Last Light Falling

by J. E. Plemons

  “What are those?” I ask.

  “These are tracking devices that link to each other with this coded cell satellite. This device has its own coded frequency for these tracking devices only, so no Internet connection is needed. They have about a twenty-mile radius, but we will still need to attach it to something outside,” explains Gabe.

  “Your house is about two miles from here. We may be able to make most of the trip through some of these tunnels,” says Father Joseph.

  “The question is, who goes and who stays?” I ask.

  Henry stands up and says, “I recommend Gabriel to go with Father Joseph and Arena to stay here with me. Arena and I have some unfinished training that is necessary.”

  I’m hesitant to agree to anything at this point, but because Gabe is more intuitive than me, he will more likely avoid any danger he foresees, therefore, this is probably the best decision. “Fine,” I say.

  I pick out a nice gun for Gabe and make sure it has a full clip. “Here, take this one, it’s accurate and powerful. Just make sure you have the safety off.”

  After Gabe turns on the tracking devices to make sure they work, he looks at me as if I won’t see him again. Since our cell phones are no longer useful with communications shut down, we agree that I will follow an hour later. With only two miles to travel, that should give them more than enough time to get to the house safely. After Father Joseph prays over both of us, I give them both one last hug before they leave through the tunnels.

  After I get back from deploying the cell satellite outside, I come back to the den, curious as to what Henry has planned for me. “So, what is this unfinished training all about?” I ask.

  “I have nothing left to teach you. Your skills are beyond anything I can add. You have the strength, speed, accuracy, and confidence that is required of any cunning warrior going into battle, but it’s your faith that you wield that will serve you best.”

  I pause briefly over his concern before I reset the chamber of the Beretta 92FS I took off the wall earlier. Henry quickly grabs my hand.

  “Guns can only go so far, but what good is it when you run out of bullets? You must be an efficient killer, Arena,” he says with a stony stare.

  Henry pulls out the two swords that I drooled over the first day I laid eyes on them. There is nothing quite like holding cold steel in your hands and waiting to slay your enemy with the swinging grace of one stroke. Henry is right: These may be my weapons of choice when the time comes; after all, it’s what I’m most comfortable with. Henry watches as I go through my progressions with the blades, striking in every position I know, and some that I came up with on my own.

  I practice throwing knives at wall targets and two human-like mannequins to make the time pass without worrying. With extreme accuracy and little effort, I crouch on a chair, flinging daggers that gash into their eyes and necks.

  “Here you go, Arena, I think this will fit you,” Henry says as he hands me a black jacket knitted from a material I’ve never seen before. It’s very lightweight, but strong enough for a knife not to cut through without extreme pressure. I put it on and tie it together, and it feels as though it was tailored perfectly for me. The back is designed to hold two Samurai swords, coincidentally the two that I hold in my hands.

  Henry made this for his daughter years ago, hoping she would become interested in the arts, only to be disappointed by her rejection of them. I guess it’s not meant for everyone.

  “Well, it fits perfectly. I guess it was meant for me after all,” I say. As I take off the jacket and pull the sleeve from my arm, my face flushes with anxiety as I notice the red flashing dot on the tracker has now disappeared.

  “Gabe! Something has happened; his tracking device has stopped. We have to go now,” I say. I dash out of the room, grab two commander-sized M1911 pistols with sound suppressors, four full clips, three stealth-throwing knives, and my favorite scorpion dagger, or jugular ripper, as they call it.

  Before me and Henry leave, I quickly turn on the television in the backroom just to see if there is any live local coverage of what we may run into. Surprisingly, a few stations are working, but the signal is weak. The only station that comes in clear enough is the national news with a recent story being developed…

  “It’s being reported that tens of thousands are being detained and shipped off to various classified locations. Many citizens have been killed in the past few days, and an outcry from the people has gone unnoticed, yet this impasse has fostered a brutal retaliation by federal government officials of every city in the nation. The ongoing riots and rebellion has desisted, leaving no hope for the fallen. A national Internet blackout has stopped all digital communication for most of the nation’s population and it is yet known if the event that has been initiated by our very government has had any global effects tied to foreign trade, or if any outside threats have deterred any international relations with our allies. The leadership has tried to portray this nation as …” The television feed shuts off and the screen turns blue. No other channels are working, and now all communications or information has ceased to exist.

  As dangerous as it may seem, going outside may be our best hope since I’m much better at cloaking my tracks and better suited for combat rather than Gabe. I can be stealth enough to go unseen for hours because of all the tricks and tips I picked up from Finnegan. Wow, how I miss him right now. Besides, I know my way from here outside rather than fighting to find the right tunnel that leads home.

  The streets are completely dead, and not a soul in sight for the last mile we’ve walked—probably due to the curfew. Since I’ve never been out past curfew, the silence in the air makes me shiver a bit. Just about two hundred yards away, we spot about fifty federal soldiers, half of which are wearing gasmasks, and marching, or rather, goose-stepping, like German soldiers. It’s quite an unusual sight.

  We finally make it to the house with no signs of any federal officers in the vicinity. The lights are still on, so that’s a good sign. I see an unfamiliar car in the driveway as we walk to the front porch. I cautiously open the door, making sure I don’t make a sound, and when I walk inside, I see an old man standing in the living room holding his hat. I move in closer and see everyone: Gabe, Juliana, Father Joseph, Myra, Daniel, and Niki.

  I’m so excited that I rush into the living room with Henry trailing behind me. The smile on my face gradually flattens when I notice everyone’s morose expression. I’m so confused to what I’m witnessing; Myra and Niki are crying, and Juliana is hiding her face, burying it into Gabe’s chest, while Daniel holds his glasses in his hands. Daniel always has his glasses, and to see Niki crying like that is starting to frighten me. It’s an oddity I’m not sure I want revealed. Shouldn’t they be happy to see me?

  “What?” I manage to whisper.

  Gabe finally speaks up with his trembling lips. “Arena …” He pauses, then says, “They didn’t even give him a warning, they …”

  “They what, who?” I ask, anxiously.

  “It’s Jacob,” says Gabe softly.

  I have no words, and my eyes fill with tears. “Where is he?” I ask, barely getting out the words.

  Gabe looks at me as a tear trickles down his cheek. “Arena, he’s dead.”

  CHAPTER 13

  If I had a choice of living out this pain for the rest of my life, or being shot dead at this very moment, I think I would prefer the latter.

  “Jacob was just trying to find my watch. I accidently threw it away in the dumpster behind the store,” says the old man.

  I realize now that the man is the owner of the cleaners who allowed Jacob to stay in the bedroom above the store. “They tried to arrest him for rummaging through the garbage on private property, but I tried to tell them that he was with me. They didn’t want to listen, and when Jacob jumped out of the dumpster, they just shot him without any warning,” the man continues.

  I’m so paralyzed from the shock; words can’t flow from my lips, so I just stare through the void of
empty silence and sink into oblivion for a few seconds. And then suddenly, every fruitless event of my entire life races through my brain in a single flash just as my eyes refocus back to reality, and the blood comes rushing back to my face like an ocean wave. My knees buckle, and I fall to the ground, as if my soul has just left my body. I cry uncontrollably, releasing all the pent-up emotions bursting from my spirit, followed by screams of rage.

  I therapeutically rock myself back and forth into a stupor, trying to erase the pain or at least mask it temporarily. I run upstairs to avoid the sad, consoling faces or any empathy that may follow. I just want to weep alone right now, cling to my dagger, and drown in my own mourning.

  I walk over to my window and gaze up at the few stars I can see through the muddy sky and wonder what my mother would say to me right now. What kind of advice might she offer, or would she just gently hold me in her arms without an answer?

  I look down at the black street and wonder why I was born into this world. Every bit of anger and rage I’m harboring is battling my will to forgive, and unexpectedly, I’m reminded by the poem my mother wrote that I read earlier. I drop to my knees, cover my face, and attempt to pray through this chaos swimming in my head.

  I feel emotionally overwhelmed and completely lost, but it suddenly comes to a complete halt. I hear a distant gunshot from my window. I immediately get up and look out the window to see officers running down the street about four blocks away. A family is being forced out of their house and put onto a bus, but the father appears to resist and is quickly shot in the head.

  Children are screaming and running to their dead father as two more officers pull them off and fling them to the ground. They eventually get one of the kids onto the bus with their mother, but the other one tries to run and is immediately shot in the back. My heart sinks, I gasp for air, and I shiver with anger.

  I grab what I can from my room, stuff it into my backpack, and race downstairs. “We have to go, now! Everybody get up!” I yell.

  “We heard gunshots,” says Daniel.

  “Officers down the street, they’re here to come take us. It’s started. We need to go now!” I say, running toward the door.

  I look around the room and notice Juliana and the old man are gone. “Where’s Juliana?” I ask Gabe.

  “I had the old man take her back home. I thought her family might be worried.”

  “Dammit! We have to get her, it’s not safe!” I shout.

  “What do you mean? What the hell is going on?” Gabe asks.

  “Wait, let me get some things before we leave,” says Myra.

  “No! Forget about it, there isn’t enough time, let’s go!” I say.

  We start to run out the back door, but there are already officers waiting there. The front street is flooded with about dozen, and now there is nowhere to go.

  “Come, hide down here until they leave,” says Myra, pointing toward the basement.

  We quickly get downstairs, but before I get halfway down, the basement door shuts. I do a head count: Gabe, Henry, and Father Joseph. Myra, Daniel, and Niki are not here. I race back up to see what happened to them, but it’s too late. I can already hear the officers breaking in the front door and Myra and Daniel surrendering to go. I put my ears up to the basement door to better hear what’s going on.

  “Is there anybody else residing in this household?” one of the officers asks.

  “No, it’s just the wife and I,” says Daniel. I hear footsteps right outside the basement door, so I slowly take my ear from the door and carefully turn the lock without making any noise.

  “Take ′em to the bus with the others. Gibbs and Johnson, search the second floor, I’ll comb the rest of the area,” the officer says.

  After a few minutes, I hear the bus drive off and the two officers coming down the stairs with their heavy boots.

  “Sir, the rooms are clear, but there appears to be more than just the two dwelling in this house, two more kids possibly,” says one of the officers.

  “How old?” asks the lead officer.

  “Most likely teens, sir,” he says.

  I gingerly walk down the steps and tell everyone what’s happened. “They are looking for us, we need to find a way out now,” I say.

  Henry looks over by an old dryer and behind it are steps leading to the cellar doors outside. “Hurry, this is our way out,” says Henry.

  I hear the basement doorknob trying to turn upstairs, followed by a commotion. Henry opens the cellar doors when it’s clear and looks around outside before we make a run for it. As I ascend up the steps, I hear a scream coming from upstairs. My blood curdles. It’s Niki.

  “Go! That’s Niki, and I’m not leaving her behind. Father, take Henry through the tunnels where it’s safer. Gabe and I will catch up,” I say.

  “I’ll stay here with you, Gabe can go,” says Henry.

  “No, I need Gabe here with me to get back through the tunnels. Now go, I promise we will make it back, trust me,” I assure Henry as I stare at the basement door. They make a run for it behind the back fence into the alley, and by the time I turn back around to see if they left, there is nothing but darkness.

  “So how are we going to do this?” Gabe asks nervously.

  “I don’t know, maybe we—”

  Suddenly, the door atop the stairs shudders as someone on the other side tussles with the knob.

  I panic for a brief moment, then look down by the corner of the stairs and notice a spool of copper wire on in a ragged box. I grab the small spool and wrap the wire around the bottom of the stair rail near the top of the basement. I quickly stretch the other end around the other side of the stair railing, making a simple trip wire.

  As the door shakes louder and louder, I nervously look down at Gabe, who’s shivering with fright. I walk down the stairs and make sure Gabe has his gun’s safety off and ready to fire. “All you have to do is squeeze.”

  We can now hear the door being kicked by the officer’s boot as we prepare for the door to come swinging open any moment. “Aim for the head, Gabe.” I climb up on top of the railing beside the door. I want to position myself where the side of the door swinging out hides me, while giving me the higher ground to strike down on the officer with my knife.

  The jarred door nearly rattles off its hinges and aggressively swings open, giving me a clear shot to the back of the officer’s neck with my dagger. While I reach up, ready to come down with the point of my blade, he effortlessly trips over the copper wire down to the bottom of the stairs and lies motionless. By the sound of the crack of his neck, it appears he has saved us the trouble of killing him. With the door open, I now hear Niki screaming even louder, letting me know she is still in the house.

  Suddenly, two officers wearing gasmasks descend down the steps from the cellar doors. “Gabe, look out!”

  I quickly pull out my silenced M1911 and drill both soldiers with ease directly to the head. I stand on the steps distraught for a minute before Gabe shakes me back to coherence. “What’s wrong?” Gabe asks.

  “Nothing,” I respond. I slowly pull the gun down to my side and just stare at the two officers on the floor and realize it’s the first time I’ve killed a human being. I feel empty inside as I stare at the blood running down the officer’s head. This is not how I thought it would feel. As soon as the guilt wears on my weary heart, I feel somewhat cold, but then I soon remember what they did to Jacob, and any regret I had comes to a complete halt. I suddenly feel a fire breathing from my soul and anger quickly replaces the guilt. I’m glad the officers are dead.

  We hurry upstairs into the living room and see no one around until we hear screams coming from the kitchen. Through the kitchen door, I catch a flashing glimpse of someone on the table as the door swings back and forth. I put my foot near the bottom of the swinging door, stopping it enough to where I can see who it is.

  Rage pumps through my veins as one of the officers holds a gun to Niki’s head while the other takes advantage, raping her. Without hesita
tion or an ounce of fear, I charge through the kitchen door and lunge toward the officer with the gun, piercing the dagger through the bottom of his neck upward through his mouth and into his head. I turn to the other officer with my gun drawn, and his hands dart in the air, pleading his life to be spared.

  “Don’t shoot, I’m unarmed!” he pleads.

  I aim the gun from his head and drop it down to his crotch, then shoot off his penis. “No, now you’re unarmed,” I say. “Gabe, take his gun.”

  “Are you okay? Can you walk?” I ask Niki, as I help her get up and dressed. She doesn’t respond. The shock of being held down and brutally taken advantage of has kept her silent. She just clings to me, hugging and crying.

  I pull out my dagger from the officer’s neck, wiping off the blood and meaty flesh on his uniform. Niki spits in her attacker’s face as he writhes on the floor in pain, moaning and wailing, cursing me for his blood-soaked crotch.

  “What are we going to do with him, Arena? He’s just going to leave here and tell everyone about this. They will be everywhere hunting us down,” says Gabe.

  “I guess we’ll have to make it harder for him to leave then,” I say as I shoot both his kneecaps off. I could have put this man out of his misery with a bullet in his head, but I leave him to suffer instead.

  I crouch down next to the man. “You may be in pain here for a long time, but it will be nothing compared to the hell that awaits you on the other side. May God have mercy on your soul,” I say through gritted teeth.

  “Damn you, fucking whore, and your God,” he responds.

  “So be it,” I say as we leave him.

  We quickly run out the back door toward the fence, and Gabe leads us to one of the tunnels, where he and Father Joseph walked earlier. Whether the government figures out who executed their officers or not, we have left our first of many marks to come.

  As we race through the underground channels, we are suddenly halted by an explosion aboveground that rocks the interior of the tunnel, causing the passage ahead of us to collapse. We are now forced to either go back or find another opening in the tunnel. “This way,” says Gabe. We are led to a dead end, but right above us is a large sewer grate.