The Doomsday Chronicles (The Future Chronicles)

by Samuel Peralta

  She was instantly weeping in a pile on the ground as Jack stood over her. Dean had fallen off the trashcan as soon as soon as he realized Jack had completely lost his grip. Dean pulled himself to his feet, hobbling a little on his right foot to get to Maggie.

  Jack towered over her, leaning in close to her face. “You see what you made me do? How do you expect me to take care of you when you force my hand like this?”

  Dean charged, throwing his body into Jack, knocking him back several feet, but both were still standing. And Jack came for him, dipped low, and slammed his shoulder into Dean’s stomach, shoving him toward the brick wall he’d pushed Maggie into. Maggie scrambled to her feet beside them, and Jack’s hand shot out to grip her by the hair. Dean took the chance to throw his arm around Jack’s neck and pull as tightly as he could.

  “Gun,” Maggie said through gritted teeth, and Dean realized Jack must’ve been reaching for the pistol.

  Then another gun joined the conversation. A bigger one. All three sets of eyes drifted over to a gray-haired man who’d just cocked his shotgun. “You can let him go, boy.”

  Dean did as he was told.

  “Now you, sir, let go of that girl this instant, or so help me, I will put a hole in your rear end.”

  Jack let go of Maggie, holding his left hand in the air, his right still hovering over the gun the Good Samaritan couldn’t see.

  Dean scrambled to get himself and Maggie to their feet. They instinctively shuffled toward the man, Maggie whimpering with tears flowing down her face.

  “Maggie…” Jack said, his voice low and sort of patronizing. “Mags, I’m sorry, you know I would never hurt you on purpose. What am I supposed to do?”

  The farther Dean and Maggie backed away from Jack, the more emotion filtered into Jack’s expression, his blank face being slowly replaced with a desperate one.

  “Maggie, you can’t leave me. What would I do without you? You’re the only one who can take care of me. I need you. You know that. You wouldn’t abandon me, would you? After everything we’ve been through?” He was practically falling to his knees as he stumbled toward her.

  Dean glanced at her to see if this charade was affecting her. He could tell that it was. “Maggie,” Dean whispered, supporting her by the elbow. “Maggie, he’s manipulating you. You have to stop listening to him.”

  Maggie sobbed harder, and Dean was crushed watching her in so much pain; she seemed so confused, so torn. Jack’s demeanor had completely changed. His shoulders were hunched, making him appear much smaller, weaker. The dark circles around his eyes were now compounded by swollen redness. He dropped his head to his hands, his body going into a sort of heaving sob. Dean thought it was the worst possible thing to see a grown man do. The way his shirt clung to the ribs on his back just made the image worse. And apparently Maggie agreed.

  She stepped forward and put her hand on Jack’s back.

  “I’m so sorry,” Jack cried into his hands. And then he reached for her, and the man with the gun stepped closer. His mouth was poised to speak, but then he froze. Completely. Dean followed his gaze to where the boy had been tied up.

  The boy now stood on the street, stone still, next to a woman in a business suit, her hair pulled tight in a bun. They both stood a couple yards in front of a mass of people. Every one of them unmoving, staring at Dean. The boy was fine; he’d been a decoy, Dean now realized. Dean’s jaw went slack as he reached for Maggie’s hand and took hold.

  The woman’s eyes were locked on the older man, boring into his still figure. What was wrong with him?

  “What is this?” Jack demanded, sobering up almost immediately. He had Maggie’s other hand.

  The people weren’t in exact rows but it seemed like they were equally spaced apart, their bodies all in the same pose. Kind of like soldiers, not that Dean knew anything about soldiers. They were mostly young-looking, able-bodied. A few older ones were peppered in, but they were fit, people who’d aged well.

  Then the mob simultaneously took one step forward. That one motion scared the crap out of Dean.

  “Run,” Dean whispered. And the three of them did, until they had turned several corners and were out of sight from the crowd.

  “Call Dad,” Maggie whispered.

  Dean patted his pockets. “I lost my phone.” He panicked, looking around.

  “Use mine,” Maggie said, sneaking a phone out of a hidden pocket at the bottom of her backpack.

  Jack’s eyes went wide. “Where did you get that?” His temper flared again.

  “I bought it after…the accident.” She couldn’t meet Jack’s eyes.

  “How could you do something so deceitful?” He stepped toward Maggie.

  Dean shoved him away. “You keep your hands off her.” He didn’t know what he’d do if Jack pulled that gun, but he took the phone from Maggie. When he glanced back up at Jack, he wasn’t moving. Frozen like the man with the shotgun. Dean’s senses went on high alert, and he was surprised he could process anything at all. He heard footsteps coming toward them and glanced up to see that same businesswoman staring at the now-frozen Jack while her army caught up to her.

  “Hide,” Dean whispered to Maggie, shoving her into a crevice between a wall and a car that had crashed into it.

  The robot-like army of people, who just looked like regular people apart from their behavior, turned onto the street where they were hiding. Then the group stopped, all standing perfectly still.

  Dean felt Maggie’s body jump before his brain processed the sound of bodies hitting the pavement. He looked to the building across the street where he saw broken bodies in a heap. His gaze traveled up the tower to the roof, where a row of people stood for just a moment before walking off and meeting the same demise as the previous group. And it kept going, and with every row of people, Maggie grew more hysterical next to him.

  He put his arm around her. “Shhh.” He rocked her gently, trying to calm himself just as much as her. Bodies just kept falling until the roof had cleared. Then the army began to walk again. They stopped when they reached another building, and the thumping sound started again. That building soon emptied of people from the roof, same as the last.

  Dean had no idea how to process what was going on. Maggie’s face was covered in tears. But the army was so huge, Dean and Maggie were still surrounded, even though the front had moved past them. He ushered Maggie underneath the wrecked car and followed, the two of them watching the shoes of the people who passed. He pulled out Maggie’s phone and made sure it was muted. Then he sent a text to his dad.

  IT’S DEAN. TRAPPED IN ASHLAND. MAYFLOWER AVE. WHAT IS GOING ON?

  His dad replied right away. DO YOU HAVE MAGGIE?

  YES, SIR, Dean replied. WHAT DO WE DO?

  It seemed to take too long for the reply to come. FOUR BLOCKS EAST, COURTHOUSE. AVOID GOING OUT IN THE OPEN.

  SURROUNDED BY PEOPLE, HAVE TO WAIT TIL THEY PASS.

  WHAT ARE THEY DOING?

  JUST WALKING. OTHERS JUMPING OFF BUILDINGS, Dean wrote.

  Maggie scooted closer to Dean, pressed up against his side. She was no longer suppressing sobs, but still whimpered.

  WAIT THEM OUT, Dad told him.

  So they did. And when they crawled out from under the car, Maggie ran around to where they’d been with Jack, but he was gone.

  “Where’s Jack?” She started up with the crying again. “Is he dead?”

  “I think he…like…” He didn’t know how to put it into words. “I think he went with them. His face looked just like theirs. He went rigid like them.”

  Dean took her by the shoulders and forced her to look him in the eyes.

  “We have to move. Are you ready?”

  She rubbed her face with both hands, using her sleeves to wipe her eyes. Then she nodded, just subtly enough to acknowledge Dean. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her along. They went back the way they had come to avoid the people moving in the opposite direction, though the truth was he hadn’t seen which way they’d turned.<
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  They stayed close to the buildings as they moved toward Rayburn Boulevard, then turned right, heading for the courthouse. He checked the map on the phone to confirm it was the right direction. When they reached the end of the block they peeked around the corner. Dean immediately pulled Maggie back out of sight. He’d spotted the army moving in the same direction as Dean and Maggie on a parallel street a block away.

  “They’re going the same way,” Dean whispered.

  “Should we try a different way?”

  “No,” he said. “This is the quickest way. Maybe if we move faster we can get ahead of them, beat them to the courthouse.”

  “What if that’s where they’re going? What if they make everybody at the courthouse die too?” Maybe it was completely stupid to be so sentimental at a time like this, but he could feel the burden of Jack’s hold on her lifting, and his sister was gradually coming back to life. Coming back to herself. And it filled him with hope.

  “Dad said to go there. Maybe they really can keep us safe.”

  They stared into each other’s eyes for just a moment before she nodded. Dean started moving again, this time shifting over into the street to duck behind cars, staying low as they made their way down the street. When they finally reached McArthur Road, where the courthouse was, they slowed down and dropped even lower to the ground, crawling toward a gap in the cars that allowed a clear line of sight to the front of the courthouse.

  The front of the building looked old and historic, but attached to the back was an addition twice its size that stood at least ten stories tall. Aside from that, it looked just like a regular courthouse. There were no fences or soldiers, or whatever it was he’d expected. There also weren’t any cars on the strip of road in front of it, so at one point it must have been guarded.

  “What are we supposed to do, walk right up and ring the doorbell?” Maggie was sidled up to him, taking in the same sight he was.

  Dean cocked his head toward the entrance and began to move. They’d apparently gotten ahead of the drone-like people or they’d turned before reaching this block because he didn’t see them at the other end of the street. Dean took that as encouragement and decided to go for it.

  “We can do this.” He gripped Maggie’s hand and strode right out into the open, picking up the pace once clear of obstacles. But when they reached the front steps leading up to the courthouse, he lost his grip of Maggie’s hand, then turned around to see why.

  She stood below him, one foot on the sidewalk and one on the first step, paused mid-movement.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked her. She didn’t respond or even look at him. Her face had lost all expression. She looked just like those other people… His eyes scanned the area, and there at the end of the street, where there had been no one just moments ago, was the army, now filling the intersection. Turning to face them, the businesswoman in the front had Maggie locked in her gaze. His heart sank when he finally realized whatever had gotten the others had now gotten Maggie.

  “Maggie, no!” he said through gritted teeth, afraid to shout. He shook her by both arms and said her name again. He gripped her face and screamed, “Maggie, come on!”

  Movement across the street caught his eye. He glanced up, still holding onto Maggie. Several of the windows across the street had begun to open one by one until over half of them were raised with people leaning on the sills or pushing out window screens. Dean dragged Maggie up the stairs as he watched them all get into place. The unmoving army down the street was somehow doing this—controlling these people. And then, all at once, they jumped from the windows. The windows from apartments that had other residents refilled with new victims. In a second wave, they jumped.

  Dean had almost reached the courthouse doors when Maggie began to resist, her face still blank. She pulled free of his grip and moved down the stairs as the crowd of people made their way up the street, quicker than he’d seen them move before, until Maggie fell into their ranks. He ran down, no regard for his safety, and barreled into her midsection with his shoulder. Hoisting her up, he used every ounce of energy he had to thwart her attempt to get out of his grip again. It felt like she was somehow getting stronger.

  He glanced up then, spotting the blonde woman who now had him fixed in her stone gaze. He recoiled, waiting for something to happen to him, but nothing did. When he came to his senses, he retreated with Maggie, fighting her all the way.

  As he neared the courthouse doors, the landing trembled beneath him, the old wooden doors flinging open to reveal steel ones. Gripping Maggie around her waist and holding on with all his strength, he waited as the steel doors parted and American soldiers rushed out to usher them inside. Maggie’s movements escalated as the doors closed again, to the point that she was convulsing, not really fighting him. He laid her on the floor, not sure what to do. He looked up to the soldiers, pleading. “Help her! Please!”

  He dropped beside her and turned her on her side, not really sure why. A medical team descended on them, rolling Maggie facedown onto a stretcher and cutting her shirt open from the back. It was covered in bruises, some of them fresher than her supposed car accident. Several people gasped at the sight of them, Dean included. If he ever saw Jack again, he was liable to kill him.

  The medics placed some kind of electrodes along her spine and at the base of her skull. “How long has she been like this?” a woman asked. She grabbed Dean’s shoulder and asked again. “Dean, how long?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. Two minutes? Maybe?”

  Two medics met eyes and one gave a nod to the other. Then they shocked Maggie, despite her thrashing. And they shocked her again. One wrenched her eyelid back and shined a light at her pupil.

  “Again,” the woman said.

  Maggie’s body went rigid with the next shock and held tight, every muscle tensed as the electricity pulsed through her body. A half-second later, she went limp. The medic checked her pulse. Dean held his breath, waiting.

  “We got her,” the woman said, allowing herself a small smile. The team released a collective exhale. “Let’s get her a bed.”

  As two men carried her away on the gurney, the remaining medics turned to him. “Wait, let me go with her,” he said, scrambling to his feet.

  “Dean, she’s safe. We have to clear you.”

  “How do you know my name?”

  The woman smiled warmly. “Your father called us after he spoke with you. My name is Samantha.”

  He couldn’t keep quiet as Samantha checked him over. “What the heck is going on out there?” He glanced up and saw security monitors along the wall, showing what he assumed were camera feeds from outside of the entire building.

  She cocked her head to the side and back, making a face. “Hijacking.”

  “Hijacking people?”

  “Dean, prior to running out to grab Maggie, had you had any encounters with hijacked individuals before?” There was a certain formality to the way she asked the question.

  “Yes, several of them.”

  Samantha kept a straight face, but the two people behind her didn’t. Their eyes grew wide.

  “I’d like to examine you some more. It won’t be invasive, and I’ll keep your father apprised of the situation.”

  Dean looked from Samantha to the other medics and back. “What situation?”

  “We’ve never seen a Slip before.”

  “A Slip?”

  “I’ll explain later. Follow me,” Samantha ordered, leading Dean away from the door.

  After hours of medical examinations, scans, and routine vitals, Samantha took him to a conference room where a long table was covered in computers. She sat him down next to her as she began showing him videos of the type of mass suicides he’d already seen so many of up close and personal. He winced the first few times a row of people leaped off a ledge.

  “England. Greece,” she called out the location of each video. “Thailand. China. Mexico. USA. Egypt… Virtually everywhere.” She’d shown him dozens of
video clips by the time he was beginning to feel the weight of the world. “Civilizations without easy means of mass suicides came to more violent ends.” She showed an overhead video of a village in South America massacring one another with simple weapons.

  Samantha progressed to videos of cities that had been recently decimated—war zones. “When civilian deaths were maximized and exhausted, the enemy began to hijack military installations, forcing them to use their firepower on their own soil.”

  “Has this happened here in America?”

  “Yes,” she answered mournfully.

  “How is this happening?”

  “They are tapping into the brains of people, anyone and everyone, really. Thanks to your father, we were able to manipulate our technology to create an impenetrable field in certain locations, but right out in the open, most of us would be just as susceptible as everyone else.” She had pulled up a schematic of the building they were in. At least, that was what Dean assumed, though he couldn’t make any sense of it, nor why Samantha had pulled it up. “But some people,” she continued, “well, I guess their brains don’t fire the right way. Commands from the enemy just slip right through unnoticed.” She nodded toward Dean.

  “Me?” he asked.

  “Yes, you. The first Slip to find his way here. And it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “What happens next?” Dean asked, standing up. He had too much energy coursing through his body to relax.

  Someone at the door cleared his throat. “We have a team working on a way to safely transport soldiers and new weapons to launch a counterattack. Maybe save what’s left of this meager planet of ours. But you’re not supposed to know that.”

  “Dad!” Dean whipped around. Chris was standing there, grinning. Dean rushed across the room and threw his arms around his father. “Where’s Mom?”

  “She’s with Maggie.” Chris gripped Dean by the shoulders, hard, his voice getting thick. “I’m so proud of you. You saved her life.”

  “Dad…”

  Chris embraced him and Dean let out an exhale. And it all sank in. If nothing else mattered, and even if eventually they all died, at least the four of them would be together.