The Department for Mutated Persons (Book 1): The Department for Mutated Persons
Page 12
Alan desperately pushed the operators off of him with his mind. He tried to reach the Director, who entered the bubble, then a massive shockwave struck Alan. Everything went black.
✽✽✽
The diner was empty this early in the morning. One waitress was attending to a hitchhiker and his coffee refills, but that was all the customers up front. Marshall sat with his group in booths lining the outer wall of the diner, chewing on eggs and bacon.
“I missed bacon so much,” Castor said, his voice humming with a near lust-level of pleasure. Athena rolled her eyes and took a sip of hot, black coffee.
The TV overhead was blaring the local news when a breaking bulletin appeared, cutting the regular news short. It was a special announcement from Director Robert Orson of the Department for Mutated Persons, the same Director who had tortured them for years.
He stepped to his podium and began speaking.
“This morning, the Department was viciously attacked by genetic terrorists seeking to harm our way of life. Their leader, Alan Mitchell, killed and wounded hundreds of honest Americans who were working to keep our people safe. We cannot abide acts of terrorism. We cannot continue to allow genetic deviations to cause destruction and terror on our watch.
“We have brought Alan Mitchell to justice, but we are not safe from future attacks. But this event has given our government reason for a meaningful response. I have received a mandate from our government to expedite the search for genetically abnormal people living within our borders. We will keep this country safe. We will not flinch in the face of terror. Thank you.”
“What a load of bullshit,” Castor grumbled, his fork stirring his scrambled eggs clockwise into his plate.
“Do you think Alan is really dead?” Athena asked.
Marshall looked up at Athena, her eyes pleading for the lie she wanted to hear; the lie Marshall couldn’t dare to tell her. He looked at his sister Elizabeth, who was keeping guard over the passed-out operator, Song.
Marshall remembered the exact moment Alan changed his mind. Right before Alan jumped out of Marshall’s bathroom window to escape.
“Some people think they can escape hell by living in it right now,” Alan replied. “Your family will never be safe, no matter how much you punish yourself to protect them. Eventually we’ll all be rounded up like cattle, and your sacrifice won’t mean a damn thing to the people suffering then. I know I was cynical. I was wrong. You can make a difference. You have to at least try. Otherwise, none of this means anything. We can’t wait for them to change their minds or for things to fix themselves because they won’t. We have to fight.”
Marshall looked at Athena, the tears visibly welling up in her eyes.
“We have to free more of our friends. We have to find my family. I have four more brothers and sisters, and they’ll help us against the Department. We have to unite the six. Alan wanted us to fight.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Athena replied, steeling herself against sadness. She turned it into righteous anger. The others nodded. “For Alan.”
✽✽✽
The girl - no more than seven, with dark hair and tan skin - played in the meadow, a beautiful open field with a large tree in its midst. She split the tall grass, frolicking into a perfectly manicured lawn sitting in the shadow of the tree. She tossed her periwinkle dress to the left and right as she skipped to the tree, a wonderful apple tree. The girl stopped abruptly as she saw the figure of a man face down next to the tree. She picked up a loose branch from the foot of the tree and poked the body out of curiosity.
“Hello?” she called out. “Hello? Are you okay?”
The man groggily pushed himself up and turned his body to look at the little girl.
“I’m,” the man looked up at the girl. “I’m fine.”
“Are you, Mr. Mitchell?” the girl asked, her tone more concerned than before.
Alan gave her a curious look, raising his arm to block the light from his eyes, and saw his watch - the watch Molly gave him - ticking away as if it had never broken.
“Where am I?” Alan asked, as he felt his body still in agony from the beating he took. The girl smiled and held her hand out to Alan.
“Welcome to the in between.”
To be continued in
HUNTED BETWEEN WORLDS
about the author
Robert R. Fike is an author and designer from San Antonio, Texas. You can find him on twitter (@robfike) if you’d like to talk writing, art, and the Department for Mutated Persons.
Robert hopes that this book found you exactly when you needed it, and that you will continue to see the wonder in others and in yourself. He can’t wait to share the next installment in the Department for Mutated Persons, and that you would share your love for the story with your friends, family, complete strangers, aliens (if/when they show up), and anyone else you happen to bump into.
Don’t forget to check out all the exciting stuff that’s going to come by following Robert on twitter (@robfike) and bookmarking his website (www.robfike.com). Also, don’t forget to review this book as it helps more people discover it.
You are mighty.