Imagine a world without crime. Extensive memory wipes have already begun on a handful of hardened criminals, the dregs of society, and trust me when I tell you: The future’s looking brighter already.”
The video shut down, leaving both Finn and Johnson feeling like the pits of their stomachs had just dropped to the floor. Johnson’s eyes were jumping between the tattoo on her wrist and the frozen image of the sleazy Tevatron spokesman.
It was only after they dug a bit deeper that they found each of their files.
Name: Inn, Francis
Age: 28
Convict Number: 92574301
Charge: Murder, 1st degree. 4 counts.
Finn was stunned. All the pieces were sliding into place, though the image they created was too overwhelming to consider. First-degree murder? A note in his file from the Ely State supermax prison marked him as extremely dangerous and not fit for the general prison population.
There must be some kind of mistake.
Finn was as ready as the next man to defend himself whenever the need arose, but a cold-blooded killer? An animal? This wasn’t who he was, not now, at least.
Johnson didn’t seem to be taking her own past any easier. “I told you something like this would happen. Didn’t I tell you we shouldn’t look?”
The initial shock still hadn’t worn off when Finn finally understood how the world had gone to hell. There was an accident with one of the colliders they’d rigged up for these Dr. Frankenstein experiments of theirs. Hadn’t Finn seen notes on the calendar, topside, that Harry Thomson, the project leader, was pushing the machines further than they were meant to go? They were using giant magnets to flip an individual’s biomagnetic field, and as things had begun to spiral totally out of control, they must have reversed the Earth’s field by mistake.
It was hard to believe, but in a weird way it fit with everything the cult members had said about The Shift. To them, it was the dawn of a new age. The hand of the divine or All That Is, as they called it, reaching down to lift lowly humans to bigger and better things. Little did they know it wasn’t the divine at all. Just a bunch of power-drunk eggheads trying to shape the world to fit their own warped vision of what it should be. Well, they’d succeeded hadn’t they? And now there was hardly anything left.
A gunshot rang out, and Johnson’s eyes dropped to her side. Finn looked down, too, and both of them watched the growing patch of blood on her shirt.
Bud was coming up behind them, gripping a Beretta 9 mm.
Johnson slumped back against the wall, and Finn grabbed her. “What the hell are you doing?” he shouted.
“It’s not personal,” Bud replied, clearly wrestling with a torrent of conflicting emotions. “I really don’t wanna do this, you gotta believe.” He emptied two more rounds into Johnson’s chest, and the woman’s body jerked in Finn’s arms and then went limp as she slid to the floor.
Arms outstretched, Finn could see charging Bud would only get him killed more quickly. “You don’t need to do this,” he said.
“That’s what you don’t quite get. I don’t have a choice. This is bigger than you could possibly imagine. The minute Tevatron hired Harry Thomson, the world was doomed. Not that a little setback like that woulda stopped Harry. Any lab with a biosafety level of 4 would have done just as well. The world was going to end one way or another, Finn. That’s the part you don’t quite get. The real question was which side you were gonna be one when it did? The winners or the losers?”
“Harry’s dead, Bud, along with all the others. So is Tevatron. Don’t you see you don’t need to do this anymore?”
Bud laughed, and the sound sent a tingle racing up Finn’s spine.
“‘Course Harry isn’t dead. Don’t be naïve, Finn. Who do you think’s holding my memories hostage? My wife and kid? Don’t you see? He’s got them locked away, and all I gotta do to get them back is kill the two of you and blow up each of these facilities. If only that prick, Larry Nowak, hadn’t left me on the side of the road this woulda been my last stop.” Bud held up the silver briefcase, and now Finn knew the case had nothing to do with getting the power back on. He’d only needed the power to access the schematic so he could find just the right place to plant whatever explosive he had hidden in that case.
Finn looked down at Johnson. Her eyes were open and staring vacantly at the ceiling. Bud still had the briefcase raised in the air when Finn lunged at him. He didn’t have a plan really, rather a determination that if he were about to die that Bud was going to join him. The move caught Bud completely off guard, and the impact of Finn’s shoulder in his gut knocked him clean off his feet. The briefcase fell to the ground, spinning down the hallway, dangerously close to the elevator shaft.
But not the Beretta; that was still in Bud’s hand. Lying flat on his back, with Finn struggling on top of him for control, Bud swung the pistol around so he could jab the barrel into Finn’s ribs and finish the job. His arm was halfway there when Finn caught his wrist. Now both men were holding on to one another, heaving back and forth. But in a struggle like this, there was no prize for coming in second. Finn shoved the hand with the gun against a sharp piece of rubble on the ground. Blood oozed from the wound, and Bud screamed, but he wasn’t letting go. With his other hand, Bud grabbed a fistful of concrete dust and flung it into Finn’s eyes. The blinding effect was immediate and devastating. Finn was holding on for dear life, but already he knew he didn’t stand a chance.
Bud slugged him once in the face with that same left hand, knocking Finn back. The pistol was now free, and two shots rang out. Both of them hit their mark, and Finn fell to the ground, his labored breath coming in shallow gasps. It didn’t take a genius to tell he was dying.
Finn rubbed his eyes and saw Bud standing over him now, blood dripping from the gash in his hand. “In a few minutes this whole place’ll go bye-bye,” Bud said, displaying a strange sort of empathy. “After that, you won’t feel any more pain, I guarantee it.”
He turned and trotted away, scooping up the briefcase as he went, whistling a tune between his teeth that sounded to Finn like a funeral march.
WHAT’S NEXT?
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Primal Shift: Volume 1 (A Post Apocalyptic Thriller) Page 37