by JN Chaney
“If our chips are getting through, it’s possible. But there’s a big difference between optical feed and an actual voice transmission.” She opened the box housing the radio and turned it on. After a few seconds, she checked the display. “Signal’s really weak,” she said. “We might get something through, but I don’t know.”
“Fantastic,” muttered Roland.
“What’s the big deal?” said John. “We’ll finish the mission and tell them after. They’ve gotta know we’re out of range by now.”
“We can’t assume they’ll understand,” said Roland. “Besides, if something happens to us, they won’t know where to look.”
“Then, what do we do?” asked John.
Alex spoke up this time. “Come on, isn’t it obvious?” He rolled his eyes. “Leave her here with the radio.”
John scoffed. “Leave Sarah? Why would we do that?”
“Because, moron, if something happens to the rest of us, at least she’ll be safe and can send word to Central. If we all die, who’s gonna tell them? Use your brain, man.”
John squeezed his fists and took a step forward. Terry grabbed John’s arm, and he stopped.
“I could stay,” suggested Terry. “You’ll need Sarah. She’s a better shot.”
Roland shook his head. “Which is why you have to come. It’s too dangerous to leave you by yourself. Sarah can handle things on her own.”
Terry wanted to say he could take care of himself, but decided against it. He didn’t know whether or not he could control his abilities one way or the other. If things went sour and he failed, everyone would pay for it. Maybe Roland’s right, he thought.
“I don’t know,” said Sarah. “It’s a solid idea, but you’ll be down a gun. You might need me in there.”
“Relax, Sarah,” said John, smirking. “You’re acting like I’m not even here.”
She smiled. “Sorry, John. It could be dangerous. Those animals could be anywhere inside.”
Mei shook her head. “We’ve got four armed soldiers. Sure, Terry and I aren’t as big as John or Roland, but you don’t have to be in order to pull a trigger. We can handle it.”
“Oh, so I don’t get a gun?” asked Alex. “I see how it is.”
“Of course you don’t get a gun,” said Roland. “You didn’t even graduate.”
Mei arched her brow. “And you kinda committed treason a little when you ran away.”
Sarah nodded. “It’s true, you did.”
Alex scoffed. “All I did was leave! How is it treason?”
Mei threw her hands up. “Hey, I said a little, didn’t I?”
*******
January 07, 2347
Central
Avery Ross stood in Colonel Bishop’s office, listening to him go over his plan to relieve the tensions caused by the recent assassination of the matron Mara Echols. She couldn’t help but feel disgusted.
“The city’s in a panic,” he said. “Something has to do be done.”
The colonel had invited Doctor Archer as well as a couple of Public Affairs officers—Lieutenants Anderson and Jones.
Nuber was there, too, standing in the back as usual.
“We need people to stay calm, so I want an official investigation underway as quickly as possible.” He started to pace. “It also might help if we send a few guards to patrol the city streets. It probably won’t do anything, but seeing the uniform may help calm them.”
“Yes, sir,” said Jones.
“In the meantime, we can’t let the government fall apart. Work still has to get done. Until the mothers have time to sort things out and elect a new matron, we’ll need to step up and do the job ourselves. Captain Ross, seeing as how you have more experience dealing with the mothers than anyone here, you’ll take the lead and act as our representative.”
Ross nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“This is a very delicate situation. We have to avoid panic at all costs. Doctor Archer, can I count on the science division’s support on this matter?”
“Of course. Whatever you need.”
“Thank you.”
“Sir,” said Anderson. “What about the murderer? Witnesses said he made threats against the entire council, not just the matron. He might come after you and Doctor Archer.”
“Good point,” said Bishop. “Increase security to level four. Full searches and badge checks on anyone entering the building. The labs, too.”
“Yes, sir,” said Anderson.
“Will that be all, sir?” asked Ross.
“Yes, Captain,” he said.
“You two,” she barked at the lieutenants. “You have your orders. You’re dismissed.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Jones. They both saluted and rushed out of the office.
After the door shut, Bishop nodded at Nuber. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”
“Nothing to add, I guess.”
Doctor Archer chuckled. “First time.”
Nuber glared at him. “Say again?”
“You heard me, boy. You complain so often it’s become predictable.”
“At least I have something to say. All you do is sit there, like some senile old man.”
“Better than rambling like an imbecilic fool.”
“Keep talking,” said Nuber. He took a step closer to Archer. “I may only have one arm, but I can still use it to break your wrinkled, arrogant face.”
“Typical Neanderthal.”
“Relax, both of you,” said Bishop. “Henry, you’re acting like a child.”
“Am I?” he asked, turning toward Bishop. “I’ve known you for twenty years, James. Twenty years. If you’d asked then if I thought you had it in you to shoulder up with a clown like this, I would’ve said you were nuts. But now look. It’s like every word you say is coming from him, this psychopath. Like he’s controlling you. Is this what you’ve become, James? A sadistic bastard’s puppet?”
“Alright, that’s enough!” snapped Bishop. “I don’t care how long we’ve known each other. I’m still your superior, and you’ll show me some respect!”
“The hell I will,” said Henry. “Time and time again you’ve given me your word about those kids, and each and every one has been a lie. You don’t give a damn about their lives!”
“Quiet!” ordered Bishop. “You’re relieved. Leave now, and I won’t have you arrested.”
“Arrested? God! Are you listening to yourself? You’d throw me in a cell for nothing but…but words!”
It was all Ross could do to stand there, watching.
“Simple words,” he raged. “Since when is that enough to damn a man?” Henry rose his hand, pointing at Bishop. “But you’ve killed for words already, haven’t you, old friend? Shot that woman dead in front of hundreds. I should count myself the lucky one!” He looked at Ross, his face red. “It’s time to end this farce, now before the insanity begins.”
Bishop looked at her and again at Henry. “What are you talking about? Have you lost your mind? Captain Ross, arrest this man!”
Ross clutched the gun at her side and flipped the holster open. She took the safety off and aimed it at her commanding officer. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m afraid I’m unable to follow that order.”
Bishop stared down the barrel of the pistol. “What the hell is this?” he asked, rattled.
“Arresting you, sir.”
“Under what charges?”
“Conspiracy to commit murder, attempted murder, and abuse of power,” she said. “We have eyewitness testimony linking you to the assassination.”
“I had nothing to do with that!”
“Hands on the desk, sir,” said Ross. “I don’t want to incapacitate you, but I will if you refuse.”
He did as she said, and in a moment she had him on the floor, a pair of handcuffs tight around his wrists.
“You too,” Nuber said to Archer, once Bishop was restrained. “You’re both in this together, remember?”
&n
bsp; “This is ridiculous,” said Bishop. “As soon as this gets out, you’ll both be executed for treason!”
“Maybe so,” said Nuber. “Hard to say at this stage.”
Bishop looked at Ross, a pleading terror in his eyes. “I didn’t do this, Ross! I could never kill Mara. You know that!”
She walked to Nuber and handed him the gun. “I heard you,” she said, not bothering to look at her former commander. “The night when you met with him in this office. I heard every word you said. You broke the law before, back when you cut the matron out of council matters. But murder? I never believed you were capable.”
“You spied on me?” he asked.
“And Mara Echols is better because of it,” she said.
“What do you mean? The woman’s dead.”
“Not quite,” said Nuber. “It seems the bullet you sent wasn’t quite up to the job. The matron’s alive and kicking.”
Ross went to the door and called for a handful of guards. They were soldiers she had personally assigned to the outer halls on this specific day, each of which she trusted. She ordered them to take the prisoners to the brig and to await further orders. They did as she commanded, despite Bishop’s complaints to the contrary.
She walked alongside them the entire way to the cells, through several levels of offices and other faculties. The eyes of her fellow soldiers fell upon her as she marched, and she heard whispers throughout every corridor.
There would be questions and unforeseeable problems soon, which she would have to deal with. But Ross knew she could handle them all, the same as she always had. The people would know the truth about their would-be king, and soon they would renounce him. Ross watched silently as the soldiers placed the two most powerful men in the city into cells no larger than closets.
She kept on watching long after the doors had shut, until the deed was done and the monsters were caged.
*******
January 07, 2347
The Surface
Terry stepped from one piece of rusted metal to the next as he made his way through the graveyard of cars and toward the tunnel wall. Nearly every car required careful balancing and foot placement, making the goggles and their night vision a necessity.
The sunlight from beyond the tunnel was bright enough so they didn’t need to use the goggles immediately. Only after several yards did Terry flip the switch, lighting up the tunnel with a dozen shades of green.
Roland went first, of course, followed by Mei and Alex, with John and Terry bringing up the rear. Roland insisted that John, the largest of the group, protect their backs, and in doing so shield the weakest of the students from whatever dangers might present themselves.
He’d made this decision without knowing the truth about Terry’s condition or the newfound strength and speed accompanying it. Part of Terry wanted to say something, to shout he was no longer the same weak child they had left the city with, that he could handle himself now. But he quickly pushed the thought aside. He didn’t know what he was, or if this condition was even manageable. If he ended up in a fight, there was no telling what might happen. He could pass out again, hurt someone, or worse. With so much adrenaline and blood pumping through him, anything was possible. What if he gave himself a heart attack?
A flush ran through Terry’s chest as he imagined himself collapsing, his friends standing over him as everything went dark. I’m sorry, he thought. I’ve failed everyone.
But if it happened, so be it. All Terry could do was move forward alongside the others and try his best. If he ended up in a fight, and if his friends’ lives were on the line, he wouldn’t hold back, even if it meant his own life. He’d do whatever he had to do.
Terry gripped the side of a nearby pickup truck. Flakes of metal rust fell to the ground as he slid his hand along the railing. Deciding to wear gloves had probably saved him from several infections, given the state of the metal. Then again, given the drastic biological changes he’d recently gone through—he was still going through—maybe he couldn’t get infected at all.
Even if that were true, it didn’t mean he needed to find out firsthand. Better to play it safe with the gloves than to take an unnecessary risk.
Terry stepped over the cab of the pickup truck and onto the hood. The flimsy metal sank in as he leaned forward. The hood crunched. He pulled his other leg over the cab, carefully setting it next to the other one.
The metallic sound grew louder as Terry shifted his weight. He inched forward, the music of the decomposing metal echoing his every movement. Probably a bad sign. None of the other vehicles had made such awful sounds. Better hurry, he thought.
He took another step, crouched, and made his way toward the next vehicle. Stretching out his hand, he reached for the trunk, but then froze as the hood below him shuddered.
Suddenly the steel around his feet collapsed, pulling him in. He fell forward, catching himself on the rail of the next vehicle. He looked back at his feet, which had both sunk into the hood of the truck. He could feel what was left of the engine beneath his legs, and he searched blindly for something to push himself up from. “I’m caught!” he yelled. “I fell!”
“Are you okay?” called Roland.
“I think so,” said Terry.
“Hang on. We’ll be right over.”
How pathetic, Terry thought. Even with all the extra strength, I still manage to fall down like a little baby. He kicked both feet against the engine.
Terry looked around for the others. They were still pretty far away, with Alex the closest. John lingered far behind him, moving slowly to avoid the very situation Terry now found himself in.
Terry pushed and kicked, trying to get himself free, but it was no use. His leg was stuck, caught on something he couldn’t see. Where was all the strength he’d shown before? Why couldn’t he muster it now, when it mattered?
He closed his eyes, trying to remember the moment when his body went into overdrive. He thought about how time had slowed down, and when the light had grown too bright to bear, and how he’d flung John away with nothing but a wave of his hand. Still, nothing came. No surge of energy, no heroic rage. Only Terry, the tinniest soldier, dangling there like a child in need of his mother.
He kicked the back of the engine. So much for showing Roland and the others how strong he’d become. How could any of them respect him now? What use could he possibly be? He imagined Alex standing over him, mocking. It was all Terry would ever be good for—a good laugh.
He kicked again, and this time the truck shook. The vibrations made his jaw shudder. What would Terry do when they made it to the other side? If the rabs were there, waiting for them at the source of Cole’s signal, would Terry be as helpless as he was now? Would someone have to protect him or rescue him again? He pressed his forehead to the cold metal before him and gasped. He tried to take a deep breath, but failed, anxiously wheezing. All he wanted to do was get out and run away. He squeezed the railing in his hand and felt it bend. A wave of heat filled up his chest, rising from his gut and up toward his face and arms. He kicked the back of the engine again, ramming his foot through whatever lay there, freeing his other leg in the process. With both his feet planted on the back of the cab wall, he pushed himself out and toward the other car.
After managing to stand, he was still shaking. He looked down at his hands, unable to relax. The artificial green light from the goggles was becoming too bright to bear, so he removed them. Surprisingly, the darkness of the tunnel was nearly gone. He saw everything—the cars, the tunnel walls, and finally his friends. They were all looking at him, watching through their goggles and calling to him, though he couldn’t make out the words. It’s happening again, Terry yelled inside his head. I need to calm down. I have to.
He closed his eyes and placed his hand on his chest, slowing his breath as much as he could. After a moment, his friends’ voices became much clearer. They were asking what he was doing, if everything was okay. “It’s fine,” he said. “G
ive me a minute.”
When he finally reopened his eyes, the room had gone dark again. Whatever had made it possible for him to see the others was gone now. He strapped the goggles back on and continued taking deep, methodic breaths.
“You alright now?” asked Roland.
“I’m good,” replied Terry.
Roland nodded. “Talk more when we get inside, understood?”
“Sure.”
He followed after the others, moving from one vehicle to the next, although this time he was extra careful. When he finally caught up, the rest of the group was waiting for him at the hatch.
“Let’s see if we can get it open,” said Roland. “Might have to put some muscle into it. John, you mind?”
“Easy,” said John. He gripped the handle and planted his feet, readying himself. Straining, he pulled towards his chest with the strength of his whole body. With a heavy click, the door slid open. A cloud of dust scattered in the air as John swung it back, catching everyone off guard.
They all covered their mouths, but a few weren’t fast enough. Terry breathed in the dust and choked, coughing violently as tears filled his eyes. He staggered backward, catching himself on the side of a nearby car.
John leaned away from the door, bending over and spitting out whatever he could of the fumes. “Gross!”
“It smells awful,” said Mei through a muffled sleeve. “But at least it didn’t get in our eyes.” She tapped the goggles. “Should’ve made these things so they cover your whole head. It could’ve doubled as a gas mask.”
“They have those,” said Roland, clearing his throat. His voice was strained. “They didn’t think we’d need masks.”
“Oh right,” she said. “I forgot, being able to breathe Variant automatically means we’re immune to every other toxin.” She rolled her eyes. “Idiots.”
“There’ll be time to criticize later,” said Roland. “Grab a rag from your pack or rip something off your clothes to cover your mouths. We need to keep going.”
Terry filtered his breaths with his arm while he searched through his bag. There weren’t any rags to speak of, but he did find an undershirt and some socks, each of them having been previously worn. Out of the two, the shirt seemed like the easy compromise. Better to smell sweat than feet, he wagered.