The Cowboy of Pinnacle City

by Ferraro, Bretton

  They drove for a while and not a word was spoken. Jon wouldn’t know what to say anyway. This was a surreal moment in his life. He wasn’t even sure if he was awake yet. Was he really heading to a speech by Premiere Lawrence, only to pin the leader down at gun point to make a statement? Was Jon even capable of doing something so bold? Doubt was Jon’s old friend, but today it made a special and intimate appearance. Jon would be overcome by anxiety if he wasn’t so beaten down from the events of this last week. Instead of a panic attack he felt a strange calm, surrounded with confusion.

  “This is the game plan,” Marcus turned to Jon as they neared the city. “I have made contact with my inside sources. The Premiere is set to speak this morning in just a couple of hours. We, you and I, are going to the downtown building. Upon exit of this vehicle we are not to be seen with each other, understand? You are going through the common entrance. You’ll have access all the way to the auditorium located on the 75th floor. When you get to the floor, you’ll need to stop and wait for my command.”

  Marcus pulled out a tiny, pea-sized device.

  “Put this in your ear. It’s a broadcasting and tracking device. You probably won’t be able to do much talking, but you’ll be able to hear every word I speak, and you must do exactly as I say. I will make my way to the seventy fifth floor through a security portal. My sources will see me to a secure location where I can set up shop and take over the broadcasting system.”

  Jon shook his head, “It pays to know people, right?”

  “It pays to know the right people,” Marcus replied by looking directly into Jon’s eyes. Then he reached under the seat and pulled out a small bag. He opened it. Inside was a pistol. It was a sleek, polished silver state of the art weapon. He handed it to Jon, and Jon very carefully took it from him.

  “Have you ever used one of those before?” asked Marcus. Jon just shook his head no. “Well, if your plan works you won’t have to. And, if your plan falls flat, just point it at people and pull that lever.” Marcus had a cocky smile.

  “How am I supposed to get this into the arena, past security, and not get shot with one of these myself?”

  “Like I’ve said. I can get into all the systems. You just get to the arena and wait for my word. I’ll make sure the detection systems don’t trigger when you pass through.”

  “And if they go off?”

  Marcus smiled, “Then there won’t be a revolution.”

  A few moments of hesitant silence went by. They were now in the depth of the labyrinth. It was slow moving because of all the security measures across the city. They would have been better off just walking to the event.

  “So why did you defect?” Jon asked. “I mean Security Systems Chief sounds like a sweet gig.”

  Marcus nodded in agreement, “It definitely came with its perks, but the value of my soul is worth more than what the party had to offer. We all know the obvious reasons for opposing party rule, but…” he paused and his tone changed, “The party is dark and secretive, but if the people knew what they really did behind closed doors a civil war would erupt overnight.”

  “It’s that bad, huh?”

  “You’re the errand boy at the end of a whip. Imagine what you’d have to do to be trusted to be the one cracking it.”

  “And what did you have to do to become a chief?”

  “Fortunately, I was recruited because of my knowledge and capabilities. I didn’t have to commit war crimes to get to where I was, but I did have to sit by and watch plenty of them. That’s why I got out. I’d rather live as a street urchin then to continue to prop up the party system.”

  Then Marcus suddenly changed subject and tone as they neared the center tower.

  “This is it, Jonny Boy. Put that pistol where nobody will see it. Maintain control. I will make sure that you are on the seating list by the time you get to the doors. All you need to do is wait for my command and find your way to your seat. Let Lawrence talk for a moment then make your way to the stage. I will give you cover by making sure the lighting is down everywhere except on Lawrence. You must be quick to get on that stage, or you will be stopped. You put that gun to his head and break him. I’ll make sure you have a close-up while you do it.”

  “And how do we get out? Or how do I get out of the arena without being dead?” asked Jon.

  “That is where trust comes into play on both our parts. You need to exit stage right immediately – and I mean run. My contacts will be manning the exits. You need only to pass them by. They won’t offer you any trouble, but once you’re out of the arena, you’re on your own.”

  Jon was beginning to feel the panic, “and then what?”

  “Then you need to get to the mag station on the seventy sixth floor. This is where you need to trust me. The trains will not be operational while the Premiere is in the tower so you’ll need to huff it on foot.”

  “Huff it where?” Jon was not feeling the trust.

  “You need to head to Building Two. I will be under the platform at the midway point.”

  “And?”

  “And that’s it.”

  “That’s it?” Jon wasn’t convinced this was a good idea. “So, I should just get out here?”

  “Trust me, Jon. I can’t burden you with all the details. You need to execute your primary function. Break the Premiere, and get to that platform. Once we meet up I will have our next plan of action ready to go.”

  “You know what?” Jon spoke, “At this point I don’t care. Let’s do this.”

  “Can I share a prayer with you?” asked Marcus.

  Jon was stunned. A prayer? That’s something he had never seen, nor taken part in. Nothing seemed to matter at this point, and it certainly wasn’t going to hurt anything.

  “Sure,” Jon said.

  Marcus bowed his head and began. As he spoke Jon couldn’t help but watch. It was a curious thing. Marcus was focused on what he was saying. He gave thanks for what he had been given. Thanks? He asked for comfort and guidance. What struck John the most was that Marcus was talking as though there were somebody next to him listening. This was a new experience. Jon wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, but it had a powerful sense to it. Then Marcus raised his head to see Jon staring at him in a bewilderment.

  “So that was a prayer, huh?” asked Jon.

  Marcus smacked him on the chest, “It’s game time.” He got out of the vehicle and quickly headed to the back of the building.

  Jon looked at the officer operating the Atlas Grade 2, “well if I don’t see ya…” he then began to make his way out of the vehicle.

  “Good luck, Specialist and Godspeed,” said the officer and then he drove off.

  Jon stood there stunned. “This is the strangest week of my life,” he said as he headed towards the building. As he approached the entrance the magnitude of what he was about to do began to set in. Every uniformed officer and their spouse in the city was here in their party best. Jon was dirty, beaten, bruised, alone and unshaven. He looked like he could have just assaulted a party member on the street and taken his uniform as a rouse to execute the Premiere. Good thing only part of that thought was true. Jon went through all the security checkpoints in the lobby. He had his encrypted data scanned more than he cared to count, and just to get on the elevator.

  He was the first one on. Other party members began to shuffle into the box with him. Their chests were adorned with party stars, and other vast assortments of honors and medals. It quickly became clear that Jon was going to be the only Specialist at this event, and assuming Marcus did his bit, he’d be the only Specialist at this event that didn’t go to jail as well. Jon was nervous beyond nervous[w1] . He was feeling out of sorts, and just blurted out a sentence in the packed elevator.

  “Have you guys ever been trapped in a broken elevator before?” They all turned to stare in confusion. “Cause I have… Sorry.” Jon went back to keeping his head down and his mouth shut. He just never seemed to be capable of having an uneventful elevator ride. The elevator was
quick, but the ride up seemed to last an eternity. Being surrounded by these bland, brown uniforms was depressing, and they stood our as an ever-present reminder of the mess Jon had fallen into. He was here because of these people. He was here to put a stop to these people.

  Power is a funny thing. Jon would have lived out his life in relative peace, doing the things he was supposed to do, if it weren’t for these people in power. They kept making themselves more powerful. They kept pushing good people into corners and turning them into ravenous dogs. Then they had to put the dog down, but that only made enemies. So, the powerful claimed even more power to put an end to the hoard of angry dogs, but this only made more enemies. Until one day a no-name nobody working a pointless job shows up to put an end to it all, and all because the powerful put him in a corner and treated him like a dog.

  Ding.

  They had arrived.

  Jon could have mistaken this charade as a ballroom gala event if he didn’t know it was the iron fist of fury threatening to come down on the city he happened to live in. Officers and their wives, soldiers and their spouses all dressed in their best. There were buffet tables set out across the lobby area with all kinds of food placed on them. There were elite guards manning their posts at each entry into the arena behind them. Banners were flowing from the rafters with that pointless party drivel. “Strength, honor, unity, togetherness,” and on and on went the pointless drivel. It was meant to inspire. But it made Jon’s eyes roll into the back of his head.

  Then Jon suddenly remembered the earpiece that Marcus gave to him. He put it in his ear quickly to make sure nobody would notice what he was up to.

  “Jonny? Jon? Jonny boy?” came a voice in the earpiece. “Can you hear me, son?”

  “I’m here,” Jon answered.

  “Oh good. I was starting to think they offed you in the lobby.”

  “Nice…” muttered Jon.

  “I heard your little act in the elevator. You’re not very good with people, are ya?” Marcus mocked, and Jon didn’t respond. “Hey, look, you’re tired. It’s been a long week, and officers really don’t make for a good laugh.”

  “Where are you? Am I going to be able to get through these detection stations without being shot by one these guards?”

  Marcus answered, “Oh I’m tucked away safely in a little broom closet somewhere. I’m working on getting you inside now. Just don’t try to enter the arena until I give you the green light, understand?”

  A hand locked onto Jon’s elbow and Jon’s heart nearly exploded out of his chest.

  “Specialist,” came the owner of the hand on Jon’s elbow.

  It was Greenwald. Jon was sure that his heart did in fact explode. He was even confident that his brain was about to start melting from raw fear. This was worst case scenario, and Jon hadn’t planned for this – at all. He had maybe half of a second before he had to turn and face the General and come up with a mind-boggling reason that he was standing there outside of the arena doors.

  “General Greenwald, sir,” Jon responded.

  “Why are you here?”

  “To listen to the Premiere give his speech. I mean, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity to get to hear him like this, isn’t it?” Jon hoped that was convincing.

  “Cute,” remarked Greenwald. “What I meant was is what are you up to? This event is for proven party loyalists, and last I checked you were still my errand boy.”

  Marcus came to the rescue, “Tell him you received a notice through your communication log, you know, your e-paper.”

  “Sir, I received notice through my communication log to be here for this event. I just assumed it was from you,” said Jon. Jon hadn’t even touched that thing since Greenwald gave it to him.

  “Nice touch,” added Marcus.

  Greenwald stared right through his living soul. If Jon could find a way out he would have taken it in less than a heartbeat.

  “Well it’s nice to have you here with us, Specialist. Why don’t you take a seat next to me?”

  It was like Greenwald was mocking Jon for his own amusement. The only impression Jon was getting was that Greenwald knew he was completely full of it. The General knew there was something else at play.

  “Oh crap,” chimed in Marcus.

  “Sir?”

  “It’s open seating, Specialist. That means you can sit in any available seat, so I’m telling you to sit next to me.”

  “You better take it,” barked Marcus.

  “Yes, sir,” Jon was quick to accept the offer.

  “Excellent,” Greenwald said with a smirk, “let’s go take our seats, shall we?” he then motioned them towards the final security checkpoint, the one that Marcus had to personally hack into to ensure that the system did not do its job.

  Marcus was talking in Jon’s ear, “This is bad Jon. I’m not in the system yet. You cannot go through that checkpoint.”

  Jon wanted to reach through his ear, through that little pea-sized device and strangle Marcus to death. He couldn’t even say a word to him with the General standing by his side, but he couldn’t contain himself.

  “Now would be a good time,” he whispered as angrily as he could.

  “What was that, Specialist?” Greenwald looked at Jon.

  “Uh, nothing, sir. Sorry. I’m just a little anxious is all.”

  “I’m moving as fast as I can over here,” pleaded Marcus. He was working furiously to get into the security system to override the final checkpoint.

  “I hope this weapon detection system doesn’t go off on me. That would be awkward,” Jon said out loud with an awkward laugh. He was trying to be humorous. The General just stared at him with confusion. Jon bit his lip and looked down to the ground. They were approaching the gate. Then Jon started snapping his finger in his ear.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Marcus snapped back. “Believe me, my job is a bit more complex than yours right now.”

  Visions of Jon reaching through the pea-sized device to strangle Marcus continued. They were next in line to go through the screening process.

  “Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap, oh crap,” is all Jon could hear in his earpiece. He started to make peace with the idea of going back to that dark dungeon underground, beneath the parking lot. Then as Jon approached the detection gate all he could hear in his earpiece was, “aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh,” and then Jon stepped through.

  No sounds.

  No sign of trouble from the armed guards.

  Nobody said anything.

  Then Greenwald appeared behind him.

  “Shall we then?” asked the General.

  Marcus did it.

  Jon waited to get a few steps behind Greenwald and then he whispered to Marcus, “You did it! I don’t know how but you did it! First, I’m going to hug you. Then I’m going to punch you, but then I’ll probably hug you again.”

  “You’re welcome,” replied Marcus. “That was the easy part. Now we need to prepare for the show.”

  Jon returned to the task at hand and caught up with the General. This was real. It was happening, and Jon was going to have to commit treason in front of the man who would be more than willing to be on the firing squad of his execution. Jon followed the general down onto the floor of the arena towards the front. They walked up to the very front row where the General approached a man already sitting.

  “Colonel,” he told the man.

  The Colonel stood almost to attention. It was Everett, Colonel Everett. And he gave Jon the eye. If Jon wasn’t mistaken, Everett was ready to kill him right then and there.

  “General, what a pleasant surprise to see you,” Everett told the General.

  “I’ll have your seat, Colonel. Both of them,” Greenwald said.

  Everett hesitated but obeyed the command. He vacated his seat along with the other seat where his female companion was sitting. She wasn’t his wife. She was a party member, but she was young and certainly not there as a peer. They walked a few rows back, took a seat and Jon never felt the hot, angry gaze of Everett l
eave the back of his head.

  The General and Jon took their seats, “perks of being the boss,” Greenwald chuckled.

  No more words were spoken between them. The only noise was the hustle and bustle of the seats filing up behind them. The loud anticipation of these party zealots getting to hear their lord and overseer speak to them and tell them how he can run their lives better than they can. It was an impressive but terrifying sight to behold.

  Jon kept his thoughts on the task at hand. He had just been given a gift by Greenwald. An uncanny gift. They were in the front row, which would make this nightmare only slightly less frightful. The stage in front of them was not far from where they sat, nor was it that high. It would be a quick three steps to the stage and all Jon had to do was pull himself up as fast as he could, grab the Premiere, do the deed and pray that he made it out of the building with his head still attached to his body.

  Moments went by.

  The roar of the crowd grew as the seats were filled.

  Then.

  The lights turned low.

  The crowd grew quiet.

  Finally, a uniformed officer made his way to the podium at center stage. If he was there to warm up the crowd it would come as a surprise to Jon. This uniform came out with a chip on his shoulder, which only agitated Jon. He lectured the crowd on decorum, and how to be well behaved little peons. He told the gathered robots exactly what to do and when exactly it should be done. It made sense, though. After all, this was a show for the people at home. It was a faux display of loyalty and determination from their unelected overlords. Then came the unthinkable. The uniform asked the crowd to stand and welcome the Premiere by reciting the party creed.

  Jon could feel just a little bit of vomit making its way up his as everybody rose to their feet. He gave it an honest effort, but he just couldn’t utter those useless words one more time. All that came out was a mocking garbled gibberish.