by Chris Ayala
The trailer felt humid, it made him sweat more. Whatever was going on outside, he hoped Gerard was winning.
Suddenly the trailer door swung open behind him. He thought it had been Gerard, exclaiming victory in knocking down several opponents. But instead, Willie turned to see someone completely different. The exact opposite of suave.
With a gun pointed in his direction, the Union's leader of technology Lester stood at the open trailer door. "Get your hands off the machine."
Lester stepped inside the trailer, waving Willie to get back. Willie reminded him, "The gun won't work around -"
"What an idiot." The Union Czar showcased his gun. "No lithium. No fingerprint. Just good old bullets. Step back."
Willie walked backwards slowly. Lester looked over the display case of the device. It didn't take him long to figure it out; perhaps, he'd done his own research after their talk at the warehouse about the power of the EMP. He switched off the sequence and the liquids stopped mixing.
Holding his hands up, Willie started realizing the severity of this situation. If he didn't activate the device soon, Union Keepers would start firing on the People of Bliss and the revolution would be over in minutes.
The fence had been penetrated…or eaten by what Vanderbilt could see. "Turn the lasers on and send troops down there. Tell them to fire at will." No hesitation followed and his staff got on their walkie-talkies immediately.
He looked at another camera, located down in the docking area. A massive trailer had crashed through a while ago, and to Vanderbilt's surprise…the problem hadn't been dealt with. His Union Keepers laid sprawled on the floor. He must've sent a dozen of them. Only Gerard could have that much skill. Vanderbilt pressed keys on the keyboard, with different angles of the truck until he saw Gerard battling two of the Union Keepers. Whatever was going on in that trailer, a bomb Vanderbilt suspected, must be dealt with quicker. And that meant putting Gerard down.
Vanderbilt hadn't been in much of a fight lately. Two years ago, he broke a man's arm, nose, and ankle for calling him a faggot. At fifty years old, he had no doubt his decades of combat training surpassed Gerard. But unfortunately that bastard had nano-technology in his blood. Training helped, but didn't guarantee a win. He needed something. "Did Lester finish the prototype for my suit?" Vanderbilt asked a rushed staff member.
"Yes, Sir. Should we send one of our troops down to handle –"
"No," the general smirked, "Shoot down the People of Bliss. I'll handle the Gerard."
Raised in the lower class slums of Philly, Willie should've been used to a gun pointed in his face. But he wasn't. He never experienced a moment like this. No wonder some people wet themselves, Willie was so frightened that he could feel his bladder loosening.
"What is this," Lester demanded. "What are you doing?"
Since lying could probably get him shot, Willie opted to tell the truth to the Union's Tech Czar. That his job would soon be futile. "I'm ending technology for good."
He started off with squinted eyes, then a snort. And before long, Lester's laughter echoed in the trailer. Willie took this moment to contemplate how to escape this situation. Escape this situation without being shot, of course. Chances were slim. Lester's smile slowly faded when he saw the seriousness in Willie's face. "Is this a joke? What? Jesus, you're stupid. You have any idea what you're about to do?"
Spending many nights thinking instead of sleeping, Willie confidently could answer. "Yes. Yes, I do know what I'm about to do. And I'm the only one that can do it."
After searching around for video cameras, Lester seemed convinced he wasn't on Candid Camera. "Didn't we chat about this already? So instead of a future like Star Trek, where we could whisk around galaxies and live longer, better lives…you'd rather have a future like Mad Max? What do you expect us to do? How do we live without technology? Huh?" The gun shook more than his hand. "Huh!" He screamed. "How is someone like me supposed to live without help? You expect someone like me to…what? Crawl around on my arms? Make a wheelchair out of sticks and rocks or something? I can't walk! I'm born a freak! I got horrid acne! And fat in places I don't want it stored! I'm a fucking cow! I'll die without technology."
"Life finds a way," Willie shrugged.
"Am I supposed to be looked at like some gross cripple? Be laughed? People comment on my crooked teeth or thick glasses? Supposed to be laughed at for the rest of my life? Is that how it goes?"
Reflecting on himself, his many flaws, Willie confidently said, "You gotta accept who you are."
"Accept who I am?" A bead of sweat skidded down Lester's forehead. "I said step away from the machine!"
If Willie was going to get shot, he might as well take Lester down with him. He snatched the gun. At the same time, Lester pulled the trigger. Bullets ricochet around the trailer walls. The two men fought, Willie could take a punch from a Philly hoodlum but Lester was pure bodybuilder. The punches hurt and his nose bled to remind him of that.
Lester shouted, "You're ending humanity!"
Kicking him in the shin and clocking a right hook on Lester's perfect chin, Willie stated, "No, I'm restarting it."
Miraculously, Bruno's mouth hadn't bled or even turned red from chowing down on a thick metal fence. In fact, when Adam pulled him away, the brute looked hungry for more. The next part of the plan would surely satisfy all the People of Bliss and their appetite. In moments, they would be in the courtyard to face possibly hundreds of Union Keepers. For now, the outer circle of the castle would have to be penetrated. Thanks to the help of scouters, Adam had prepared himself for the lasers.
Unlike normal lasers that a professor would use for a PowerPoint demonstration, these high frequency were enough to penetrate skin. And also thin enough to penetrate the retina of an eyeball. Barely agile enough to beat Brent at a mile long sprint, Adam knew he couldn't make it through a barrage of dancing lasers. But he knew someone who could.
With the help of six other men, they pulled back and the torn fence hole bent backwards. On queue, the field ahead of them lit up with hundreds of faint red lasers, so faint they looked pink. They moved back and forth, up and down, left and right to block any entrance to the courtyard. Beyond this hundred foot stretch of what looked like the dance floor of a rave party, Adam could see a doorway to a maintenance shed. Inside that shed was an emergency off switch, used by landscapers in case the lasers turned on accidentally.
"How we supposed to get through that?" Royal said, squinting her eyes because she couldn't track the lasers or she was griping. "I can't barely see them."
"Yeah," Adam responded confidently, "but I know who can see them clearly." He turned to the crowd. "Pierre! You're up!"
Wearing a thin black suit, the Frenchman didn't hesitate and dashed forward. He leapt through the opening in the fence into the laser field. Pierre landed perfectly in the field into a handstand as two lasers passed between him, missing by inches. He back-flipped and front-flipped through more dancing red lines of pain, like he'd been practicing for weeks…which he hadn't. Pierre could see and hear better than any of them, making him the only candidate to pass this challenge.
"Adam!" Royal screamed, pointing to the north side of the field.
As much as he didn't want to skip watching the acrobatics of such a skilled individual, something more important came into view. Union Keepers, in riot gear, marched quickly out the side gate of the interior courtyard. AK-47s in hand, this would be an unwelcome dilemma.
"Come on!" Royal yelled again, not explaining anything as she hurried up a grassy hill to overlook the scene. By the time Adam made it to the top, Royal was already scuffling through Bruno's satchel.
"What are you doing?" Adam had to ask, heaving from all the physical and mental stress.
She yanked out black gear and a plastic handle. Before he could ask, Royal was already assembling it. It was a sniper rifle. "Sniper? Really, Royal?" Not only was it dark outside, she'd have to shoot through the holes of a metal fence and a distance of at least three hundred feet to hit any of
the Union Keepers. He counted the armed men on the field, readying their weapons. Pierre would be shot in only a minute, ending his trail through the laser field. Adam took a breath, unsure of what to do to save Pierre. He counted the Union Keepers. "Royal, seriously, there's eleven men out there. We only have five sniper bullets."
"Good," Royal said, lying down with the sniper rifle locked and loaded, "I'll leave a bullet for Marcel."
She shot the first bullet. Adam covered his ears and his mouth dropped. The bullet flew through the grating of the fence, hit a Union Keeper in the neck, ricocheted off his helmet, and bounced into the hand of another Union Keeper. Before they could even understand what was happening, even Adam found himself overwhelmed, Royal fired another shot. The second bullet hit a shot fired by the Union Keeper. Adam had seen magic firsthand but still was dumbfounded by what he saw. The bullet hit the Union Keeper's bullet and sent it away from Pierre's dodging act toward the maintenance shed. He was almost there. Royal fired again. The third bullet bounced off a Union Keeper's machine gun, sending his weapon in the opposite direction as he pressed the trigger. His gun shot three others, by accident. The forth shot happened just as fast, hitting a Union Keeper's heel, another's foot, ricocheting off a sprinkler, then going through another soldier's cheek. Whatever men not injured or dead ran back into the safety of the courtyard. Royal accomplished something no other human being could accomplish and Adam couldn't have felt more proud. She turned, a red swollen circle around her eye from the scope of the gun, and said, "See. Told you. It's all about the timing."
His heart fluttered and stomach bubbled. She had never made him feel this way before. But now wasn't the time to reevaluate their partnership. Adam could see Pierre only feet away from the maintenance shed. And in minutes, he had reached the shed. Cheers from the People of Bliss blasted the night sky. Then, Pierre ran into the shed and hit a switch.
The red beams shut off.
"Go!" Adam commanded.
The People of Bliss crashed through the hole in the fence, tumbling over each other. Union Keepers guarding the wall before the courtyard hurried into the courtyard, leaving behind some of the other guards to be beaten by the People of Bliss.
Unfortunately for them, the wall of courtyard couldn't be entered. Not with the steel bolts locking the three entry doors. It couldn't be climbed either, being that it was fifty feet high. All those obstructions, and knowing the plan, didn't stop the irate mob from trying to infiltrate it. Some tried to climb over, using each other's shoulders, just so they can get to the other side and cover themselves with more Union Keeper blood.
"He's late," Royal stated. "By almost a minute."
"Give him time," Adam said. He tried to hide the worry in his voice. By now, Willie should've activated the electrical doomsday device and start the real war.
Through a swollen black eye, Willie could see Lester grasping for his neck. Anytime he used to watch old Van Damme movies, he'd think to himself how easy it would be to get out of that grasp. But all those techniques to loosen a death grip went out the window in the actual moment. Air had no way of entering the lungs, so panic immediately hit the mind. This wasn't like swimming, just paddling to the surface to get more oxygen; Willie had no way out. Too weak to kick or even squirm, his vision began to blur. Before he knew it, his hand was reaching out for a way. Not a way to save his life, but save those out there fighting for the future. He triggered a button that turned on the machine. It whirred to life.
"No!" Lester screamed as he let go and scrambled back for the machine. With air back in his lungs and his mind alert again, Willie went for the moment. He kicked Lester in the face, as hard as he possible could. Blood spat out from Lester's nose and mouth as he tumbled backwards, leaving a trail on the ground. Willie had no idea that much blood could escape a person face and he'd still be coherent. Well, barely coherent. Lester swayed for a minute before landing on the ground. He groaned, trying to stop the massive dripping from his mouth. Wherever Willie kicked, it did the trick, because Lester bled profusely.
Both men laid on the ground, catching their breath. The device whirred loudly, mixing the liquids inside. Lester tried to get up, his head must've spun because he landed back on the trailer ground with a thud. He crawled away from Willie. What was he up to? It looked like he was reaching for the door. Feeling cocky for being such a tough opponent that the Tech Czar was trying to flee for the door, Willie prepared to say one of those bad-ass Bruce Willis lines. He couldn't think of any of them. But at least the machine was only a minute from activating. He won the fight.
Lester reached out and grasped something. Not the door. But something. It was too late before Willie realized. It was the gun. He turned and fired at him.
Just like any of the dozen Tom Cruise action movies, being shot wasn't that easy neither. There was no sudden pause and glance down to see blood exiting the wound. Willie knew immediately he'd been shot; no doubt about it. It felt like being hit with a bat that had spikey ends on it. And no just one hit, but several. Even squirming an inch hurt like hell. Without even glancing down, he knew where'd he been shot. One thing he could remember from watching too much television was that being shot in the kidney practically meant death. Holding the wound to stop the bleeding was useless, because he bled on the inside just as much as on the outside. He had about as much time to live as that machine had to activate.
Lester, blood covering his mouth, pointed the gun again and pulled the trigger.
But no bullet exited. The chamber jammed with a loud click. If there was a God, he just bought Willie another minute of life. While Lester fiddled around with the gun, trying to fix the chamber, Willie contemplated why his life had just been prolonged. If God was real, he'd want this war to be won. And the only way it would be won was with this large device whirring next to him, seconds from destroying the planet's obsession with electricity. But if Willie died now, with Lester's last bullet, that hope would be gone because surely the villain would turn off the machine and end that hope. So that meant Willie had to kill Lester, quickly, before that gun fired a second time. What could possibly be faster than a bullet? The answer lied right next to him. He glanced down to see an electrical outlet in the trailer with enough juice to fry an elephant. Lester's chamber clicked. Willie grasped the electrical outlet, feeling its surge of power, and with the other hand touched the trail of the ground of Lester's blood.
A current, much faster than a gun's trigger, traveled through the trail of blood and zapped Lester. Movies had it all wrong. There's no thirty seconds of convulsing before death. One current stopped the Tech Czar's heart. In a nanosecond. Lester had been murdered by the one thing he obsessed over, and that was power. At least it had been a rapid end for him, Willie had a long, slow death to endure. And a painful one at that.
Two more chambers were left to fill before the machine erased all of mankind's electricity. Then he could die in peace.
The gun shot, no matter how many he'd heard in his lifetime, always made Gerard hold his breath. He swiftly spun but only saw the Union Keepers he knocked to the ground, either unconscious or dead. Dead, preferably. None of them had awoken for one last triumphant moment to shoot at him. So where did the sound come from? The trailer? It echoed, so it must've came from the trailer. Willie was in trouble and Gerard had been too preoccupied to notice.
He turned away from the stairs, beginning his hurried pace toward the trailer when a familiar robotic voice came from atop the staircase. "Where are you going?" The voice said, like an irritated male Siri voice. "You've been causing a lot of trouble."
Clank. Clank. As far as he knew, Vanderbilt wasn't an actual robot, so why did his footsteps sound like the Terminator? Gerard turned and watched as the shadowy figure began to come into view. Clank. Clank. Then in full view, he could see what caused the noise. Vanderbilt wore a metal suit, making his tall stature even taller. Black boots with four inch soles elevated him, thick copper wires travelled from the bottom of his soles to the devices around hi
s hips to the black boxes on his arms to the aluminum collar. Protecting his head was a glass dome, secured around his neck. Gerard recognized the design almost immediately. It was Vanderbilt's blueprint for the new Union Keeper suits.
Gerard laughed. Not because he found the situation funny, but because Vanderbilt hated being laughed at. Intimidation was the key before a good fights. The general's face didn't frown, but stayed in the one-sided smirk. He did something with his hands, copper wires connected to each finger. It was some type of commands for the suit, because in the next moment Gerard's laugh died down. Blades slide out from the top of his forearms, throwing knives stuck out from under his hands, and from the device on his calves four more blades popped out.
With his fit of laughter now choked out of him, Gerard swallowed hard. "Damnit, I forgot about all the blades." He dashed to the other side of the docks, three throwing knives whisked by his ear and embedded into the walls. Vanderbilt's shoes clanked louder as he chased after him. Gerard fell and landed into piles of stacked crates. Inside the crates were fruits. He threw them at the approaching madman. Vanderbilt sliced the fruits out of his way, as he stormed toward him. Gerard laughed, "Hey, look! Fruit Ninja! Come on, Vandy-boo, have a sense of humor!"
The general grabbed his ankle. However this suit was constructed, it made Vanderbilt much stronger; Gerard could feel it in the grasp as he was yanked out from the wreck of crates. "Goddamnit, Vandy, don't make me have to hurt you!"
With a swift fling, Vanderbilt tossed Gerard like a frisbee. He flew through the air and gave a high-pitched girly scream. Hitting the side of the trailer, he could feel at least one of his ribs cracked. Of course, he had more than one rib broken in fights, but that didn't stop it from hurting like hell. Before he could get a chance to get up, Vanderbilt jumped off the dock ledge and landed only inches from his face. Gerard spun around quickly as his opponent did a roundhouse kick, lucky for him he blocked it because a knife retracted out of the boot and nearly sliced his throat. Vanderbilt did this again, and again, attacking with low kicks, high kicks, and roundhouses. With no other choice, Gerard dodged, blocked, and flipped out of the way of the boot's blades. "Willie! Blow it! Now!"