by R. T. Lowe
Felix felt for Lofton’s barrier and realized it wasn’t there. Lofton had switched tactics, no longer absorbing and blocking the force of Felix’s assault, but generating a stream of electrically charged currents that repelled Felix’s energy.
“Felix!” Lofton shouted. “There are commercial aircraft up there. If one should fly into this”—he lifted his eyes—“it will not end well.”
Felix heard the words though it took a moment to comprehend them. He glanced up, seeing the hurricane clouds and lightning, the bursts of color exploding like bombs, and below, the enormously thick branches of the trees swaying wildly, snapping off and splintering on the paths, crushing the manicured gardens. He heard Allison shout something and watched her slipping away from him on all fours, sliding on the grass, her fingers clawing at it, raking trenches through the turf. The hail became snow and fell sideways, stinging his eyes. Unable to harness his rage, he directed more energy at Lofton but it was instantly repelled, as if they were two same pole magnets facing one another.
“We have to stop!” Lofton shouted. “You won’t have a school to attend if we keep this up. On three.” Lofton began to count.
“Wait!” Felix shouted at him. “Why should I trust you?”
Lofton’s face tightened with pain and Felix wasn’t sure if it was out of frustration or if he was feeling the effects of countering Felix’s attack. “I don’t want to harm you! You must see the truth in that!”
Lofton’s words, Felix had to acknowledge, were consistent with his actions. He wasn’t attacking, only reacting to Felix, defending himself and Josephine out of necessity. Felix felt a sudden weight on his arm and saw Allison beside him.
“He’s telling the truth,” she said, locking her hands together, her feet swinging off the ground, snowflakes dusting her dark hair. “You have to stop!”
“On three!” Lofton repeated.
Felix stared at him uncertainly. If he relented and Lofton didn’t, their energies would no longer push away from one another and Lofton’s would be set free—Lofton would obliterate them. Could he trust him? He glanced around, wondering how long before the storm spread, toppling buildings, wrecking the campus, killing his friends and classmates. Did he have a choice? He nodded at Lofton. “I’ll count!”
Lofton nodded back.
“One,” Felix said, heart pounding, watching Lofton, searching for signs that he wasn’t going to follow through. “Two.” He took a deep breath, the seconds stretching endlessly. “Three.” Felix closed his eyes and switched off his mind, a blind leap of faith, thinking of nothing. The world went suddenly quiet, the snow stopped, the air went still and began to warm. He opened his eyes to see Lofton helping Josephine to her feet.
“Good thing you didn’t do anything stupid,” Allison whispered in his ear.
“You okay?” he asked.
She looked down at herself. “Appears that way.”
“You told me to look out.”
“Sorry,” Allison replied with a confused shrug. “He pointed at you though.”
Josephine was bleeding from a cut on her face and Felix overheard Lofton telling her she would be fine. She turned and looked to Felix, her face coiling in rage. She raised her arm as if she was gesturing ‘hello’ and Felix responded in kind, prepared to defend himself and Allison against a telekinetic attack. Then her hand shrank and shriveled, finally disappearing into the sleeve of her jacket only to reemerge a moment later, but no longer as a hand, but as something long and cylindrical and pointed at the end like a spear, a coppery sheen dully reflecting the path lights.
Josephine charged them, her weapon out front like a soldier about to run them through with her bayonet.
Felix was a second removed from swatting her away like an insect when Lofton bellowed, “Josephine!”
She stopped immediately and looked back over her shoulder sulkily.
“As much as I adore your finer attributes,” Lofton told her, “I will not tolerate insubordination. Stand down or you will be given another assignment. I do have need of someone on the ground in Syria if that’s what you wish.”
Josephine was instantly contrite. The copper spear morphed once again and her hand reappeared. Her nails, Felix noted, were the same shade of red as her beret, her dress and her shoes. “I’m sorry,” she said solemnly. “It won’t happen again.”
“Another idiot with a knife,” Allison muttered.
Josephine cocked her head. “What was that?”
“You heard me,” Allison told her.
“Knife?” Josephine said, offended. “I’ll show you my—”
“Watch yourself,” Allison interrupted, “or you’ll be cleaning outhouses in Syria.”
Josephine’s expression turned livid. She took a sudden step toward Allison then composed herself, watching her with a murderous stare as she returned to Lofton’s side.
Lofton smiled at Felix. “Well wasn’t that fun? You’re everything I had hoped for—and more. Don’t let this little”—he glanced around at the toppled statues and broken trees—“exercise distract you. Your test didn’t go as I’d hoped, and I know you must regret the choice you made. But there is something else you can do for me—for us. I’ve told you this before, but I’ve always believed that in matters of extreme importance, you must demonstrate your loyalty rather than promising it. Words are cheap, as they say. If you intend to stand by my side, as I want you to, you must kill Professor Hamlen.”
“Excuse me?” Felix said, startled, Lofton’s last words slow to process.
“Kill the professor?” Allison exclaimed. “Why?”
“He’s served his purpose,” Lofton answered simply. “You don’t think it’s happenstance that a professor on this campus became the philosophical leader of the Rejectionists do you? Hamlen’s political opinions are his own, but he had no platform to rally sympathizers, and then overnight he became ‘the voice of the Opposition.’”
“You provided his platform,” Allison said, speaking slowly. “But why? Why would—?” Her brow smoothed over and her eyes widened. “All those people, the ones listening to his podcasts! They… they, well a lot of them went to the colonies to protest the New Government. He urged them to go there and then you…”
“Very good,” Lofton said admiringly. “Every country has its incorrigibles, and ours had millions. Rapists, murderers, terrorists, child molesters, anarchists and the like. People who couldn’t be rehabilitated because, well, some things can’t be fixed. They were a boil on the backside of civilization, and that boil has been lanced. A more vexing problem, however, is the political dissidents, those who oppose the New Government out of principle, but don’t rise to the level of the incorrigibles.”
“The Rejectionists,” Felix said.
“Yes,” Lofton replied. “Unlike the incorrigibles, Rejectionists are not always easy to identify. They come in many guises so it was necessary to draw them out. And that’s what Professor Hamlen did, encouraging them to emerge from their hiding places and reveal their true colors.”
“Then you firebombed them,” Allison said, her voice sharp with anger.
“It seems cruel,” Lofton admitted with a tip of his head, “but it was actually intended to limit their suffering.”
“And survivors,” Felix added, again unnerved by how cavalierly Lofton spoke of death.
“That too,” Lofton acknowledged, frowning deeply as if the loss of so many lives caused him great pain. “Professor Hamlen has fulfilled his role, but of course he doesn’t know he is playing a part in a much larger production. His podcasts are no longer encouraging Rejectionists to confront the New Government, they are encouraging people to become Rejectionists. He is creating them, and that is something I can’t tolerate as it represents a new problem that will have to be dealt with in the same manner.”
“You’ll kill them too,” Allison said.
“I’d prefer to avoid it,” Lofton answered. “Which is why Hamlen must be eliminated before his next podcast.” Lofton paused. “
Next Thursday.”
Felix blinked. “That’s crazy. You can’t just kill a professor.”
“Think of it this way,” Lofton retorted easily. “If each podcast creates ten thousand Rejectionists, killing him now will save that many lives.” He eyed Felix. “Would you kill one man to save ten thousand?” He shifted his gaze to Allison. “Would you?”
They didn’t answer. They didn’t have to.
“And please let’s not martyr the man,” Lofton said. “Make it look like he died of natural causes. A heart attack, perhaps?”
Crush his heart? Felix thought. He wants me to crush the professor’s heart? He had killed in defense of himself and his friends, to protect his classmates, and even in retribution, but he had never killed without cause. Could he kill in cold blood? Murder? Could he really murder a professor?
“You can’t just go around killing people because they disagree with you!” Allison burst out. “You talk about consequences and then you tell Felix to murder a professor like you’re”—she flapped a hand in frustration—“ordering a latte. What’s the consequence to you?”
“To me?” Lofton said. “The consequence of his death is that ten thousand people will live.”
Allison stood her ground, fumbling for the right words. “But you’re still murdering without… without any right or… who do you answer to? We all have to answer to someone.”
“I answer to prosperity, Allison.”
“That’s a bullshit answer,” Allison shot back.
“Is it?” Lofton arched an eyebrow and smiled at her as if he was amused. “How can anything be achieved when those in power are required to pander to an electorate that demands results within the span of an election cycle? How do you convince people to sacrifice something for the good of future generations?” He paused. “You can’t. And that’s why our oceans are polluted, the world is at war with itself, and most of the planet’s resources are controlled by a tiny percentage of the population.”
“But you can’t just make up your own rules and validate them by claiming you’ll answer to people who haven’t been born yet.” Allison put her hands on her hips. “The unborn don’t say much.”
“That’s why we must speak for them,” Lofton said slowly. “We are their voice.”
Allison shook her head in frustration. “In the meantime, the people who can actually talk have lost most of their freedoms. You made them afraid and then you stole their rights to make them feel safe. You tricked them. That’s exactly why those who govern should only do so with the consent of the governed. But the governed, of course, don’t even know what you are or what’s happened to their government. The whole thing’s a sham.”
Lofton smiled. “I can see why Felix is so fond of you. You have a penetrating mind and you’re not afraid to speak it. It would be a great benefit to me if we could continue our dialogue on this and other matters. I have a… council of sorts, people whose wisdom and talents have elevated them above their peers. You—and Felix, of course—will have a place there as soon as the professor is dealt with.”
“A council?” Allison said, looking surprised. “You’re just trying to distract me.”
“And you didn’t deny anything she said,” Felix pointed out.
“Quite right.” Lofton grinned crookedly. “I could tell you that the freedoms surrendered were exchanged freely for the most fundamental freedom of all: the freedom to live without fear.” He held up a hand as if to say give me a moment please. “I knew that wouldn’t appease you so let me answer another way. Requiring the consent of the people to establish policy at a macro level whose benefits will not be realized for fifty or a hundred years is like requiring the consent of a dog before giving it a rabies vaccine. The dog simply doesn’t know what’s good for it. But we do.”
“You can’t treat people like dogs,” Allison said.
“Of course not,” Lofton replied. “People are far more dangerous and destructive. Take Professor Hamlen for example. A single misguided individual can convert thousands of people to his way of thinking with a few words, like a certain piper you may be familiar with who led the children out of the German village—though Hamlen will be leading them to their graves. As I said, I can’t let that happen.” He frowned and a profound sadness settled over his features. “I have enough blood on my hands.” He nodded at Josephine and they started off toward Adams Street. “Next Thursday,” Lofton said without looking back. “You have until then.”
Chapter 27
A NEW THREAT
A week later, Felix and Allison allowed Kayla to talk them into attending an ‘Earth Summit Fair’ just south of Portland. It was late Saturday morning and they didn’t have anything crucially important to do—besides engaging in another endless discussion over the morality of killing Professor Hamlen if the consequences of not killing him meant thousands would die in his place—and Felix’s sadness over Bill’s death had lifted a bit after receiving an email from Dr. Borakslovic informing him the dean’s office had dropped the investigation into his alleged violation of the Student Code of Conduct. No explanation was given, but he knew Allison had taken care of it, as she’d promised. He didn’t have to ask her if Amber was still alive. She’d waited for him outside his Western Civ class yesterday to apologize and to promise she would stay away from him. He couldn’t help but notice the discoloration under her eye and the scarf wrapped snugly around her neck. Allison had clearly made her point.
The fair was held at the old Ferris Acres property, a dairy farm that had discontinued most of its original operations to focus on organically produced ice cream which it sold during the warmer months of the year. Felix, Allison and Kayla stood and watched on the outer fringes of the gathering, observing the masses meandering among the stands and food trucks, many dancing in rhythm to a banjo heavy band playing from one of three stages.
“I’m hungry,” Allison said, sounding bored. “Let’s get something to eat.”
“I can smell the kettle corn from here.” Kayla licked her lips. “I knew this was a waste of time. So did Zara and Malone, but they still wanted us to check it out.”
Felix rolled his eyes at the crowd. On the way here, Kayla had explained that the Order was hoping to find a replacement army for the Rejectionists the New Government had recently wiped out. The Order needed a backbone, people on the ground in large enough numbers to distract and harass the U.S. military. As Felix watched the crowd emptying keg after keg of locally produced beer and smoking marijuana by the bushel, a cloud of smoke hanging low and stagnant on a clear breezeless day, he couldn’t suppress his laughter. They weren’t soldiers—they weren’t even Rejectionists. They were simply free-spirited peace loving tree huggers who enjoyed bands specializing in twenty minute instrumentals, extra hoppy beer, and exotic strains of weed.
“What are you laughing about?” Kayla asked with a questioning look.
“Some army you’ve got here.” Felix waved a hand at the revelers.
“God, I know,” Kayla agreed with a heavy sigh. “Looks like a fun group, but they’re about as militarized as a nunnery.”
“Corn dogs?” Felix pointed at one of the food trucks. “I could go for about six of those.”
“No way they’re real,” Kayla commented. “Tofu maybe? What do you think they’re made out of?”
“Whatever’s good with me.” Felix shrugged. “Don’t care as long as it tastes like a dog.”
Allison was looking off intently toward a stage where someone named Bill Walton had just been introduced. Felix had never heard of him, though from his clothes he gathered he was probably peddling tie-dye attire.
“Hamlen’s here.” Allison pointed. “There.”
“Hamlen?” Felix stared around, surprised.
“Professor Hamlen?” Kayla followed the line of Allison’s finger. “Yeah, that does look like him. Green scarf, black jacket?”
Allison nodded, face tensing.
Felix spotted him too. He watched him tipping back a beer and laughing alo
ng with a group of four or five others who were doing the same. It appeared he was with some friends enjoying the local harvest. But why was Hamlen here? he wondered, feeling annoyed. One of the reasons they’d come to the fair was to distract themselves, to get their minds off the topic of whether Felix had a moral obligation to kill the professor—and now here he was, standing a few hundred yards away quaffing beers with his buddies.
Kayla looked back and forth between them, suspiciously. “What’s wrong? What’s going on with Hamlen?”
Allison paused for only a second. “Lofton wants Felix to kill him before his next podcast.”
“What?” Kayla exclaimed, her eyes turning hard. “When did you see him?”
“Last night,” Allison answered.
Felix gave Allison a sour look, not sure telling Kayla was such a good idea. Allison ignored him.
“What did he say?” Kayla asked.
“Hamlen’s podcasts are creating Rejectionists,” Allison told her. “Ten thousand, Lofton said. So if Felix doesn’t kill him, ten thousand people will have to die, and if Felix does it, it’ll mean both of us are on his side.”
“That fucking asshole and his fucking tests!” Kayla snarled, the redness in her cheeks spreading down her neck, burning brick red. “That’s vintage Lofton! Hamlen’s the sacrificial lamb who has to die for the greater good. Kill one to save a hundred or a thousand or whatever. He’s such a goddamn liar! He’s just trying to manipulate you. You see that, right? He’s putting ten thousand lives on your shoulders and making you responsible for them when it’s all his doing. He’s so full of shit!”