Sidekick

by Auralee Wallace

  We walked in silence across the floating walkway towards command central. Before we even got through the door, I could see my father. He was sitting in a captain’s chair, one leg casually crossed over the other. He pinned me in his gaze as I was placed in front of him.

  “You can let her go,” my father said. The boxers released their grip. “She’s not a danger to anyone but herself.”

  “Oh my God,” Bart’s voice buzzed in my ear. “Is that your dad talking? I can’t get a video-feed! Ryder says she’s coming after you.”

  “No!” I shouted. “Not yet!”

  My father gave me an annoyed quizzical look.

  “I mean, whatever you’re doing, don’t do it,” I said quickly. “Fight the power. Stop the evil.” I half-heartedly raised my fist.

  “Brianna, please stop talking. It is no longer cute.” He dropped his gaze to his phone. Never a good sign. “You know there was a time when—despite all of your foolishness—I thought you might have had what it takes to work for the company. I actually thought I saw potential. I can see now I was wrong. You’re wrong.”

  “Because I’m not evil!”

  He sighed. “Evil. A relative term if I have ever heard one.” He still wasn’t bothering to look up at me. “Is it evil when a lion kills a gazelle? When a shark kills a fish?”

  “It’s not the same,” I sputtered. “They only take what they need.”

  “You’re right.” He slammed his palms down on the arms of his chair and met my eyes. “I take more than I need…I take what I want.”

  “Nice philosophy, Dad…real nice,” I said struggling to keep the emotion from my voice.

  “I am building a legacy,” he replied loudly. “I provide for my own. And all I ask for in return is loyalty.”

  “And our souls,” I added with a sick laugh. “Don’t forget our souls.”

  “You are so limited by your puny understanding of what’s right and wrong that you can’t understand what it is I’m doing here.”

  “What are you doing?” I asked shaking my head. “It’s not in your nature to help the disadvantaged.”

  He considered me for a moment before speaking.

  “I am becoming the most powerful man in the world.”

  Fear prickled over my skin.

  “You’ve lost me.”

  My father looked like he was about to say more, but the door to the nest opened again. I swivelled my head and gasped.

  In between the grip of two circus-bots was Pierce.

  They let go of him suddenly, and he crumpled to the floor. I ran over to his prone body and lifted his head onto my lap. My fingers flew to his neck.

  Thank God. A pulse.

  I turned his beautiful face to mine. His eyes were closed.

  “What did you do to him?” I snapped.

  “I gave him what he wanted.” My father rose from his chair and spread his hands in a charitable gesture. “He has been so desperate to find out what I’ve been up to that I thought I would give him some firsthand experience.”

  “You chipped him?” I ran my hands through Pierce’s golden hair, and at the base of his skull, I felt something wet. I pulled my fingers away. Blood.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Why are you?” my father shouted. He never shouted. “I wanted to let you go, Bremy, but you just kept pushing and pushing. And him,” he said pointing to Pierce. “You think you can just give me, your father, up to some pathetic boy you met a month ago?”

  He walked around the room, seemingly taking time to regain his control.

  “You have done this. You want to know the price of loyalty?” my father asked coldly. “This is it.”

  “What are you going to do to him?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing. But I do fear that he might be a victim of the tragic prison riot that is about to take place—” my father flicked his gaze to his watch, “—in approximately five minutes.”

  I pulled Pierce’s head higher onto my lap. “You’re crazy.”

  “You thought this was a game, didn’t you, Brianna? You thought you could dress up in your silly outfit and offer up your father, who has given you everything, to the press.” He said the words through gritted teeth, every angle of his face hard. “You know, it wouldn’t have worked. They would have thought you were just another spoiled princess who’s mad because her daddy took her toys away.” He stopped and inhaled deeply, never releasing me from his gaze. “I will say that you have more gumption than I gave you credit for, but you still lack discipline.”

  “I have no desire to be like you.”

  He nodded as though accepting what I had said with grace. “At one time you were very dear to me, but no one is going to stop what’s happening tonight. I need the press here to bear witness and show the world the technology I have developed. You, however…”

  Big scary pieces were starting to fall into place.

  “The chip,” I said thinking quickly. “You’re going to turn these prisoners into weapons…your own psychotic army.”

  He smiled. “I’m glad to see all those fancy schools didn’t completely go to waste.”

  “And that’s why you want the media here,” I added. “You’re staging a demonstration.”

  I put Pierce’s head down gently and rose to face my father.

  “You’re going to sell the technology to the highest bidder so that they can have their own zombie army.”

  My father’s smile widened even more.

  “You,” I sputtered. “You’re…horrible. You’re…you’re…a bad, bad person.”

  “You missed one part though, my dear.”

  “What…it gets worse?” I shouted. “Do you have your name in for CEO of Hell?”

  “Yes, I plan to sell the technology,” he said sitting on the edge of a desk, all business casual. “As we speak, there are a select group of world leaders…or terrorists, depending on how you look at it…all glued to their television sets waiting for the demonstration to begin, but embedded within the technology will be a code that still gives me control. Whomever I sell the technology to will do all the implanting…millions of citizens chipped…but ultimately, it is an army I will control.”

  I couldn’t speak. I was choking on the horror.

  Bart, however, was swearing in my ear.

  “Do you see now, Bremy?” my father asked almost gently. “I wanted to give you and your sister the world…your mother too. And I have finally found a way to do just that.” He sighed. “But I suppose Jenny will have to suffice.”

  “You didn’t do this for us,” I said almost too angry to get the words out. “You did it to feed the crazy in your head!”

  He sighed again while rubbing his forehead.

  “And you’ll never get away with it,” I said. “The world will know that you are responsible for this riot.”

  “Will they?” he asked. “Riots happen all the time, and as far as the outside world knows, none of the prisoners have been implanted yet. In fact, I called the press here tonight to announce that we just got approval. Looks like it has come a little too late.”

  I stepped closer to Pierce’s unconscious body. “So you’re going to let all of those innocent reporters die?”

  “Well, our statistical models predict that they won’t all die. Casualty estimates, while high, do suggest enough footage will make it to air for my purposes.”

  My head was shaking in disbelief. “But how are you going to explain all the prisoners breaking out?”

  Suddenly the Sultana emerged from the shadows in one of the corners of the room. I jumped.

  How had I not seen her? This was getting to be a problem. Maybe I should buy a Where’s Waldo book for practice.

  This time the Sultana looked like a 20s flapper about to take a train journey. She wore a cloche hat with flowers and beads on the side, and a long trench coat. The outfit covered her tattoos, and aside from being dated, the look was completely normal…except for the gigantic snake wrapped around her body. Guess she h
ad traded the little ones in.

  “While I’m honoured to be part of this father-daughter therapy session,” she said in her low musical voice, “it’s time for me to get in my jalopy and go. The money?”

  My father looked her over while I squinted at him. There was something about the way he was looking her over.

  “Oh, come on!” I suddenly shouted.

  They both looked at me.

  “You’re sleeping together?”

  Neither one said anything.

  “You are!” I wrapped my arms around my waist. “Oh yuck.”

  “Bremy,” my father said shaking his head. “You have always been so…pedestrian.”

  “She’s half your age!” I shot back. “And you Sultana…Delilah…Amber…whatever. You really think this,” I said gesturing wildly at my father, “is a good idea? I mean you’ve already got a lot of issues to address. This isn’t going to help.”

  The Sultana cringed at the sound of her real name, but she recovered quickly, snapping her fingers in the air. Suddenly Pulcinella was at her side.

  “Our money,” she said turning to my father.

  He waved absentmindedly in the direction of two large steel briefcases.

  “Twenty million?”

  “Well, I suppose you could count it,” my father said, “but in a few short minutes all hell is going to break loose.”

  Pulcinella walked towards the cases. In order to pick them up, he had to put down a strange looking gun. The Sultana moved to take it from him.

  “Perhaps you would like this back?” she asked my father. He took the piece from her carefully.

  “Why don’t you use it on her?” she asked gesturing towards me. “It might make her personality more tolerable.”

  I realized it had to be the gun Pulcinella used to implant Pierce.

  My father turned the little weapon over in his hands like he was considering the Sultana’s suggestion.

  My eyes darted frantically about the room looking for cover.

  But before I could do anything, he raised the gun and pulled the trigger.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “Sammy!” the Sultana shrieked.

  She ran over to the clown collapsed on the floor.

  She touched the blood pooling at his temple.

  Her head whipped round to face my father. “We had a deal!” In a flash, she drew a knife from the folds of her coat. “I let you chip my people! But never my brother! You’ll pay for—”

  The gun went off again with a quiet thunk. The Sultana’s eyes widened in surprise as she hit the floor, her snake still twisted around her body.

  So Pulcinella was the baby brother who went missing. I didn’t know how I was supposed to feel about any of this. I was not a fan of either one of them, but seeing the two crumpled together in a heap on the floor, I couldn’t help but feel something.

  “Is she dead?” I asked watching my father lower the gun.

  “No.” He placed the weapon on the desk beside him and retrieved his phone. “She’s chipped. The shot doesn’t have to be exact. And unconsciousness is normal. It takes a while for the brain to reset.”

  I looked down at Pierce, wondering how his brain was doing. Anger stirred once again in my belly.

  “Well, if you’re looking for a thank you,” I said moving my totally hate-filled eyes back to my father, “you can forget it.”

  “As always, Brianna, you mistakenly think everything is about you.” He brushed an invisible speck of dirt from his sleeve. “I need to explain how the prisoners escaped. Who better to blame than the city’s most notorious criminal? Thankfully, for everyone’s sake, she will be killed in the riot.”

  I opened my mouth to shoot something back, but he cut me off.

  “I think this conversation has run its course. Don’t you?”

  He leaned over and pressed a large button on the console of the main desk.

  Suddenly I heard what sounded like a thousand barred doors opening at once. I looked out the window. Dazed prisoners shuffled out from their cells.

  My father pressed another button by a microphone. He leaned over and simply said, “Herd.”

  The circus-bots were back in action. It was hard to see from the windows of the eagle’s nest, but the room’s dozen or so black and white monitors provided a view of the events below. The performers steered the prisoners into the main rec area towards the old fortune-teller, the one Sultana had referred to as mother, still draped in her black cloak. She led them to a large barred door.

  I thought about begging my father one last time not to do this, but I knew there was no point.

  “Bart,” I whispered. “It’s time for Plan B.”

  “You have got to be freaking kidding me!” he shouted. “You told me we weren’t doing that!”

  “Well, now, we are,” I whispered furiously, turning my head some more so that my father couldn’t hear. “Haven’t you been listening? We’re kind of out of options.”

  “I am not the computer on the Starship, you know,” Bart said. “You can’t just say make it so.”

  “Bart,” I snapped.

  “Fine, you do your part,” he muttered. “You’re lucky I didn’t take your stupid comment in front of Ryder seriously and kept working on it.”

  My eyes shifted back to my father. He was back at his phone, probably getting ready to enter the code for the kill switch.

  Time to wing it.

  “So what are you going to do with me?” I asked loudly. “Still planning on a locked facility? Please tell me it has cable.”

  “I think we’re past that, Brianna,” my father said without looking up. Something a little like hurt stung in my chest. “Your sister and I have gotten closer as of late. I won’t have you ruining that. Soon the demonstration will be over…as will the story of your life…an amusing tale without substance,” he said distantly, “just like your mother’s.”

  It was now or never.

  I lunged for my father, grabbing at his lapels. “Please, please, please don’t kill me! I’ll be a good girl!”

  “Brianna, stop,” my father said with surprised disgust.

  “I swear I’ll be a good girl! Don’t kill me!”

  My father snatched one of my hands to stop the assault. Luckily, it was my left hand because my right hand was now curled around his phone.

  “Grab her!” my father ordered the boxers.

  Uh oh. I had forgotten about them.

  They quickly lunged for me, but not as quickly as my thumb was flying.

  Texting. My former life had equipped me with some skills after all.

  The tall boxer yanked me off my father, hard. The phone slipped from my hand and shattered on the floor.

  He and I both stared at it.

  “Well,” I said taking what I feared might be my last breath. “I guess that settles that.”

  My father gave me his best withering look and reached into his breast pocket, pulling out another phone.

  “Don’t do it!” I shouted.

  My father looked up at me then tapped the screen one last time.

  He flipped the switch.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  At first, it sounded like a distant hum.

  Then it grew louder, and louder still, until the sound was deafening.

  Hundreds of prisoners began screaming with rage.

  I heard Pierce moan, but I couldn’t take my eyes off my father. He wasn’t looking at me, though. He was looking behind me.

  “Throw her in,” he ordered.

  I felt warm breath on my neck.

  I turned.

  The Sultana’s face hovered inches from mine, her dead eyes staring through me.

  My gaze flicked to the floor. Pulcinella was still down but his fingers were twitching. The recovery rates must be different for different people. There also had to be specific frequencies for each group of minions. The kill switch must have only affected the prisoners.

  The Sultana grabbed my arms and pulled me towards
the door.

  “Seriously?” I screamed at my father. “You’re seriously going to kill me?”

  He didn’t bother to answer.

  I struggled against the Sultana’s grip as she dragged me towards the walkway.

  “Come on!” I yelled, searching for life in her blank eyes. “You’re not going to let him screw you like this?”

  Nothing registered.

  “He was never going to give you that twenty million! And by the way, while you were unconscious, he told me you’re next! You’re going to die in this riot too! He said that! He really did!”

  Once on the steel grate platform, the Sultana pushed me up against the guardrail.

  I looked over my shoulder to the chaos below. The main gate hadn’t opened yet. Very angry, jaw-snappy, finger-tearing inmates were pooling in alarming numbers. They weren’t ripping each other apart yet, but you could tell their slow brains were working up to it.

  “Bart!” I screamed not caring who heard me. “What’s happening?”

  “I’m working on it!” my ear bud yelled back.

  I grabbed fistfuls of the Sultana’s coat. She could try to push me over, but I wasn’t going to make easy.

  Suddenly a large snake’s head popped in front of my face.

  “Go away you,” I moaned, weaving my head from side to side.

  Seconds passed as we struggled. The Sultana couldn’t get me over, but she kept trying…no frustration on her face…no determination…no nothing.

  Then it occurred to me. Maybe I could use her zombiness against her.

  I rested all of my weight on my back, pinned against the guardrail, and swung my legs up and over to the other side, keeping my grip on the Sultana. I positioned my toes on the inch of flooring before the drop. We faced each other, waist-high fence between us. I then let go of her coat and grabbed for the railing.

  Sluggish thought seemed to cross over her face. I hadn’t fallen. She hadn’t completed the job.

  She swatted a hand at my head, but I held tight and squatted lower.

  I could feel the alligator pit thrashing beneath me.

  There was only one way out of this. I needed to get her to lean over.