellie. “What was Mackenzie doing in the prison to begin with?”
/> “And why would William shoot at her?” said Brent.
“We don’t have the details,” said Older Ellie. “But the little bit of footage I saw showed William holding a revolver and shooting it at Mackenzie. That’s what the world will see. That’s what the courts will think.”
“William can’t catch a break,” said Brent. He looked at both women. “Now what do we do?”
“Dr. Ellie Smithson,” said the computer voice. “I have information about the hostage situation at the city jail earlier today. The inmate who was killed was Harvey Homer. William Baten was wounded and taken to the hospital. He is presently in critical condition and undergoing emergency surgery.”
The military scientists working with Dr. William Baten immediately stood at attention when the general entered the laboratory.
“Come into my office, Harvey,” said William. Both men disappeared into a small room off the main testing site. Both sat down, William on a captain’s chair behind his desk, General Homer on a nearby sofa.
“So, is he your son?” said Harvey.
“He is definitely my son,” said William. “But I am perplexed as to how he got to be so. How he got my genes. My experiments have shown that he was not cloned. He was actually conceived the usual way between me and Valerie Rovine.”
“Who?”
“This girl I met back in 2013,” said William. “I was fifteen then. We tried to save an old man who was having a heart attack. Her father was a doctor at—”
“Valerie Rovine!” exclaimed Harvey. “Yes. I know her. She died of a peanut allergy. She was my classmate. She was dating the quarterback, Doug somebody.” The general got up. “You two were—”
“No,” said William. “She died the day I met her. We never—”
“So how does Zackary get here and now?” said Harvey.
“I am totally perplexed,” said William. “I just don’t know.”