by Jacob Gowans
He had never felt so much emotion for anyone as he did then, seeing Jeffie squirm on the ground like a worm, agony wracking her body. Many would have given up. But not Jeffie. She loved him. She had told him so more than once, but he had never returned the words.
Why? Why didn’t I?
The Queen raged and jerked and spasmed in attempt to throw Sammy off her. Sammy felt the energy leaving his limbs.
“What if I can’t?” Jeffie was in tears as she looked back at Sammy.
“DIE!” the Queen screamed. Blood dripped from her face, and she sucked down air. “Both of you … die.”
A deep burn crept up Sammy’s arms to his wrists and fingers as he tried to contain the Queen’s struggling. He wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer. He was too exhausted to blast. Too drained to fight. Too spent of energy to do anything but hold on. “You can, Jeffie,” he breathed. “Because …”
He’d wanted to be sure of it before he said the words. He’d wanted some kind of sign. Something meaningful. But this was it. This was meaningful, that they were willing to die together. Living together would be better, but that wasn’t an option.
“Because I love you,” he croaked, voice still hoarse from being choked. “Because I know you can.”
Jeffie turned back and continued to crawl. The Queen’s eyes filled with horror. Her face paled. She screamed and grabbed at Sammy’s hair, threw herself from side to side. Finally Sammy’s arms gave out and the Queen squirmed from his grip. She tried to get her footing to blast at Jeffie, but Sammy darted forward and slammed her into the wall.
The Queen blasted, but he hung on to her until they fell to the floor. Sammy struck the ground first but rolled on top of her. As she raised her hands to blast his face, Sammy jerked his head aside and drove his fist into her face. The skin split in her cheek. Her eyes rolled back only to refocus on his face. She brought her hands up again, but Sammy seized her wrists, butted her head with his own, and punched her twice more.
She yanked her wrists from his grasp, but he locked his fingers with hers in both hands. The Queen blasted with her feet, trying to flip them over, but he anticipated it and twisted around so she landed on her back once more with a heavy thud. Her hand came loose and she jammed it into his face. Bones cracked and new pain exploded as his left eye went dark. Then Sammy returned the favor by pummeling her again.
The Queen’s face swelled grotesquely, but he knew his was no better. Sammy turned his good eye on Jeffie, who was now three-quarters of the way across the room, lines of blood tracing her movements like red ink.
Taking advantage of this moment of distraction, the Queen blasted Sammy up, and he slammed into the white surface of the ceiling and fell back down in a shower of dust. He tried to break his fall with blasts, but still couldn’t summon them. Instead he crashed into the floor and felt his ribs crack.
Kneeling on the floor, the Queen panted from the effort. Sammy didn’t want to move but necessity compelled him. He pushed himself up and walked toward her. She fired blasts at him again and again, driving him back. Still he kept coming. As he did, her own blasts began to weaken. The Queen gritted her broken white teeth and curled her bruised, swollen lips but couldn’t summon the energy to stop him.
When Sammy reached her, he grabbed her hands and shoved her against the wall. Looking in her eyes, he saw something he’d never seen before.
Defeat.
“You cheated.” She muttered the words like a curse.
He let his fist fly into her gut. “You forgot, didn’t you?”
The Queen doubled over and groaned. “Cheater.”
Sammy hit her again. “Pain.” His knuckles ached, but he did it again. “Suffering.”
The Queen fell to the floor, and her mouth moved soundlessly.
Sammy knelt over her and struck her again. “Pain gives us strength. Stripe taught me that. Here. In Rio.”
He was in control, but she couldn’t hurt anyone again. So he hit her more. “You thought your Anomaly Thirteen would give you freedom. Endless strength.”
And more. “But you followed a lie, Katie. And that is why you lost.”
The Queen stopped moving. Her right eye was not quite swollen shut. It fixed on his, and for a moment Sammy saw only a girl. Her lips quivered. “I wish …” She spoke softly, and he had to lean to hear her. “I wish …”
“What?” he asked.
The Queen’s eye widened enough that Sammy could see her brown iris surrounded by so much blood that she looked like every other Thirteen. Her hands shot out, wrapped around Sammy’s throat, and squeezed. “That you would die with me.”
Her grip on Sammy’s throat was stronger than any vise. Sammy gagged trying to breathe. He tugged at her hands but they were locked. His eyes searched for Jeffie, for help.
Across the room, Jeffie pulled herself up to the terminal. Her face had no color. She’d left all her color on the floor of the white room. Their eyes met. Jeffie raised a finger, but Sammy’s mind had kept count of the time. It was 1044. One minute. Even as his face reddened and the vision in his good eye started to blur, he nodded to her to activate the code at 1045. Then, step by step, he dragged the Queen toward the elevator, even as she continued to choke the life out of him.
As the moment approached, Jeffie held up five fingers and ticked them down.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
She pushed the ENTER button. Immediately two white blast doors began to close, separating the white room from its antechamber in front of the elevator. Sammy held the Queen in place until the twin doors clamped down on her body, squeezing her to death.
“Blast to me!” Sammy gasped to Jeffie in his broken voice.
She flew toward him. He grabbed her, wrapped his arms around her for support, and said, “Again!”
She blasted them through the space between the doors. As they flew through the air, Sammy let go of Jeffie as she flipped over and blasted the Queen from behind with everything she had left in her. The Queen flew inward and the blast doors slammed closed just as a tremendous explosion roared through the white room. The last thing Sammy saw before everything went white was the fire blossoming toward him like a brilliant red rose.
* * * * *
As Commander Byron staggered back to Albert, he realized his son had still not used the orange goo to close his leg wound. Albert’s face was terribly pale, his eyes only half opened.
“I told you to use it!” Byron cried.
“No,” Albert said. “Dad, you. Please. It has to be you. I don’t want to go back. I’ve messed things up. I’ve blown it.”
Commander Byron fumbled through the med pack until he got out the last bit inside the tube. He hoped it was enough to save his son.
“Dad, your stomach,” Albert said, pointing vaguely. “You can raise her for me. You’ll do a better job than I ever will.”
Byron ignored Albert and prepped the tube. Albert grabbed the commander’s hands, stopping him from using it.
“I don’t want you to die, Dad.”
The commander almost lost control. “And I will not survive losing you. You wait and see when your girl gets a little older. You will understand.”
Albert tried to scoot away. “No.”
The commander took him by the ankle, and pain shot up his wounded arm. “Do you love Marie? Do you really love her, Albert?” He was almost shouting now.
Albert’s face turned a pale pink, and his eyes welled up. “Yeah.”
“Then you have hope. Make it count.”
Finally Albert relented. The commander put the orange goo in his son’s leg, tore a strip from his pants, and tied it tightly near the hip. His limbs grew weak the longer he worked. When he finished, Albert was already so drowsy he could hardly move. The commander found a syringe of epinephrine and injected it into his son’s leg. Then he ripped his own shirt and bandaged up the wound in his stomach as best as he could. But he knew it would not be enough.
With the last of his strength, he hobbled to the computer and looked at the screen. The time read 0839. Byron winced. I missed the 0830 launch time. The network was still inactive. Come on, Sammy.
Commander Byron checked on Albert, shook him gently. Albert’s eyes fluttered open. “What?” he mumbled.
“Everything is going to be okay,” he reassured his son. “I am going to take care of everything.”
His bandage was soaked with blood. His right arm wouldn’t move now, and his left ached so badly it made the commander want to pass out.
Commander Byron leaned over and kissed Albert on the cheek. “I love you, my boy. Emily and I will be waiting for you.”
Albert stirred. “… love you, Dad.”
When Byron tried to stand up straight, the pain gnawed at his gut where the last slug had torn into his insides. Everything was cold. Even his legs, which shouldn’t feel anything, were cold. He fell down onto his hands and bionic knees.
“Hold on,” he groaned. “I just need five more minutes.”
He crawled to the computer and watched the seconds tick by, forcing his eyes to stay open and his heart to keep beating.
0841.
0842.
0843.
Byron’s eyes closed and his chin hit the table where the computer sat. A green light brightened next to the standby button. A buzzing sound jarred him awake. “Network connected and active.”
0844.
The seconds ticked. He said them aloud to give himself something to hold on for. Stay alive, Walter, he thought to himself as he counted. Stay alive for your dad, your son, and your granddaughter.
At 0845, he pushed the button.
Kill code activated.
Byron sighed and fell to the floor. Just before he closed his eyes again, he saw his son. He reached out for his face, but it was too far. “Emily … Albert has to stay. Help him. Send someone.”
Byron scooted over the ground until his head rested on his son’s lap. A soft, high-pitched sound came from across the room. Byron opened an eye, all he could open, to find the source. It was a man rappelling down the elevator shaft. His footsteps approached cautiously, probably trying to step through all the mess. It wasn’t until the feet were centimeters away, that Byron caught a glimpse of the leg, a bionic leg like his.
“Help …” he whimpered. “My son.”
A face appeared in view that the commander did not recognize. But the eyes he did. He hadn’t seen them in many years. “You.”
The man did not smile. His eyes fixed on Byron’s wounds. “You don’t have much time. Neither of you do, Walter.”
“Take Albert. Come back when he is safe.”
The man nodded. Strong arms—bionic arms—lifted Albert from under his father. As the man cradled Byron’s son, he turned back to the commander. He nodded to Byron with eyes filled with respect. “You were always better than me. In every way, I think. Say hello to Emerald for me.”
Commander Byron smiled, closed his eyes, and exhaled.
* * * * *
At 0847 the CAG cruisers fell from the sky like giant meteors crashing down from space. As far as Brickert could tell, not many were injured. When the crowds saw them fall, they pressed forward. The Aegis, the Thirteens, the Hybrids … all gone. Obliterated by the solution. Brickert didn’t really believe it at first. His joy was quickly replaced by the knowledge that the victory had cost him his best friend.
Even as they stormed the White House, Brickert didn’t grasp what was happening. They were a sea of people, a giant wave washing inside the halls and carrying out the filth on their backs. As many had predicted, President Newberry was gone, hidden away somewhere safe. That didn’t stop the crowds from removing the staff members inside who hadn’t been evacuated. So far as Brickert could tell, no one was killed.
Thomas and Justice led the charge through the buildings and communicated with the remaining team leaders to keep the masses orderly. After the White House was cleared they directed the crowds to the Capitol Building, where another sort of cleansing took place, along with more arrests. News choppers and cruisers hovered over the scene while reporters on foot followed the crowds inside with cameras. Local law enforcement and government service agents set up new barricades, assisted with crowd control, and arrested looters who descended on the nearby buildings. The crowd continued to swell, but there was no way of getting any kind of count. Ambulatory services arrived to care for the injured and cart away the dead. With all the shouting and chanting, Brickert could hardly think. He carried Natalia to one of the medics and explained what had happened to her. They loaded her into a vehicle with four others, gave Brickert information on where to locate her, and drove away.
In the early afternoon, a makeshift podium was set up on the steps of the Capitol Building with two speakers. Thomas prepared to give a speech. But before he could begin, a dozen trucks and vans pulled through the crowd. Workers emerged from the vehicles and began assembling proper conference armamentarium. The crews were directed by a man who Brickert had never seen. Judging by Thomas’s face, he didn’t know the man either. They spoke for a several minutes, the man and Thomas. When they shook hands, Brickert noticed that the man’s hand was bionic.
When their conversation ended, Thomas took the podium and addressed the crowd. He gave a long and passionate speech, similar to the one he had given in Los Angeles. The crowd interrupted him at least a dozen times with chanting and applause. When Thomas finished, the man with the bionic hand came forward. Before speaking, he showed a film.
It was a cobbling of recordings and videos that showed President Newberry and other government officials colluding with media organizations and terrorist groups to sway public opinion. It showed a man named Jeffrey Markorian giving testimony and evidence that he had worked with the CEO of N Corporation to orchestrate several attacks on CAG soil and frame the NWG for their actions. The video went on for almost two hours, playing to a stunned, silent crowd as news cameras continued to gather at the perimeter.
When the video ended, the man continued to speak. He introduced himself as Daniel Newsome. His speech lasted only ten or fifteen minutes, but it was one of the greatest things Brickert had ever heard. It was eloquent, simple, powerful, and memorable.
The speaking and cheering rang out past sundown. Local grocers and restaurants brought food and water. People slept on the ground, in the wreckage. All through the night people gave speeches. But none of them stuck with Brickert as much as Daniel Newsome’s did.
The following week was chaos. Brickert, Justice, Nikotai, and other members of the resistance were most often in hospitals and morgues visiting the injured, identifying bodies, and meeting with civic leaders.
President Newberry hastily announced from a secure, classified location that the evidence presented against him and his administration was fraudulent, but documents surfaced the same day that implicated him, his Chief of Staff, and dozens of members of Congress. Seven days after the Battle of Washington D.C., President Newberry resigned along with over half of the CAG Senate and House of Representatives.
President Marnyo held a summit with several CAG territorial governors appointed by the Supreme Court to act as a Wartime Executive Council. Barbara Gillespie, Governor of the Northeastern American Territory, was appointed Interim CAG President of the council. Regional legislatures chose delegates from among territorial congresses to serve as Wartime Legislative Officers until special elections could be held, first for both houses of Congress, then for a new President of the Continental American Government.
Special funeral services were held at the Hallgrímskirkja in Reykjavik for Honorary NWG General Walter Tennyson Byron, and several other resistance leaders including Lara Byron, Li Cheng Zheng, Duncan and David Hudec, Samuel Harris Berhane, Jr., Gefjon Tvedt, and others. Brickert attended with hundreds more. Thousands lined the streets of the city for the procession. Among the distinguished guests were NWG President William Marnyo, Interim CAG President Barbara Gillespie, and her interim
Vice President Daniel Newsome, a veteran of the Elite, multiple limb amputee, respected businessman, and philanthropist.
Talks between the NWG and CAG lasted for almost a month before Marnyo was promised the reparations he requested. As evidence mounted against the CAG and its collaboration with N Corp, documents were revealed regarding Project Orwell, the existence of secretly trained and executed anomalies, and the Extraction/Implantation Program’s connection to the Safety Laws. The more information leaked, the smoother the talks went. When all was said and done, Texas, followed by several other territories, ceded membership in the CAG and either declared independence or petitioned for inclusion in the NWG.
Two years later, in January of 2089, Daniel Newsome, endorsed by President Marnyo, Thomas Byron, and Interim President Gillespie, was sworn in as the President of the Continental American Government, campaigning on a platform to end corruption, restore freedoms to the people through the limitation and reduction of centralized government, and advancing quality of life through greater strides in cloning and scientific research. Brickert was invited to attend the inauguration ceremony as a guest of honor, but he declined in order to attend a friend’s wedding.
Epilogue
Thursday, November 18, 2100
COMMANDER BRICKERT PLACK strode across the courtyard at Alpha headquarters on Capitol Island. Snow covered the brick walkway and benches surrounding it. The evergreens were heavy and white, but the air smelled clean. He checked the time and winced. A moment later his com rang.
“Hey,” the commander said. “Sorry. I just noticed how late it is.”
“Yeah, Mr. I’ll-Be-Home-Early,” his wife chided him.
“I knew this would happen, I tell you,” Commander Plack said. “Every time I say I’m coming home early—”
“The universe is out to get you. Get your butt home. People are already here and waiting.”
“Okay. Love you.”
After the call ended, the commander picked up his pace. It was the android’s fault. Every time he met with the Tensais regarding the android, the meetings ran late. Congress wanted stricter guidelines installed before the robots were allowed to go fully active. Androids were the hottest debate in science. Politicians, philosophers, academics, and military leaders all had given their input on what was now referred to as the Skynet Rules, or the laws on the limitations of androids. The news covered the topic daily.