The Fire and the Free City

by Eric Wood

  It was horrifying, but in a strange way the knowledge made a lot of pieces suddenly snap into place. How Deacon was so smart, not just for a Ravager but even compared to Uninfected. How Roach was the way she was now, rather than the blood-crazed demon she had been. And how there had been Uninfected forces — Colony forces — encamped back at Deacon's basin stronghold.

  "No," Jed snapped. "Solomon — Epimetheus — was responsible for that monster and all the atrocities that followed. He's coming now, Sam. He may not ride at the head of that Ravager army, but don't be mistaken, it belongs to him. And without the Colony forces, he will completely and utterly destroy the city you have worked so hard to save. So please, Sam, if not for me, do it for them. Join me, and we can save this world."

  Sam felt the renewed buzzing of the beacon at his hip. If he answered the call, no doubt Marcus and the rest would tell him to ignore Jed — ignore his father — and finish the mission. But there wasn't any mission anymore, was there? They wouldn't be able to see it, back in the city, but Jed did make a lot of sense.

  Perhaps joining him really was the only play they had left.

  56

  "There he is!" Roach exclaimed. The little red spot on Marcus's computer display, the one he’d said indicated Sam's beacon, had begun to blink in what seemed like excited pulses. "Type whatever you need to type, computer boy, and then we can go home."

  "It's not quite that simple," Marcus replied, his tone carrying a hint more 'you-couldn't-possible-understand' than she strictly cared for.

  "Why don't you make it simple then? You know, for us dummies here."

  Marcus winced. "Okay, okay," he said. "The blinking indicator means that Sam has activated his beacon. That means he's reached his destination, in the base's computer room. He still has to make his way to the right computer, put in the thumb drive, and execute the code I wrote. I mean, it's pretty straightforward, but Sam needs to know what to look for. He needs to find the right computer."

  "The short answer is that I can guide him to it, you know, over the comms," Marcus said, after waiting for Roach to finish yelling and the metal container to stop loudly spinning. "But even that isn't perfectly simple. Sam has to receive my comms signal — which he should be able to, but I said before it would be close — and then he has to answer and listen. If there are...bad guys, I guess, around him, they might hear the radio. Of course, if I don't call, then he'll obviously only have a one-in-twenty-or-so chance of reaching the right computer, and even then — ahhk!"

  Roach squeezed his shoulder, a bit harder than was strictly necessary. "Why don't you just call him, please," Roach said, her voice as pleasant as she could make it through gritted teeth.

  "Roach..." Rend said.

  "We're in a hurry," she answered.

  "Right, here we go," Marcus said. "Sam, this is Marcus —"

  "Guys, I'm a little busy right now," Abigail said.

  A wet, bony hand raked the side of her face; one of its half-rotted fingers caught on her radio receiver and tore it from her ear.

  Well, they were a distraction anyhow.

  She stabbed the nearest Plague-Head under the chin with her left blade, before turning 180 degrees and cutting a gash across another's face so deep she nearly split it like a coconut.

  Abigail had been at this for what seemed like all day, felling dozens of Plague-Heads like she was reaping some kind of ghastly harvest. Still, for every one she killed, two more took its place. She was already soaking in their infectious vomit — she imagined she'd probably puke from the smell when this was all over. But if she was immune to the vomit — perks of being Infected already — she was not immune to their tearing hands and gnashing teeth. Far from it.

  This was becoming an increasingly urgent problem, as she was now in the center of the remaining swarm. Even with her considerable strength, the sheer weight of them bearing in on her from all sides was beginning to wear her down.

  With a roar, she lowered her shoulder and shoved one section of the swarm — a pulsing mass of ghouls at least five deep — and gave herself some space to operate. She began again to cut; the twin blades a glimmering flurry in front of her eyes. Her only hope was to get to one end of the swarm, then turn and try to keep herself from becoming re-surrounded.

  So far it was working. A pair of Plague-Heads went down, then the three who took their place. Abigail took another hard blow to the back of the ribs and rolled her head away from a sharp-fingered rake. She was doing it; she was going to make it. Maybe she'd be sore tomorrow, but she'd be breathing. And the people inside Jacinta's could live another day thinking about things beyond puking on the next person they saw. As long as she could stay on her feet, she would be fine.

  Her foot caught a patch of wet ground and slid forward, pulling her nearly into a split. If she had been on open ground, she could have easily regained her balance; it would’ve happened so quickly most people wouldn't notice she had lost her footing.

  Unfortunately, she was not on open ground. Far from it. Before she could recover a Plague-Head careened into her from the side, a second getting ahold of her left shoulder. She went down to the ground, the impact sending up stars behind her eyes, her mouth filling with hot blood from a bitten tongue. In half a breath, four Plague-Heads had come down on her, their combined weight grinding her into the earth. The weight on her back increased as more and more of the monsters piled on top of her.

  So this is it, she thought, as the weight continued to increase. This is how I go out. I always thought it would be more memorable. I thought I had more left to do.

  Shit.

  "This world is sick, Sam," Jed said. "We need to heal it. I need to heal it. The Forms the virus took...well, my colleague, Pandora, always said we wouldn't know the final effects of the agent without rigorous field tests. We certainly have that now. A twenty-year field test, encompassing us all.

  "Huge swarms of mindless Vector Forms destroying everything in their paths. Our forests and mountains — the purest parts of this great country's natural bounty — claimed by Beast Forms. And War Forms...War Forms terrorizing everything, leading themselves, or worse, led by heretics and betrayers."

  "I notice you didn't mention Reapers," Sam said. "What 'form' are those? Are you?" Marcus had gone from repeatedly turning the beacon on and off to trying to get Sam's attention. Now he was hailing him directly. Luckily, the radio was set on silent as well. His hand fell casually to the radio's top, his thumb resting on the 'open channel' switch as he slowly paced circles around the room.

  "Our...project had multiple aspects, Sam," Jed replied. "All of which reacted unpredictably with one another around the time of the outbreak. The betrayer, Dr. Solomon, was in charge of our enhanced soldier program, Project Mars. Things like compounding our own animal aspects as well as incorporating genomic strings from other animals. Those experiments led, in a roundabout way, to what you call Howlers and Ravagers."

  He shrugged. "Predictable and predictably dull work, but of course when the military finances you it becomes something of a necessary evil. My — well, Pandora worked on bio-and-bio-chemically engineered viruses. Her own Project Pandora. Highly infectious and extremely contagious, it rewired the host's central nervous system to help facilitate spread. I'm sure you can guess what those became. My work, however, was the true crown jewel of our efforts. Project Zeus."

  "Reapers," Sam said.

  "No," Jed said sharply, pointing a finger at him. "Not Reapers. Reapers, to use your word, arose because the agent became corrupted by the various other agents. Though I must admit, the strength of my agent impressed me nearly as much as you have now, Sam. It incorporated the strengths of both Projects Zeus and Pandora, and somehow managed to improve both and eliminate nearly all of their weakness."

  "Nearly," Sam said. "You still have to drink blood. You're basically vampires. I won't argue that's not impressive, but it's not exactly super people."

  "No. Not yet. Solomon used our research to get part way there, and his research
in Deacon’s camp yielded the serum that elevated your former Ravager and Howler companions— “ he sneered the common terms for Roach and Rend “—to their current forms. But now that I finally have the research contained on this data drive, as well as this facility, I can finally complete project Zeus. I can shed this half-formed, wretched existence and become what I should have become twenty years ago. We all can, Sam."

  "Your plan is to what? Turn everyone into...Super-Reapers?" Sam asked. "Seems awfully ambitious, all things considered."

  "Well," Elder Jed said with a small shrug, "not everyone. Everyone can't be a leader, Sam; you must know that. We will still need soldiers — which is where our version 2.0 War and Assault Forms — the hybrid Howlers and hybrid Ravagers, if you like — come in. We'll need workers too. I'm convinced in time that Project Pandora can be similarly hybridized to produce neural rewiring bent to more productive ends. It will be a perfect societal cathedral. Can't you see it, Sam? It will be such a colossal accomplishment."

  "It will certainly be something," Sam said. "What I still don't get is where I come in. I know you said that I'm your son, or whatever, but that still doesn't explain why you seem to be so intent on, I don't know, recruiting me."

  "We have nearly everything we need to begin ushering the glorious butterfly of the new world from the destroyed chrysalis of the old. We have all the physical materials, all the data, all the labor. But what we don't have, what I realize now is just as important, is a symbol for our people to rally around. To believe in, and to fight for. You've seen what this world is like; it will fight us and tear at us, and rage at us every chance it gets. Without something for our people to look to for inspiration, I fear for our success."

  It took Sam a second to catch up; when he did he was startled. "Wait, you can't possibly mean me? What possible reason could you have for wanting me? Why would anyone give one tiny crap about me?"

  "You sell yourself short, Sam," Jed said. "Look at all you've accomplished in such a short time, and against such long odds."

  "It seems like a long, nearly unbroken string of failures to me," Sam said.

  "Far from it," Jed said. "But, even if you don't believe in your achievements, look at how many people you have already rallied to you, without even trying. You might not see it, Sam, but you are a natural leader. With my help, we can fashion you into a hero like something out of the ancient epics, or even one of those comic books you always enjoyed reading."

  "Even if we did all this," Sam said, slowly and deliberately, "that can't be all of it. You need something, something this base and that drive doesn’t give you. So What is it? Why do you really want me?”

  "The exterior battle is only half of it," Jed continued. "The other half is the battle within. You are perhaps the only living soul immune to all current versions of The Agent. While I told you before there was a research benefit to that fact, that was only half of the truth. The other half is that as a truly immune individual, you are a reminder of the Old World to our Colonists, as well as something of a mythic figure to the rest of the world. The fact that you took up with one of my kind on your own only works to our purposes. You, representing the purity of the past; your Abigail representing the promise of the future. You would be more than a prince in our new world, Sam. You and Abigail would be our Adam and Eve."

  Jed held out his hand toward Sam. "So, son, what do you say?"

  57

  "Why isn't he answering?" Roach demanded. "Make him answer!"

  She slammed a fist into the wall at eye height. An inch lower and she would have put that fist through Marcus's center monitor. Rend stepped gingerly over to her side and even more gingerly took her by the shoulders. He eased her away from the extremely important and extremely fragile equipment.

  "It doesn't sound like it's going well..." Rend conceded. As powerful and alive as he had felt out in the hallway, he was glad to be back to this condition. Back to myself. It truly was astonishing just how much his self-image had changed since that day back in the woods when he fought Roach and was altered by her blood.

  I wonder what my tribe would think of me? He knew the answer already. He was himself, so they would be proud. He smiled faintly.

  The smile faded as he considered their present circumstances. If the Colony forces gained control of the Old World drones, the high walls of Cheyenne would count for nothing, and the city would quickly fall. He didn't know what the Colonies would do with the city’s inhabitants, but he imagined it would be something along the lines of what that doctor put him though. He looked back at the frightened, pathetic creature that now occupied Rend's old cell. Visions of horrors flashed in front of Rend’s eyes; the same ones he saw every night. The visions were followed by a red wave of fury. Luna help him, but Rend did want to kill the man, no matter how little threat he currently posed.

  "Based on what they're saying..." Marcus began, "no, it doesn't sound good."

  "It seems like Sam is about to sell out us obsoletes and throw in with dear old daddy," Roach said. "It sounds like he's good as gone over already." Rend held her shoulders a smidge tighter as she tensed, images of obliterated monitors again dancing in his head.

  "But why would he turn on the audio, if he’d already decided to betray us?" Marcus wondered aloud. "It doesn't make sense. Sam never struck me as the kind of person would just...I don't know, taunt us."

  "You'd be surprised what people are capable of," Roach said. "Though in this case, I'm not. Sam hunted me for over a hundred miles for that drive they're talking about. Hell, he did it for the Colonies! We should never have sent him. On the plus side, now I have someone new to kill. After the doctor that is." She turned back toward his cell. "Hear that, doc? Your time is — wait, where did he —"

  Pain exploded in the back of Rend's shoulder as the doctor stabbed him with something very long and very sharp. The doctor, off-balance himself, fell into Rend's back, his weight pushing both Rend and Roach forward into the computers.

  "Die, Infected —" the doctor tried to shout as the three of them tumbled over Marcus's chair, ending up in a heap on the floor.

  Rend threw back an elbow, aiming awkwardly toward the voice in their three-person tangle. He felt it hit a set of teeth and the doctor's scream was cut off.

  Rend rolled free; Roach did the same. She moved back toward the doctor's writhing form quicker than Rend: she had him up on his feet, holding him by what looked like a very painfully twisted arm.

  "That's. It." Roach snarled, wrenching his elbow. "This ends now." She glanced over to Rend with a look that was half imploring, half righteous fury. "Rend, this man hurt you repeatedly, for day and days. He is a monster, and he needs to die. He owes you weeks of pain, but we can at least settle for a bloody death. Do it now: kill him."

  Rend looked at the Doctor, now with blood pouring from both his nose and mouth. His features, as he stared back at Rend, were twisted with pain, but also with hatred. Rend was certain — beyond even the palest shade of doubt — that this man saw him as less than human. As a beast, with no more worth than what scientific data you could twist out of him. Rend clenched his fists and took a step toward Dr. Allan. He did deserve to die. He was the monster, after all.

  But Rend was not.

  He relaxed his hands, and then put one of them on the doctor's shoulder. "No," Rend said. "He might not see us as human, but that doesn't mean we need to see him the same way. We have him, and we have the citadel. We can hold him prisoner, have him face trial and justice. No, Roach, I'm not going to kill him."

  Roach shrugged. "Fair enough." With a

  quick yank, she pulled the doctor close; with a second quick motion she snapped his neck. "Full disclosure," she said, letting Allan’s limp form fall to the ground, "I was hoping you'd say that."

  "Roach," Rend said with a sigh.

  Her only answer was a fresh shrug. He could only be so upset with her. She was true to herself, after all.

  "Guys," Marcus said, his voice full of excitement, "get over here.
I think I just figured something out." He waved them over with one hand — eyes remaining firmly on the bank of monitors in front of him — while he typed with the other. "Oh man, I can't believe I didn't see it sooner."

  Rend smiled at Roach and shook his head slowly. Roach smiled back, wider and somehow warmer than normal, and they both turned and went to the computer.

  "What is it?" Rend asked.

  "Just one second," Marcus said, his voice clearly indicating he was far more focused on the strings of code he was typing. "Unfortunately," he added, offhand, "our plan has failed."

  Rend felt himself deflate.

  "No!" Roach said, again punching the wall. "Wait," she added a moment later, "what are you doing then?"

  Marcus smiled. "New plan."

  "So, son," Jed asked, "what do you say?"

  Don't look to me, kid, Vincente's voice said. You're old enough to make your own decisions.

  That's not much help, Sam thought.

  You don't need any more help, Sam, the voice said. You've shown you can take care of yourself. I've come with you this far, but now it’s time for you to finish this on your own. To make your choice.

  Sam stopped pacing the room and took the first chair he found. He bent forward, resting his elbow on his knees, thinking. Hell of a time to shove off, voice in my head, he thought.

  Hey, I only stuck around for as long as you needed me.

  I have a feeling I'm going to need you a whole lot real soon, Sam thought.

  Nah, Vincente answered. Just because things get hard, doesn't mean you can't see them through yourself. I believe in you, Sammie, and I'll always be with you. Just quietly. Wouldn't want people to think you've lost your damned mind, talking to yourself.

  "What do you say, Sam?" Jed asked again, his eyes burning, his voice almost imploring. "Will you make the right choice?"

  "Answer me this first," Sam asked. "What happens to Cheyenne? What happens to this city now?"

  Jed shrugged. "If they let us in, we'll work with them. Some of the population will remain in their same roles, though working those roles for us. Others will contribute to our science goals, here in this facility. If you like, you can have a prominent role in choosing who remains within the city and who comes here."