The Collection

by Shannon Stoker

The large man resumed pushing the car. He kept his head down, but Mia had a clear view. She saw the militiaman scramble to pick something up from the front seat. Mia tried to yell “stop” again, but it was too late. The militiaman turned around, pointed his gun at Rex, and fired down. Mia raised her weapon and pulled the trigger, hoping to take out the militiaman.

  She heard the large man let out a groan and fall forward, pushing the car off the cliff in the process. The militiaman screamed as his car rolled down the slope. Mia saw a bloodstain forming on her unwanted assistant’s right side. She dropped her weapon and ran over.

  “You shot me,” he said.

  He sat up and held one of his hands over his wound. He raised his face and looked at Mia with wide eyes.

  “It was an accident,” Mia said. “Are you hurt?”

  “Yes, I’m hurt,” he said. “You shot me.”

  “I was trying to shoot him,” Mia said.

  “Great aim.” The man let out a groan. Mia ran over to him and grabbed his free arm.

  “Can you walk?” she asked.

  Carter came running back through the trees.

  “Are you okay? I heard the guns go off,” he said.

  Carter came over and took Mia’s place. She went to Rex’s other side and gave what assistance she could while Carter hoisted him up. Mia went around to his back and he lifted his hand off the wound.

  “How bad is it?” he asked.

  There wasn’t a hole. It looked like Mia had grazed his side. Still, Mia saw some deep-red blood ooze out. She pressed his hand back down.

  “I need to keep pressure on it,” Carter said. He stepped back and took his shirt off, then balled it up and handed it to Mia. “Hold that against the wound.”

  Mia did as she was told. The man let out a groan. Carter ran over and picked up Mia’s weapon, sliding it under his belt. He placed the man’s arm over his shoulders and the two started walking.

  “Where are you going?” Mia asked.

  “We’re taking him with us,” Carter said.

  “No,” Mia said.

  “He saved Andrew,” Carter said. “We’re not leaving him here to die.”

  “It’s not a life-threatening wound,” Mia said. “I mean, he can walk.”

  “And get an infection,” the man said.

  Mia kept pace and tried to hold Carter’s black shirt against the wound. She wanted to object but knew Carter was right. Her hand stung from the kickback of firing the gun. Mia’s nerves were fried. She didn’t think she could take another problem. She should have known a border wouldn’t stop Grant’s pursuit.

  Mia’s heart skipped a beat when she reached the road. There was Andrew, awake and leaning against the car.

  “What is he doing here?” Andrew asked. He seemed to remember the man from the train station as well.

  “He saved your life and Mia shot him,” Carter said.

  Mia tried to look around the big man and see Andrew’s reaction. One of his eyebrows was raised in confusion.

  “By accident,” she said.

  “Open the side door,” Carter said.

  Andrew hesitated, but he seemed to know helping the man was the right thing. They made it to the vehicle and Carter assisted him as he got into the passenger seat. Mia’s hand was pinned behind him, holding the shirt down over his wound.

  “Mia’s going to pull her hand out,” Carter said. “You need to lean back hard on your right side. Keep the shirt and the seat pressed tight against the wound.”

  He readied himself and Mia slid her arm out. Mia got a look at his face. He was sweating badly and starting to lose some color but looked far from death’s door. Carter buckled the man’s seat belt and ran around to the driver’s seat.

  “We need to move fast,” Carter said. “He’s losing blood.”

  “Losing blood slowly,” he said. “At least you missed all my organs.”

  Mia ignored him. Her plan was falling apart. She opened the back door and jumped inside, sliding over to make room for Andrew.

  “Where are we headed?” Carter asked. “Maybe I can just type it in this thing?”

  The auto-drive. Mia had forgotten to rip it out. She lurched forward and yanked the electronic equipment out of place, chucking it as far as she could. She saw the map on the floor and scooped it up.

  “What was that for?” Carter asked.

  “We’re not far,” Mia said, ignoring his questions. She studied the guide, even though she didn’t need it.

  Mia didn’t know what her next step should be. Taking Rex to her sanctuary would be dangerous, but she didn’t know where else to go and his condition was her fault. With little other option she decided to stick to the plan.

  “Keep going up this road. Take your third left. Drive for about five kilometers.”

  Carter hit the gas and they started moving. Mia couldn’t believe how badly she’d screwed everything up. It was her fault the militia was able to tail them, and to top it off they were now harboring an enemy. An enemy Mia had almost unnecessarily killed.

  She turned to look at Andrew. He looked pale and there was some blood dripping down his forehead. Taking a cue from Carter, she leaned over and ripped some of the fabric from her red dress. She wiped his blood away and held the fabric over Andrew’s wound.

  “How are you feeling?” She leaned closer to him to ask over the wind.

  “Fine,” Andrew said.

  “That was a stupid thing you did.”

  “I’d do anything to protect you,” he said.

  Mia wished she could take more comfort in that idea. If her time with Riley had taught her anything, it was the importance of strategizing. Mia didn’t have a clue how to form a new plan now.

  Chapter 40

  Tune in to The Greg Finnegan Show tonight, when your host takes you through a tour of the youth home where Grant Marsden was raised. Part of this week’s feature “Grant Marsden: American Hero.”

  —American Gazette

  The Mission was growing more and more familiar to Grant. When his presence was requested again, Grant jumped at the opportunity. He needed a distraction. He didn’t bother trying to ready his identification this time, and as expected he strolled right in with no problem.

  “Grant, so glad you could make it with the short notice,” Ian said. “I have a present for you.”

  The elderly gentleman tossed a small package to him. Grant flipped open the lid and saw a plain watch with a black wristband. Not his style, but he nodded his head in thanks.

  “I notice you use your phone to check the time, but some people might find that alienating if you’re in charge. You always need to connect with the people. You’ll get farther if you face less opposition.”

  Grant pulled the watch out and slapped it on his wrist.

  “So far everything about you has checked out splendidly,” Ian said. “Soon I’d like to start taking you with me on public appearances. If the people associate your face with mine the transition will be smooth.”

  “I’d like that,” Grant said, following as Ian started walking down a hall.

  “Good, because we’re going to start this afternoon,” Ian said. “Some time ago an individual produced a video of one of our retirement facilities internationally. As predicted there was minimal response, but I think it best to have perfect foreign relations. We are going to head over to a facility and make a speech to the ladies who reside there. Then we’re going to have a live press conference with reporters from the nations who expressed concern.”

  “I think it’s noble we take care of the unwed women,” Grant said. In truth, he assumed retirement facilities were another waste of government funds.

  “It’s strange you knew they existed. I don’t believe we have major cause for concern. But this visit will settle any discomfort our allies feel. I’m sure you’ll be impressed by what you see.”

  “There’s nothing I enjoy more than gazing upon beautiful females,” Grant said.

  “I meant they are well taken care of. They
have work to keep them busy and it’s very sanitary. This video painted these places as some sort of death sentence.”

  “Where they’re denied medical care?” Grant asked.

  “Oh. I should have known you’ve seen it. Strolling on the international Internet?”

  “I have the clearance,” Grant said. “However you chose to operate it is for the good of the country. You have my full support.”

  “There is a system for everything. You’ll learn that. The population can never grow too large. Many boys kill each other before they make it to service and not all of the servicemen come back alive. That makes for too many daughters with not enough husbands. There’s a system allowing the females with some skills to enter more appropriate fields. But the rest still need a purpose in life. They produce goods, mainly for our troops.”

  “I think that would be more satisfying than other occupations,” Grant said.

  “It may seem harsh, but I imagine these women could face a worse fate.”

  When Grant was grand commander he would see to that. Grant was hanging on Ian’s every word and hadn’t realized they had already reached their destination. It was an ordinary door Grant wouldn’t have given a second thought to. Ian pulled it open and behind was a thick wall with a keypad. The grand commander punched a code in and a door popped open to a set of stairs heading down. The walls were lined in thick steel with fluorescent lightbulbs attached. They made their way to a secret room.

  “Is this a bomb shelter?” Grant asked.

  “In a way,” Ian said. “I think of it more as a fortress, and I am the only one with the code. Something I will pass on to you someday.”

  When they reached the bottom of the stairs Grant was shocked by what he saw. It was a server, not a special one either. It was large and a little dated.

  “Is this the—”

  “Master Registry,” Ian said, finishing for him. “I bring someone down here and update it every three months. Most things are done wirelessly now, but this is not connected to anything. Completely unhackable.”

  “Why?”

  “Why? I thought you were smarter than that,” Ian said. “There are groups all over the world trying to break into our mainframe. Some have been successful, more than I like to admit. They’re jealous of our way of life and think if they take the Registry away the girls will be free from some imaginary prison.”

  “Why only one though?” Grant asked. “It would make more sense to have at least ten mainframes all over the country.”

  “Ah, so you do see the importance. If there were ten there would be nine more I needed to protect from my enemies. There are some men who think they’re better suited to act as grand commander. If someone like that gained access to a server they may try to use it to overthrow me. Since I am the only one who can ensure the Registry’s existence I don’t have to worry about that.”

  “What about the service records? Do you have a backup of those?” Grant asked.

  Ian smiled and raised his eyebrows, unable to keep a smug look off his face.

  “It’s here too,” Ian said. “A very fascinating piece of information. Your call number was AMT8583.”

  That number was burned into Grant’s memory forever.

  “Do you know that of all the boys in this country, only seventy-five percent make it into service? Twenty percent die, and five percent think they can dodge their duty.”

  “I’m surprised it’s that high,” Grant said.

  “Which number?” Ian asked.

  “Dodgers,” Grant said.

  “Almost all of those men are raised by mothers and fathers,” Ian said. “The ones from those households who do enlist rarely survive.”

  “Did you keep any sons?”

  “No,” he said. “In fact the opposite. All my sons survive only for a few hours.”

  “I’m not sure I see the logic, sir,” Grant said.

  “Do you know who your parents are?”

  “No,” Grant said. “And I don’t care to find out.”

  “I fear I would want to know their progress,” Ian said. “See if they share any of my traits.”

  “I would think it would be inconsequential,” Grant said. “Sons are worthless.”

  “Well, you’re a stronger man than I for being so certain,” Ian said. “This way all threat of temptation has been removed.”

  Grant nodded his head. He hadn’t expected the grand commander to be so weak. Ian deserved no sympathy for putting down his sons. Grant didn’t think that would be difficult, and in the process Ian was denying America additional soldiers.

  “I wanted you to see this sooner rather than later. As long as this server is intact all will be well and any problem can be fixed.”

  With these final words they walked up the stairs and back into the hall, Ian firmly closing the door behind them.

  “Sir, you mentioned organizations attacking the system through remote means. Why not send the army and take these groups out?”

  “We don’t fight our own wars anymore,” Ian said. “All these people are stationed in neutral countries or areas close to radioactive zones. We know about them, though. An attack on them would mean an attack on their hosts. It is a delicate world out there, and any number of nations would jump at the chance to invade us; some countries even have females in their top leadership position. Our military serves two purposes. The first is to protect the homeland, and the second is to aid any country as I see fit. If there is a war about to break out, both sides always request our aid. Whoever we side with crushes their opponent. Any country we help must allow a military base on their soil, along with some other conditions. And we have a lot of bases around the world. If all these countries found a reason to band together and attack us, we would be outnumbered.”

  “But wouldn’t our allies back our play then, against these rebels?”

  “You are intelligent, but you have much to learn regarding diplomacy,” Ian said. “You’re handsome and you have charm, which comes in quite handy when dealing with foreign relations. The last thing we want is a war on American soil, and most of the world doesn’t respect our way of life. If they were to attack us first though, our allies would have no choice but to give aid . . .”

  “But if we throw the first punch everyone else will label us as aggressors and retaliate,” Grant said, finishing his statement.

  “Already catching on, I see,” Ian said. “There is a lot of fighting in the world. Especially since we step in to help the smallest countries win their battles. As long as they need our help and we aren’t hurting anyone they don’t care what we do at home. Keep the service large and skilled.”

  Grant was already thinking about ways he would improve Ian’s outdated ideas. He was curious about the retirement center. If it was as pristine as the propaganda showed he could think of an easy way to devote more funds to the men abroad and maybe even buy other countries’ approval to take out these sects.

  Chapter 41

  The world is ever changing. There is no point in learning about other countries because they may disappear tomorrow.

  —American Gazette

  They traveled on through the mountains. Mia sat right next to Andrew, putting pressure on his head wound. He thought the stranger in the front seat was more deserving of medical attention but didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to sit so close to her. She was alive; focusing on that was enough to get him through anything.

  Mia leaned forward and signaled for Carter to take another left. They turned and Mia’s hair hit Andrew in the face. She had long hair again. His final memory of her was with short hair. It should have taken months, if not years, for the length to grow out again. Andrew wanted to question her about how long he was really with the militia, because he was certain she wouldn’t lie to him. Time wasn’t making much sense to him.

  The car started to slow down. Carter tried to rev the engine, but the speed didn’t increase. This was a familiar situation.

  “Pull over,” Andrew said. “
You’re running out of gas.”

  “What?” Carter asked.

  Andrew moved forward until his mouth was next to Carter’s ear. “You’re running out of gas,” he said.

  He looked at the dashboard. There was no fuel light; he assumed it was broken. Mia looked over at the gauges.

  “There is no gas,” Mia said.

  “Well then, what’s wrong?” Carter asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Mia said.

  “How far away are we?” Andrew asked.

  “Not far,” Mia said. “According to the map maybe another five kilometers.”

  “I don’t know what that means,” Andrew said.

  “Three miles, give or take,” Mia said.

  Andrew had never bothered to ask where she was this whole time. How she had managed to learn how to operate a vehicle or a new system of measurement. Nothing had seemed important at first, only the fact that she was here and breathing. The car slowed to a crawl.

  “How are you doing?” Carter asked the man in the passenger seat.

  “I’ve been better,” he said. “But worse too.”

  Andrew looked at Mia; her nose was crinkled up. Andrew could tell she was struggling with her feelings toward the man.

  “It was an accident,” Andrew said.

  “I was trying to stop the militia from hurting you,” Mia said.

  “Enough with the apologies,” the man said. “Is there a doctor at this place we’re headed?”

  “Where are we going anyway?” Andrew asked.

  The sun was all the way up in the sky now. Andrew felt his forehead sting as the sweat rolled into his wound. The car came to a complete stop.

  “Can you walk?” Mia asked.

  “I’m fine,” Andrew said.

  “Don’t mind me,” the man said. “I’m the one with the life-threatening injury.”

  “I’m sure you’ve been shot at before,” Mia said.

  Andrew almost wanted to laugh. It’d been so long since he’d felt that urge. Before the sound escaped his lips he realized Mia had ignored his question.

  “Where are we going?” he asked again.

  “There’s a sanctuary for Americans here,” Mia said. “We’ll be with people like us.”