Children of the Program

by Brad Cox

  “It's the Jedi Mind Trick. You're just as disturbed as I,” assured Dez.

  “We all are. It just takes the right set of circumstances.”

  “Neco, I haven't heard from her. I'm actually getting a little worried.”

  “Don't be. She's probably worried you're upset with her. My guess is she's taking care of things, so that when she does call, she can lead with good news. One thing she made crystal clear, was that she loves you. Pun intended,” said Neco.

  “That's what I'm afraid of,” sputtered Dez.

  “Touché.”

  +++

  Settling into the bunker, days passed as Dez and Neco awaited news about their unfolding revolution. The accommodations were stark and militant, but safe. The main room was blanketed in television monitors. Video streams from various countries continuously aired news coverage from the major networks. Exercising patience felt like waterboarding. Concrete walls encapsulated them, and steel beams separated the desert from the basement. Three bright industrial grade lights shined overhead. A year’s worth of rations were stashed in camouflaged lockers. Even using the bathroom became a war zone, it meant surfacing and not being witnessed by the occasionally passing helicopters.

  The first blip on the radar came from a broadcaster. It gave Dez pause. The anchors touted Ash's painting and offer. The piece perfectly matched a long-haired version of Neco. The canvass detail was impossible to ignore, and rattled the core of Dez's trust. Neco was uncomfortably resting on a portable cot, when the news bulletin first injected itself into his weakening mind. He immediately suspected the worst. “Ash screwed you over. Is that it, Neco?” asked Dez, tossing a metal pale of cold ice water onto his lifeless body.

  “What?” screamed Neco. He awakened in a furious panic and rattled by the accusation.

  “Ash! The Scottish girl who left you high and dry in Los Angeles, California? The girl's head you had asked to be delivered on a food tray. Do not tell me you've forgotten? You're a poor poker player, sonny boy,” said Dez.

  “How could I forget? It's why I'm here. What has gotten into you?” asked Neco.

  “She's auctioning off a painting worth millions. The person who delivers you gets the prize,” said Dez.

  “What?” asked Neco.

  “For that kind of money, I might consider unearthing you myself! You may be worth more to the cult, alive. Please, amuse me, if you are at such odds, why does she care so much about you? Why does she paint your likeness with such accuracy and essentially auction it off to the world for millions. Why does she suddenly go on national television, drawing attention to your potential whereabouts?” asked Dez.

  “Maybe she feels guilty — maybe! If we were still close, she'd know where I am, no? I know what you're thinking, but if she knew I was with you, and trying to infiltrate the Cadence, do you think she'd risk my deliverance with such a charade? She'd be writing my death warrant. I already know enough to destroy you and this plot. If I planned on bringing you down, I'd have already left. Think about it, and please, pretty please with sugar on top, throw me one of those fucking towels,” said Neco.

  “I haven't had a chance to think,” he paused, pointing his damning finger at Neco's damp forehead. “If I so much,” he stopped, turned and hurled a steel economy chair across the bunker. Grazing Neco's head. It smashed against the wall behind him. Blood rained down Neco neck, onto his dirty white t-shirt.

  “Relax. She's already on our radar,” said Neco, dodging the reaper. He reached up to feel the warm reminder of his situation and mortality. Continuing to prance around suspicion, he tried to remain calm. He could barely hide his racing heart from trying to escape his pounding chest. “I understand your concern, but you were right to trust me and bring me in. We need each other. I still believe you share that sentiment.”

  “Ash is practically on her death bed, Neco. If you're bluffing, her coffin will rest on your conscious. You should have ran, while you had the chance. At this point, you may not be too far behind her. I'll find her and hunt her, for lifetimes to come,” threatened Dez.

  “What are you waiting for?” asked Neco, hoping to salvage his gamble.

  “Why don't you come over here and look me in the eyes. I want to know just how good of a card player you really are. Surely, you've scored an ID and gone to Vegas. Have you ever pushed all-in, holding a 7-2 off-suit, while staring the devil in the eyes?” asked Dez.

  It was then, Neco realized his left wrist was tied to a wooden table neighboring the control desk. As he adjusted and nervously stared into Beelzebub's approaching eyes, Dez calmly moved and clasped his loose hand into the remaining steel bracelet and married it with the desk. In those tense moments, few words were exchanged. It wasn't long before Neco's shocked demeanor went from passive to overtly aggressive. His only hope rested in convincing Dez his anger was justified. He knew continued submission would warrant further suspicion.

  “I'll be a little more comfortable knowing I can keep an eye on you,” said Dez.

  “Do what you've got to do. Your paranoia is clouding your mission. Pride has lost many a war, Dez. You started this, don't be the one to end it. I've helped you devise it, I've rallied the Cadence and cast damning orders. Now, I sit chained to a table. Why? Because an editorial piece about a spoiled painter, hoping to absolve her conscious before entering The Beyond, has napalmed your reason. Seriously, you're losing it. You're illogical,” said Neco.

  “Where is Crystal?” asked Dez, leering.

  “How should I know? I don't even know which direction she was last seen running.”

  “You and her had a nice long talk and now she's nowhere to be found! What did you tell her?” asked Dez.

  “I told her you were a fraud. I told her your revolution is based on delusions of grandeur. I told her to have your child and to save the world.” Neco raged, with rising intensity. “Is that what you want to hear? I could have killed you, while you slept. There's nothing in it for me. I'm fucking hungry, tired and pissed off.”

  “Where is she?” Dez continued.

  “You can either shoot me, turn me over for Ash's purse, release me, and we can get back to business, or you can spend your final days cleaning Programmer blood off your basement floors, while misdirecting your failed war — alone!”

  With nothing to lose, Neco began slamming his forehead on the legs of the command center. The mania and theatrics forced Dez to intervene. With every pounding blow, blood poured from his brow. He was psychotic, making a point to never lose eye contact with his commandant. His smile distorted, as his mind blackened with insanity. He wanted to return to the Hallway of Sorrows by his own hands, if Dez was planning to kill him.

  “What the hell are you doing? Stop!” demanded Dez.

  “Are you ready to unlock me? I have nothing to lose, Dez. I'm worth a lot more to you alive!”

  “Alright. Stop! You're getting blood all over the fucking hardware.”

  Their emotions had climaxed to a point of inevitable exhaustion. Dez begrudging decided to ignore his instincts and release Neco. Forcefully twisting his arm, he elevated and slammed his tired body into a chair and uncuffed him. Trying to regain some sense of composure, Neco slowly stood and rubbed his sore wrist. He walked, without a word, toward the surface. Watching Neco urinate, curious if he'd run, Dez sat in his armchair of anarchy and let his thoughts wander. He feared Crystal was dead, raped or worse, nearing labor.

  Though rare, his heart occasionally questioned his malcontent. His ability to block out reality, and harness his hatred was slipping. He felt weaker with each passing day. His mental palate craved distraction, destruction and a higher high.

  chapter 33

  the eclipse of icarus

  Remaining inconspicuous, Icarus and Maria settled in Dublin. They prepared for their fast-approaching day, but Cadence fears haunted away their brief moments of joy. Even with their precautionary move and detailed preparations, their flaring nerves couldn't be cooled. Benjamin and Zane were equally as overwrought. O
n a cold morning, Maria began dilating. Icarus's strength quickly waned. Without a moment to spare, he worked his way down their birth day checklist. With shaky fingers, he dialed a cab, notified Benjamin and Zane and prepared for his triumphant end. He could tell by his increasing lack of mental clarity, the bizarre lactic acid build-up in his muscles, and his recent flutter of Isis dreams, that their child would be Crystalline. The Council wouldn't allow him to doubt. When they arrived at St. James's Hospital, they rushed through the emergency room and feverishly issuing their goodbyes, before drowning in tears.

  “Sir, we need you to check in,” issued a receptionist.

  “Maria, I love you! You are about to bring two of the most amazing children into this world. When you look into their eyes, I only ask that you'll remember me.” His eyes clinched, but his mouth remained parted and silent. Waves of nausea, dizziness and flashbacks from his passing life distracted his focus.

  “I don't know if I can do this,” said Maria.

  “You don't have a choice. I don't know how this ends, for me, but I imagine I'll be gone soon,” said Icarus, placing his tree trunk fingers over her cold lips. Removing sweaty dark bangs from her furling brow, he softly kissed her forehead. “We knew this day would come. You have a lot of work ahead of you, darling. The darkness will follow. You need to be strong and mindful.”

  Benjamin and Zane arrived to the hospital, shortly after. They held their post in the bustling lobby and teared up. They had both longed to someday find true love, but had always fallen short. Their love was absolute, but never divinely-inspired. Already being approached by various Cadence members, they knew they'd have to be willing to die for Icarus's children. “Ben, what are we going to do? If they get a chance, they are going to kill us and these children,” said Zane.

  “We're already dead. This is a sacrifice we need to make, for a world we've selfishly ignored,” said Ben.

  “I'm worried. Maybe, we're not the best people to be watching over them? We're magnets,” added Zane.

  “If the Cadence knows of us and that we’re together, then they know we're of no immediate threat. We promised Icarus we'd help care for his children. We can't look back. This isn't just about the kids and Maria, he's protecting his family, friends and legacy. He genuinely needs us. No one else understands the complexity of our calling. They will need to know who they are. Who better to cast a light, when that day comes?” said Ben.

  “I know.” said Zane.

  “We're not madmen or women. We're the future,” he closed.

  “I need a doctor,” screamed Maria. The nurses rushed to the scene and administered an epidural. Almost instantly, she became overwhelmed and light-headed with anticipation. She struggled to find the will to push. She could sense that her increased dilation made Icarus's body breakdown. “Stay with me, Icarus! I'm not ready,” cried Maria.

  “I have to go, darling. This is it,” he whispered.

  Sensing his fragility, the nurses rested his body upon a gurney and rushed him from the room and placed him into another. His muscles decomposed, his air supply dwindled and his spirit crawled from his fading body. While they were awaiting care, he vanished. For a moment, his spirit was able to witness the birth from above. Resting upon his shoulder, the black bird whistled a beautiful song into his ear. With a final push, his children were born and made a joyful cry. In that moment, Icarus ceased consciousness and entered The Beyond. His passing spirit would illuminate future generations and the physical realm. All medical records of the incident were scrubbed. Reason suggested Icarus had vacated the premises and was alive, but Maria knew better. Her babies were cleaned and presented and their eyes glowed like burning stars. They were beautiful. Ben and Zane were invited in to celebrate.

  “Look at their indigo frames. You can almost see heaven inside of them,” cried Ben.

  “It's amazing!” proclaimed Maria.

  “What will you name them?” asked Ben.

  “They will be called Titan and Selene,” said Maria.

  “An eclipse?” asked Zane.

  “Yes, the god of the sun and goddess of the moon.”

  “It's beautiful!”

  +++

  They remained in the hospital for two days, before Maria was released and able to retire her mind, body and soul into the welcoming arms of Benjamin and Zane's modest home. Maria knew the tide was rising and she'd have to call their families, but she wasn't entirely sure how to explain the gravity of her situation.

  “I don't know how to do this?” fumbled her mind, pulling a plush comforter toward her nervous face. She lied in a small bed, while her babies comfortably rested in a crib, perpendicular to her arms reach. Though the home was quaint, it was warm with familiarity and chaste love. It was the perfect dwelling for her new arrivals.

  “Maybe you don't say a word. Let's face it, from this day forward, your life will be anything but common. Be it an eternity, you're welcome to stay as long as you'd like. You have our unyielding support. It's the least we can do for you, Icarus and humanity,” offered Ben.

  “I can't just remain on the run and raise these brilliant children without a father. How do I tell Icarus’s parents, 'Your son was a part of The Program?’ It’s a spiritual revolution of sorts. Long story short, he disappeared on the scene and entered some type of nirvana called The Beyond.’ They'll think what any rational human being would think, and that he lost his marbles and was nothing more than deadbeat dad.”

  “Maybe you can say just that,” interjected Ben.

  “What?” asked Maria.

  “They'll just assume he went AWOL. People do crazy things when their doped up on religion and guilt. While that may not paint the prettiest portrait of their deceased son, it may be the most believable and leave them with a shred of hope — hope that he'll someday come to his senses and ring their doorbell. In their minds, he'll live on,” said Ben.

  “Yes, but why am I living in Ireland?”

  “You were visiting old friends, fight-or-flight kicked in and you got caught up in the idea of moving — starting anew. You can say that Icarus had been looking for factory work, to support you, when nature ran its inevitable course. Be matter-of-fact about it and explain yourself in a very straightforward way,” offered Ben. “But, you have time for that. For now, I don't think you need to do anything, besides hold and kiss these precious heavenly gifts. They're beautiful.”

  Ben reached into the crib, lifted Titan and Selene and laid them into Maria's arms. The settling tone of his voice brought her anxiety air to a still. Maria could almost hear Icarus speaking through him — soothing her doubt, refocusing her worries on the miracle and assuring her he loved her.

  A dark undercurrent remained. Ben and Zane knew they'd have to tell Maria about their visit from the Cadence. With their home being targeted, it wouldn't be long before another incident presented itself. Though seemingly omniscient, the Cadence was not privy to Icarus's plans and was still scrambling for clues. If anyone had witnessed their arrival, it wouldn't take a full-scale investigation to piece together the possibilities, especially if the Cadence failed to unearth Icarus in Greece. Time was a constant antagonist, always following the breadcrumbs of their clumsy thought patterns.

  +++

  “Dez, this is Abas of the Greek sect. We've hunted down Icarus’s family. No one seems to know where he is. We posed as officers. They seemed legitimately concerned and clueless. They asked if we had checked with a girl named Maria. Does this name ring a bell?”

  “Master manipulators!” screamed Dez.

  “We're currently exhuming her apartment for clues. We did find two airline ticket receipts for Dublin. There was also a picture of a pregnant girl, whom we presume is Maria, resting just beneath the refrigerator. Otherwise, the place was empty. Could it possibly be a relative or a sister of his?” asked Abas.

  “Nonsense, he must have headed north to meet-up with another birther. I want you to organize a small team and follow them. Steal a car and leave tonight. You can take
the ferry from Cherbourg to the Rosslare Harbour. There's a very real chance an alien hybrid has been or is going to be born. Kill the child on-site and its guardians. Send me proof when it's done – over and out!” ordered Dez.

  Neco heard the channel feed and again debated a swift departure on a getaway mile. Feet like cinder blocks, his love for Ash and desire to keep pace with Dez's momentum had entrapped his heart beneath the desert floor. Stuck in a submarine of his own device, his only perspective of the outside world came via Dez's televised periscope. As his guilt mounted, from the lives he was willing to put on the cross of her love, he begrudgingly retreated from his selfish emotions. Though a smooth exit wouldn't be easy, he had amassed a database of the devil's intentions and could sense Dez's mental state was weakening.

  “Do you think Icarus has partnered with Ben and Zane?” asked Neco.

  “It's crystal clear, to me. We have no time to waste. Whether they're having children, or harboring them, it's time to rid the planet of The Program and their kids. I shouldn't have waited this long. With outside pressures drawing attention to the Cadence, we must strike like a cornered cobra. I have no intention of being incapacitated by the U.S. prison system. As harsh as the pit of the underworld may be, prison may be worse. It’s better to reign in hell...” said Dez.

  “Than serve in heaven,” said Neco. “That, and no one get raped in purgatory.”

  In his mania, Dez often forgot Michelle was locked in a dank prison. She only manifested as a blip on his radar when his carnal appetite for sex reared its ugly head. Without his lustful heart and the tiny bread penance he'd offer for raping her, she'd have starved, had it not been for Neco. Though their rations were limited, Neco was diligent to save a portion of his bounty for her hollowing frame. Heading to the bathroom, he'd often slip pocket-stuffed leftovers through the tiny mail slot in her door. Her treatment and conditions were deplorable. She lived in a dank 8' x 10' cell, devoid of shadows. In some ways, Neco had an ally, though, he wasn't sure how she'd react to an offer to escape. It was a risk he'd be forced to take, as his options exhausted. She would either follow his lead or expose him, in order to regain graces with Dez and in hopes of someday reuniting with Max.