"Sir, I think the enemy has jammed our communications," Phillip said.
When the static repeated itself, Workman tossed the walkie to the floor.
"Morgan, what is happening in the southwest?"
"The Elite Guard are swapping fire with the terrorists. They're gaining ground, but they need help," he said. "They'll soon be overrun by the topsiders. The tram is down. That might be slowing the Red Guard. Or they might have already engaged the enemy further down."
Workman addressed his men. "All of you except Westergren and Farmer, go shore the boys up at the plaza 'til the Red Guard arrive. Hold them, for God's sake. You are each worth one hundred of those redskin mutards. Do not let them pass."
The men hustled away, leaving Workman and two guards at the Chancellor's chamber.
Phillip was sweating and switching the rifle from shoulder to shoulder. Deception did not come easily to his aide.
"Here," Dr. Morgan said. "I'll hold the weapon."
Workman scoffed. "Yes, boy. Give a gun to the Band-Aid."
Dr. Morgan took the rifle. When it was comfortably in his hands, he killed the two Elite Guards that had stayed behind.
Workman's head flipped around in shock. When he turned back to Dr. Morgan, he was met with the butt of the rifle. Workman fell back on his buttocks, and his head slammed against the Chancellor's chamber door. He cleared his vision and blood from his nose. He stared up contemptuously at Dr. Morgan.
"Are you mad?" he asked. "How are you able to turn against us?"
"I no longer answer to a lifebrand or an inhibitor. I know what has been going on. I know about the Sleepers," Dr. Morgan said. "How many men are with the Chancellor?"
"Fuck you. That's how many," Workman said, spitting blood on Dr. Morgan's boot.
Dr. Morgan heard footfalls behind him. It was Vivian. He was overjoyed to see that she still existed among the living. She had two armed civilians with her. They were doctors. Eccles and Wilmarth. Eccles was a young man, just finding his footing as a doctor. Wilmarth was an older colleague of Vivian's. They had studied together, in their youth. Both looked nervous but determined. Vivian had an automatic clutched in her own hands. She looked more confident than her men and the most formidable of the trio.
The irony of these doctors spewing death was not lost on Dr. Morgan. But the Hippocratic oath had lost to the revolution, he supposed.
Vivian marched to Dr. Morgan and Phillip. She regarded Workman, who was still on his knees. "How many Elite Guard does he have in there?"
Workman scowled. "You're the one behind this. I should have known. Never trusted you darkies. I always said your kind needed to be kept to janitorial and maintenance."
If Workman's racist tirade bothered Vivian, she didn't show it.
Workman looked to Dr. Morgan. "She's brainwashed you, boy. You're a puppet even if you can't feel the strings."
"I did nothing but free his mind and show him the truth," Vivian said. She lowered her aim to Workman's head. "How many are inside?"
"It doesn't matter," Workman said, smiling. "They'll never let you near the Chancellor. And when the Red Guard finally get through…"
"The Red Guard is dead," Vivian smirked. "I overloaded their inhibitors. And your forces, while currently managing to keep the topsiders pinned in the southwest corridor, won't hold for long. The topsiders outnumber yours by a huge margin. You're done."
"How do we get in?" Phillip said, motioning to the iris scanner. "None of us are authorized to unlock it."
"He is," Vivian said, motioning to Workman.
"I'll never help you, bitch," he sneered. "You fucking traitor! I'll watch all of you burn for this!"
"I'll cut out his eye," Dr. Morgan said.
"No. His pupil will dilate and the scan won't respond to it. It has to be in his head and he has to be alive."
Dr. Morgan clutched Workman and brought him to his feet. Workman twisted, brought his huge fist around and punched Dr. Morgan in the side of the head. Workman barreled through Vivian and the others before they knew what was happening. The general ran toward the battle at the plaza.
"No!" Dr. Morgan said, as Vivian and her soldiers leveled their weapons at the retreating general. "You might kill him. Stay here. I'll bring him back."
Dr. Morgan handed his rifle to Phillip and ran around the curve of the corridor.
It took him no time to catch Workman. Dr. Morgan was much faster than the bred. He grabbed Workman's shoulders and tossed him unmercifully into the steel wall. Workman went to the floor but bounded back much sooner than Dr. Morgan expected. He tackled the doctor and pinned him to the ground. He brought a wide roundhouse down on Dr. Morgan's head. Dr. Morgan grunted and pushed Workman off. He flipped upward to his feet and met the general who was already squared against him. He swung, but the general evaded his punch and gave the doctor a quick jab to his nose. Dr. Morgan recoiled and wiped the blood from his top lip.
"You might strong, Band-Aid. But you're ham-fisted. I am highly trained and not as weak as you think I am," Workman said with a cruel grin.
Dr. Morgan came at him. Workman sidestepped him and put a head lock on Dr. Morgan. He attempted to twist and break Dr. Morgan's neck, but the doctor broke the hold. He twisted Workman around, and hit Workman in his lower back. Workman howled and sank to his knees.
"This Band-Aid knows where to hit a body to incapacitate it. That was your kidney."
Dr. Morgan pulled Workman, who was still convulsing in pain, to his feet. He spun the man around and struck the right side of the general's ribcage. Workman sucked in air and went down again.
"That was your liver. Shall we move on to another organ?"
Workman quickly shook his head. "No more," he said, hoarsely.
Dr. Morgan knelt to Workman. "How many guard the Chancellor?"
"Six," Workman spit out painfully.
"Get up. We're going back to the Chancellor's quarters. And if you disparage Dr. Rausch again, I'll add to your pain."
Workman did as he was told. He stumbled back the way he had come. Dr. Morgan shoved him occasionally to keep him moving.
Workman was marched back to the Chancellor's door. Dr. Morgan heard the chaos of the battle draw closer. The topsiders and resistance pushed the Elite Guard.
"There are six Elite inside," Dr. Morgan announced to his fellow mutineers as he presented a defeated Workman.
"We have to get the Chancellor and move him to the Sleepers before the battle reaches us. He is the only with the resuscitation code, and we can't risk his being killed in the chaos," Vivian said.
Dr. Morgan hauled Workman to the door.
"If you open that door you are insane," Workman said. "Those are six of the most dangerous men I know in there. They have their weapons trained on the door, which is the only way in. It's suicide."
Dr. Morgan addressed Eccles and Wilmarth. He motioned to the dead guards on the ground. "Pick them up and hold them in front of you. When we go in, use them as shields. Vivian and Phillip will follow you. I'll go in first."
Dr. Morgan pushed Workman's head toward the iris scanner and used his other hand to pull his handgun free.
"You may be engineered but you're not bulletproof. You're going in first, and you gave them the bodies to use as shields?" Workman said incredulously, as his pupil hit the beam and the door slowly opened.
"I have my own." Dr. Morgan grabbed Workman, forcing the man into the doorway.
Dr. Morgan did not have to struggle to keep the general from squirming away. With a firm hold on Workman's scruff, he shoved him though the short corridor. Workman screamed but the Elite inside let him have it anyway. Two of the Elite Guard, the only in the main room, fired into the general. They had automatics, and Dr. Morgan could feel Workman's body jerk from each shot.
One of them paused, the sick realization of killing the general evident on his face. Dr. Morgan fired his gun over Workman's dead shoulder and killed him with a single head shot.
The other realized the treachery and f
ired further at the corpse Dr. Morgan held, screaming like a banshee as he did so. Dr. Morgan made a one-handed toss of the general's corpse that went a good ten feet, crashing into the guard. The general's dead weight toppled him. He shot into the ceiling as he went down.
Dr. Morgan made his way before the guard could squirm out and he shot the man. Killing, again, with a single slug between the eyes. Dr. Morgan surprised himself with his efficacy as a killer. It felt right, though it shouldn't have.
The others poured into the front room, guns ready. Eccles and Wilmarth, the first in the room, dropped the dead guards when they saw the corpses Dr. Morgan had made. Vivian and Phillip still lingered in the corridor by the threshold of the room.
The door of the Chancellor's private room exploded open, and four of the Elite stormed the front room. Dr. Morgan was in their blind spot, just behind the small hall that led to the Chancellor's private room. Before he could react, Eccles and Wilmarth fell to the Guard's gunfire. Vivian fired from her safe spot, taking two down. Dr. Morgan blasted the other two, firing into them until his handgun clicked into a hollow chamber.
Dr. Morgan released the breath he had been holding and fed a fresh clip into his gun. He shook from the adrenalin. Taking six of the Elite out was no small task. He had expected more causalities in the attempt. But luck and positioning had been kind to them. All save Eccles and Wilmarth.
Vivian stared solemnly down at her friends.
"I'm sorry," Dr. Morgan offered.
"Thank you." She stepped over their bodies and joined Dr. Morgan.
Phillip followed, his eyes darting to the collection of dead and the room itself. "Workman said six, right? Is that what we have on the floor?"
"Yes, but I wouldn't trust Workman's word. There might be more in the Chancellor's personal quarters," Dr. Morgan said.
"Let's see if any surprises wait for us," Vivian suggested.
"I should wait here, by the front. In case the battle spills in here," Phillip said.
Dr. Morgan knew fear when he saw it, but he let his aide off easy. "That is a good idea."
He and Vivian took the hallway and walked toward an opened door on their left. As they pressed themselves near the threshold, a shot flew in front of their faces and hit the wall.
"Don’t come in here!"
Dr. Morgan recognized the voice. It was Delphine, the Chancellor's young wife.
Dr. Morgan took a quick peek. Delphine knelt at the end of the bed. She wore a sheer gown and was gripping the pistol with both of her hands. The Chancellor was balled fearfully near the head of the mattress behind her. He wore a white bathrobe. When she saw Dr. Morgan, Delphine squeezed a shot off. He ducked back as it hit the door frame.
"Kill them!" Dr. Morgan heard the Chancellor shriek.
"Put the gun down, Delphine!" Vivian shouted. "Put it down and we won't harm you. It's your husband we want."
"No! I won't let you kill him!" Delphine said in a sobbing scream.
"This is your last chance!" Vivian said. "Put it down, girl. Or I will end you!"
"Just get out of here!" Delphine shouted, sounding hysterical.
Vivian flipped into the doorway and put six slugs in Delphine's chest. The girl gave a grimace, shook, and fell to the floor.
The Chancellor clutched at his robe and pointed his eyes down to the bloodied floor where his wife lay. "Your ascension is guaranteed," he said, though she had stopped listening to the living seconds ago.
The Chancellor picked his eyes up at the terrorists in front of him. He singled out Dr. Morgan. "How could you do this? I assume that traitor you stand next to found a way to abolish your inhibitor. But still, even with free will, how could you so easily toss a lifetime of faith away?"
"I've seen the records of the 45th's time. I'm sure you have seen them, too," Dr. Morgan said. "How can you pledge yourself to such a man? And in God's name no less?"
"He's just a petty tyrant who wants to rule what's left out there. He's massacred thousands of innocents. All for power and greed."
Amusement crept into the Chancellor's anxious face. "What good would gold and riches do me now? You really don't understand, do you?" he said. "What the true purpose of the 45th was."
"His purpose was to destroy the earth and its children. Don't you dare canonize him," Vivian cautioned. "You have lied to us for years."
"If you want the truth, I will give it to you. If you hear it, maybe good sense will return to your brains," the Chancellor said.
"He's stalling," Vivian said, starting to approach him.
Dr. Morgan stopped her. "Wait, I want to hear what he has to say."
"Loathe him as you will, but if not for the 45th, none of us would be here. His true mission was to keep humanity from going extinct. He knew that if the planet were too heavily populated, we would all fall to plague and starvation. He belonged to an order of powerful men who made the hard decisions that the weak of heart could never imagine. There were only so many resources to go around, and more inhabitants that gave nothing back. They weren't productive. They didn't deserve to exist. The 45th was tasked with the purification of our line. For our continued existence. But of course, a few undesirable strains have managed to slip through," the Chancellor said, taking a moment to sneer at Vivian.
"Insult me again and I will pistol whip you," she said.
The Chancellor continued, "The world has to be purged at certain moments in history. Usually if there is a long period of relative peace among nations. It may sound evil and cruel, but it is the harsh reality that those of us in charge must live with. The 45th knew all he had to do was turn people against one another and they would do most of the work for him. And when the world grew more murderous than it ever had, the 45th let loose the nuclear flame."
"The world isn't what it was back then. Why slaughter the topsiders? We are in no danger of overpopulation," Dr. Morgan said.
"We are on a much faster course for it than you realize. We must thin the herd now. Before it grows out of control again. It's a miracle those savage bastards were able to thrive out there."
"Exactly," Dr. Morgan said. "It was a miracle. If there is a God, might it be his will that they survive?"
"Don't lecture me about the will of God, boy," the Chancellor balked. "Why do you think we have restrictions on breeding? There is little out there and we can't afford to share it with the mutards. They must all die for us to flourish again."
"What about the Sleepers?"
Dr. Morgan turned and saw Phillip in the doorway.
"Are they capable of thought? Of dreams?" Phillip continued.
"What does that matter?" the Chancellor said.
"It matters a great deal," Phillip said. "Please, Chancellor, tell me the truth. Do those poor souls in the cold have minds?"
"Yes," the Chancellor admitted. "Most meat does, you naïve twat."
Phillip swayed for a moment. He dropped the rifle in his hands to the floor. The aide looked lost and empty. "Everything I have believed in. My faith. All lies. The Sleepers in the Cold dream."
Phillip's face twisted in rage. "The Sleepers in the Cold dream!"
He ran at the Chancellor and grabbed the old man by his robe.
"You've turned us into cannibals you sick bastard!" Phillip cried, as he slammed the Chancellors head against the bed board.
Dr. Morgan walked over and pulled Phillip off of him. Once freed, the Chancellor pulled a gun from under his pillow and fired a shot into Vivian's chest. Dr. Morgan ripped the gun from the Chancellor, tearing off the man's trigger finger as he did so. Dr. Morgan tossed the gun and finger away and rushed to Vivian, who had collapsed to the floor.
Dr. Morgan knelt to her. He knew by the location of the wound that she'd be dead within minutes. She knew it, too.
He took her hand. Her chest heaved and she had trouble breathing. She stared with agonized eyes at his face. Dr. Morgan's heart sank to the lowest depth.
"I never gave you a name," she said, flinching from the pain.
&nbs
p; "Tell it to me when we meet again. In the next life," Dr. Morgan said.
"I am sorry we didn't have more time together. But know that you were loved," she said, her teeth chattering.
"As were you," Dr. Morgan said, his eyes warming.
"Wake them up, Morgan," Vivian said. And then she was gone.
Dr. Morgan lowered his lips to hers. His stood, pulled the blanket from the bed, and covered her corpse. He turned slowly to the Chancellor. The man sobbed and had wrapped a pillow case around the hand that was a finger short. Phillip pointed the Chancellor's gun at the wounded man. Dr. Morgan saw that Phillip was crying. He should have joined them. He was the only one in the room not crying, and he had the most reason.
Dr. Morgan said nothing. His blood beat so heavy that he could barely hear above it. The rage that had been bucking at the gate of his inhibitor surged up. Hot as lava. He moved slowly toward the Chancellor. His eyes burned with a fury that wouldn't hear reason. Phillip saw what was to be, and though he was frightened, he approached Dr. Morgan.
"What are you going to do?" he asked softly.
"I'm going to squeeze his head until it splits open," Dr. Morgan said.
Phillip pressed his hands against Dr. Morgan's chest. "Please stop."
Dr. Morgan paused and his hateful gaze lowered to his aide. "You should move."
"You can't kill him. He is the only one who can wake the Sleepers. If you do this, it'll all have been for naught. Dr. Rausch's death- all of the death this day has brought- will have no significance."
"Move, Phillip," Dr. Morgan said. "I don't want to hurt you, but I might. So please, step aside."
Phillip relented. Dr. Morgan went to the Chancellor. He stared down at the terrified bastard.
"We're taking you to the Sleepers. You will wake them. If you refuse, I will turn you over to the invaders. They are much more proficient at inflicting pain than I could ever dream."
"I'll do as you say. Please don't give me to them. The indignity will hurt more than the torture," the Chancellor said. "I'd rather you just kill me."
"You might regret suggesting that," Dr. Morgan said. He stepped back and allowed the Chancellor to stand. He then turned to Phillip. "I best not put my hands on him. Cover him with a sheet and bring him."
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